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melanchoire · 2 months ago

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UNLOCKED DOOR, LOCKED HEART ──── yu jimin.

── ( 🩷 ) years after being falsely accused of perversion, you walk in on your unclothed girlfriend, forcing you to confront your ingrained anxieties and rewrite a narrative defined by shame and misunderstanding.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!loser!fem reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, nipple play, praise titsucking.

word count. 3,4k

author's note. the request for this fic is right here.

the scent of jasmine and something vaguely expensive clung to the air as you stood outside karina’s apartment building. you pressed the buzzer, the metallic chime echoing in the sterile lobby. “hey, babe! door’s unlocked, come on up!” you take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of your shirt. this is it. you’re going to karina’s apartment, again. it’s been six months since you two started dating, and your heart still does a little flutter every time you see her name on your phone.

you push open the heavy glass door of the building and step into the opulent lobby. everything about karina’s life is opulent. her clothes, her car, this building… it’s a far cry from the cramped apartment you share with two roommates. you’ve never felt particularly envious of her wealth, but it does occasionally highlight the differences between you. you, the quiet, reserved girl with a past you’d rather forget, and her, the radiant, effortlessly charming social butterfly who seems to glide through life without a care.

the elevator ride is short, but your palms are already starting to sweat. the polished chrome reflected your anxious face back at you, the faint fluorescent light highlighting the shadows under your eyes. you always felt like an imposter in karina’s world, a world of sleek modern architecture, designer clothes, and effortless confidence. you, on the other hand, felt like a faded photograph, a relic from a past you desperately wanted to forget.

you step out onto the plushly carpeted hallway and find karina’s door ajar, just as she said. taking another deep breath, you push it open further and step inside.

“karina?” you call out hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper.

no answer. you close the door behind you and step further into the apartment. it’s even more breathtaking inside than you remember. floor–to–ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, and the furniture looks like it belongs in a magazine.

that’s when you see her.

karina was standing in the living room, a goddess sculpted from steam and silk. her skin, flushed from the shower, glowed under the soft light. water droplets clung to the ends of her dark hair, cascading down her shoulders. and she was completely, breathtakingly naked.

your breath catches in your throat. time seems to warp and distort. you feel a jolt of panic, a cold wave washing over you that threatens to pull you under. she hasn’t seen you yet, still reaching for a fluffy white towel on the armchair.

she turned, a wide smile gracing her lips. “hey! i just hopped out of the shower.” she reached for a plush towel lying on the arm of the sofa, casually wrapping it around herself, but the image was already seared into your mind.

but you’re not smiling. you’re not even breathing properly. your breath hitched. the world seemed to tilt on its axis. a familiar panic surged through you, cold and clammy. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to see this.

the memories slammed into you like a tidal wave. the whispers, the snickers, the pointed fingers in the hallways of your high school. the accusations thrown at you like stones, the constant feeling of being watched, judged, and found wanting. “lesbo.” they’d hissed, “pervert.” you’d become a pariah overnight, defined by a sexuality you hadn’t even fully understood yet. every glance felt like an accusation, every touch a potential violation.

you had become meticulously careful, hyper–aware of your surroundings, of your own body, of the invisible boundaries you felt compelled to erect. you avoided the women’s locker room like the plague. you walked with your head down, trying to disappear into the background. you flinched at casual touches.

and now, here you were, confronted with something so raw, so intimate, that it shattered the fragile peace you had painstakingly constructed.

karina’s smile faltered as she saw the look on your face. her brow furrowed with concern. “hey, are you okay? you look… pale.” she took a step towards you, her voice soft and gentle.

every nerve ending in your body is screaming at you to run, to disappear. you stumble backward slightly, your hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob. “i… i should go," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

you can’t speak. your throat is constricted, your lungs refusing to cooperate. you shake your head weakly, trying to communicate the unexplainable knot of anxiety that has taken root in your chest. shame burns in your cheeks. you’re supposed to be her girlfriend, not a frightened child.

karina closes the distance between you, her eyes filled with genuine worry. she reaches out and takes your hands, her touch warm and grounding. you flinch slightly, but she doesn’t let go.

“hey, look at me.” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. it’s just me. you’re safe here."

her words, simple as they are, cut through the fog in your mind. you open your eyes and focus on her face, on the genuine concern etched in her features. she’s not judging you, not laughing, not disgusted. she’s just… worried.

“i… i…”you stammer, struggling to find the words. “i’m sorry. i just… i panicked."

karina squeezes your hands. “it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to explain. just breathe with me."

she demonstrates, taking a deep, slow breath and holding it for a moment before releasing it. slowly, laboriously, you start to breathe again. the panic begins to recede, replaced by a heavy wave of exhaustion. you lean into karina’s touch, drawing strength from her presence.

karina’s expression softened, becoming even more tender. she understood. somehow, she understood. “hey, it’s okay," she soothed, reaching for your hand. her fingers were warm and reassuring against your cold skin. "it’s okay. come here.”

she led you to the sofa, gently guiding you to sit down. she knelt in front of you, her eyes filled with compassion. “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

finally, you manage to find your voice. “i… i have some bad experiences…” it comes out barely audible.

karina waits patiently, not pushing you to elaborate.

you take another deep breath and begin to tell her. you tell her about high school, about the casual cruelty and the constant fear of being exposed. you tell her about the rumors and the whispers, the feeling of being ostracized and vilified for something you couldn’t control–something you didn’t even fully understand then. you tell her about the locker room incident, the false accusations, the feeling of being branded as a pervert. you tell her about the years of hypervigilance, the constant anxiety that still lingers in the back of your mind.

as you speak, karina listens intently, her eyes never leaving your face. there’s no judgment in her gaze, only compassion and understanding. when you finally finish, breathless and emotionally drained, she pulls you into a warm embrace.

karina listened patiently, her gaze never wavering. when you were finished, she reached out and brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “oh, honey.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i had no idea. i’m so sorry you went through that. you didn’t deserve any of that."

you looked down, ashamed. “i should have told you.” you mumbled. “i didn’t want you to think… think i was like that.”

karina cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her eyes. “hey.” she said firmly. “look at me. i don’t think that. i’d never think that. i know you. i know you’re kind and gentle and wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

her words were like a balm to your wounded spirit. you felt a tiny spark of hope flicker within you. maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust again. maybe, with karina, you could finally let go of the fear that had haunted you for so long.

“you know you can always tell me anything, right?” she says softly. “i’m here for you, always. and i’d never, ever judge you.”

you nod, tears streaming down your face. “i know.” you whisper. “it’s just… hard."

“i understand.” she says, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. “but you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. i’m here to help you carry that weight."

she leaned in and kissed you, a soft, tentative pressure against your lips. it was a chaste kiss, a promise of something more. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment.

her lips parted slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. your instincts screamed at you to pull away, to run back to the safety of your own world. but something held you back. the warmth of her touch, the sincerity in her eyes, the unwavering belief she had in you.

you tentatively kissed her back, your movements clumsy and unsure. you had karina really kissed anyone before, not like this. karina seemed to sense your hesitation and took the lead, guiding you with gentle hands.

her tongue traced the curve of your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. you opened your mouth slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss. the world around you faded away, replaced by the sensation of her soft lips on yours, the warmth of her breath against your skin.

your hands, still trembling, reached up and tentatively touched her face. her skin was soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. she moaned softly against your lips, and you felt a surge of heat course through your body.

you didn’t know what you were doing. you were completely lost, adrift in a sea of new sensations. but you knew that you wanted this. you wanted her.

karina broke the kiss, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “easy there.” she teased, her voice breathy. “we have all the time in the world.”

she took your hands in hers and placed them on her waist. “like this.” she murmured, her voice husky. “feel my body. let yourself enjoy it.”

your hands trembled as you explored the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. you felt her shiver beneath your touch, and a thrill of power coursed through you.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll teach you everything you need to know. by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be a pro at making girls scream in ecstasy.”

she crooked a finger at you, beckoning you closer. “come here, sweetheart. let me show you how to touch me…”

as you approached, karina took your hand and guided it to her breast, encouraging you to squeeze the soft flesh. her nipple pebbled under your palm, the rosy bud begging for attention.

