#and definitely not how i was expecting my sunday evening to go

[friskalicousbiscuits]

Neglected The Mask!reader x platonic Yan!Batfam

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, it’s “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Chapter Nine

Bruce Wayne - Batman POV

3:21am - Saturday

“Master Bruce, you’re finally back.”

“Ah… yes Alfred.” Bruce paused. …Had he done something? Forgotten anything important for Alfred? The older man looked frustrated, though if it was with him, it wasn’t clear. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes!” The man’s voice raised slightly. What in the world happened…? “One of your children nearly died on a Sunday and never told us!”

“My children die nearly everyday and never tell me. Why would they come to me on a Sunday out of nowhere?” Bruce paused. “Unless you mean they’re hiding wounds?”

“No… Actually maybe. They didn’t mention any other injures other than the denied concussion. Even then, I didn’t exactly get to check them over.”

“Oh. Uhm… Alfred, which child exactly are we talking about.”

“[Name]! The one child I thought I could count on to not leave injuries unreported.” Alfred started pacing. Oh lord, Alfred was pacing. How bad was the injury? Alfred continued on with a sigh, “I remember the days when they used to come running along just for a scraped knee. Then again, they haven’t really come since the day Damian came to the manor.”

“Why’s that?” Bruce asked. He briefly remembered the day. He’d been in his office when Dick led you both in by the ear. Damian had stabbed you in the arm with his katana and you’d gotten a lucky shot in and smacked him over the head with a candelabra. Bruce scolded you both.

(Most of the scolding had been standard actually, but something about the fact he’d blamed the both of you, was what had ultimately driven you off. The fact you’d both been blamed when you were attacked first. The fact that you had literally been watching cartoons when Damian said some mocking words before lunging at you. The fact that he’d literally stabbed you and it took a candelabra and a lot of yelling for someone to get him to stop. And after all that, you were scolded. That was last year when you were about to turn eighteen.)

“I don’t know.” Alfred murmured before speaking normally. “But that’s why you, as their father, need to find out what happened. That’s also why you’re going to their room to talk to them. Father to child.” Alfred pointed to the elevator.

That’s how, about thirty minutes later, Bruce was standing in front of your door. He could hear you pacing in your room. He was honestly surprised you were awake, considering you weren’t a vigilante.

Maybe the night owl gene was passed down onto you?

He knocked on your door. He heard your pacing stop. He didn’t exactly know how to go about this, but he supposed he’d just treat this as he would with his other children. You weren’t a vigilante, sure, but even if he couldn’t bench you from patrol, maybe he could ground you? Maybe? His other children definitely wouldn’t listen to a grounding, but you might…?

Maybe?

It was hard having a normal child. He didn’t know what to use to punish you with for concealing an injury. Would grounding really cut it?

You didn’t open the door for a long time, but eventually, you slowly opened it, peaking out from a crack. He could see that your eyes were puffy.

You were crying?

Did the thought of having to talk to him about this really upset you that much? Now that Bruce thought about it, he’s never punished you before, has he? …He hasn’t actually talked to you that much either, huh?

“…[Name]? May I come in?” Bruce asked after a moment.

“Uh…” You looked all over, eyes avoiding landing on him. “Bruce, now isn’t a good time.”

He paused at the sound of his own name. He hadn’t expected it to come from your mouth. In the past, when you were younger you referred to him as dad.

You probably just picked up the habit from your siblings.

“Why?” Bruce asked.

“I’m busy.” You said quickly.

“…with what?”

“Stuff.”

Bruce stared at the little bit of you he could see from the crack in the doorway. You stared back. You tried to close the door. His hand shot out to stop it.

“Can you put your stuff on hold then?” He asked softly.

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you about something Alfred told me.” He pushed on the door, forcing you back due to probably not expecting it. He stepped in and closed it behind himself. He glanced around the room.

He didn’t think he’d never been in here before.

He walked and sat down on your bed. You still stood, watching him warily. He glanced around your room. The place was… messy to say the least. Clothes were strewn up everywhere. There was a pile of money in front of your closet. Ace was on your bed watching the interaction between you both curiously.

He eyed the money. He doubted you’d gotten it from an ATM. There were barely any in Gotham because they got stolen from so frequently. “Where’d you get the money from?”

You hesitated in answering, “stole it.”

That made Bruce pause. Stole it? Since when did you steal? Alfred mentioned a concussion. Was this this a result of that? Bruce remembers his own first personality-flipping concussion. Those needed a lot of force!

He doesn’t know how to feel about being proud of you having one though. You both really were family through and through.

A small silence cropped up between the both of them. “…Did Alfred tell you everything?” You asked.

“No. All he said was that you might’ve had a concussion and that you almost died on Sunday. Could you elaborate for him?” Bruce’s hand idly went to pet Ace.

“I…” You trailed off, clearly not wanting to answer. “I nearly drowned in Gotham Harbor. Alfred was asking if I hit my head, but I don’t think I did.”

Nearly drowned…?

“Why were you at the harbor?” Bruce looked you over. He didn’t see any visible wounds, but he wanted to take a closer look at your head, just in case you actually had hit it on a rock or something.

“I didn’t want to be here.” You said simply, very obviously begrudgingly walking over to sit down next to him on the bed.

“…Excuse me?”

“I said, I didn’t wanna be here. So, I walked straight out the front doors, past the gate, and walked all the way to the harbor and sat at the docks for a bit until a wave the size of a dang building crashed into me and pulled me into the water.” You said, staring ahead at the wall in front of you.

Bruce was still processing that you’d nearly drowned before he could realize the words leaving his mouth. “At what time were you out?”

“I don’t know, but it was nighttime.”

“But that night here was a storm. A bad one.” Bruce asked slowly.

“Alfred said that too.”

“How did you not drown?”

“Again, I don’t know. Alfred also asked that.”

How the hell did it take nearly a week for him to find out you almost drowned in Gotham Harbor? How did he not even notice you leave? You walked right out the front door, yet there were supposed to be sensors there that turned on after eight thirty. That meant you’d left before that time frame? But then why didn’t the sensors register you getting back? And that’s just assuming you came back through the front door.

Alfred would’ve commented on the wet patches all over the carpet if that’s the case. You probably would’ve still been soaking by the time you came home, though from the rain more than the harbor’s water.

“How did you make it back home?” Bruce spoke up, interrupting any more thoughts.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t. I fell into the water and then after that, I don’t remember anything other than bits and pieces.”

“What bits and pieces?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” You seemed to be getting tired of repeating that phrase over and over. Bruce was getting equally as tired of hearing it. “I— I remember moving through Gotham, but that’s about it. I’d blink and then be in an entirely different street than where I was previously. Then, after a bit, I woke up in bed.”

“That’s all you remember?”

“Yes. It is. I don’t have anything else to tell you.” You were getting defensive. Why?

Bruce was about to ask another question before a knock interrupted the both of them. Damian strolled in without a care before stilling at the sight of his father. “Father.” The young boy seemed surprised. Bruce was cut off from speaking once again, this time by you.

“Damian! You’re here for another puzzle, pal? Right?” You shot up from your seat and jogged over to the boy, putting your hands on his shoulders and walking him out of the room. Ace hopped off the bed and padded after you.

“I— well, yes.” Damian seemed confused as he… let(?) you push him. “I also wanted to discuss your friend Maria’s little sibli—”

“Great! We got about two hours before I have to leave for school! Pick another one! Not too big though!” You put on a fake cheerfulness as you kept pushing the boy down the hallway. Bruce followed after you, leaning out of your doorway to watch you both go. Him and Damian shared a glance as you both turned a corner.

Bruce caught the tail end of a “You don’t have school. Today’s a Saturday.”

He’d ask his final question during family dinner.

Cassandra Cain - Orphan POV

7:56am - Saturday

Cass was sipping tea and relaxing on the couch in the living room while both you and Damian did a puzzle on the coffee table. Some cartoon she couldn’t name was playing. That wasn’t her focus though. Instead, it was on you.

[Name].

You were her older sibling. The nicest probably out of all of them, yet the one she knew the least about. You’d talked every now and then. You even picked up sign language for her. Despite that, you were always distant no matter what.

Cass had respected that. Even if it was slightly sad she couldn’t have an older sibling like you, one endlessly tolerant to her and the others despite their many many many flaws, she understood that you mostly wanted to be alone.

Even if your body language sometimes screamed loneliness.

She’d listened to all the rants from Stephanie about the old you. The one who would help with school work, who was easy to talk to (or sign to, which is what would’ve been in Cass’ case).

And Cassandra had been jealous, she’ll admit.

At least Steph had been able to experience it.

She knew something had changed that Sunday. It’d happened after you left that night. She’d seen you. You looked shifty, quickly making your way to the door. At the time everything about your body language screamed:

NeedtogetoutNeedtogetoutNeedtogetout…

So she let you get out.

It was after that night that the loneliness suddenly went away. At first, it was replaced by constant paranoia and tiredness. She’d assumed you were losing sleep over something. Then, it was still tiredness, but instead of the paranoia, you were more… excited. For what? She’d had no clue.

She’d gone inside your room whenever you were gone. The window between the end of school and the time you get home being two hours worked in her favor. She’d rifled through your drawers from a mask, one of Jason’s guns, and other items. Checked under the bed, in your closet, (thankfully, unlike the time with Alfred, a dollar bill was decent enough not to float down right in front of her face) stared at your desk for about five minutes.

That last one was because there was a picture of Cass’ ballet dancing. She’d had no idea you’d had it. It made her giddy. A little too giddy. She was a little upset she didn’t have any pictures of you.

That was nearly three days ago. Now, it was a Saturday and she was trying her hardest to not be jealous as you and Damian did the puzzle. She was pretending she wasn’t trying to will you to let her join.

When you finally turned around to look at her in confusion, she almost jumped in joy. “Cassandra? Is something wrong?” You asked in concern.

Cass shook her head. That left you to look between her, Damian, and the puzzle repeatedly until you finally settled back on looking at her. “Do you want to join us, Cassie— er Cass?”

The nickname Cassie already had her sat on the floor with them immediately. Specifically between them.

Barbara Gordon - Oracle POV

5:28pm - Saturday

Barbara I’ve been staring at her computer screen for the past 30 minutes. Why? Well, let’s take you down memory lane for a few moments.

Earlier, she’d been in the library, typing away, cataloging some books. Then, she gotten a chime that the fingerprint scan was complete. She’d checked them, expecting someone with at least a criminal record, but no. They were [Name]’s.

The same [Name] that when they were thirteen and they bumped into her in the hallway, apologized profusely and wouldn’t stop until she begged them too. The same [Name] that volunteered at the library whenever Babs needed it. The same shy little [Name] who would ask her about computers and hacking and all that just to listen to her talk. (All of this being before you were around fifteen. Before that night with Jason, before Damian stabbed you, before a lot of rather traumatizing things.)

Would it be bad that Barbara considered not telling Bruce?

Don’t get her wrong! You need to be brought to justice but the same time she doesn’t exactly want to see her little sibling go to jail!

Barbara stared at the screen for another ten minutes.

She’d bring it up during dinner.

[Name] Wayne - Unpossessed POV

7:44pm - Saturday

Today was a family dinner day.

You really really didn’t want to go.

You hadn’t gone to the last one! (Or the one before that. Or the one before before that.) Then again, after you missed the last one you’d become Masky. Damian also hadn’t left your side the entire day. He’d glared you into coming.

So here you were. Bruce was on one side, Damian on the other, the dinner table was silent, and it was also extremely awkward.

Everyone seemed like they wanted to say something.

Meanwhile, you were just shoveling food into your mouth as fast as you could so you could leave immediately. Damian was also stealing pieces of lettuce off your plate when he thought you weren’t looking. That helped too. Though, a look from Bruce, had you both stopping the stealing and slowing the eating.

Also, Mr Constantine was here?!

The man was casually eating some steak Alfred prepared. Was he a family friend and he didn’t know?

( “Mr Constantine?! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, y’know, free food.”)

As the dinner went on, you could swear the awkwardness got worse and the tension got higher.

Was it just you, or was everyone casting you looks every now and then?

You sipped some watery nervously. Constantine got up to go, in his words, “take a piss”. That left you exclusively with your family. Most of them seemed like they wanted to say something.

But wha—

“Why didn’t you come to me when you nearly drowned in the harbor?”

“[Name] might be the masked!”

“Wayne, your friend was exorcised by Constantine.”

“[Name] please be our friend again!”

“I don’t think [Name] knows we’re vigilantes.”

Every single one of those sentences was spoken at the same time and forced into a blurb of words.

A small silence settled.

That was until Tim broke it.

“…uh, [Name] skipped school?”

The table went back to it silence.

You had to shakily put down your water before you might spill it all over yourself.

What?

“Barbara, what did you say?” Bruce asked, cutting off any questions you had about their questions.

“[Name] is the masked! It think. It’s possessing them! I think. I’m not exactly clear on how this thing works.” She explained. Everyone immediately turned to look at you in utter bewilderment.

Mr Constantine chose that moment to rush back in…

…holding the mask?!

“You bloody bastards! You had this thing the whole time!?” The man sounded furious as he threw it onto the table. It landed on your plate, a part of it, stuck in your mashed potatoes.

(“[Nickname] GET ME OUT OF THIS MUSHY STUFF!”)

You put your head in your hands.

(“HEY! DON’T IGNORE ME! THIS IS GROSS!”)

“Imagine my bloody surprise when I’m trying to find the goddamn bathroom and I stumble upon this thing just laying on a table in a room!”

You heard some yelling start between everyone. You simply picked up the mask and grabbed a napkin to wipe it off.

You were so screwed.

“Which one of you is the user anyway! I don’t remember anyone missing during your patrols.” The man muttered, eyes sweeping over the table until they landed on you.

You raised a shaky hand. “That’d be me.”

You were in so much trouble.

.

.

.

The end!

The order of people who yelled all at the same time might be confusing, so here it is: Bruce, Barbara, Damian, Cass and Steph but Steph was the one who said it, Jason, and finally Tim. Also, in case you can’t tell from both this story and my last story, I don’t know how to end series at all!

1.) We don’t know Skillit isn’t dead. As I said in the last post, Skillit can come back during the winter solace, but Reader does not know that. 2.) someone anonymous said that Constantine would be having dinner with them, so he is. 3.) Like Steph, Cass has been a yandere for you. 4.) Barbara is probably the sibling you’re closest to. She’s your Alfred. You know whole lot of stories of Alfred be the only good guy?