“start by worshipping my tits.” she instructed breathily. “use both hands, don’t be shy. get acquainted with every inch of them.”

not knowing what to do really, you slowly take her breasts in your hands, feeling the weight of them on your palms. “they’re… uhm, nice.”

karina let out a soft moan as your hesitant hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, your touch sending pleasant shivers through her. she covered your hands with her own, guiding you to knead and caress the ample mounds with more confidence. she reached up and showed you how to circle her stiff nipples with your thumbs, applying a teasing pressure. another breathy moan escaped her lips as you clumsily mimicked her actions.

“mmmh yes, just like that, baby. you’re a natural.” she encouraged breathlessly, her back arching slightly to push her chest further into your touch. “don’t be shy. grab them tighter, pinch and pull at my nipples. i want to feel that cute mouth of yours all over them too.”

she released your hands and leaned back, watching you intently through half–lidded eyes darkened with lust. your fingers found her nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. karina gasped and bit her plump lower lip, looking utterly debauched.

“that’t it, baby. now, lean down and put your mouth on them. cover my nipple with your lips and suck, use your tongue to swirl around it.” karina tangled her fingers in your hair, pushing your face further into her cleavage as she arched her back, pressing more of her soft flesh into your mouth. her breath came in short, eager gasps as she felt your inexperienced but enthusiastic exploration of her body.

karina gasped and arched her back slightly as your warm mouth enveloped her sensitive nipple, your tongue beginning to swirl and flick around the hardened nub. she tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you suckled and lapped at her breast. “oh fuck yes—, just like that.” she purred, pushing your head more insistently against her chest. “suck on my tits, baby. put that pretty mouth of yours to work.”

as you tentatively suckled and licked at her nipple, karina squirmed beneath you, her arousal growing. she held your head in place, encouraging you to lavish attention on her breasts.

“you’re a quick learner.” she praised breathlessly. “keep going, baby. use more of your tongue, flick it against the tip. make me feel good.” she pushed your head down, encouraging you to take more of her breast into your mouth. her other hand came up to grope and knead the neglected mound, pinching and rolling the nipple between her fingers.

karina’s thighs began to tremble slightly, a dampness building between them as your inexperienced but eager ministrations stoked the fires of her arousal. she could feel her pussy throbbing, aching to be touched and filled.

she released your hair and tapped your chin, urging you to lift your head and look at her. “do you want to learn how to make a girl feel good?”

she sat up and spread her legs wider, revealing her glistening folds. the scent of her arousal was stronger now, filling your nostrils and making your head spin with desire.

“come closer, baby. get on your knees.” karina commanded, her voice low and breathy. she used two fingers to spread herself open, exposing her pink, pulsing hole. “start by kissing up my thigh, nice and slow. get me nice and worked up.”

her eyes locked with yours, burning with lust and hunger. she licked her lips, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. “then find my clit with that clever tongue of yours. suck and lick it just like you did my nipples. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

karina leaned back on her elbows, her chest heaving with anticipation. her eyes never left yours as she waited for you to obey her command and begin your sensual journey up her thigh.

karina shuddered as your soft lips trailed kisses along her inner thigh, your mouth leaving a path of tingling heat in its wake. she let out breathy little moans and sighs, her fingers curling in your hair as you worked your way steadily upward.

“oh fuck, baby.” she whimpered, squirming slightly. “your mouth feels so good. don’t stop, baby. keep going until you reach the top.”

as you drew closer to her glistening center, the musky scent of her arousal intensified, filling your senses and making your head swim with desire. your heart raced as you caught sight of her swollen, slick folds, just begging to be tasted.

karina spread her legs even wider, giving you full access to her most intimate area. she used two fingers to spread herself open, revealing her pink, pulsing hole and the stiff little bud at the apex.

“go on, sweetheart.” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “find my clit with that hot little mouth of yours. suck on it, lick circles around it. make me feel good."

her chest heaved with anticipation, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly. she gazed down at you with hooded, lust–filled eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. the air between your face and her dripping sex was charged with electric tension, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy.

karina let out a sharp gasp as your tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh, her hips bucking slightly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. she tangled her fingers tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as she grinded your face against her dripping sex.

“fuck yes—!" she cried out, her head falling back against the couch cushions. “just like that, baby. suck on my clit. put that wicked little tongue to work.”

spurred on by her encouragement, you focused your attention on the stiff little bud, circling it with the tip of your tongue before suckling gently. you swirl your tongue around the stiff bud, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. karina’s thighs trembled and clenched around your head, her arousal coating your chin and dripping down your neck. you could feel her pulse racing beneath the slick skin as you lapped and suckled greedily.

“your tongue feels incredible.” karina panted, her hips undulating in time with the strokes of your tongue. “don’t stop, sweetheart. lick up all my juices. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

you delved your tongue deep into her fluttering channel, fucking her with the slick muscle as you continued to suckle her clit. karina’s moans grew louder and more desperate, her grip on your hair tightening painfully. the obscene sound of your slurping and sucking filled the room, mingling with her wanton cries.

“yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, i’m gonna come!” she nearly screamed, her body tensing and quaking. “make me come on that pretty face. don’t stop!”

karina’s body went rigid, her back arching sharply off the couch as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. she threw her head back and let out a guttural, primal scream of ecstasy, her inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around your plunging tongue.

“oh shit, yes! i’m coming so hard!” she wailed, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin. her fingers pulled harshly at your hair, holding you in place as she ground her spasming sex against your face, riding out the intense waves of her orgasm.

you continued to lap and suckle at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure as her honey gushed into your mouth. the taste of her essence was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, addictive in its uniqueness. you couldn’t get enough, greedily swallowing every drop as it coated your tongue.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, karina collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and glistening with a sheen of sweat. she went limp beneath you, her thighs falling open and her legs dangling over the edge of the couch. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, a blissed out smile on her kiss–swollen lips.

“oh my god.” she panted, her voice ragged and hoarse. “that was… fuck, that was incredible. you’re a natural at eating pussy.”

she reached down and stroked your cheek with a trembling hand, smearing some of her juices across your skin. her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as she gazed at you with a mixture of awe and lust.

“did i do it right? was it good?”

karina grinned wickedly as you came up for air, her eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, her tongue plundering your mouth and tasting herself on your lips.

“good? baby, you were fucking incredible.” she purred against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time.”

she rolled you both over so that you were lying on top of her, your breasts pressing against hers. karina’s hands roamed your back, squeezing and caressing your curves as she held you close.

“i knew you were a keeper from the moment i first saw you.” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “such a sexy little thing, with your pretty face and hot body. i’m so glad i made a move on you.”

her hands slid down to grope your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling your hips flush against hers. you could feel the heat of her skin, still flushed and tingling from her intense orgasm. karina’s eyes flashed with renewed lust as she gazed up at you, a devilish grin on her face.

“you know, we’re just getting started, sweetheart.” she said with a wicked chuckle. “i’ve got so much more in store for you. tonight is going to be a long, pleasurable experience. i’m going to take away your fear of being around girls."

#yu jimin #yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin smut #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x fem reader #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin smut #karina #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #karina smut #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut

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fireya-x · 3 months ago

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hold me close and tell me that it's real

【 AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist 】 ✦ John Price x Reader ✦ A message to a wrong number turns out to be just perfectly right. ✦ 4.7k words ✦ tags/cw: smut, neighbor!price, wrong number, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, strangers to lovers, aftercare

The bathroom air, thick with steam, clung to the cool tiles. The fogged mirror reflected a distorted image of you, a silhouette emerging from the swirling mist. You’d agonized over which photo to send the firefighter from Tinder, meticulously staging it until your body was just visible enough through the hazed mirror, the outline of your body a clear invitation. Biting your lip, a nervous blush warmed your cheeks. You usually weren’t one for such blatant displays of… yourself.

But tonight, something felt different. Reckless. Desperate, even. Maybe it was the gnawing loneliness that had been settling in your bones lately — a constant, dull ache that no amount of casual encounters seemed to alleviate — that made you reckless.

You reached for your phone and began typing a casual message, trying to sound as flirty and inviting as possible. Attaching the photo, you hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a familiar wave of self-doubt washing over you.