Taglist: @yourtypicalhuman09 @cupid73 @yhin-gg @galaxypurplerose @xxgrimripp3rxx @hai-there-how-are-you @suckmyballzfr @yarn-mony @patatasolitaria @deathbynarcisstick @depressed--therapist @eyeless-kun @mary-jinx @natllo @d4rkf10w3er @mintynilla @whognuthis @bat1212 @blapbloep @vanessa-boo @randomlyappearingartist @otakusimp1 @iansimpsforeveryone @like-thechocolate @cruzerforce4256 @sirenetheblogger @mrmacwaffles @p1nkh3artz @23xfgg @venomsvl @ceramic-raven @conqcakes @flightless-magpie @numbu5 @moon0goddess @itsberrydreemurstuff @inyourmomsbussy @mybones537 @xxangelxxsblog @inayouboo @wishiwaswritingrn @spacecoffeebean

[oddinary4bts]

Be With You | ch 16

☆summary: who knew that the hot guy you've been paired with for a class project is also a kind soul? Certainly not you, and you feel yourself falling even though you know you shouldn't. Will it be your demise, or will it all work out in the end?

☆pairing: Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: slow burn strangers to lovers, college!au, smut, angst and fluff

☆warnings: cursing, anxiety, san's dad, explicit content: oral sex (male receiving), spitting, unprotected sex (be careful), hair pulling, jerking off, praise, fingering

☆word count: 11.9k

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here

☆a/n: almost the end :') thank you to @moonleeai for your amazing work as my beta reader, I love you and am forever thankful for you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

Cold snowflakes Withered down Until you bloom As a spring flower I'll be with you

Be With You, Ateez (english translation)

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, April 13th

You didn’t realize how fucked you would be for not studying during Spring Break until you end up spending your entire weekend at the library, deep in your books instead of running on the beach with Choi San like you did last Thursday. It’s such a drastic change of environment that you’ve been feeling whiplashed, puzzled, the white neon lights of the library harsh compared to the sun you’ve experienced during the trip.

At least, Choi San is sitting right next to you, close enough for you to be able to lean your head on his shoulder whenever you need a break from staring at your laptop as you try to cram all the information for tomorrow’s exam into your brain.

“Everything okay?” San asks as you do lean on his shoulder for the hundredth time.

You sigh. “I’m tired. I don’t think I’ll be able to study for much longer.”

“Do you feel ready for the exam?” he asks, and he pecks the top of your head.

You smile, heart soaring in your chest. “As much as I can be. I just know I won’t be able to retain any more information.”

“To be fair, the final in this class has the reputation to be easy,” San says. “So I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay.”

You yawn, glancing at the screen of his laptop. “What are you even doing?”

There’s an anime playing on the screen, and it definitely has nothing to do with tomorrow’s exam at all.

San laughs. “I got bored of studying like thirty minutes ago, but you looked like you were focused, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You straighten, stretching as you immediately close your laptop. “Then let’s go, since you’re done too.”

San nods with dimples adorning his cheeks, and then you both get ready to go, putting your stuff in your bags. You put a jacket on, but San came without one, only wearing his trusted grey sweater you’ve seen him in far too many times before.

Once you’re both ready, you get out of the small study room you reserved, heading towards the large one where some of your friends are. You notice Sydney and your brother left, which you confirm by checking your phone and seeing that she’s texted you to let you know, and so you say goodbye to Wooyoung, Yeosang and Hongjoong before leaving the library, stepping out into the fresh night air.

The sun set a long time ago, and some rare puddles reflect the light of the streetlight as if they’re portals to another universe. San holds your hand as you walk, and the wind is colder than you’d expected it to be, leaving you to step closer to San.

As you walk, you pass by the sakura trees that line one of the campus’s paths. Most of them are still heavy with blossoms, though they’ve been falling in the last few days, their beautiful yet short blossoming season ending already.

Petals flutter to the ground around you, reminiscent of the snow from just a few months ago, and it makes for a romantic atmosphere, one that makes you tug on San’s hand.

“What?” he asks, and you both keep walking, though you slow down as you walk past the trees.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you reply, and you lean against him. “One day, I want a house with a sakura tree out front.”

“I’ll plant it for you,” San promises, and he pecks your head again.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as you look up at him. “I hope that is a promise.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course it is.”

You keep walking towards San’s apartment, cherry blossoms falling around you until you reach the street, leaving the sakura tree path behind. 

Twenty minutes later - and a stop at a late-night croffle shop later - you make it to San’s place, the elevator ride spent in silence as you look at your croffle like it holds the answers to the universe. Once you’re in front of San’s door, he unlocks, holding the door open for you to walk in. 

Byeol comes up to you, meowing loudly, and you laugh as you bend down, patting her head with your empty hand.

“Hello, you,” you greet her with a high-pitched voice, and San chuckles behind you as he closes the door and locks.

You kick off your shoes, putting your croffle on the counter, San doing the same a heartbeat later. You then take off your jacket, and he takes it from your hand to hang it in the closet.

“Let’s eat those now because we won’t be able to sleep if we wait later,” he says as he walks behind the counter, making his way to the drawer where he keeps his cutlery. 

“Good idea.”

It doesn’t take you long to settle at the dining table, and then you’re eating, savouring the sweet dessert while Byeol meows to her contentement as she rubs herself on your legs and San’s legs.

“I think she missed you,” San teases.

You meet his gaze, cheeks dusting with pink. “I missed her too. I missed… coming here, too.”

San’s smile is genuine, revealing dimples. “You’ll get to come here all the time now.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He narrows his gaze, glancing at your half-eaten croffle. “For that comment, I’m stealing a bite.”

“Hey!” you yelp, but he’s too quick, his fork darting into your food and retrieving to his mouth before you can stop him. You glare at him, folding your arms on your chest. “That was mean.”

He dips his finger in the whipped cream on his own dessert, and then he taps your nose. Once again, you’re too slow to duck, and you immediately retaliate by doing the same thing, rubbing whipped cream on his cheek.

“Now I guess we’ve become the desserts,” San says. He wipes his cheek, licking his fingers clean, and your mind goes fully empty at the sight of his tongue on his fingers.

Goddamn. 

“What?” San asks with a laugh.

You shake out of the reverie of him licking his fingers clean of something else, and you meet his gaze. “Nothing.”

He squints his eyes again as if he’s still suspicious, yet he shrugs it off, eating a piece of his croffle while you wipe your nose absentmindedly.

“Do you need to take a shower before bed?” he asks once you’ve both finished eating, enjoying each other’s company in silence for a little while.

You nod. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” he reassures you. “I have to take a shower too anyway.”

He ends up going before you, only because you insist that he does so, and you take a quick shower when he’s done, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare before meeting him in the living room, where he waited for you.

He looks good. Shirtless, with just a pair of black joggers hanging low on his hips. He’s scrolling on his phone, the screen casting its white glow on his features as he looks at whatever he’s looking at. His free hand is petting Byeol where she’s lying down next to him, the muscles in his forearm shifting slightly with every move of his fingers.

Something hot and wicked grows in you, and you gulp as he raises his head, meeting your gaze.

“What?” he asks, his voice low.

That doesn’t help, either.

“I…” you trail off, and you take a couple of steps towards him. 

He smirks. He fucking smirks, because he must know. He must know you’ve spent the two last nights thinking about him. Thinking about what happened at the house by the beach, what you did on that muscular thigh of his.

“Like what you see?” he teases.

“Shut up,” you grumble, yet you stop in front of him, dropping your phone on the couch next to him. 

His gaze widens, his features falling more serious. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m ready,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I’m ready, San. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He gulps. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

He doesn’t need to. No, you simply nestle yourself between his thighs, bending down as you cup his cheeks and capture his mouth in a languid kiss. He immediately lets go of his phone, and his hands find your waist as you push your tongue in his mouth.

The taste of him is addictive. It’s insanity, the sweetest nectar you’ve ever tasted, and you sigh against his lips as his grip on your waist tightens. He guides you closer, and you straddle his lap.

You think a volcano erupts inside of you. Everything goes burning hot, your thoughts tinting with red, with passion and lust and so much desire for San you might break down right here, right now. Instead, you kiss him with everything in you, kiss him like you’re in Pompeii awaiting your demise while the walls crumble down around you.

But you’re not. You’re very much alive and, tonight, you want to make him feel alive, too.

You rest a hand flat on his chest, pushing him away. He leans back against the couch, and you meet his gaze before glancing down at his pink lips, now swollen and glistening with saliva. And then you’re diving in again, though this time you divert to his neck, biting at his skin lightly before closing your lips around the spot below his ear, sucking delicately.

He grunts, throwing his head back as well as tilting it to the side, and you leave a trail of hot, wet kisses down to his collarbone. Your hands roam freely on his chest, appreciating the warmth of his sculpted muscles, and then you’re leaning away from his neck, straightening on his lap.

His chest goes up and down quickly with the rhythm of his breathing, and he gulps as you just look down at him, your panties starting to grow sticky with the wetness of your arousal.

“What are-” he starts saying, though he stops the second you move from his lap to kneel in front of him. 

He gulps. He fucking gulps, and you look down at the imprint of his dick in his sweatpants. He’s visibly not fully hard yet and still, the sheer size of him makes your pussy clench around nothing as you trace his length with a finger.

“I want you, tonight,” you whisper, your voice sinfully sultry, and San curses underneath his breath.

“What about the exam tomorrow?”

You lean your head on his thigh, innocently looking up at him. “What about it?”

He chuckles, and he brushes your hair over your shoulder. “Shouldn’t we go to bed early?”

“Mmh.” You glance at his dick before looking up at his eyes again. “You don’t look like you want to go to bed early.”

“Neither do you,” he replies, his voice taking the same low, dangerous tone yours has been enshrouded with.

Emboldened, you palm him through the fabric of his clothes. His dick twitches under your hand, clearly enjoying the attention. And so you rub him, up and down.

“You made me come a couple of days ago, and I didn’t get to make you come,” you say. “Shouldn’t I make you feel good tonight?”

“Fuck, princess,” he curses, his eyes fluttering shut as you peck his dick before sitting back on your heels. “Let me see your lips around me, mmh?”

You’re on fire. Sinking in lava, soon to be drowning in it. But you don’t care. You just want more. You just want to have the heady taste of his precum on your tongue, to hear the way he groans when he comes. You want to remember what the passion between the two of you is like, so unlike the softness you usually carry yourselves with.

And so you grab the hem of his pants, pulling them down while he helps you by moving up from the couch just enough for you to pull the sweatpants past his ass. You leave his boxers on though, and then you’re palming him again, rubbing his dick through his underwear.

Clearly, you’re not applying enough pressure, because San bucks his hips, seeking more friction. You don’t give it to him, simply removing your hand from his dick to rest it on his thigh as you lean closer, pecking the head of his dick.

“Please don’t tease too much,” San says, entirely breathless above you.

You look up, smirking. “Why not?”

“Brat,” he lets out in what almost sounds like a growl. “Because I haven’t jerked off since before we went to the beach, and I’m going to come embarrassingly fast already.”

“Oh, will you?”

You did not forget that San is more of a dom, even though he doesn’t portray it all that much in his day to day life. But he reminds you tonight, grabbing your jaw and leaning towards you.

“Open your mouth, princess,” he orders. “We gotta wash that tongue of yours.”

You keep your lips stubbornly sealed, and San draws closer, pecking your mouth. And then he’s biting at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, and you moan. It’s all it takes for him to spit in your mouth, though he immediately starts kissing you after, his tongue teasing yours, and you kiss him back like you’ve gone feral for him.

You think you might have.

“Sit back,” you order as you pull away from the kiss, pushing on his chest again.

He obeys, his dark, lustful gaze watching your every move, and you look down at his dick, now visibly rock hard, enough so that the tip of it is pushing out of his boxers. You relieve him of those, pulling them down his legs and letting them rest around his ankles as you look at his dick, his balls sitting fat and heavy between his thighs.

He does look like he hasn’t come in a while. 

Unable to resist, you lean forward, licking a stripe between his two balls, and San hisses as you keep going up, making your way to his tip. You lick at his slit, and the taste of his precum finally fills your mouth, making you moan louder than necessary.

Fuck, you missed this. So much so that you’re taking him in your mouth a second later, unable to tease like you originally planned to.

And you lose yourself in him. Lose yourself in the bobbing up and down of your head, in your tongue alternating between resting flat on his shaft and swirling around his tip. You lose yourself in the sounds he makes - the moans, the groans, the growls - and you moan around him, letting him know that this is making you feel just as good as it’s making him feel. 

When he puts his hand on the back of your head, guiding you up and down on him, you let him lead, eyes watering as he hits the back of your throat. But you keep the gag reflex in, let him use you like he wants to use you. You want him wild, unleashed, and he doesn’t disappoint, fucking your mouth so good you need him inside of you.

You might be stupid. You might be truly insane. But the second he lets you go so that you can breathe, you get up, taking off your PJ shorts and panties in one swift motion. San just watches you through half-lidded eyes, and he doesn’t try to stop you as you straddle his lap. 

Hell, he grips your hips, guiding you so that you’re grinding on his cock, your juices wetting his shaft and the tip of his dick so thoroughly that, on your next pass, it dips inside of you.

The feeling of his tip parting your nether lips makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head and, before he can make you pull away, you sink your weight on him, up until he’s fully inside of you, so deep you think you see stars.

“Holy fuck,” he curses. “Princess, I…”

You move up, and then drive yourself back down on him. “Yes?”

“I’m gonna fucking come.”

You don’t need to hear more. You put your feet on each side of his thighs to have better leverage, holding his shoulders, and then you start moving up and down as quickly as you can, your thighs burning after only a few seconds. But the sounds he makes keep you going, and you ignore the burn as he hits your cervix.

He feels good. You’ve never been with him like this before, without a condom, and it’s like every sensation is a thousand times stronger. You feel the drag of him on your walls, feel the ridge of his tip as he moves inside of you. Hell, you think you also feel the large vein that goes from the base of his dick almost all the way to the top.

You feel every single fucking thing, and it’s going to make you come, too.

San’s fingers dig in the supple skin on your hips as you keep going up and down. He’s doing most of the work now, holding your weight as he helps you move, and his muscles flex with every motion, one vein popping out on his biceps.

And then San leans forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as you sink all the way down until he’s against your cervix, and he drops his forehead on your collarbone as he comes with a cry, painting your insides white. The feeling of him twitching inside you sends you over the edge, and your pussy spasms on him as you climax hard, your eyes going blind as you lose a hand in his hair, pulling it without even realizing you’re doing so. You’re mewling, moaning, his name a litany as waves after waves crash on you, and San follows you into it all, shaking under you.

It takes an eternity for you both to come down from your high. San’s still spearing you with his dick, still rock hard despite having come, and he just chuckles breathlessly, pecking your neck as he turns his head towards you.

“What the actual fuck,” he lets out.

You lightly laugh as your mind grows fuzzy with the strength of your orgasm. “What the fuck,” you repeat.

“That was…” He chuckles again. “That was amazing.”

It was. It really fucking was.

You pull on his hair, and he hisses in pain even though he lets you do it. The second he’s far enough for you to kiss him, you capture his mouth in a sweet and slow languid kiss that reminds you of what home is.

Home is him, wherever he is in the world. And you want to tell him how he makes you feel, how your heart beats for him and him only, but it feels like it would be too much right now.

You want to tell him when the moment feels right. And though you do love him right now, you don’t want him to think you’re saying it because of the heat of the moment.

When you naturally pull away from the kiss, resting your forehead against him, your eyes flutter open just enough for you to see the grin on his lips. It makes you love him even more, and you peck his lips once more before pulling away.

“Now, how are we going to do this?”

San’s eyes take a moment before they open, and his pupils are blown out wide when he meets your gaze. “We’ll make a mess, but that’s okay. I’ll clean it up.” He wets his lips, glancing down between you, but your shirt hides the spot where your bodies are connected. “You’ll have to get up, though.”

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself, and then you do so, holding onto his shoulders for leverage.

The second you feel his cum dripping out of you, running on the inside of your thighs, you put your hand between your legs. But he came a lot - it covers your hand, and you let out an awkward laugh.

“Shit.”

“Let me go get something,” San says, and he gets up, stumbling from the fact that his boxers are still around his ankles. He kicks them off, and then he jogs to the bathroom, coming back with so much toilet paper that you just laugh as he hands it to you.

“Thanks.” You put the paper against you, and then you head to the bathroom, waddling awkwardly as San jogs in front of you.

“Let me start a shower for you.”

“For us,” you say as you make it to the bathroom, and you sit on the toilet. “A shower for us.”

San smiles down at you. “Yes, princess. For us.”

He’s so beautiful like this you could cry. He’s more so beautiful as he holds you against his chest in the shower, leaving hundreds of soft kisses on the top of your head. Even more so beautiful as you lie in his bed after, your head on his shoulder as you’re tucked in his side. 

You shift even closer, needing to hear the beats of his heart, making sure they’re synced with yours. Of course they are, and you smile in the darkness, tightening your grip around his waist for a few seconds.

And then you let a truth slip.

“It was my first time ever doing it raw,” you admit.

San lets out a chuckle. “I thought you were already asleep.”

You glance up to find him already gazing down at you. “Nah.” Your cheeks burn, and you’re thankful that the lights are off and he can’t see. “What about you?”

“Am I sleeping?”

You glare at him, though it’s all in good fun. “No, did you ever go raw with someone else before?”

He wets his lips, blinking once. “No, it was my first time.”

For some reason, that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You think he feels the same way, because he leans closer, pecking your forehead.

“And we should definitely do it again,” he adds.

You snort, tapping his chest. “Pervert.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t like it?”

You purse your lips. “I am not answering that question.”

“I’ll take it as a yes.”

You laugh, and you spy a dimple on his cheek as you glance up. “Maybe.”

He’s grinning and fuck, happiness looks so good on him.

“Let’s sleep, though,” you say as your heart beats for him, filling you with warmth. “We have to get up early for the final tomorrow.”

San takes a deep breath, the smile lingering on his lips, and he pecks the top of your head. “Good night, Y/n.”

“Night, San.” You snuggle closer, hiding your face in his neck. “Sweet dreams.”

“I’ll dream of you, then.”

You laugh, pecking his neck, and then you close your eyes, breathing in the scent of him.

San holds you through the night, your hearts beating together like they have been since his lips first touched yours.

Saturday, May 3rd

San is anxious. Deadly so, as the rapid rhythm of his leg moving up and down tells you. He’s sitting on your bed, staring at nothing in particular while you’re curling your hair, and the sight of him like that makes your heart break.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

His eyes dart to you before returning to their vague spot on the wall. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say more, and you worry at your bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say to reassure him. Though you doubt he can be reassured, considering you’ll be having dinner with his father tonight.

“I’m almost ready,” you choose to say, and you focus on yourself in the mirror you usually use for your makeup. 

He doesn’t say anything, and so you focus on finishing with your hair, and then you unplug your hair curler before running your fingers through your hair to make sure that the curls aren’t too tight. You then get up, and you walk over to him, sitting next to him. 

He barely acknowledges you, and you rest your hand on his knee, trying to keep his leg from bouncing. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper.

San meets your gaze, and he looks so much like a prey right now you have half a thought to suggest cancelling.

“Is it?”

You offer him an encouraging smile, nodding once. “Yes, it will be. I’ll be right there with you.” You grab his hand, interlacing your fingers. “You can even hold my hand under the table if you need to.”

He doesn’t smile, but the frown lessens.

“Thank you,” he says. He gulps, and his eyes trail back to the wall. “I don’t think I’d be able to do this without you.”

You let go of his hand, wrapping your arms around his waist instead as you rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re stronger than you think you are, San. And not only because I can barely wrap my arms around you from how large your shoulders are.”

That earns you the tiniest snort, but it’s progress. 

“That’s just because you’re tiny.” He leans his head on top of yours, and he takes a deep breath. “Good thing we waited until after the semester because I wouldn’t have been able to study.”

You know that. That’s why you suggested he’d tell his dad to wait after the semester to have dinner. You know how important his grades are to San, and you wouldn’t have wanted his father to ruin that for him too.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Instead of having to study, we can come home after and just cuddle and watch a movie.”

“I can’t fucking wait,” San lets out. “Actually, why not do that instead? Fuck my dad.”

You scrunch your nose up, glancing up towards him, though you don’t manage to catch sight of his features because of the way he’s leaning on top of your head. “Might as well go now that we’re both ready. But if you want to leave, we leave. We don’t have to stay.”

“Right.” He pecks your head, and then remains unmoving, with his lips in your hair. 

Your embrace around him loosens, and then you move one of your hands to his thigh, soothingly caressing him.

“It’s going to be okay,” you say again. “I’ll make sure of it.”

San pulls away, and then his hand cups your cheek, tilting your head up until he can press the softest kiss on your lips. “Thank you.”

Your eyes flutter open - you shut them the second he got close - and you meet his gaze. You gulp at the intensity of the emotions swimming behind his pupils - anxiety, sadness, but also love. So much love, all for you, even if he hasn’t told you he loves you yet.

It’s not like you’ve told him, either. You’ve skirted around the subject for weeks now, trying to figure out the right moment, and then you realized that you’ve been telling each other in different ways now. All the ‘drive safe’, ‘text me when you’re home’ and ‘can’t wait to see you’ all mean the same thing, after all, and you don’t need those three extra little words for you to know how he feels about you, and for him to know how you feel about him.

You know. You both know it, as it’s become a law of your universe.

“Of course,” you whisper.

He looks down at your lips, tracing them with his thumb, and then he’s leaning in again.

This time, your mouths meet in a languid embrace, moving against each other slowly yet passionately. You tilt your head to the side as his tongue pushes past your lips, and your tongues twine as you sigh in the kiss, your hand on his thigh moving higher by instinct.

San’s hand goes to the back of your head, and he grabs hold of your hair there as you innocently touch his dick with a finger.

“Be nice,” he tells you, his tone stern. “Or I’m going to ruin that beautiful makeup of yours before we get there.”

Heat strikes you, and you gulp, biting at your lower lip. “Yeah?”

He curses lowly. “Princess, we can’t right now.”

“Oh, I know,” you reassure him, and you move closer, capturing his lips in a short, wet kiss. “But you’re so hard to resist.”

He pulls away to eye you down, his gaze returning to yours dark and lustful. “You’ll keep the dress on when we come back, m’kay?”

“Didn’t you want to cuddle later?” you ask innocently, bashing your eyelashes at him.

“If I recall, you’re the one that said that.” It’s his turn to lean closer, and he says the next words against your mouth. “But I just want to hear you moan my name. You’re so fucking pretty when you do so.”

“Mmh,” you hum. “We’ll see if you get to hear it tonight.”

He grabs your jaw, his hold tight yet never hurtful, and then he’s kissing you rough, erasing every single thought from your brain. You forget everything but him, and the warmth that pools at your core grows dangerous, threatening to make you lose control.

To make you say fuck it, let’s stay here tonight.

San pulls away from the kiss, tapping your cheek lightly as your eyes flutter open. He glances down at your thighs, and at the way you’re rubbing them together like that will give you any friction. He smirks, chuckling darkly.

“Yeah, we’ll see if I do.”

You’ve been horny lately. Both of you. You’ve been having sex a lot since that Sunday after the beach trip, like you both can’t get enough of each other. And frankly, you highly doubt you can. Not when he’s so addictive, so perfect for you like his body was moulded for you.

Like you were meant to find him, and he was meant to find you. Which, come to think of it, has to be the truth. Your truth.

Your life would not make sense without Choi San in it.

*****

The restaurant San’s father chose is in the suburbs of the city, and San parks in the large parking lot right on time, though his father already informed you that he would be five minutes late.

Which you think is funny yet disrespectful, considering he lives a five minutes drive from the restaurant.

And so you wait in the car, holding San’s hand and playing with his fingers as he texts his father that you’ve arrived, and then he focuses on you, offering you a tight-lipped smile.

“Turns out we probably would have had time for that quickie,” he deadpans.

You snort, though the thought makes you bite at the inside of your cheek. “I’d rather take my time with you.”

San smirks, chuckling lightly. “I feel like I’m usually the one to say that.” He leans in, kissing you swiftly. “But I like hearing it from your mouth.”

His phone buzzes, and San looks down at the device, letting out a small curse. He then leans back against his seat, sighing deeply.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, though you already have an inkling.

“My father said he’ll be here in ten minutes and to go wait inside.”

Not that you expected any better of his father considering what you currently know of him, but you’re still disappointed for San. You grab his hand to offer support, giving you the best smile you can muster up.

“Well then, let’s go in and pretend we are on a date, shall we?”

His smile barely reaches his eyes, but you’ll take that over the sullen expression he had when his father texted him.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get out of the car after that, walking towards the door of the restaurant. Ever so the gentleman, San holds the door open for you, and you teasingly curtsy to thank him before walking in.

That earns you a more genuine smile, and hope for the fate of this evening returns to your heart.

Thankfully, despite his tardiness, San’s father reserved a spot for the three of you already, so the hostess leads you to your table on the side of the restaurant with a bar, and you and San settle on the bench that’s against the wall, leaving the visibly uncomfortable-looking chair for his father.

He just had to be on time to have the best seat, after all.

Once you’re seated, San pulls the drink menu towards the two of you, and you start skimming the many different drinks that the restaurant offers. You end up choosing an apple sangria, curious as to what it tastes like, and San orders a beer for himself.

You’ve been drinking a little more now, though you mostly only drink spiked lemonade and occasionally sangria, only because you haven’t found other drinks that you like. You used to be big on seltzers and shots three years and half ago before you stopped drinking, but those have lost all their appetite since the events of the summer prior to your first year of college and the Frosh week that initiated your college experience.

San grows impatient as the drinks arrive, and his father still hasn’t arrived. It’s been more than ten minutes, and you run a hand on his thigh in a gesture you hope is soothing.

“I can’t even say I’m surprised,” San lets out, and he sighs deeply, taking a sip of his beer. “He probably won’t even come.”

“Then it’s you and me,” you say, and you squeeze his thigh, lips softly curving. “I get to have an impromptu date with you, I’m not going to complain.”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I would prefer it if my dad wasn’t a dick.”

His sentence is curt, his tone cold and, though you tell yourself that he has every right to be upset at the moment, it still hurts.

He never speaks to you like that. But someone once did, and you’re never going to let someone talk to you like that ever again. Yet you figure it’s not the right time to tell San.

After all, maybe your attempt at lightening his mood was clumsy, and not what he needed to hear.

You take a sip of your sangria, surprised with how fresh and sweet it tastes. It helps cover the bitterness of the feeling he’s momentarily risen in you, and you push your glass towards him.

“Try this,” you offer him.

He casts you a side glance. “You sure? It isn’t a big glass.”

“I don’t mind,” you reassure him with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s really good.”

“Well, if you insist.” He takes a sip, and his gaze widens in surprise. “Oh shit, that’s actually really good.”

Subject change successful.

“Right!”

He smiles, and you’re relieved at the dimple that appears on his cheek. The dimple doesn’t remain for long though - someone calls San’s name, and his smile disappears faster than it appeared, anxiety taking over his features.

You turn towards the man that’s walking towards you, surprised to see just how much he looks like San. The dimples are the same, his grin almost too practiced, but his hair is shorter. The man stops on the other side of the table, his eyes darting to you quickly before settling on his son once more.

“My son,” he says. “Sorry for my delay, I could not for the life of me find this.”

He’s holding a box, and he hands it to San. San just stares at the box unblinkingly for a few seconds, and then meets his father’s gaze again.

“What is this?” he asks.

His father’s eyes dart towards you again. “A gift.”

Obviously.

San nods, like he doesn’t believe his father got him a gift, and then hesitantly takes it. “You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

“After all these years, and you making it into law school? I had to get you something.”

The cold that radiates from San is worse than hell, or at least it feels so.

“I haven’t made it into law school yet.”

“Semantics,” his father says, shrugging his shoulders. “Open it.”

San clenches his jaw, but still opens the box. It contains an expensive looking watch, and San just stares at it like it’s alien, an object straight from another universe.

“Do you like it?” his father asks, and you notice the practiced smile is gone from his features now, like he’s ready to scold San.

“Yes,” San says. “I’m just… how much did this cost?”

His father waves him off, and then finally sits in the chair across from San, still barely acknowledging your presence. It feels insulting, but you keep it to yourself, only observing the conversation.

“Don’t worry about it,” his father says. “I haven’t been able to give you any gifts in forever, so I figured you’d be happy to receive this.”

“Thank you,” San says. He puts the box down on the table and then glances at you, offering you a small smile. 

You give him what you hope is an encouraging nod.

“Who’s the young lady?” his father asks next, finally acknowledging your presence.

San straightens, and he smiles proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “My girlfriend, Y/n.”

Your gaze shots to the side of his face at the sound of the word ‘girlfriend’ in his mouth, and your heart starts racing in your chest. Cheeks burning, you bow to his father as he does the same to you, finally greeting you as well.

You can’t really focus on the conversation after that, though you don’t fail to notice how strained it is, and how one-sided it feels like, his father relating stories of travels and things that happened to him and his family in the last few years. It’s an accurate demonstration of how shitty he is towards San - not once does he ask about what San has been up to.