Was this too much? Would he even be interested? Was your body even desirable enough?

You’d always been self-conscious about your curves and softness, comparing yourself to the impossibly thin, toned figures gracing the pages of magazines, the women who seemed to attract the attention and affection you craved effortlessly. The string of meaningless dates, the empty encounters that had left you feeling more hollow than fulfilled, had only amplified your insecurities.

You’re not enough. You’re too much. You’ll never find someone who truly wants all of you.

He was attractive, yes, this firefighter, with rugged handsomeness, but something still felt off. He wasn't him. He wasn't John Price, your enigmatic, handsome neighbor who sometimes fed your cat, whose presence electrified the air, sending a ripple of awareness through your senses whenever he was near. You’d always found him incredibly attractive, a silent, secret yearning simmering beneath the surface of your polite, neighborly interactions. But the brief, almost impersonal conversations you’d shared – about preferred cat food, the best local dry cleaner, the noise from the construction site down the street – had led you to believe that he saw you as nothing more than a friendly face in the hallway, a helpful neighbor. Certainly not someone he’d ever be interested in.

But you couldn’t help it. Those stolen glimpses of him – carrying groceries, his strong hands gripping the bags, shirtless after he was out running or repairing his motorbike, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the worn leather of his jacket – were seared into your memory, each a silent, secret fantasy. John Price, with the fine lines etched into his face by age and experience, the crinkles around his eyes whenever he smiled, the intense gaze that seemed to see right through you, the sometimes rough beard you longed to touch, the effortless kindness that radiated from him — he was everything the men you'd dated were not.

Still, he was a mystery, a silent, smoldering ember that had been slowly igniting a fire within you for months. A fire you’d diligently tried to extinguish, knowing, or rather believing, that it would never be reciprocated.

You hit send.

Your stomach plummeted. No. Panic seized you, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. You scrambled for your phone, your fingers damp, desperately trying to undo the unthinkable, but the dreaded "Delivered" notification appeared on the screen.

Mortification washed over you, hot and stinging, a tidal wave of shame threatening to drown you in its intensity. You sank to the bathroom floor, naked and now shaking, the forgotten towel a crumpled heap beside you. The stinging cold bathroom tiles against your skin seemed to mock your misery, amplifying your sense of utter humiliation. Your breath hitched in your throat, a strangled sob escaping your lips.

The text had been delivered to John, not Josh from Tinder - your damned clumsy fingers hit the wrong recipient.

Then, a soft vibration against your thigh. Your phone.

John: Well, hello there. I wasn't expecting this kind of payment for occasionally feeding your cat.

A wave of heat flooded your cheeks, the blush burning against your skin. He was teasing you. Of course, he was. He was probably laughing at you, finding your blatant display of desperation pathetic. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the bathroom tiles and cease to exist.

You: oh my god, john. i am so incredibly sorry. this was a complete accident. wrong number!! i can’t believe this happened

John: An accident? How disappointing. I am rather enjoying the view.

You: i should have checked correctly. i’m so sorry

You: i'm so mortified

You: i’ll find someone else to look after Milo

You: i am so so sorry

John: Mortified? Don't be. You look beautiful. Breathtaking, actually.

You didn’t know what to say. Was he being serious? Or was he just toying with you, enjoying your discomfort? You couldn’t tell; his tone was so carefully neutral. Then, another text.

John: Lucky guy who was supposed to receive that photo.

You: just another date. nothing special. who knows

You typed back, trying to sound nonchalant, but your fingers trembled on the keyboard.

John: Are they treating you right, at least?

The question, so unexpected, so caring , caught you off guard. A lump formed in your throat, and the casual encounters of the past few months suddenly felt even more hollow and meaningless than ever.

You: sometimes

You replied, just a single word, yet it was heavy with unspoken longing for something better.

John: Tell me, what was the plan with that photo?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could you explain the desperate want you felt sometimes, to be needed, to be loved, to be seen?

You: i don’t know… i just hoped it would make him want me

The words tumbled out, raw and vulnerable.

John: Do you want to be wanted, love?

The question, so simple, so direct, pierced through your defenses, striking deep within you. Your body was aching for a touch that had always seemed just out of reach. You’d craved it, yes, the feeling of being wanted, of being desired, but the encounters you’d had, the fleeting moments of intimacy, had never truly satisfied that yearning.

Instead, they’d only left you feeling emptier, more alone.

You: yes

You cringed inwardly at the desperation you put forward without hesitation. There was a small silence before your phone buzzed again.

John: I’d kiss away the water drops from your sweet tits to show you just how much I’d want you.

Your eyes went wide, a blush, hot and intense, flooded your cheeks at his boldness. You certainly hadn’t expected a text like that .

You took a deep breath.

He wasn’t just toying with you. He was serious. This wasn’t happening. Was it?

Another vibration of your phone.

John: Tell me what you want, love.

And then, the dam broke. All the pent-up desires, the unspoken longings, the secret fantasies you’d harbored for so long came pouring out in a torrent of words.

You: your hands on me… your mouth. everywhere

John: What a coincidence. I want to worship your gorgeous body.

You: i want to feel your lips on mine, your tongue exploring my mouth…

A shiver ran down your spine as you typed the words, the image vivid in your mind.

John: Another coincidence, because I want to taste you, love. Every inch of you.

You: id lie if i said i have never thought about how you’d feel inside me before

You: you’d probably feel so good

Why did you tell him that? You didn’t know. The thought simply sent a wave of heat through your core. Any shame that was supposed to be there was long gone.

John: Fuck. I wish you could feel how hard you make me.

You: i wish i could

The three dots appeared on the screen again, promising another text from him. You stared at them with an intensity that bordered on obsession, your heart pounding with anticipation. What would he say next? What would he do? The dots danced again, then vanished, leaving you suspended in silence.

A sudden, sharp knock on your door echoed through the quiet apartment, and your heart leapt. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the towel and wrapping it hastily around yourself.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest and your hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door.

John Price. Filling your doorway, his eyes dark with a desire that mirrored your own, his breathing ragged. He didn’t speak, didn't give you time to even register his arrival completely – the second the door was open, he reached for you, pulling you against him, his lips crashing against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss that stole your breath away.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough against your lips, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every curve, every inch of exposed skin.

“You feel that?” He murmured against your lips, grinding his hips against yours, his erection pressing hard against your stomach. “That’s all you, love.”

Your mind went blank. You couldn't speak, only moan softly as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear, his beard scratching the soft skin along the path. Your hands found their way to his back, pulling him closer, your fingers digging into the taut muscles beneath his shirt. You reached lower, grabbing him through his pants, desperate for more contact. He groaned, a low rumble of pure lust that echoed through you, making every nerve ending in your body sing.

“Mm, I’ve dreamt about touching you like this,” he groaned and pulled away, reaching behind him and closing the door, then carefully started walking forward while holding onto you, pushing you towards your bedroom with long strides, barely holding back himself. His hands were now ripping his clothes off and then your towel, leaving you completely naked in front of him – but you didn’t even register any of that. If you did, you probably wouldn’t care anyway.

He wasted no time, pushing you gently onto the bed, his body following quickly after. His weight was comforting and, at the same time, exhilarating. His lips found yours, hungry and demanding but with a tenderness that surprised you. It wasn't just lust; it was something more, something deeper. A connection you hadn't expected, but now, in this moment, felt undeniable. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin.

It just felt right. Like a culmination of all the stolen glances, the unspoken desires, the secret admiration you'd harbored for so long.

Never in a million years had you thought he’d think about you the same way.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck again. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. "So fucking perfect.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. No one had ever spoken to you like this, with such raw, unfiltered adoration. It made you feel beautiful, desirable, worthy in a way you hadn't before.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze intense, drinking in the sight of your naked body beneath him. A blush crept up your neck, a mixture of shyness and excitement. Then, his gaze dropped lower, his eyes dark and hungry as he settled between your legs.

Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation coiling in your belly. His hands framed your hips, his fingers tracing the delicate skin of your inner thighs, sending shivers dancing across your skin. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core, making your muscles clench in anticipation. The tip of his tongue darted out, a tentative touch that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit. You gasped, your hips lifting involuntarily towards him.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and then he delved deeper, his mouth working its magic, his tongue and lips creating a symphony of sensations.