You can’t believe San referred to you as his girlfriend. Can’t believe how right it felt too, and butterflies swirl in your stomach in an incessant dance as the word echoes in your head. It warms up your whole body, and you think you’re literally vibrating with happiness for a moment there.

You’re his girlfriend. You are. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t told each other this before - you’ve been ready to dive in feet first in a relationship with him for a few weeks already. You think it started when you ran hand in hand on the beach while it was pouring. The romance of the moment finished lacing that red thread around your wrist and his, making it your fate to end up with San.

Though you think it’s been your fate for far longer than that. You think your fate was sealed the second the professor made you partners for that project last semester. 

As your thoughts still race with all the emotions you feel for San, you feel him tense next to you. He folds his arms on his chest, sits back against the booth, and it’s enough for you to slowly return to reality.

His father is currently going off about something Minho, his other son, did - apparently, he’s a talented sprinter - and San doesn’t seem like he wants to hear any of it. You immediately react, patting his thigh, and he gives you a poor excuse of a smile.

“San works out a lot too,” you say, interrupting his father almost in the middle of his sentence. “Can’t say if he’s a good sprinter, but you should see him lift.”

His father’s mouth falls open, as if only realizing that he’s been telling everything about himself instead of asking about his son, and he glances at you. “Oh, does he?”

You look at San. “You do. Tell him about your PRs!”

San relaxes, his hands falling in his lap, and he finds your hand, entwining your fingers. And then he finally manages to tell something to his father and, to your relief, he seems genuinely interested in hearing what San has to say.

Perhaps his father has been anxious about tonight, and yapping is actually his way of compensating. It’s a trait he shares with San - whenever San grows anxious, he tends to ramble a lot. 

Except earlier, when he grew dead silent back at your apartment. But you can understand why - tonight is a huge step for him, and clearly not an easy one either.

The food arrives not too long after and, seemingly having gotten the message, San’s father finally starts asking San some questions about college, and about life in general. He also asks how you two met, and San is smiling when he tells him how you had to do a project together last semester.

“I fell in love right away, honestly,” he says, and he looks at you, stars twinkling in his eyes. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You melt. You melt like ice cream in the summer heat, and you can’t help the smile that spreads on your face. “Couldn’t help myself either. but we’ve only started dating recently. We took our time.”

You say that holding San’s gaze, and his cheeks dust with pink. “We did.”

“I think it’s a good thing that you guys took your time,” his father says, and you didn’t expect the piece of wisdom he shares with you after. “That way you slowly build up the foundations of your relationship, and it can only grow stronger from there.”

He’s right. For all the wrong he did to his son, he’s right about this, and you don’t miss the way San’s eyes fill with water. He’s clearly touched by his father’s words, and you offer him the smallest smile, something just for you and him in this moment in time.

The subject naturally changes after that, going to the quality of the food you’re eating. It really is good food, and you all focus on eating for a few minutes, until San’s father excuses himself to use the bathroom.

“How are you feeling?” you ask San the second you reckon his father is too far to hear.

“Honestly? Better than I thought I would.” He takes a sip of water - you’ve both finished your drinks before the food even arrived, and didn’t order more - and then adds, “It started really weird but… I think it’s better now. Isn’t it?”

He frowns with the question, looking at you for approval.

“It is,” you say with a nod. “I agree that it was weird at the beginning, but he seemed anxious. And he’s been seeming more genuine now too.”

“Right.” San glances at the watch. “This watch is worth thirty thousand dollars.”

“What the fuck?” you let out, eyes bulging out of your head.

You could tell it was expensive, but you would have never assumed that it was that expensive.

San wets his lips. “He got it when my mom got pregnant with me. When I was a kid, he told me he’d give it to me when I’d become a man.” His waterline grows silver. “I didn’t think he would ever give it to me.”

Which explains why he was so expectant when he gave the gift to San when he arrived.

“That’s…” you trail off. “I actually don’t have words to say.”

“He’s really trying.” A tear rolls on San’s cheek, and he quickly wipes it with the back of his hand. “But why does it feel like I’m doing my mom wrong by being here?”

“Oh, San…” You feel like your heart has been stabbed with his words, and you lay a hand on your chest, the other finding his hand. “I’m sure she would understand why you would want to have dinner with your father.”

“She would.” He nods. “She does, actually. I told her, and she said she was happy for me, and said I deserved to have a relationship with my father.”

His mother is a saint, that much you’re certain of. Because if you’d been in her position, you would have selfishly tried to keep San from ever seeing his father again after what his father did.

“But I feel so bad for her,” he adds. “She’s never been able to be with someone else, you know? He hurt her so bad.”

“I know,” you gently say. “I… I’m so sorry.”

San gulps, and he blinks his tears away. He’s successful this time, especially as he takes a deep breath and then drinks some water. “My bad. I should not get emotional right now. Let’s keep that for later.”

You don’t blame him for it - he doesn’t want to be emotional in front of his father, which is totally understandable considering that they’ve barely talked for years.

A few minutes later, his father returns, right at the same time as the waitress comes back to retrieve the empty food plates from the table. His father suggests getting dessert, and San grudgingly accepts. You end up eating a piece of cheesecake as father and son keep talking. The dessert is delicious, and you end up scraping the little bits left from the plate as San tells his father about his friends, and his father’s features light up from within at the mention of Wooyoung.

“Oh, I remember that kid!” his father says. “He was always so polite when he came over.”

San chuckles. “Yeah, Wooyoung is an angel in front of everyone’s parents, but he is a little wild.”

“Always thought so,” his father replies with a wise nod. “Do you get along with San’s friends?”

The question is directed to you, taking you by surprise, and your eyes go round. It doesn’t take you long to recover though, and you’re soon saying, “Yes, we’re all part of the same friend group, honestly.”

His father winces. “I hope nothing happens to you both, then. It’s always so hard losing friends when a break up happens.”

San tenses. “Right.”

His father senses the shift in the atmosphere, and an apologetic look appears on his features. You steel yourself - you can tell that the conversation is about to go to hell before it even starts.

“I’m sorry, San. I hope you know that.”

San’s fist clenches on the table next to the fork he’s just put down. “About what?”

“About everything,” his father says. “I never meant to hurt you or your mother.”

San raises his eyebrows, letting out the most bitter laugh you’ve ever heard from him. It’s enough to make you want to pull on his arm, to remind him that he’s bigger than that, but it’s too late. So you watch the asteroid crash, watch it all as if you’re frozen in place.

“Oh, so you’re sorry about lying to us for years?” he asks. “You’re sorry for abandoning the two of us, for pretending we didn’t exist.”

A muscle feathers on his father’s jaw. “You know it never was like that. Your mother forbade me from even talking to you. And it’s in the past now.”

“Is it?” San shakes his head, scoffing. “You think I’m over everything you did just because you want me to be?”

“Don’t do this here,” his father says. “Please.”

“Don’t come here with lame excuses, then.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence, and you put your hand on San’s forearm, trying to calm him down. Though awkward and clumsy, you think San’s father’s attempt at an apology might have been genuine, but it visibly was too early for San. San looks at you, and the pain in his features almost makes you want to jump at his father’s throat, but you refrain from doing so.

You really shouldn’t be causing a scene in public, anyway.

“Let’s stop here for tonight, shall we?” you suggest.

The two men look at you, his father relieved while San appears to feel betrayed. You hate the look on his features, but you figure you can always talk to him in the car to explain why you said that.

You know he’ll understand, even if he’s mad right now. And you don’t blame him for being mad, not after everything he’s been through.

“Good idea,” his father says. “We can always meet up again some other time.”

San scoffs, yet thankfully chooses to remain quiet as his father motions to the waitress that you’ll take the bill. He ends up paying for the three of you, which you thank him for since San remains silent. You then follow the man outside, wishing him goodbye as San walks behind you with the gift in his hand, even though he looks ready to throw it away the second his father turns his back on the two of you.

Obviously, he doesn’t, but San still stays stubbornly mute as you climb in his car. You notice his father driving away in a fancy Porsche, but you don’t say anything about it, instead looking at San’s profile as he wraps his hands around the wheel, white on his knuckles.

“He’s an asshole.”

“San…”

“Don’t defend him, I swear to God.” San sighs, head hanging low as his eyes flutter close. “And I’m not mad at you. Sorry if I sound like I am. I just…”

“It’s a lot,” you carefully say.

San nods. “It really is. I’m all for meeting up and talking, but saying he’s sorry after all the shit that happened is not it. As if three words can fix everything he’s put me and my mom through.”

“It can’t,” you agree. “But it’s a start, no?”

“Whatever.” San finally puts the key in the ignition, and the engine comes to life a second later. “I just want to go home and hold you in my arms and not think for a while.”

He gives you a quick look, long enough for you to nod, and then he’s pulling out of his parking spot, and then heading towards the street.

The ride is awkwardly silent at first as you worry that you could say something that would upset him. But ten minutes later, San turns on the bluetooth music, handing you his phone so that you can choose what music to put on. You settle on a chill indie playlist, and San nods in approval, humming along with the song.

Three songs later, his hand finds your thigh, and you think all is good in the world. And so you put your hand on top of his, relaxing in your seat as you look outside the window while the car eats the miles towards your apartment.

The drive home isn’t as long as it was earlier, most likely thanks to the lack of traffic at this hour, and San even manages to park his car right outside your apartment. You go in, finding the apartment enshrouded in darkness, though you quickly turn the lights on as you remove your shoes by the door.

“I am so ready to cuddle in bed,” San says with a sigh, and you lightly tap his chest.

“Shower first,” you remind him. “We’re not going in my bed with our outside clothes on.”

He whines, though he follows you to your bedroom so that you can grab a clean pair of PJ shorts along with a sweater of his you’ve stolen a few days ago. San fetches clothes from the bag he brought over, and then you both make your way to the bathroom.

“Do you want to go in first?” San asks, and you eye your tiny shower.

“We’ve fit in there together before.”

Something shines in his gaze, flames lit from within. “Oh, I see what you have in mind.”

“Not that,” you say with a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “But since you had a rough night, I want to be with you. Wash your back, and all that shit.”

San, who’s currently standing in front of you, leans down, leaving a peck on the tip of your nose before straightening. “You’re the best.”

And though this is all fairly new, though seeing him naked makes your blood boil in your veins, you focus on cleaning yourself, and then cleaning his back as you stand in the shower together. It’s gentle, soothing, or at least you try to be, knowing he needs it.

Even though he might need time to process tonight and talk about it, you still want him to know that you’re with him, that you’re ready to listen whenever he’ll want to talk about it.

Once you’re done washing his back, San turns, a trail of water licking down his shoulder and cresting on his right pec before trickling down his defined abs. The sight catches you off guard, and you look up to meet his gaze.

He’s smirking, and he rests a hand on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You let out a startled sound, and your hands land flat on his chest. 

“Careful or you’ll start drooling,” he teases.

You narrow your eyes at him, snaking your arms around his neck. “I would think that you would like that, no?” You glance down between the two of you, where his dick is pressed against your stomach. He’s soft, but you know your words will rile him up in no time. “Especially if it’s while I’m choking on your cock.”

He doesn’t waste a second, cupping your cheeks and kissing you deep. It’s languid, slow, every stroke of his tongue on yours igniting a star in your chest until you’re bursting at the seams, unable to hold all of your feelings for him.

“San,” you say against his lips what feels like an hour later, but realistically must only be a few seconds.

“Mmh?” he hums.”

“You said something, earlier,” you whisper as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah?”

You nod, and you run your hands down his back, goosebumps rising on your arms at the temperature of the water. You would probably be shivering if it wasn’t for San standing so close to you but right now, his body heat keeps you in its warm embrace.

“You told your father that I’m your girlfriend,” you continue.

He tenses. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” You pull away, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. “No, San.”

He looks terrified, like you’re about to run away. But you won’t - if he allows, you’ll stay rooted in this spot next to him for the rest of your life.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” you confess. “I want to get to call you my boyfriend, and to tell our friends that we’re dating. I want to tell my parents that we’re dating.” Suddenly, your vision gets blurry, and you blink tears away. “I really want us to be in a real relationship now. With all the labels that come with it.”

San’s eyes also fill with tears, but you know them for what they are - happiness in a liquid form. 

“Princess…”

You smile through the emotions. “Boyfriend.”

And then San is kissing you, his lips moving against yours like the grandest love confession of all. It might not be the words, and you both might not quite be ready to use those three little words, but your bodies and hearts and souls understand.

You understand, and so does he. It’s been written in the fabric of the universe ever since you went over to his apartment back in September.

“Fuck,” San curses. “Sorry. I…”

You pull him back down into another kiss, one that ends in a fit of giggles from the two of you. It’s sweet, far away from the lust you were trying to ignite with your words just a moment ago.

“Let’s get out of this shower,” San says when you finally part. “Before we drain the whole building of its hot water.”

You chuckle, nodding your head. “Yes. I want to be in your arms.”

“Always.”

It’s a promise if you’ve ever seen one.

San turns off the water as you get out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a towel. You hand him his, and he follows you out a second later. It doesn’t take you long to dry yourself and put your clothes on, and then you’re making your way to your bedroom, leaving the steamy bathroom behind.

Your room is cool, the streetlight outside projecting the shadow of branches heavy with leaves on the wall. They’re moving in the wind, almost as if a puppeteer is controlling them, and it would be a little creepy if you weren’t so damn happy.

How can you not be, when Choi San is by your side?

San plugs in your fairy lights as you retrieve your laptop from the desk of your vanity, and then you join him in bed. You’ve had a routine of watching some K-dramas in bed while cuddling every night you hang out and, tonight is no different. 

Or maybe it is. Maybe it is, because Choi San is your boyfriend, and you’re Choi San’s girlfriend. 

You smile, wiggling in place as happiness flushes through you again like a flood, and you grin from ear to ear. You can’t help it - his arm around you as the opening credits of the K-drama appears on the screen is just too perfect, much like everything about him after all.

“What’s got you dancing like that?” San asks.

“I’m happy,” you simply reply.

He pulls on you until you’re lying on your back, and he meets your gaze. “I’m happy, too.”

The kiss that comes next feels more natural than the sun and the rain and the clouds and the wind. It feels like maybe it’s the first rule of the universe, maybe it’s the Big Bang to a world of you and Choi San. 

It’s perfect in every way, even as you sigh against him, and he climbs on top of you, spreading your legs with his knee. Especially as he does so, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you.

“Girlfriend,” San says as he pulls away to catch his breath.

You run your hand in his hair, slightly pulling at the strands as the grin comes back to your lips. “Boyfriend.”

“Fuck,” he curses, much like he had earlier. “I… There’s something I need to tell you.”

Even though the words usually make you feel anxious, the amount of love in his gaze makes you feel safer than you’ve ever felt, and you just nod, grin softening into a small smile. “Yeah?”

“I’ve known you for a lot longer than you’ve known me,” he says.

The words get you confused, and your brow creases as you furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Frosh week,” he says. “You were drunk, and I should have known, but you asked me to kiss you.” His eyes flutter shut as he seems to be reminiscing the moment. You, on the other end, feel shocked, and you just wait for him to continue. “You were so pretty. You had two braids framing your face, and your eyes were so shiny. And you were smiling and laughing, and I thought I’d met the love of my life.”

He meets your gaze as you just blink once, not knowing what to say.

“And then you were laughing, and you spilled a drink on my shirt. And you said you were trying to kiss as many guys as you could -” not your proudest moment - “and that you were going to kiss me to apologize.” He laughs, slightly shaking his head. “And then you did. You kissed me, and I swear to God it was like the world stopped turning.”

“What?” you let out.

“I figured you were really drunk though, mostly because you tasted a lot like alcohol, so I pulled away. And then when you opened your eyes and looked at me, I felt like I was falling. And I never stopped. I know it might be weird, but…”

“San, stop,” you say, and his eyes widen in fear. 

He rolls on his side next to you, apologies taking over his features. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Why did you never talk to me after that?” you ask.

And you scramble through your mind, trying to find memories of that moment. But you only remember kissing the first two guys, and even then you were already pretty gone. 

But you would have remembered San, right? How could you even forget him?

“I tried,” he admits. “First day of class, I tried to approach you. But you only smiled politely, bowed a little, and walked right next to me. That’s when I realized you didn’t remember me.”

“San, what the fuck?”

“I… fuck, I’m sorry, I should have told you before.”

You gulp as you sit up, pausing the K-drama. “It’s just… weird.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again as he too sits up.

“This whole time…” you trail off for a few seconds, and then finish, “you knew who I was?”

He nods. “Had a massive crush on you in the first year of college. You can ask Wooyoung. He kept making fun of me.”

The strangest part is, you remember Wooyoung from back then. Maybe because he hasn’t changed all that much, whereas San got a lot stronger over the years, his physique changing drastically. 

Hell, you barely recognize him from the pictures he showed you from when he was back in high school.

“And you never tried to talk to me?”

He chuckles, and this time, it’s a little bitter. “Oh, I actually did. For like two months. But every time I went up to you, I just felt so fucking awkward and inadequate and… I told myself that it was because of my father, and that you deserved better anyway.”

“San, no…”

He shrugs his shoulders. “That’s why I started working out,” he admits. “I didn’t like feeling insecure like that, and I figured I could at least look better.”

And he does. Not that he wasn’t cute before, but he was just… a boy. And now he’s a man, a man that’s swept you off your feet.

“Holy shit,” you let out after a moment of silence that stretches into awkwardness. “I… That’s so wild.”

San looks apologetic - sad, even. “I’m really sorry.”

“All this time…” 

He nods when you stop talking. “I should have said something before. But I felt like it didn’t really matter, since I was someone different back then.”

“But you knew it was me when the professor paired us together last semester?”

“Yeah, I did.” He wets his lips, gulping. “Wooyoung was a fucking shit about it.”

You’re not surprised. “How… did you feel?” you ask.

To think you went to his place and sucked his dick that very first time.

“I was surprised,” he says. “I’m not going to say that I was crushing on you all this time in a corner, just waiting for an opportunity to be with you.” Which you know he wasn’t, considering he had the reputation to sleep around a lot before you. “But I was happy. Thought maybe we could be friends.”

“But then I…” Your cheeks burn, and you clear your throat.

“Yeah, you came over and gave me the best blowjob of my life and the whole time, it felt like I was in one of my fantasies from three years ago.”

“Ew,” you let out, though there’s a teasing undertone to it. “You were imagining shit like that before we even talked?”

San flushes deep crimson. “Shit, no. I mean, you know, kind of, like all men. Which, wait, that’s disgusting of me to say. I… I guess I did. But not like, explicitly. Just…”

You listen to his rambling, eyebrows raising. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

You snort. “It’s weird. But you’re a guy, and guys have always been weird.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have always been weird.”

“What?” he lets out. 

“You’re weird,” you repeat. “I like that about you.”

“So, you’re not huh…” He gulps again, like he has a lump in his throat. “You’re not going to leave.”

“We’re at my apartment.”

“No, but I mean…”

You put a hand on his knee. “No, I’m not. I think it’s hella fucking weird that you had a crush on me before, and I didn’t even remember you, but that was years ago.”

“Right.”

“So, though I’m kind of shocked, I’m not upset with you,” you add. “So please stop looking so sad.” You lean closer, pecking his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

He sounds like he doesn’t believe it, so you remind him, “I’m your girlfriend, and you’re my boyfriend. We aren’t breaking up when we just started dating.”

He looks at you. His gaze is heavy with emotion, and you think he might say the words. But, much like you, they stay clogged in his throat, so he says it with his body instead. He says it with the way he pulls you in for the most gentle kiss, like you’re fragile china in a glass armoire. He says it like one wrong move might turn you to dust, says it like you’re the sun he’s orbiting around. 

He says it with the way he hovers on top of you when you lie on your back, pulling him then. Says it when he leaves a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat, and says it when he kneels between your legs.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks as you reach for the hem of his sweatpants.

“San, please,” you beg.

“Baby.”

He doesn’t usually call you baby, yet it makes you love him even more, and you sit up to take off your sweater while he takes his sweatpants off. He didn’t put underwear on, and he’s already hard when he kneels between your legs again, stroking himself slowly. 

You take it all in - the hard planes of his body shift each time he strokes his dick, and you admire him in the warmth of the fairy lights. There’s a vein on one of his biceps, his abs look rock hard, and you reach between you to run a hand up his abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises. “So, so beautiful.”

You want to say that he is, too, but he’s leaning down, stealing your mouth for another languid kiss that makes your mind spin out of control. Your hand moves down, finding the base of his dick, and you squeeze him, jerking him off slowly like you know he likes it, with a flick of the wrist when you reach the top. He grunts in your mouth, fucking your hand, and you moan as he bites at your lower lip.

“I want you slow tonight,” he says. “Want to make you feel so good.”

“Is that one of your fantasies, too?” you tease.

He glares at you, one hand finding your neck. He doesn’t choke you, just holds, and desire strikes you deep.

“Don’t be a brat about this, mmh?”

You smirk. “We’ll see.”

He tries to keep the glare, but then he bursts out laughing even though you have your hand around him. He kisses you, softly, and then pulls away to meet your gaze. “I’ll make love to you, m’kay?”

Make love. It’s a confession in itself, even if it isn’t those three little words. You take it in, and your heart races in your chest with love and lust and everything in between as San kneels back on his heels and takes off your shorts and underwear.

Once you’re fully naked, San meets your gaze again, one of his hands trailing between your legs. He parts your folds, teases your entrance, and then he pushes one finger in. Your mouth falls open at the intrusion, pleasure spiking up your spine, especially as he arches the finger to rub the sweet, nutty spot inside of you.

“You’re always so soaked for me,” he praises. “My perfect girlfriend.”

“Always for you,” you agree.

He smiles, eyes shining, and then he’s kissing you again as he eases a second finger inside of you, getting you ready for his dick. It feels good, far too good, but you want him whole. Want his body on top of yours, his hands in your hair, and yours on his back. 

You want his lips to never leave yours again. But they do as he pulls his fingers out of you, watching them glistening with your juices. He brings them to your mouth, and you lick them clean for him, the taste of you only serving to make your heart beat even faster.

“Ready?” he asks as he positions himself at your entrance.

You nod, hooking your legs around him as you try and lift yourself on him. He pulls his dick away, tapping it on your sensitive clit, and you moan a curse that makes him chuckle.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ve got you.”

The second he finishes the sentence, San’s pushing inside of you, stretching you wide open. This time, you moan in pleasure. He leans his forehead against yours, slowly pushing all the way in, only stopping when he’s fully inside of you.

And then you’re kissing again, all lips and tongues and racing hearts and so much feelings for such a small soul. Yet as he starts moving, rocking his hips back and forth, you think you might be infinite. Because being with him feels infinite, like nothing could ever stop you. Like your photons of light, travelling side by side in the emptiness of space, never feeling empty because of the presence at your side.

You’re full of all your emotions for him, full of him, and you moan in his mouth as he groans his pleasure. The kiss is wet, but you don’t care. You just want it all, and San gives it to you. Even as the pace remains slow and deep, his lips ravage your mouth with intent, and you scratch at his back as if that’ll bring him even closer.

Somehow, it does, and you hold him tight against you as he keeps moving, making love to you like he said he would.

“I wanna fuck you like this every day,” he says in your ear, voice low and husky. “Wanna feel your walls tightening because they want more.”

“So crude,” you let out, though it ends on a moan as he snaps his hips harder. “Fuck.”

“Just…” he trails off, and then he finds your mouth again. 

There are no words needed in the following moments. Just two heartbeats in sync, two bodies moving together, a rhythm increasing yet staying full of love. When your high hits, you fall along with him, and he paints your insides white as he pours his love into you.

And you feel so full of him, so full with him, that you just keep holding him as your breathing evens out, your heart returning to normal. He doesn’t try moving either, his face hidden in your neck, though he does gently peck your skin once in a while, to keep you tethered to him in this instant in time.

As if you would ever drift from him. 

How could you, when he’s the man that you love?

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

i was so excited for y'all to learn what happened during frosh week haha i hope you guys liked it! let me know what you think:)

All rights reserved to @oddinary4bts, 2025. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[honeyedbrie]

so at the end of March my brother and I decided to get a couple of guinea pigs!

these are the girls we got: left is mine, I named her hamtaro, or ham/hammy for short, right is my brother's, named xena.

so anyways, we've had them for over a month, and then this evening, I got up to go piss, and I just kinda looked in to check on them as I always do, and what'd I see?

I almost shat myself I thought something was like catastrophically wrong with ham, but no, she's completely fine, but I now have three guinea pigs!

and actually, I now have four guinea pigs! because she pushed out another one a little later! all without me fuckin noticing!!!?!

anyways, ham and the babies are doing great pretty sure she's tapped out at two, but I will check again in the morning!

I definitely was not expecting to become a grandmother today lol, and I can't believe I didn't realize that she was pregnant!! like no wonder she's been eating for three!!! I feel bad for calling her fat now🥲

everyone please say welcome to the world to nugget and croissant🥹 they are so tiny and I would genuinely die for them and I'm so proud of my little momma she did amazing

[sheliesshattered]

miiiiight have spent my entire weekend watching Skeleton Crew for the first time and Andor for the third time, and eating homemade ronto wraps and way too much ice cream

[lavottino]

Self-indulgent but mandatory "What if the strawhats were Italian" because it has been plaguing my mind for months.

I'm putting some context (and also some headcanons) for each drawing under the cut for anyone interested in better understanding what is going on, so expect a lot of yapping 😭

I think I will draw more Italian strawhats shenanigans in the future (I'm sorry for sidelining you like that Jinbe...), we'll see...

1. Italy is divided into 20 regions, and I associated the 10 strawhats to 10 of those regions. The regions I chose have been mainly picked on instinct based on whatever felt right to me, so I wouldn't look too hard into it 😭

2. Tortellini are a type of stuffed pasta specifically from the Emilia-Romagna region (where I see Robin coming from) and even more specifically from the Bologna and Modena provinces; while fiorentina is typically from Florence (Tuscany) and Luffy would eat at least 10 of them a day if he could

3. Alberto Angela is a paleontologist and history and science communicator, and he runs some TV programs that mainly focus on history and science. He's well-spoken, he's educated, developing a little crush for him is basically a canon event, he's the IT Italian man if you ask me. Robin is watching Ulisse - Il piacere della scoperta, which is also the TV program that introduced me to him when I was like 9 😌

4. Table football is quite common in Italy (all my life I've called it biliardino, but apparently its name is calciobalilla? whatever 😭). I don't really have a lot to say about this one, actually. I just think that a Zoro and Sanji team up would be unmatched (just like in animanga). Like 10-1 (AT BEST) kind of unmatched. If they receive a goal (which was definitely a fluke) they're going to mercilessly trash talk each other into scoring the most diabolically aggressive goal ever witnessed in the history of mankind (Chopper is scared of them) (Luffy thinks it's kinda funny) (Nami decided they won't play at the same time until they learn to chill out).

5. Paolo Fox is a famous astrologer in Italy and basically there used to be this Sunday TV program (Mezzogiorno in famiglia, they discontinued it some years ago but it's the show that Nami and Zoro are watching), where he was called in every week as a guest to rank the signs from 12th to 1st based on the luck, love, money etc. they were going to get during the following week. And whether you believed in astrology or not, you were still going to eat that shit up regardless because you just wanted to know where your sign was going to be placed.

6. Easter eggs in Italy are this big chocolate egg that contains a "surprise", which can be toys or various trinkets (bracelets, keychains, that kind of stuff). When Easter is coming, the supermarkets have full aisles of Easter eggs because there are multiple brands and multiple themes (for example, the ones specifically targeted towards children could be One Piece/Pokemon/Winx etc. themed, containing a surprise that is related to them). I like to think that Chopper would be so excited about the chocolate that he would eat it all without even looking at the surprise 😭 (it's lying somewhere on the ground, a forgotten soldier amidst the raging battle)

7. Neapolitan songs can go pretty hard when you don't have someone in your ear telling you how corny and cringe they are. Franky has a whole arsenal. If during a conversation he hears a word that reminds him of one of his songs, he will start singing it. Brook joins him whenever he hears him, and if he doesn't know the actual words to the song, he will still string together some notes with his guitar. Luffy and Usopp will join at a certain point, while the other strawhats enjoy the little show. If Franky is singing and Robin appears in his line of sight, he will switch to a romantic song and start serenading her. When this happens, Sanji joins too (not because he's trying to woo Robin, but because he will never miss a chance to serenade a woman 😌).

8. I just know Brook has en entire repertoire of love songs that he sings whenever Zoro and Sanji are fighting. In this case he is singing "Bello e impossibile" by Gianna Nannini, whose chorus goes something like "handsome, handsome and impossibile, with black eyes and your Middle Eastern taste" and then again "handsome, handsome and invincible, with black eyes and a kissable mouth/a mouth to be kissed" (it sounds more poetic in Italian I'm sorry 😭). They get mad and flustered every time. It doesn't matter if they are still dancing around each other or are already together. Brook has the time of his life.