He knew exactly what he was doing, his rhythm building, the pressure increasing, his tongue a skilled artist painting pleasure across your most sensitive flesh. “John,” you moaned, his name a breathy whisper escaping your lips, a plea for more. He hummed against you, a low, guttural sound of approval. You tangled your fingers in his hair, your nails scratching his scalp as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last. His tongue and lips worked tirelessly until your body tensed and balanced at the edge of release.

And then, with a final, exquisite flick of his tongue, he sent you spiralling over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing around his mouth, your cries unfiltered and shamelessly loud, a release so intense it left you breathless and trembling, your mind a blissful blank.

He rose, his eyes dark with satisfaction, a triumphant glint in their depths. Before he moved higher, though, his fingers dipped between your legs, testing your wetness. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. A warm thrill coursed through your body at the sight, a tingling sensation that ran along your spine.

He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, his lips meeting yours in a deep, lingering kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, the flavor intoxicating, a tangible reminder of the pleasure he'd just brought you – the combination of the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm and the feel of his lips on yours, his taste mingled with your own, was almost too much to bear.

As his tongue explored your mouth, he moved between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. With a soft groan, he pushed inside, slowly, carefully, his kiss deepening as he filled you.

It was a perfect fit, a seamless joining of two bodies, punctuated by soft moans and your mingled breaths.

And then, he began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your moans soft against his lips. It was almost… loving. A gentle exploration, a tender dance between two lost souls connecting.

Suddenly, you felt his hands explore your folds, gently touching our clit, wandering down below where your bodies connected – before a finger pressed against your other hole – and your breath hitched.

He seemed to notice your reaction and chuckled lightly. He stopped moving to look right into your eyes. “Tell me, did any of the Tinder boys ever fuck you here?” He put more pressure on your asshole, seeking entrance, and your entire world almost fell apart.

“No…,” you whispered, voice shaky. “No one ever has.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. “Because I will, and I don't want anyone else touching you from this day forward. You're mine .”

He moved, his thrusts deep and powerful, his whispers raw and possessive, filling your ears with words of praise and adoration that made your heart ache with a happiness you’d never known. The way he moved within you, each thrust increasingly more intense – it was a declaration of his claim. You arched beneath him, your body molding to his, your moans a demonstration of the pleasure, echoing through the room. A heat bloomed within you, spreading through your limbs, pooling in your core, a fire ignited by his touch, his words, his sheer presence.

You accepted your fate of being his, completely and utterly his, captured and taken - and yet in that moment, helpless and surrendered to the intoxicating power of his possession, you’d never felt so free .

He continued to thrust, his rhythm relentless, his body a perfect complement to yours, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your nails raking across his skin, leaving marks that mirrored the ones he was leaving on your soul. The world narrowed to the space between your bodies, the sound of your mingled breaths, the raw, unfiltered pleasure that was consuming you both.

Then, just as you felt yourself on the precipice of release, he pulled out, leaving you achingly empty, a void where his warmth and hardness had been just moments before. A whimper escaped your lips, a soft sound of protest, of longing. He turned you over, his hands gentle but firm, guiding you onto your stomach. A shiver of anticipation and a nervous thrill ran through you as you felt his breath hot against your ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent goosebumps rippling across your skin.

“Do you have any lube, love? I want this to be perfect for you.”

You nodded, barely able to point toward your nightstand. Your entire body trembled endlessly, not knowing if it came from pure arousal and lust or this unexplainable affection you felt towards him — how considerate he was with your pleasure and, more so, with your comfort. It left you speechless and breathless, exposed and bare, and longing to never come down from this high, no matter how hard the fall would eventually become.

You silently cursed yourself and the universe for not letting you know there had been a connection between you so much earlier, so you could have been spared all the emptiness and loneliness the fleeting encounters with other men always left behind.

He reached for the nightstand drawer, pulling out a small tube of lubricant. He looked you directly in your eyes – it felt like an unspoken vow, a wordless agreement to give yourself to one another in the deepest possible sense. It felt utterly intimate – to let him , a man you were so painfully shy with just moments ago, perform such an act… how strange the universe worked – and how intensely right it all felt.

His touch was gentle as he lubricated his fingers, one after another, and then reached behind you – so carefully circling your puckered entrance, making you moan softly in surprise and wonder at the completely new feelings. It felt like being touched for the first time in places nobody ever cared to explore – let alone so masterfully gentle and knowing like this. A mix of strange anticipation, embarrassment, and the sheer thrill of being touched by this man sent shivers through your core.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured, pushing his first finger inside, slick with a mix of lube and your juices, so very gently at first. “Want me to fuck that pretty little hole, love?”

“Yes, please ,” you whined, sounding utterly desperate and shameless. With nobody before, you’d ever begged - yet with John, it slipped from your lips almost naturally. He chuckled, and his mouth twisted in a wicked smile, making your heart race.

He continued to prepare you, adding a second finger, slowly stretching you, his touch both firm and incredibly tender, your entire lower abdomen now twisting and pulling itself down in involuntary anticipation of being filled. You gasped, a small moan escaping from your lips. The feeling of being so tenderly explored made tears spring to your eyes. No one had ever treated you like this, with such reverence, such care. You put your head down on its side, trying to catch a glimpse of him, wondering why or how someone like John Price – the distant, mysterious neighbor who seemed to exist in a world of his own, someone who you deemed out of reach just an hour ago, now took such incredible, passionate care of you , making you feel precious . It was almost too much to handle, each gentle stroke making you feel more overwhelmed and wanted. It was everything you always fantasized about, what having a lover truly could feel like but never dared believe to be true.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

You gasped, your body convulsing, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. But it was a good pain, a delicious, welcome ache, a sensation unlike anything you’d ever experienced. He continued to explore your depths, stretching you, accustoming you to the unfamiliar feeling, his touch patient and understanding. His fingers slowly widened you, his movements deliberate and unhurried, giving you time to adjust, to relax into the sensation. All the while, his other hand was buried between your folds underneath you, and his thumb continued to caress your clit, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body, distracting you from any discomfort, replacing it with a growing anticipation.

“Tell me if it's too much,” he whispered. “I don't want to hurt you.”

His words, his tenderness, his concern for your pleasure, melted away the last of your apprehension. You moaned softly, over and over, your body arching against his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Then suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the lubed head of his cock, pressing gently against your entrance. “Ready, love?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart pounding in your chest. He pushed inside, slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size, his fullness. You gasped, a small cry escaping your lips, but it wasn't pain, not exactly. It was a new sensation, intense and unfamiliar but somehow just right. He paused, waiting for you to relax, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip, his touch a silent reassurance. A feeling of belonging settled deep within you, a terrifying, exhilarating connection unfolding between you.

You knew, with certainty, that this would never be the same with anyone else.

He began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, his thrusts deep and powerful, filling you completely. You cried out, your voice a mixture of pleasure and surprise, your body arching against his, desperate for more. He whispered dirty praises against your skin, his words a heady mix of possessiveness and adoration, fueling the fire within you. “You're so fucking tight,” he groaned, “so perfect. All mine.”

With another groan, he pulled you flush against his chest, his arm wrapping tightly around your body, his large hand cupping your breasts, pressing you against him. He held you there and continued to move, but the rhythm changed, becoming a desperate, needy grinding, his hips pushing against yours, the friction building, the intensity escalating. You whimpered again, your head falling back against his shoulder, lost in the overwhelming sensations. It was too much, too intense, too good . You didn’t even know what was real anymore. All you knew was him , the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his breath and his growls in your ear, the raw, unfiltered pleasure that was consuming you.

His other hand moved between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, circling, rubbing, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure. You arched your back, your body writhing against his, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He added two fingers to your slick heat, swirling and stretching you, sending shocks of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. You cried out his name, over and over, lost in the sensations, lost in him.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, “just like that, love. Take it all.”