[babyjinsu]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ heartlink ꒱ ˎˊ˗

it's a match!

anton x fem!reader || 2.8k

𐙚 002 003

you weren’t looking for love—you weren’t even looking for something casual.

it was boredom, plain and simple. besides, the semester just ended and you had nothing else to do besides attending your part-time job at a local cafe as a waitress. it was a quiet sunday night when the idea came to you—a way to kill time.

going on dating apps!

you created your profile—chose the best, prettiest selfie you have of yourself. you didn’t put much details in your bio, just a simple, just for fun! ◡̈. at first, it was just swiping for the entertainment of it. left, left, left… right, left… most of the profiles were almost the same—bad quality selfies, forced, corny bios, dudes flexing their muscles in bathroom mirrors… you weren’t expecting much, or anything at all.

then his profile appeared. 

anton lee. 20 years old. likes music n playing them.

holy shit. this guy doesn’t even look real, you thought. he looked like he had been pulled straight from a magazine—the type of guy you just know you stood no chance with—his hair was dark and it fall just past his eyes and he had those handsome features and this anton dude just looked like someone who didn’t belong in dating apps (he definitely didn’t need one too).

you hesitated—but reminded yourself that this was just for fun. if you had no chance with this guy to begin with, what’s the harm? just have fun!

you couldn’t deny that he was exactly your type. painfully so. 

you swiped right. and a second later, almost immediately, your screen flashed—

it’s a match!

——

it didn’t take long for anton to send you a text. 

in fact, it happened faster than you’d expected that it got you wondering if he was the one who had been waiting for you to initiate a conversation. you thought that anton was just one of those guys who matched with girls to boost his ego—that he’s still relevant to the market, but you might be wrong.

anton lee: hey.

even the greeting suited him. short, simple, deceptively normal. or maybe you were just sooo starstruck by his appearance to think he was weird.

upon receiving the text, you stared at your screen—your thumb hovering over the keyboard. it was just a simple hey, but you were thinking too hard on the perfect reply. one that won’t leave anton ghosting you afterwards.

you hesitated for a second before typing back.

yn: hi. i didn’t think you’d text first.

you hummed in satisfaction, giving yourself a slight nod and smile. almost immediately, you got a reply. 

anton lee: why wouldnt i?

you bit the inside of your cheek—why wouldn’t he…?—debating what and how to respond. now feeling a little bit stupid for asking him that. you should’ve just said hi back. you didn’t want to sound insecure, or ‘pick me’, but at the same time, realistically, it felt insane that someone like him, would even notice someone like you.

yn: i dont know lol. you look kinda out of my league. im surprised we even matched.

there was a pause after your text—read—and for a second, you thought you fucked up.

but then his reply came through.

anton lee: you think so?

huh, there was something about his response that made you… shift uncomfortably on your bed. a feeling—an unfamiliar one. it wasn’t a dismissal, nor was it a playful teasing. it didn’t even feel like a question…

before you could think too hard about responding, another message popped up.

anton lee: i think youre really cute though.

the unfamiliar feeling vanished as soon as it came—replaced with a now strange warmth booming in your chest. he thinks i’m cute, you thought, giggling by yourself. you reread the text over and over—flattered.

yn: i guess i got lucky then :) 

anton lee: yeah you did ;)

——

for the next few weeks, you and anton fell into an easy rhythm.

it started slow—just a few, once or twice texts a day. but somehow, the conversations never died. surprisingly, anton knew how to carry a conversation, and he always came up with different topics to talk to you. you started to realise that anton wasn’t like any other guys on the app, or any guys you’ve talked to before. 

he was calm, steady, and almost too easy to talk to—despite his looks.

the odd feeling never came back. he never bombarded you with clingy or needy texts, or pushed you for more than you were comfortable with. he never asked for your inappropriate pictures, or drifted the conversation to one. if you took hours to respond, he understood. if he sensed that you weren’t in the mood to talk, he was more than willing to hear you out. 

anton was just always ready to pick up where the conversation was left off.

you found out that anton created his profile because of a bet—which he had lost a few hours prior to meeting you. and you told him your reason as well—boredom. he was also a student like you too, studying music performance (he didn’t tell you where though, but you understood). 

additionally, anton had a sense of humour like yours—he wasn’t boring, or dry, or had no personality like most handsome guys you knew. he also wasn’t always flirting—but he’d say things that let you guess how he felt about you. there were definitely moments where talking to him was too good to be true, but you’d quickly remind yourself that it wasn’t serious.

and then, one evening, it happened, 

anton lee: so… when are you gonna let me take you out?

you blinked at your screen. 

of course this would come sooner or later—it was only a matter of time before he asked. seeing the question actually came true made your stomach flip in all directions. you bit on your bottom lip, your thumbs hovering over your keyboard.

you wanted to say yes so badly, 

but a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to think it through thoroughly. you had only been talking to anton for a few weeks, and you’d heard all the horror stories about meeting guys online—creepy messages, dates gone wrong, murders…

not that you thought anton would be like that… hopefully. if anything, he had been kind, patient, easygoing, and almost too normal. but… wasn’t that how it always started…?

on the other hand, maybe you were just overthinking it. what if it actually goes well? it’s like winning a lottery, you thought.

yn: i donno. are you as charming in person as you are over the text?

his reply came fast.

anton lee: only one way to find out

you didn’t realise you were holding your breath until his reply came.

anton lee: we can go to rain report in seongsu if you’d like. 

anton lee: they have good pastries there

okay, a cafe. it’s an open, safe, neutral ground.

yn: that sounds good.

anton lee: saturday at 5? 

you hesitated again for a split second—then shook the doubt away as soon as.

yn: okies, see you then?

it took anton a few minutes to reply.

anton lee: im looking forward to it yn :) 

you stared at his response, your grip still around your phone. they felt strangely heavier than they should have. 

you locked your phone and exhaled.

it was just a date. 

what’s the worst that could happen?

——

saturday came by pretty sooner than you’d expected. too soon, honestly.

you had spent the whole week trying not to overthink it. that it was just a date. a date with a normal guy. except this guy was intimidatingly handsome and chill. in hindsight, there was nothing to be nervous about, it was anton who had asked you out. but you woke up that morning feeling like your stomach had been tied into a thousand knots and twists.

you weren’t a loser by any means. in fact, talking to guys wasn't anything new to you at all.  but this was the first time ever that you’d be meeting up with a guy you’d only ever spoken to through a screen. one with a romantic intention.

that morning, while waiting for the perfect time to start getting ready, you distracted yourself by doing the laundry, studying—just whatever to keep your mind from spiraling. but the hours ticked by and the nerves started to creep back in. by 3, you started getting ready.

throughout the whole process of prepping, your mind went through every possible scenario that existed to a man—what if he thought you don’t look like your pictures? what if the conversation was awkward in real life? what if he prefers you over the phone? 

4:30. the distance between the cafe and your apartment wasn’t that far—but it’d be nice to get there early and calm yourself. make a nice first impression.

you took a deep breath, smoothing your clothes down one last time in front of the mirror. 

it’s just a date. but the nervous pit in your stomach refused to go away.

——

when you arrived there, anton was nowhere to be seen. for a split second, you thought anton stood you up. you hated that your heart sank at the possibility. it wasn’t like you were that desperate for the date to happen, but the idea of your date not showing up…

you scanned the cafe, trying not to look too obvious as you searched for a familiar face. people—teenagers and young adults your age, specifically, were chatting and laughing amongst themselves. but there was no sign of anton. 

you exhaled sharply and stared down at your phone, debating whether or not to text him. you decided to ask; and then—

“you’re early.”

the voice came from behind you and it made you jump slightly. whipping your head around, there anton was.

he stood just a few feet away from you. dressed casually in a dark blue sweater with his hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets, his hair was slightly tousled like he had run a hand through it. he looked exactly like his pictures—better in person.

your breath hitched, and you felt stupid for thinking he wasn’t going to show up—after saying he was kind and all.

“i—” you swallowed, feeling caught. you let out a small dry laugh. “i thought maybe you stood me up.” 

anton tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “why would i do that?” 

you didn’t have an answer. 

before you could think of one—anton smiled softly, god he looked so good.

“come on,” he hummed, nodding toward the open cashier. “should we order?” 

you nodded quickly and followed his lead as he made his way towards the counter. 

“what do you want?” he asked, glancing down at you beside him. the height difference was apparent. he was so tall too. you stared at the menu displayed on the television screen above, humming in thought.

“vanilla latte, i think.” anton nodded then turned to the cashier to order. he got himself a classic latte. the employee rang it up, and before you could even reach for your purse, anton was already tapping his card on the terminal. 

“oh, i could’ve paid…” you murmured softly, not wanting to say it outloud in front of the staff. you know it’s a thing where it is expected for a guy to pay on the first date—a gesture of chivalry. but still, you felt guilty.

anton gave you a soft smile and shrugged, tucking his wallet back in the back of his jeans. “don’t worry about it,” he said. “next date, then.” he added, casually.

your brain short-circuited for a moment. next date?

he said it so effortlessly like it was given. like anton had already known there would be a second one. you felt your face heat up, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. was it his sheer assumption that made you flustered?

either way, it didn’t seem like anton noticed. or he probably did and was just enjoying watching you squirm.

minutes later, after you both had settled at a nice, quiet table by the corner—and anton had grabbed the drinks from the counter—an odd silence sort of just… settled between you.

not awkward, exactly… just charged.

you wrapped your hands around your cup, focusing on the warmth against your skin instead of the man before you. anton, on the other hand, was a lot more calm—leaning back against his chair as he stirred his coffee absentmindedly. his eyes laid on you in quiet amusement. 

for anyone who didn’t know the context, it didn’t look like a date. 

“you always this nervous?” he asked, cocking his head to the side slightly as he tapped the mocha spoon on the rim of the cup before putting it down. 

“i’m not nervous.”

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a smile. “really?”

you hummed and nodded before letting your eyes meet his’. “maybe a little. i’ve never done this before.”

anton leaned forward slightly, placing his elbow on the table. “meet guys from tinder?”

“yeah.”

he hummed in understanding, bringing his coffee to his lips. “don’t you wanna know why i swiped right on you?” he asked. you blinked at the question, slightly caught off guard. of course you do. so you nodded shyly.

anton set his cup down, his fingers traced the rim of the lid deliberately. “i thought you were pretty,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “really pretty, actually.”

a warmth crept up your neck—you weren’t used to being complimented.

you wanted to thank him, but he cut you off. “and you looked cute too. i didn’t know you could look better in real life,” he let out a soft laugh, humming. “i’m so glad we matched.”

okay now, you were sure your face was as red as a tomato. blood was rushing, sprinting to your cheeks.

“thanks, wow,” you brought your cup to your lips, trying to conceal how flustered you were.  

anton smiled, just a little, “and i feel like i’ve known you.”

your breath hitched, “what?” 

anton tilted his head, studying your reaction. “i don’t know. i feel like i’ve seen you before.”

out of nowhere, something cold curled in your stomach. what did he mean by that? was it just one of his flirting pick up lines? you forced a small laugh, keeping your voice light. he looked way too calm, maybe you were just overreacting. “you… haven’t though, right?”

what is wrong with me? you thought, why couldn’t you shake off the uneasiness? 

anton didn’t respond right away. his eyes flickered over your face, and he wasn’t smiling. then, after what felt like hours long of pause— “no,” he finally said, lips curling slightly as he looked down on his cup. “just a feeling.” 

——

if you were being really honest, the date felt a little strange. 

you didn’t mean it in a bad way—anton was really nice. he never made you uncomfortable (in an obvious way), and he paid for your drink—oh, and he bought you some pastries to take home too. the conversation flowed as well enough, and you learned a lot about him. he had been playing the cello since he was young; and he was also a part of the swimming team during his school days. 

but there was just something—you couldn’t name it—about him that sat in your chest.

maybe it was the way anton looked, watching you when you weren’t looking at him. or maybe it was the way he spoke—so calm and collected, so nonchalant about the things he was saying. his mannerism, perhaps? the way he never broke off eye contact when you were talking about your university life? 

but then again, who were you to judge? you had never been on a proper date before. heck, you didn’t even know how a date was supposed to go, to feel. for all you know, it could be normal for girls to feel the way you did upon their first dates too. maybe you were just overthinking—so many maybes. 

anton lee: i had a really nice time today yn :) you looked even prettier up close. 

you found yourself smiling as you locked the door behind you.

yn: thanks! i had fun too ><

yn: you’re just as handsome anton 

it wasn’t a lie, at all. you did have fun, and he looked even better in person.

anton’s reply came just as fast. 

anton lee: i’d love to see you again soon.

you bit your lip, typing a response—that you too, looked forward to seeing him again.

 totally ignoring the way your stomach was twisting.

💭 AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH creepy anton ill probably proofread n edit this l8rrrrrr

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

[purplecoffee13]

Please Please Please - Pt 2* (final)

Summary: “A sudden call from Harry in the middle of the night makes you realize just how little you actually know about your neighbor.”

Wc: 5k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: angst, fighting, cursing, SMUT, bit of a degradation kink, multiple orgasms, GUN KINK, corruption kink

A/N: Hey guys! As promised, here is part 2 of Pls Pls Pls. It is quite a sudden 180 from the previous part, so try not to get whiplash. Enjoy!! :)

General Masterlist

Spending your Sunday night at a police station bailing out your neighbor was definitely not on your list of preferred weekend activities. But here you are, sitting on a chair, waiting for the officers to bring Harry outside.

You couldn't believe it at first. Of course, you knew it had to be some kind of emergency when your ringing phone woke you up. After all, it was two in the morning, and random calls at two in the morning usually didn't indicate anything good.

"Hello?" Your croaky voice greeted whoever was calling you this late, or early, depending on your lifestyle.

"Hi love. I need your help." You frowned at the sound of Harry talking through the phone.

"Harry?" You questioned.

"Yes, darling?"

"Wha— are you okay? Where are you?" You leaned over your nightstand to turn on the lamp. Your eyes shut tightly at the sudden harsh light, rubbing your eyes as you stifled a yawn.

"I'm fine, I'm at the police station. Listen, I need you to go into my apartment, get the envelope with cash from under my mattress, and then I need you to get over here. Could you do that for me, darling?"

"Uhm, yes. Yes, of course." You got up from your bed and grabbed the first pants you saw. Your movements got to a halt when you realized it would be impossible to even do that. "But wait, I don't have your—"

"There's an extra key in your top kitchen drawer next to the fridge."

"Wha..." your voice trailed off as you buried over to your kitchen and opened the drawer, indeed finding a key that didn't belong to your apartment. "When did you put this here?"