You shattered, your body convulsing around him, cries mingling with his groans in a symphony of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The release was an explosion of sensation so intense it left you breathless, trembling, mind blissfully blank. He continued to grind against you, each thrust echoing the receding waves of your orgasm. Then, he went still, holding you so tightly against him you forgot how to breathe. The sensation of him pulsating deep inside you, buried within your ass, was exquisitely intimate. It was a connection so profound, so utterly consuming; it sent another ripple of pleasure through your still-sensitive nerves. You felt the warmth of his release, a shared intimacy that brought tears to your eyes. Teeth nipped at your shoulder, followed by a growl that bordered on animalistic, a raw expression of his own pleasure.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his arm, holding yourself as close as physically possible as he shuddered through his climax. It was a moment of such raw vulnerability, such complete surrender.

For a fleeting second, a flicker of fear sparked within you – the fear of losing this connection, this incredible intimacy.

But he didn't let go. The expected detachment, the sudden chill of loneliness, didn't happen. Instead, he held you close, almost protectively, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His lips brushed against your ear. “You're incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “So fucking incredible.”

His words were a balm to your soul. He hadn't discarded you like the others. He held you as if you were precious, as if you were something to be treasured. You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest. A warmth spread through you, a deep, abiding sense of peace you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

Fear whispered that you were overstepping, that this closeness was too much, too soon, but his arms held you captive.

The self-doubt that had plagued you for so long, the insecurities that had whispered insidious lies in your ear, the ghosts of endless, disappointing dates and fleeting encounters – all of it washed away, cleansed by his touch, his words, his sheer adoration. You held onto him, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, the only solid thing in a world that had become fluid and uncertain.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “So,” you murmured against his chest, your voice still shaky, “does this mean I can repay you like this for cat-sitting more often?”

He kissed your temple, a tender gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you. “Love,” he whispered against your hair, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin, “Not that it matters, but I'd fuck you for free.” He chuckled.

“As often as you'll let me." He paused, his breath warm against your ear, and added, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "In fact, I have a feeling I'm going to need to. And want to. A lot." He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a possessiveness simmering in their depths. "What's mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense, "is mine."

His words were dark, almost dangerous, but the way he said them, the intensity in his voice, the possessiveness in his gaze, made something deep within you stir.

Belonging. It was a dream you'd almost given up on, a fantasy that had faded with each meaningless date, each disappointing encounter.

His thumb gently stroked your cheek. “You said those other… dates … they only sometimes treat you right?”

His words, soft yet pointed, pricked at the carefully constructed wall around your heart. You swallowed, suddenly shy again. They… they don’t see me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m just… a body.” You hesitated, then continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I miss… talking. Laughing. Being held. Someone who looks at me like… like you just did.”

His face softened, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Then let me show you how you deserve to be treated.”

“Are you going to stay?” you whispered, the question barely audible, scared of his reaction.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze holding yours intensely. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed, your fingers finding the short strands of hair at his nape.

“What about your date?”

“You’re better than any date is ever going to be,” you said, the conviction in your voice surprising even yourself. “I never thought you’d… like me this way,” you whispered.

“I always have,” he confessed, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip. “I’ve been dreaming about kissing these lips every time you smile at me in the hallway.” He paused, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “That photo… might have been your best mistake ever."

You smiled a genuine, happy smile that reached your eyes. “Keep it,” you whispered, your heart swelling with a joy that felt excitingly new. “And maybe... send me one back sometime?”

He grinned, a flash of heat in his eyes. “I'll see what I can do.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his beard prickling against your skin. “Now,” he murmured, “where were we?”

#captain john price #ao3 fanfic #cod fanfic #captain price #captain john price x reader #cod modern warfare #john price #captain price x reader #fanfiction #call of duty #captain john price smut #john price x reader #john price x you #18+ mdni #call of duty fanfic #captain price x you #x reader #x female reader #cod smut

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 9 months ago

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Fiona Apple - Criminal 1997

"Criminal" is a song by American singer-songwriter Fiona Apple, the third single from her debut studio album, Tidal. Apple has stated that the song is about "feeling bad for getting something so easily by using your sexuality". Apple's highest-charting single, it peaked at number 21 on the Billboard Hot 100, as well as number 4 on the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks. The song won the Grammy Award for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance at the 40th Grammy Awards and was nominated for Best Rock Song. "Criminal" was listed at number 55 on VH1's "100 Greatest Songs of the '90s", and number 71 on Blender magazine's 2005 list of "The 500 Greatest Songs Since You Were Born".

The music video was directed by Mark Romanek with cinematography by Harris Savides. Visual enhancements including the retroreflector in Fiona's eyes and additional lighting vignettes were created by visualist Ash Beck. In 1998, the video won an MTV Video Music Award for Best Cinematography. The video was featured in the 1997 MTV special "Beavis and Butt-Head Do Thanksgiving". Up until Beavis and Butt-Head's revival in 2011, it was the last to be critiqued by the duo among other videos in the special. In the second episode of American Horror Story: Freak Show, Bette and Dot Tattler perform a duet version of "Criminal".

"Criminal" received a total of 74,8% yes votes!

youtube

#finished #high yes #low no #90s #o2 #o12 #lo3 #fiona apple #english

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flashcocopop · 1 year ago

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Latest editorial for Tidal Magazine Nov' 23

#Coliena Rentmeester #colienarentmeester #tidalmag #tidal magazine #fashion #editorial #photography #women's fashion #fashion photography #new york

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norristrii · 20 days ago

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SO CLOSE TO BE THANKFUL.

It wasn’t really your proudest moment, Lando probably deserved to be mad after what you said. But still, he was the one who got you out of your shit. Maybe, you should be thankful.

pairing. step cousin! Lando Norris x fem! reader

warnings. step cousin romance, alcohol, reader gets drugged without knowing, asshole guys, violence but nothing bad, idk if readable (sorry for the delay).

Series masterlist.

YOU STOOD IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, the sleek black dress hugging your frame with effortless elegance. It was a look that carried sophistication but didn’t feel out of place—it was just right for the occasion. You adjusted the hem slightly, catching a glimpse of your reflection as you tried to gather yourself. This wasn’t just any event. It was one of those nights where every person present had a role to play, a place to belong. And then there was you.

Your aunt, as always, commanded attention with her graceful charm. Tonight, she was the stylish girlfriend of Thomas, effortlessly holding her own in a room filled with influential figures. Thomas would be there, of course, representing his business with the confidence and poise he was known for. Then there was Lando, the rich boy whose presence seemed to turn heads without fail. His charisma wasn’t loud—it didn’t have to be. He carried it with ease, like it was just part of who he was, unapologetically himself.

And then there was you. No flashy title, no predefined role. Just you. In the orbit of these vibrant personalities, you couldn’t help but feel like the quiet observer, the one who soaked everything in from the sidelines. But tonight, something about the dress, the energy in the air—it made you wonder. Maybe you were more than just a spectator in their world. Maybe you belonged there, too.

You descended the staircase slowly, the faint sound of your heels against the wooden steps echoing in the quiet house. As you turned the corner, there he was. Lando stood in front of the mirror, his reflection capturing the sharp lines of his black suit, the crisp white shirt beneath perfectly tailored to him. His fingers moved with practiced ease, adjusting his collar as if he weren’t already the picture of effortless elegance. And, well, you had to admit—it wasn’t fair how good he looked.

Your eyes trailed over him for a moment longer than you intended before your gaze flickered up, meeting his in the mirror. He caught you staring, of course he did, and his lips curved into that cocky smirk you knew all too well. Turning slightly, he met your eyes directly, his voice dripping with teasing confidence as he spoke. “No need to show off,” he said, the smirk deepening as though he enjoyed the game far too much.

Your brows raised, an incredulous laugh escaping you before you could stop it. Show off? You? He was the one standing there, practically oozing charm and confidence, looking like he’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. If anyone was showing off here, it was Lando, and you were half-tempted to call him out on it. But instead, you simply rolled your eyes, brushing past him as his soft chuckle followed in your wake. Classic Lando—always making sure to keep you on your toes.

The limousine ride was almost eerily quiet, save for the occasional bursts of laughter from Thomas and your aunt. Their easy camaraderie filled the space, but you found yourself staring out the window, lost in thought as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. The anticipation of the night ahead sat heavily in your chest, a mix of curiosity and unease you couldn’t quite place.