"I'll explain later, I promise. See you in a bit?"

You sighed. What the absolute fuck was going on? This man might just be even more mysterious than you had already thought.

"See you in a bit."

The muffled voices coming from the other side of the door makes your perk up in your seat. Like you had expected, you spot Harry's face through the windows on the door. He is wearing a frown that makes him look very intimidating, and a wave of intense stress hits you.

Who the fuck even is this neighbor of yours?

You are on your feet very quickly when Harry finally walks through the door. Your eyes widen at the state of him. He is wearing a tank top with a dress shirt thrown over it. The dress shirt is scratched open and his entire outfit is dirty. His face is mostly untouched, except for a cut in his eyebrow that is covered in dried blood. He looks rough.

His lips form into a grin when he spots you, but you are having none of it. Your knitted eyebrows make your glare more intense, and you don't even give Harry the opportunity to greet you when he is close enough, because you are already walking towards the exit.

You push the doors open and storm across the parking lot. You hear the chuckling scoff from behind you after the creaking door signals that Harry is hot on your heels.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" He asks almost cockily, strutting behind you. You've arrived at your car, so you turn around to face him, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Are you serious?!" You groan, to which Harry shrugs lazily. "You called me in the middle of the night, asking me to bail you out with money that you've hid in a duffel bag under your bed, which — by the way — I had access to because you planted a spare house key in my apartment! That's what wrong!"

"I told you I'd explain." Harry says, still nonchalant as ever. You can quite literally feel your blood boiling. Why in God's name is he being so relaxed about this? 

"Yeah, you fucking better." You spit out, clenching your jaw as you turn back towards the car. Harry's spiteful voice stops you in your tracks, though.

"Hey! You didn't have to come here, nobody forced you."

When your eyes meet his again, you don't miss the frustration that radiates from his. It is your turn to scoff as you take a few steps towards Harry until you stand in front of him.

"Oh yeah, that's fucking easy," you are about ready to start a fight, but the sight of his bruised face makes you think twice. Instead, you sigh, throwing your arms over each other. "Get in the car, we'll talk at home."

You are about to get back to the car when you realize that Harry isn't following you. You squint at him and the way he is standing there on the parking lot, a wide stance with his hands behind his back. He doesn't do well with following orders or demands, you've learned that about him in these past weeks. But right now, you couldn't care less.

Rolling your eyes, you march back to Harry and grab a fistful of his shirt before pulling him along to the passenger seat. By how easy it is to get him in the car, you figure that he enjoys your current attitude, otherwise he never would've let you boss him around like this.

You aren't interested in whether he likes it or not right now, all you care about it getting home.

The drive is excruciating. The radio fills the silence that neither of you are willing to break. Every shift in his seat and sigh from his mouth manages to make your blood boil. You can't believe he has the nerve to act as if he has the right to be pissed right now.

It is only when the both of you are at your door, and you silently walk into your own apartment, that Harry breaks the silence.

"Where are you going?" He asks, irritated.

"Bed."

"Thought you wanted to talk." His tone his mocking, but you can tell that he is hiding real confusion behind it.

"I decided I'm not in the mood to hear your bullshit excuses right now, maybe tomorrow." You shrug, keys rattling as you open the door.

"So dramatic..." Harry mutters under his breath, but you hear him just fine. You are quick to turn around.

"What did you say?"

Harry shakes his head, sighing. "You heard me. If you're so fucking mad about this, why the fuck did you even come in the first place?"

"Well, what the fuck did you think, Harry?! Did you expect me to be all cool and casual about this?!" You throw your hands up expressively. You turn around and open the door of your apartment, walking in at a furious pace with Harry hot on your heels.

"I told you I'd fucking explain! Jesus Christ... If I'd known you were gonna whine about this so much, I would've called one of my buddies." He says, and it makes you stifle a laugh. Hands on your hips, you take a few steps towards Harry.

"Fine, explain then, tell me what the fuck you were doing in there." You demand, and you notice how his face softens at your calmer yet stern tone. He sighs, looking to the side. Your heart stops for a second, tension growing on your stomach. He is avoiding your gaze. He never avoids it.

"Just— got caught up in a brawl at the pub. Let my buddies take a run for it, but the police did catch me." He says, eyeing your body. You frown, your eyes searching for his but you absolutely cannot get him to look at you.

"You're lying to me." You say, and even though it is merely a suggestive thought, Harry's reaction makes you realize you are speaking the truth. Harry takes a deep breath, shaking his head as if it should be able to convince you. "You're a fucking liar."

You step forward, making sure it is impossible to avoid eye contact with you. "You told me you were letting me know you. But you don't want me to know you. Telling me simple things to give me the illusion that you trust me. Meanwhile your knuckles are constantly covered in bruises and you have duffel bags of money in your bed. Or that gun, in the drawer of your nightstand?"

A furrow grows between Harry's eyebrows at the mention of the gun. "You went through my things?" He growls. You nod calmly.

"I figured I might as well get to know the guy I'm bailing out." You shrug, watching the anger rise to his face.

"Do you have any idea who the fuck you're talking to right now?" He asks, near the brink of a meltdown. His jaw is clenched and he looks like he might kill you.

"No, apparently I don't!" You shout into his face. Harry laughs bitterly, sending a shiver down your spine. He shakes his head and turns around, heading for the door.

"Should've called one of my buddies..." He mutters as he goes to open the door.

"You keep saying that, but you called me." You call out, and Harry looks back at you.

"Yeah, and it was a big fucking mistake. Don't know what I was thinking." He retorts.

"You called me, because you knew that I'd come. Because I care about you and I was worried sick, and because I would come and get you every single fucking time. No matter the situation, no matter the amount of money filled duffel bags you have under your bed, no matter the gun you sleep next to every night." You're now standing in front of Harry, looking up at him. The confrontation in your sentence is rubbing him the wrong way, you can see it in his face. You continue anyway; he needs to hear it.

"But you're too much of a pussy to admit that someone cares about you, unconditionally, because that would make it all a bit too real, wouldn't it? But I'm not disposable, you can't just cut me out of your life whenever you please. That's not how this works."

That strikes a nerve. Harry steps even closer, leaning down a little bit. "You have no fucking idea how easily I can cut you out of my life."

"Go, then." You cross your arms, waiting for him to walk out that door. Your words are cocky, and you are confident in what you are saying, but a small part of you worries that maybe you've miscalculated your connection with Harry.

Harry doesn't say anything, merely scoffing at your casual words. He wants to turn around, walk out, and never come back. To prove to you just how disposable you are. But he can't, because you aren't.

"For fucks sake..."

The words fall from his lips in a whisper, and before you can figure out what he means, Harry lunges forward and grabs your head to pull it close to him, his lips pressing against yours.

You moan at the feel of his tongue intertwining with yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. There is so much anger, frustration, sadness, love, and other indescribable things that built the intensity of the kiss. Nothing could've prepared you.

He pushes you against the wall, his hands taking all over your body while yours are tangling themselves in his beautiful curls. With a hand on your lower back, Harry pulls your body closer to his, your bodies almost as close as your tongues are now. You need more of him.

Taking ahold of your thighs, Harry lifts you up and carries you to your bedroom, where he drops you onto the bed. Your back hasn't even entirely hit the mattress before Harry's hands start undressing you. He takes off your shoes and pants in no time, the both of you way too pent up to take your time right now. Then, he slides your underwear down your legs and throwing it into the corner of the room.

Three of his fingers trace over your upper body before he pushes down your lower jaw and stuffs them in your mouth.

"Suck." He orders.

You do as he says, licking and sucking on his fingers like it is the last thing you are ever allowed to do. After a couple seconds, Harry takes back his fingers, and leans down, spitting on your pussy himself. A whimper leaves your mouth the second the liquid comes in contact with your sensitive skin, and you moan loudly when he starts to rub it over your cunt.

"You're so fucking frustrating. Shouting at me, cursing me out..." He mentions. Two of his wet fingers enter your pussy, and you let your head fall back. Refraining yourself from arching into him too much already, you try and focus on something—anything— else. "You're such a brat... and you don't even know who you're dealing with."

Mewling at the feeling of his amazing touch, you manage to croak out. "Show me, then."

"What, sweetheart?" Harry asks with a fake smile. In fact, it seems rather devilish. It shouldn't turn you on even more, but for some fucked up reason it does.

"Show me who I'm dealing with."

A low chuckle escapes his throat. You frown, not amused with the apparent joy he gets from what you're saying. You're being completely serious.

"I don't think you can handle that, sweetheart." He smirks, and it makes you pout.

"Yes, I can." You argue, the frown on your face combined with your big Bambi eyes making you look adorably mad. Harry sighs, clearly entertained by your stubbornness. Without another word, he leans forward and digs his head between your legs. You cry out at the contact of his tongue with your clit, and repeatedly moan his name at the mix of his fingers and tongue driving you properly insane.

Your hips keep shooting upward, and Harry tries to contain your non-stop squirming by pushing down your hips with his free arm. He doesn't restrain you entirely, liking the view of you falling apart for him too much anyway.

When you reach your climax, your hand has found Harry's hair, on which you mercilessly tug while making a mess below him. After riding out your high, Harry grabs your arm and scoops an arm around your waist before picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" You shriek, being able to do nothing but hang over him like a ragdoll as he walks out of the bedroom and, towards the front door?

You gasp when he opens the door and you find yourself in the hallway, without any pants on. You hear the sound of keys jingling and a door open, and before you can demand Harry let you go, he waltzes into his own apartment.

His dark walls and furniture are the exact opposite of your apartment. Very manly, very serious.

Harry puts you down, laying you on his couch. He leans forward, his hand sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast. You bite your lip at the feeling of his firm hands massaging you.

"You wanna know me? You want to know who you're dealing with?" He whispers, and you nod furiously, not being able to go without his touch down there for much longer. "We'll start with a house tour then. This is the living room."

You frown, it's not like his apartment is much different from yours. You look around the room, but your attention is back on Harry the second his mouth is back on your cunt. You mewl, not having expected his mouth on you again so soon.

Harry's skilled tongue along with the sensitivity from your first orgasm gets you closer and closer in an almost embarrassingly short time. Your legs try to control the amount of pleasure that you are getting, but Harry's hands keep spreading them apart, leaving you with no choice but to take everything he gives you.

"I— I'm gonna come!" You groan, that tension in your stomach so close to exploding. He keeps the quick paced tempo with which his tongue is assaulting your clit, and in no time you are twitching as your orgasm washes over you. Harry moans at the way you cry out his name, and licks you clean despite the pleas that tell him to stop because you're too sensitive.

You don't have time to steady your breathing, because Harry is already pulling you up and leading you to the kitchen. He doesn't waste any time, taking off your shirt, leaving you entirely naked. You watch as he takes your body in, your mind too cloudy to feel insecure. But with the way Harry looks at you, you don't think you would've worried about that in the first place.

His eyes rake down your body as he takes off his belt, and walks closer to you. Your hands reach forward, wanting to take off his shirt, but Harry grabs one of your wrists and turns you around. Taking ahold of the other wrist, he ties your hands together with his belt before bending you over his counter.

"My house, my rules." His low voice reminds you, making you shiver in anticipation. You hear some ruffling behind you, and you can only figure that Harry has taken off his pants. His hand rubs over your skin, lowering from your waist to your ass.

"Poor girl, you have no idea what you got yourself into." He taunts, his cock lining up with your pussy, the top of him stroking over your soaking wet cunt. You whine at the minimal contact, needing him to enter you right this second. You flinch forward, moaning loudly when Harry brings his hand down onto your ass. The sting of it almost makes you cry, you want him so bad.

"Please, please... please." you cry, pushing yourself backwards and into him. He pushes you back forward, tutting you.

"So desperate..."

Not being able to hold it any longer, Harry plunges his hard cock into you. A muffled cry escapes your throat, shocked by the size and girth of him. Of course you aren't entirely surprised—he just exceeds that kind of energy—but you hadn't dreamed of it being this big.

"Ah, shit! Harry... oh my god!" The string of words summed up exactly what you were feeling as he thrusted himself into you over and over again: everything.

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this..." He says, his hands sliding up and down your back. "Ever since you knocked on my fucking door wearing nothing but that oversized shirt."

"And now here you are, bent over my counter, letting me fuck you in every corner of my apartment." He groans, spanking your ass again. You shoot forward at the impact, moaning at the painful feeling. You didn't know that turned you on so much until now.

"W— What took you so long?" You have the nerve to ask him, but by the laugh that sounded from behind you, it seems that Harry likes your boldness.

"I'm a bad guy, sweetheart. Didn't want to ruin you." He coos, which is extremely contradicting to the harsh thrusts with which he drives himself into you. "But I guess that's too late now."

"I was yours to ruin anyway." You say softly, and it makes Harry still inside of you, followed by a very deep groan. You frown when you feel Harry pulling his cock out of you, confused by the sudden change.

"Fuck, baby. You can't just say shit like that to me, nearly made me come." He is breathing heavily, and tugs on your arms to make you stand up straight. He begins to walk away and grabs your arm, taking you with him. You follow him all the way to a door, which you realize is his bedroom as soon as he opens it.

You are about to ask him about a photograph that his hanging on his wall, when he pushes you onto the bed. Hands still tied behind your back, you let Harry get you a little bit higher on the bed before positioning himself in front of you again.

He spreads your legs as wide as he can, fingers dug into your waistline as he enters you again. You let your head fall back, knitting your eyebrows at how those short seconds without his cock have made his second time entering feel just as tight as the first time. Harry seems to think the same thing, moaning loudly at the tightness of you.

Arching your back, Harry gets an amazing view of your tits bouncing back and forth as he fucks you like you're some sort of ragdoll. He can't help but reach for your breasts again, playing with them and trying not too orgasm too soon upon hearing your loud moans.

You feel like you are on sensory overload. The restraint, the nipple stimulation, and Harry's cock pounding into you, it is bringing you into another galaxy. You never thought it was possible to feel this much pleasure at the same time.

"You are mine to ruin." Harry mumbles, as if reminding himself. You nod at his words, wholeheartedly agreeing with that. If ruining meant him fucking you like this every day, then he could do whatever he wanted.

"Mm, you love that, don't you?" He asks. You open your eyes to look at him, a devilish smile forming on your face. "You love that I'm the monster who you're supposed to be running from. I bet you fantasize about it all the time; the big bad guy corrupting you from your innocence by fucking you into oblivion."

"Yes, yes, yes..." you repeat, too fucked out to say anything else.

"Such a bad girl, getting pounded by her dangerous neighbor." He taunts you, increasing his already quick pace. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, letting the pleasure just wash over you. You feel like you might pass out any minute, but you've also never felt more alive. "You'd let me do it all, won't you?"