As the limousine came to a halt, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The roar of the red carpet hit you like a tidal wave—voices calling out, the rapid-fire clicks of cameras, a sea of lights and movement that was both dazzling and disorienting. You stepped out carefully, the noise wrapping around you like a chaotic symphony, and took a moment to adjust to the energy of it all.

That’s when you saw him. Lando.

He was just a few feet ahead, effortlessly blending into the chaos like he was born for it. Dressed impeccably, his charm seemed to command the attention of everyone around him, including the blonde girl who clung to his side. Or was it the other way around? It was hard to tell. She laughed at something he said, her hand lightly brushing his arm, and the sight made your stomach tighten in a way you hadn’t expected.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter. But the truth was, it did. You couldn’t quite name the feeling—it wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, but it was something close. A pang of discomfort, maybe even longing, as you watched him navigate the crowd with the ease of someone who knew exactly who he was and where he belonged. Meanwhile, you stood there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions you didn’t fully understand, wondering why his actions stirred something so undeniable within you.

The event unfolded with a level of grandeur that would impress anyone—except you. The dazzling lights, the endless chatter, the curated perfection of it all felt hollow somehow. You wandered through the room, your black dress catching the occasional admiring glance, but none of it seemed to matter. The conversations were shallow, the laughter staged, and the atmosphere weighed heavily on your chest, making it hard to fully breathe.

Thomas was in his element, effortlessly networking and charming the crowd, while your aunt played the role of his elegant partner with ease. Lando, of course, was somewhere nearby, surrounded by admirers, his magnetism making him the centerpiece of the room. But you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it—to revel in the excitement or join in the forced cheerfulness. The event was anything but fun. It felt like you were simply existing within the chaos, waiting for the night to end so you could escape to the comfort of solitude.

The air was suffocating, and no matter where you turned, it felt impossible to find your place. All around you, people smiled, toasted glasses, and exchanged meaningless pleasantries, their lives seemingly perfect on the surface. But beneath that polished veneer was a sense of disconnection you couldn’t shake. You couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else felt it, if anyone else saw the emptiness hidden behind the glittering facade.

The evening air hit your face as you stepped outside, your head spinning slightly from the stolen drinks you’d indulged in earlier. The lights of the cars parked in front of the building blurred in your vision, their reflections shimmering like distant stars on the wet pavement. Nobody had even noticed your departure, not that you’d expected them to. The thought settled in your chest, heavy and unwelcome, as you stumbled slightly, trying to figure out how to get home.

The sound of footsteps behind you pulled you from your haze, and then a voice—steady and familiar—broke through the quiet hum of the night. “I’m gonna drive you,” it said, firm but not unkind. You turned around sharply, almost losing your balance in the process. And there he was. Lando. Of all people.

You blinked, trying to process the sight of him standing there, so composed in his suit, his eyes locked on you with an unreadable expression. “Wow... seriously?” you muttered, half to yourself, the alcohol loosening your filter more than you’d like.

“Nah, I’m good,” you said, trying to brush him off, the sarcasm slipping easily into your tone. You waved vaguely toward the street, adding, “I’m gonna take a taxi.” Your smile was sharp, almost mocking, though it faltered slightly when you saw him step closer.

“That’s not safe,” he replied, his voice unwavering as he moved past you, his hand already on the door of his car. He opened it smoothly, gesturing for you to get inside without waiting for your protest. There was no room for argument in his tone, no opening for you to wiggle out of this. It wasn’t cocky or smug, though—you could tell he was serious.

You hesitated for a moment, caught between the lingering stubbornness in your chest and the quiet concern in his eyes. With a sigh, you relented, stepping toward the car as he held the door for you. Of all people, it had to be him. But as you slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the interior washing over you, a part of you couldn’t help but feel... safer than you wanted to admit.

The quietness in the car was suffocating, filling every inch of the space as if the lack of sound had its own weight. You stared out the window, watching the city lights streak by like blurry fragments of the evening, each one highlighting the emptiness in the air. It wasn’t the kind of silence that offered peace—it was the kind that screamed with everything unsaid, the kind that hung heavy between you and Lando, creating a barrier neither of you seemed ready to cross.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. The usual ease, the lighthearted charm that seemed to define him, was nowhere to be found. You wanted to say something, maybe a sarcastic remark to break the tension, but the words refused to come. It was as if the silence had stolen your voice, leaving you to drown in the weight of the moment.

It wasn’t comfortable, not for you, and judging by the slight furrow in Lando’s brow, not for him either. It stretched on, loud and unrelenting, until it became almost unbearable. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to find a way to escape it, to create even the smallest crack in the wall building between you. But still, nothing came. Just the sound of the engine and the hum of the tires on the pavement.

For someone like Lando, who seemed to live his life in technicolor, it was strange to see him so quiet. And for you, who was used to filling moments like this with sarcasm and wit, the silence felt foreign, unsettling. Neither of you spoke, but the silence between you wasn’t empty—it was charged, alive, brimming with questions neither of you dared to ask.

“So,” Lando said again, his voice cutting through the dense silence that filled the car. “How do you like London?” It was an attempt, you could tell—a hesitant step toward a conversation, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air.

You kept your gaze fixed on the window, watching the city pass by in streaks of golden streetlights and distant neon signs. The view outside felt safer, less complicated, compared to the one sitting beside you. “Hmm,” you muttered noncommittally, your tone distant as your eyes followed the familiar rhythm of the passing scenery.

It wasn’t that you hated the question. It wasn’t even that you hated him. But something about the night, about this moment, had made everything feel heavier than it needed to be. You weren’t ready to give him anything more than that vague hum. You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet. Not while your own emotions were still tangled and unclear.

The sound of the tires rolling over the asphalt filled the void again, and from the corner of your eye, you saw him shift in his seat, glancing at you briefly before his attention returned to the road. He didn’t push for more, didn’t press you for a real answer. Maybe he knew. Maybe he understood that tonight wasn’t the time to pry.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier with every passing minute. It wasn’t intentional, but the weight of ignoring him began to settle in your chest, an uncomfortable guilt you couldn’t shake. Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice softer than expected as you spoke. “By the way, nice car,” you said, offering him a faint smile, your eyes drifting over the sleek interior that had caught your admiration earlier.

Lando’s smirk appeared instantly, his confidence flaring the way it always did when someone acknowledged the things he was proud of. “Thanks,” he replied, his tone dripping with cocky satisfaction. “That’s my baby,” he added, with an exaggerated air of pride.

Something about his response hit you wrong, stirring a twinge of irritation you couldn’t quite suppress. The annoyance bubbled over, sharp enough to cut through the awkwardness. Without thinking twice, the words escaped your lips, tinged with more bite than humor. “Baby that your daddy bought?” you countered, your tone laced with frustration rather than playfulness.

The tension in the car had shifted in an instant, the atmosphere so heavy it was almost suffocating. The moment his gaze locked onto yours, you knew the playful banter had crossed a line. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found, replaced by a hardened expression that sent a chill down your spine. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a quiet intensity, his jaw tightening as he wordlessly pulled the car to an abrupt stop. The screech of the tires cut through the still night, and your heart skipped a beat as confusion overwhelmed you. What was happening?

Without a word, he pushed open his door and got out, leaving you frozen in your seat, trying to make sense of what was going on. The slam of the car door echoed sharply, and you felt a pang of unease twist in your stomach. “What are you doing?” you shouted after him, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and worry. There was no answer, no indication that he even heard you. Instead, he walked around to your side of the car, his movements steady and deliberate, his expression giving nothing away.

He pulled your door open, standing there in front of you with a calmness that only made the situation feel more unsettling. “Get out,” he said evenly, his voice almost too controlled, too composed. It wasn’t a request—it was a command, and the way he said it sent a jolt of disbelief through you.

You blinked up at him, caught completely off guard. “What?” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly as you searched his face for some kind of explanation. But his expression remained unreadable, his gaze unwavering as he repeated himself.

“Get out,” he said again, his tone firm and unrelenting. He wasn’t shouting, but there was an undeniable edge to his words, a finality that left no room for argument. Reluctantly, and with a growing sense of disbelief, you unfastened your seatbelt and stepped onto the sidewalk. The cool night air wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the car. You stood there, staring at him, your mind racing to catch up with what was happening.

He didn’t say another word. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked back around to the driver’s side, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. Your pulse was racing as you watched him move, his calm demeanor only fueling your confusion and anger. “So you’re just gonna leave me here?” you called after him, your voice rising with disbelief. “On the sidewalk? In the middle of a city I don’t even know?”

He paused briefly, his hand resting on the door handle, and for a moment you thought he might respond. But when he finally spoke, his voice was cold and resolute. “Exactly,” he said simply, not even turning to look at you.

The door shut with a finality that echoed in the pit of your stomach. A second later, the car roared to life, and the headlights illuminated the sidewalk as he pulled away. You stood there, frozen in place, watching as his taillights disappeared down the street.

The chilly night enveloped you as you stood there on the bridge, its cold wind brushing against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. Your phone lay lifeless in your clutch, the screen blank, your last possible lifeline cut off. The dark stretch of water beneath the bridge mirrored your feelings—isolated, distant, and untethered. Here you were, lost in some random city, the world around you moving on as if your presence didn’t matter.

Your dress, once a symbol of confidence and poise, now felt out of place against the quiet, empty surroundings. Its fabric did little to shield you from the cold, and you hugged yourself for warmth, trying to steady the growing discomfort that gnawed at the edges of your resolve. It was poetic, really—finding yourself stranded like this after everything that had happened tonight. You couldn’t help but replay the moment in the car, the words exchanged, the irritation bubbling over.

A bitter laugh escaped you as realization settled in. It was clear now, painfully clear. Calling Lando daddy’s boy hadn’t just struck a nerve—it had led to this mess. The regret lingered, gnawing at you, though you refused to let it overwhelm you entirely. Lesson learned. You would tread carefully in the future, keeping your wit sharp but your remarks smarter. It wasn’t worth ending up alone on an unfamiliar bridge again, standing in the cold and wishing for even the slightest sign of salvation.

For now, though, you had no choice but to rely on yourself. No lifeline, no comforting presence—just you and the quiet night stretching endlessly ahead. You tightened your grip on your clutch, your breath visible in the air as you began to move forward, step by step, searching for any semblance of direction in a city that didn’t yet feel like home.

You froze for a moment, caught between the urge to laugh at the absurdity, cry out of sheer exhaustion, or give in to the rising panic bubbling inside you. Probably panic—especially as you noticed the sound of a car approaching. Its engine purred steadily, growing louder, and your pulse quickened. You tried to walk away, your heels clicking awkwardly against the pavement, but the car only seemed to follow you, matching your pace.

Finally, the car slowed and stopped just beside you. The window rolled down, revealing a man with a friendly, disarming smile. “Hey,” he said, his tone casual, almost too casual for the situation. “I’m Keegan,” he introduced himself, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “Lando sent me for you. He wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as his words sank in. The explanation sounded reasonable enough—Lando had sent someone to look out for you—but could you trust him? Keegan’s demeanor was calm, his smile warm, but that didn’t quell the anxiety twisting in your stomach. After all, this was a strange city, and you were utterly alone. And yet… the name Lando carried weight. Everyone in this town seemed to know him, or at least of him.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you studied Keegan’s face, weighing his words carefully. Should you believe him? Could you afford not to? There was no way to know for sure, and as the cool night air continued to bite at your skin, the seconds felt like hours while you debated your next move.

But what else you could do?

The air in the car felt tense, charged with unspoken words as you settled into the seat beside Keegan. The soft hum of the engine barely filled the quiet, your question slicing through it with sharp precision. “Do you know where Lando is?” you asked, your voice sweet but deliberate, your eyes watching him carefully.

The air inside the car was thick with tension, wrapping around you like an invisible weight. Keegan’s hesitance spoke volumes, the slight flicker in his eyes betraying the lie he tried to pass off. You had asked him a simple question, but his denial, paired with the way his grip tightened just slightly on the steering wheel, only fueled your suspicions. His head shook once, a poorly executed attempt to convince you. "No idea," he answered, his tone too controlled, too deliberate.

You weren’t buying it, not for a second. The frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface bubbled over as you turned to him, your voice steady but firm. “C’mon, Keegan,” you said, cutting through the lingering silence with your words. “I know you’re lying. I’m not stupid.” Your eyes locked onto his, daring him to continue the charade.

For a moment, he seemed to wrestle with himself, the internal conflict written all over his face. The grip on the steering wheel tightened once again before he sighed heavily, his resistance cracking under the weight of your persistence. “Fine,” he muttered at last, his voice filled with reluctant resignation. His eyes darted to yours briefly before returning to the road, as though conceding defeat was easier if he avoided your gaze. “I know a place where he might be,” he admitted, the words tumbling out like a secret he wasn’t supposed to share.

His confession didn’t ease the knot in your stomach, but it confirmed what you’d suspected all along. The unease you felt sitting in this car was now mixed with a new wave of frustration. Of course Lando would send someone else to do his work, to smooth over the mess he’d left behind. Typical, you thought bitterly. Typical Lando.

As the car rolled forward, the hum of the engine filled the silence once again. The night outside passed in a blur of muted lights and shadows, the city’s quiet streets mirroring the complexity of your thoughts. Somewhere out there, Lando was waiting—or hiding—and you weren’t sure which one irritated you more. But one thing was clear: this night was far from over. You leaned back in the seat, arms crossed, preparing yourself for whatever awaited you when you reached that mysterious place.

The car came to a stop behind a shadowy, unkempt street. The faint sound of music already reached you even before stepping out. Keegan glanced at you briefly, signaling for you to follow him. As you walked towards the entrance, a wave of unease settled in your stomach, growing heavier with every step. The pungent mix of smells assaulted you immediately—weed, sweat, and something indescribable that hit like a wall. It was jarring, and the environment felt anything but welcoming.

Keegan led you down a narrow staircase at the back of the building, his footsteps steady, yours hesitant. With every step, the sound of the music grew louder, thumping and vibrating through the air until it seemed almost deafening. The space seemed to pulse with chaotic energy, unbreathable air thick with humidity and smoke. The dim lighting cast flickering shadows across the walls, and you could barely make out the faces in the crowded room.

Keegan approached a young guy leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed despite the madness around him. He exchanged a quick glance with him, nodding towards you. “She’s… looking for Lando,” Keegan said, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the pounding music. The boy’s eyes darted to you, assessing you briefly before he jerked his head in another direction.

You weren’t sure whether to follow, whether to trust any of this, but your options felt limited. The haze of the room pressed down on you as you hesitated, trying to ignore the gnawing discomfort swirling inside.

“Hey,” the guy greeted, his voice smooth and casual, sunglasses perched on his head even in the dim, smoky basement. He handed you a glass filled with something amber and strong, his smile easy and confident. “You look nice,” he added, his tone dripping with charm, as if he’d said the same line a hundred times before.

You barely glanced at the drink, your fingers brushing the cool glass but not lifting it. You weren’t in the mood for pleasantries, not here, not now. The suffocating air, the pounding music, the haze of smoke—it all felt like too much. “Where’s Lando?” you asked, cutting straight to the point, your voice steady but edged with impatience.

The guy’s smile faltered for a split second, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. It was subtle, but you caught it—a flicker of hesitation, as if your question had thrown him off his game. He leaned back slightly, his posture still relaxed, but his expression betrayed a hint of curiosity.

“Try over there,” he said, nodding toward a specific corner of the chaotic room. You followed his gesture, weaving your way through the dense crowd. The music thumped louder with every step, the bass reverberating through your chest as you pushed past clusters of people. The air was thick, unbreathable, and the occasional sip of alcohol from the glass in your hand did little to steady your nerves.

Finally, you reached the spot he’d indicated, and what you saw stopped you in your tracks. There, on a makeshift podium in the middle of the room, was Lando. Shirtless. Dancing. His movements were loose, carefree, and completely unbothered by the world around him. A group of girls surrounded him, their laughter and cheers blending into the pounding music. One of them had her hand on his shoulder, another leaning in far too close, and he seemed to revel in the attention.

You stood there, frozen, watching the scene unfold. It was... a lot. The carefree, almost reckless version of Lando was a stark contrast to the composed, cocky guy you’d been dealing with all night. And yet, there he was, completely in his element, as if the chaos of the room was his natural habitat. You couldn’t decide what you felt—annoyance, disbelief, or something else entirely. All you knew was that this was not what you’d expected to find. Not at all.

“Lando!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the pounding music like a sharp blade. His head snapped in your direction, his eyes widening in shock as they locked onto yours. For a moment, he froze, caught off guard by your sudden appearance. Of all people, you thought bitterly, there he was—shirtless, dancing on a podium, surrounded by girls who clung to him like moths to a flame. The scene was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the Lando you’d been dealing with earlier.

Your grip tightened around the glass in your hand, the frustration and disbelief bubbling over until it reached its breaking point. Without thinking, you hurled the drink in his direction. The liquid arced through the air, catching the dim light before splashing across his chest. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as the music seemed to momentarily fade into the background.

Lando blinked, his expression shifting from shock to something unreadable. You stood there, your chest heaving, your emotions a chaotic mix of anger, hurt, and something you couldn’t quite name. Whatever this night had been, it had just taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated. And now, all eyes were on you.

The girls surrounding Lando turned their attention to you, their expressions shifting from amusement to irritation. One of them rolled her eyes dramatically, muttering something under her breath as she stepped back, clearly annoyed by the interruption. Another crossed her arms, her gaze sharp and judgmental as she looked you up and down, as if trying to size you up.

Their frustration was palpable, their annoyance radiating off them in waves. It was as though you’d disrupted some sacred moment, their fun now tainted by your presence. You could feel their eyes lingering on you, their whispers barely audible over the pounding music, but you didn’t care. Your focus was locked on Lando, who stood there, still shirtless, still stunned, the remnants of your drink dripping down his chest.

“What the fuck, Y/n!” Lando’s voice boomed over the pounding music as he jumped down from the podium, weaving through the crowd in pursuit. His expression was a mix of shock and frustration, but you didn’t care. Your mission was over. You’d said what you needed to say—or rather, thrown what you needed to throw—and now all you wanted was to leave.

But as you pushed through the throng of people, the room began to tilt. Your vision blurred, the faces around you melting into indistinct shapes. The music seemed to grow louder, pounding in your ears like a relentless drumbeat. Your head spun wildly, your legs unsteady beneath you.

Your chest tightened, each breath a struggle as the world around you blurred into indistinct shapes and muffled sounds. The pounding music faded into the background, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of dizziness and disorientation. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even form a coherent thought. Your legs gave way, and just as you felt yourself falling, Lando caught you.

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cold air outside as he pushed through the crowd, his movements urgent and determined. The chaos of the basement melted away as he carried you out into the night, the fresh air hitting your face like a lifeline.

“Y/n!” he called out, his voice filled with worry as he looked down at you. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by genuine concern that you hadn’t seen before. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone desperate as he tried to keep you awake. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of clarity. “Did you take something?” he asked again, his voice trembling slightly.

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t explain the haze clouding your mind. But deep down, you knew. Someone had slipped something into your drink. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, but there was no time to dwell on it. Lando’s grip tightened as he carried you further away from the chaos, his focus entirely on you. For once, it seemed like he wasn’t playing games—he was genuinely worried, and that was the only thing keeping you grounded in the moment.

Lando carefully propped you against the wall, his hands steady as he made sure you wouldn’t collapse. The fresh air hit your face, a welcome relief from the suffocating haze of the basement. You tried to steady your breathing, but your head still spun, your body weak and unresponsive.

“Oh, here you are,” a voice drawled, cutting through the quiet. You recognized it instantly—the guy who had handed you the drink earlier. He strolled toward you with an air of cocky nonchalance, his sunglasses now perched on his nose despite the darkness. “Maybe I gave you too much,” he said, smirking as if this was all some kind of joke.

Your stomach churned, a mix of anger and disbelief washing over you. One day in London, and you’d already been drugged by someone. A new low, even for you. The thought made your blood boil, but you were too weak to do anything about it.

Lando, however, was not. His eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw tightening as he turned to face the guy. Without a word, he strode toward him, his movements sharp and deliberate. The guy barely had time to react before Lando’s fist connected with his face in a swift, clean punch. The impact sent him stumbling back, his cocky smirk wiped clean off his face.

The tension in the air was palpable, the sound of the punch echoing in the quiet street. Lando stood there, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the guy. For once, there was no trace of his usual charm or cockiness—just raw, unfiltered anger. It was clear he wasn’t going to let this slide, not after what had happened to you.

“Oh my god, man, you broke my nose!” the guy yelled, his hands flying to his face as blood trickled between his fingers. His voice was a mix of shock and outrage, but Lando didn’t flinch. Instead, he shrugged, his expression cold and unbothered. “I hope so,” he said flatly, his tone carrying no hint of remorse.

The guy stumbled back slightly, still clutching his nose, his cocky demeanor now replaced with a defensive whine. “It was just for fun!” he blurted out, his voice rising as he tried to justify himself. The words hung in the air, hollow and pathetic, as if they could somehow excuse what he’d done.

Lando’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to the guy. “Drugging a girl for fun?” he shot back, his voice low but laced with fury. There was no hesitation, no wavering in his stance. For once, he wasn’t playing games or deflecting with charm—he was standing up for you, and the intensity in his voice made it clear he wasn’t going to let this slide.

The guy shrank under Lando’s glare, his earlier bravado crumbling as the weight of his actions finally seemed to hit him. The tension in the air was palpable, the quiet street now a stage for a confrontation that felt long overdue. Lando didn’t move, his fists still clenched, his focus entirely on the guy who had dared to mess with you. For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of safety in the chaos.

“Lando, man, stop!” Keegan yelled, his voice cutting through the tense air as he tried to intervene. But Lando wasn’t having it. His glare snapped toward Keegan, his expression a mix of fury and disbelief.

“You better keep your mouth shut!” Lando shouted, his voice sharp and unwavering. “You fucked up everything you could!” The words hit like a slap, and you couldn’t help but agree. Keegan had one job—to get you home safely—and he’d failed spectacularly.

Keegan’s face twisted in defense, his hands raised as if to shield himself from the verbal onslaught. “Bro, that’s not my fault! She forced me!” he protested, his tone desperate, as though shifting the blame would somehow absolve him.

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. Forced him? Really? The excuse was as weak as his attempt to defend himself, and it only added to the frustration simmering in the air. Lando’s jaw tightened, his fists still clenched, as he stared Keegan down, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

Instead of escalating the chaos further, Lando exhaled sharply, his anger simmering but contained. He turned back to you, his focus shifting entirely to your well-being. With careful movements, he scooped you up once more, carrying you to the car. His touch was steady, his grip protective, as he seated you gently in the passenger seat.

Before sliding into the driver’s side, he cast one last look at Keegan and the guy who had handed you the drink. It wasn’t a glare, but it carried enough weight to leave them frozen in place, their earlier bravado crumbling under his silent judgment. Without another word, Lando started the car, the engine humming softly as he drove away from the scene.

The rhythmic motion of the car lulled you into a restless sleep, your head leaning against the window as the city lights blurred past. Despite the haze clouding your mind, you felt something unfamiliar—a sense of safety. Lando’s occasional glances toward you, the way his hand hovered near you as if ready to steady you at any moment, brought a strange comfort you hadn’t expected.

But for Lando, the drive was anything but peaceful. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. What was happening to him? Why did he care so much? He didn’t know himself. All he knew was that seeing you like this—vulnerable, hurt—had stirred something in him he couldn’t ignore. And as the car rolled through the quiet streets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had changed everything.

Yes, you were safe—with him, of all people. Despite everything, Lando made sure of that, his protective instincts overriding everything else. The usual cockiness and playful arrogance had faded, replaced by a quiet determination to keep you from harm.

Whatever whirlwind emotions the night had thrown at you—fear, anger, frustration—began to ebb away as the car hummed softly down the dark streets. Lando’s presence, steady and watchful, became the anchor you hadn’t realized you needed. In that moment, as the night stretched on, his actions spoke louder than the words you were too tired to exchange. You were safe. For now, that was enough.

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