"Anything." You pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. You shriek when Harry thrusts into you very deeply and stays there for a couple seconds, leaning over you to grab something. You gasp when you Harry holding his gun. Before you can ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing, he starts moving again.

It shouldn't be the reason why you're so close to your orgasm all of a sudden, but the sight of Harry holding that gun is quite literally driving you insane. You can't believe it, it is the hottest thing you have ever seen.

To your surprise, he begins to trace lines over your body with the barrel of the gun. You whimper at the cold feeling of the object against your skin, not sure how long you're going to be able to hold in that third orgasm. Then, the gun travels upwards, all the way to your mouth, and your eyes widen when the words leave Harry's pink lips.

"Suck."

You look down at the gun, and back at him, a bit unsure of how safe it is, despite wanting to obey him very badly.

"Safety's on." He adds, calming your nerves a bit. And without a second thought, without considering you are doing a very dangerous thing right now, you take the gun in your mouth. In spite of Harry's vagueness, you trust him very much.

And so you begin sucking on the gun, moaning at the way Harry reacts to it. His thrusts increase in speed and intensity, and the way he massages your breasts are getting you incredibly close.

"Fuck, you're insane. You're fucking perfect." His compliments have you clenching your walls around him, something he doesn't miss. "Are you gonna come for me again, baby? Should've known that danger turns you on so much. Will do anything to keep me close, huh? Even taking my gun in your mouth while you get ruined by my cock."

"Yes, anything—oh fuck! I'm gonna cum!" The words are barely comprehensible with your mouth still filled up with the barrel of his gun, but your body tells Harry enough. Licking the pad of his thumb, he brings it to your clit, rubbing circles until you are a blubbering mess under him. You feel like jelly.

The way you are tightening around him sets off Harry's orgasm. He groans out your name repeatedly as he comes inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls is a thought you find yourself liking a bit too much for a regular person.

Nothing could've prepared you for this, for him. He takes the gun out of your mouth and puts it back on the nightstand. He keeps his body leaned over you, held up by his own two arms. His hair falls in front of his face, making it a bit more difficult to find your eyes. The both of you are panting heavily, and Harry smiles at your fucked out face.

Slipping a hand underneath your waist, Harry leans back and takes you with him, making you sit up straight. He unties your wrists, throwing the belt on the floor.

"Let's get you to the bathroom, hmm? Last part of the tour." He says, gently picking you up and carrying you over to his bathroom. When he puts you down, you have to hold yourself upright by holding on to the sink. Harry closes the door, giving you some privacy as you pee and check out your face in the bathroom. You wipe off the excess mascara that rests on your cheeks, smiling at the memory of what just happened.

When you get back to Harry's room, he has his boxers back on. At the sight of you, he grabs a t-shirt from the bed and hands it over to you. You put it on without question, only realizing that it is a Rolling Stones t-shirt when you catch yourself in the mirror.

"Got you some water." He points to the nightstand, and indeed, standing next to the gun there is a glass of water. You walk over to it and take a few sips, your eyes falling back on the gun.

"C'mere." Harry's voice interrupts your thoughts, and when you look up, you see that he has sat down. Crawling onto the bed, you join him.

He takes your chin in your hands, his face moving closer to you. "I want you to know that I'm not the safest guy to be around, and I understand if you want to walk away from this. But if you decide to stay, I promise I will keep you safe."

"So this is not going to be the last time that I'm gonna have to bail you out of jail?" You ask, partly joking, as you climb over him to sit on his lap.

"I'll be more careful." He responds, and his avoidance of your question gives you an answer. You nod, your face getting a bit more serious as you think about this a little bit more.

"Should I be scared?" You pout, not knowing if you would be able to handle constant fear. Harry shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

"Like you said, people are afraid of me, not necessarily the other way around." His fingertips dance around your thighs. "I'll keep it separated. And, unless for pleasure intended purposes, I won't ever use that gun around you."

You sigh. "Don't prove the people in this town right, okay? Don't be someone I have to run from."

Harry pulls you close, bringing your lips to his. It is a short and sweet kiss, one filled with the reassurance of a promise.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

taglist: @mellamolayla @natedelrey

[thelunaticself]

ACCIDENTAL TENDER

simon riley x reader

hookups have consequences.

a/n: gawd i caved. price fic soon promise

cw: mentions of sex, masturbation, age gap

Simon thought he fell asleep in a construction site last night when the first ray of consciousness hit him. A whirlwind of sensory overload accompanied by a banging headache. Never again. He has to learn to say no to that stupid Scot next time the bastard dragged him to the bar and fixed up a bird for him. 

“Yer gonna die alone at this point, Lt.”

Yeah. Right. 

His eyes dart over next to him on the bed, half expectant to find nothing, the other half hopes it’s still nothing. The cold pillow and hollow space greet him in delight. Except the whirring sound of his washing machine snaps him out of his hungover daze. It’s not laundry day yet. His pillow hits the ground with a thud as Simon rolls out of bed with an annoyed sigh. Did someone really lose their mind to try to break into his house this early? Even the neighbors follow the silent rules to let the man do whatever he wants around here, eyes and mouth shut tight. Never get invited to community dinner. Simon expects that much. He sighs again when he stumbles into the kitchen, mid-way to the laundry. There is no thief. Well, not the bad kind at least. 

“Um, good morning…I made pancakes.”

A screech of the chair and dishes clashing. Soft delicate fingers brush against his calloused one when she presses the plate with a heavy stack of pancakes in it. She steps back a bit to look at him, trying to gauge his emotion. Simon stares at the plate for a bit. The bits are a bit burnt, there are uneven and rough edges, like someone flipped them too clumsily. He hasn’t even commented on how she unashamedly took one of his shirts and wears it so pretty like that. So much for a hookup.

Words flow smoothly with a full stomach. It’s as smooth as it gets for Simon at least.

“ ‘S that my shirt?”

“I kind of uh… My dress got funny stains on it y’know… and it reeks of alcohol so I um…”

“Oh alrigh’.”

“If you want me to return it-”

“Nah, shit’s too old anyways. Been sittin’ in the closet.”

“I also used your washing machine-”

‘Mkay.”

Simon takes a fat bite out of the very last pancake.

“And I might use up your shampoo…”

“Don’t mind it.”

Half a cup of coffee gone. 

“What’s your name by the way?”

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Simon knows his dick is one of his many talents. Something he thought about every so often and gives himself a pat on the shoulder. But surely it must not be that good. Not good enough for emotional attachment. He hopes it’s not the case because you’re still lazing around the house, finding all sorts of things to do constantly.

“I need to wait to get my dress out of the washer.”

An answer to a question he didn’t even ask. You mumble as you wash his mug. Eyes drifting everywhere but him. Simon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to call you out just yet. Sundays are boring anyways. Either smoke in the yard or rewatch that football match yet again. Sometimes, if he’s feeling generous with himself, he’ll drag Johnny to go fishing in the lake that is an hour drive away. This time, however, he doesn’t even have to change out of his worn out sweats.

“So where’s your butler? Is he on leave? It’s hard to cook so early in the morning.”

Simon cocks his head, eyes finally bother to leave the newspaper. Is she mentally ill too? Where the hell did Johnny even get one like this?

“What butler?”

“Huh? The one who cooks and cleans so you don’t have to do it yourself?”

“I didn’t ask for a definition.”

This time you really turn around and look at him for the first time in the morning. Hands gripped the sink behind, eyes wide:

“You don’t have one?”

Simon lets out a mean snort.

“The hell are you on about?”

“I mean… I thought it’s a necessity? My mum told me that.”

Simon is about to reply with something equally mean and equally ludicrous if his eyes didn’t drift back to the half open page of his newspaper. “CEO OF TOP #3 OIL COMPANY THROWS BIG PUBLIC PARTY FOR DAUGHTER’S 20TH BIRTHDAY IN ITALY.” There she is. Expensive pearl necklace wrapped around the neck that his very own hands choked last night. Hair all shiny, eyes full of glitter, one hand holding a purse with a logo that he can’t identify, the other a glass of champagne. All giddy and spoiled. He’s about to read the line of text underneath the bold printed picture if strands of hair didn’t obscure his view. You have taken the liberty to rest your elbows on the arm of the sofa to lean over to peek into what he’s reading, seeing that he stopped responding. 

“Yeah, I had a blast there last month. Too many people though. But I would have invited you.”

Simon gets flashed with your toothy grin when you turn your face around to look at him, eyes crinkle slightly. He didn’t really pay much attention to what you’re blabbering next, too busy comparing your face with the one in the picture. One hand reaches out to brush out a stubborn strand of hair that covers bits of your eyes, making it hard for him to continue his silent quest. It doesn’t take long for Simon to decide which one is better.

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He finds it eerie that you turn silent when you open the washing machine door to take out your dress along with the rest of his clothes. You’re even more silent as you start to hang them up.

“Didn’t ask ya to do it. Just leave ‘em.”

Simon leans against the wall, trying to create some sense of normalcy. 

“It’s okay. I probably bother you too much at this point.”

The sudden awareness caught him a bit off guard. You’re not as clueless as he’d like to think. 

“Daddy kicked you out or something?”

That makes you slow down your movements, shoulders tensed.

“It’s not like that…”

“How so? Hard to imagine a thing like you go sleeping ‘round with men like me.”

“It is not.”

Your pout makes him stop. Simon is not that close to press on that much anyways. Not yet. 

A similar pout appears on your face when he pulls up at your house - mansion. At some point, he swore a guy just scrunched his face in discomfort just from the sight of his car driving in this neighborhood alone. You, however, claimed the passenger seat full of glory. Simon is used to the sight of rowdy men (sometimes injured) occupying this seat. He never thought it could look so good with your pink dress, pretty heels dangle on your fingers as you hold them by their courier. 

“Thank you for everything. Really.”

You say as you hastily strap the heels back on. With one last smile at him, you push the door open. The grand black metal gate swallows you in but your scent lingers in his car. Simon lets out a chuckle. Look at him in his 30s, gets played by a spoiled rich brat who is probably as fresh as a fawn. Soap is right after all. He takes a deep breathe, taking in all that leftover sweets.

Simon has never felt so frustrated in his life. Usually, he gets it done pretty swift and fast. For some reason, even with the shirt that you borrowed that morning on his nose, your scent mixed with expensive perfumes blocks out all the other senses, his cock never softens. Simon even generously puts on a video and nothing happens. His rough hand goes languished, tired and desperate. Maybe that's the problem. His hand. Not yours. Even his ears begin to find the moaning coupled with wet slaps more annoying than arousing. Then his phone vibrates, temporarily putting the video in the background of his attention. Your name flashes on the screen. 

Fuck. 

Relief floods over him in an instant. Thick white spurts land on his stomach. And Simon has yet to read the text.

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“But where do you park your second car?”

“Sweets, for fuck’s sake-”

“Oh god, I didn't-”

“Nevermind.”

It has been your fifth trip to his house and your questions only grow. He supposed it's fair since you never stepped on anything but fine marbles. A hand squeezes his bicep. 

“But I really wanna try.”

“You sure ‘bout that? Never take you for that type.”

“Well, I don't have to be a specific type to go on a fishing trip.”

“Fine. Just don't whine too much.”

Your fingers curl around his bicep again, failing to wrap them all the way around. You tend to do that a lot. Excited or anxious. His cock chubs from the sight alone but he can't force you into another round. Instead, Simon pulls the blanket higher, trying to distract himself. It's silent for a while before he gives in and asks the question he had been mulling over since the news came crashing down.

“Has your old man talked to you again?”

A nail digs into his bicep.

“Not yet… He’s still in shock. I don't blame him but what did he think was gonna happen?"

“I suppose you're right.”

Simon can't think of a better ending anyways. If that night you didn't yield before your bodyguard's insistent request to meet up with his “typical military” best friend, he is sure you wouldn't be lying here but probably somewhere in Hawaii on a honeymoon with your newly wed husband. 

“I mean I get to marry whoever the hell I want right? Even if I did decide not to run off and meet that bloke, divorce would be certain in less than a year.”

“Heh.”

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It is a miracle that he manages to find a hotdog stand still opened past 2 am. All the other vendors are starting to pack up and calling it a day. Simon supposed when you're a daughter of a billionaire, everything naturally goes your way. Because he never would have agreed to being woken up to abandon his sleep and “quench the gut wrenching hunger that eats at the soul”. It is also raining hard. He forgot his umbrella. But the way your legs are skipping when they walk back to his car makes it all worth it in the end. You don't seem too bothered by your wet hair and coat.

“These are so nice! My dad never lets me eat these stuff.”

The way you look at the hotdog in your palm is exactly how one would look at their newborn.

“Mm. They sell it ‘round here a lot.”

You halt your steps and plant a kiss on his cheek. Simon ruffles your hair when you pull away to smile at him cheekily. He hopes you would do the same when he slips a ring on your finger.

a/n: first time adding anything that is nsfw in my work so i tried to make it as light as possible but im VERY anxious abt it though

⌯⌲ buy me a coffee?

[vroomingrussell]

Papaya Rules doesn’t apply to the heart 🧡

Oscar Piastri is in love with Y/N Brown. Y/N has been and probably will be in love with Lando Norris, and Lando, is in love with the attention and the thrill of chasing his first championship.

Note: this will be part smau & partly written; all pics are from Pinterest and in this Y/N is Zac Browns daughter. The fic takes places over the course of the 2024 season.

Part 2 of 5

Y/Ninsta recent activities:

Lando unblocked

Lando followed

OscarPiastri followed

Account is now public.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Over the course of the weekend; you found yourself in the company of Oscar Piastri more often than not, he wasn’t someone you expected to gel so quickly with, you knew he was on the quieter more reserved side, but he was surprisingly funny, smart and very charming, every moment with him left you smiling and giddy. You tried hard not to think about the butterflies that stirred in your stomach, the last thing you needed was to catch feelings for him, you had vowed not to date another driver, let alone one from the same time as Lando; it would make things too messy and complicated, more so than the last one time.

Yet you didn’t stop yourself from flirting, he was cute, that couldn’t be denied; and just your luck, that caught the attention of the last person you wanted to pay you any mind.

“You and Osc huh?” Lando said as he crept up behind you on Sunday before the start of race.

“What?” You asked, there was no way you were going to admit anything.

“All the flirting?”

“Oh that’s not- shut up” you swatted his arm when he wiggled his eyebrows at you; you laughed so loud you snorted; he smiled brightly back at you, and there is was, butterflies, unwanted and unnerving. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

“We don’t start for another 3 hours” Lando said as he bumped his shoulder against yours as you both continued through the McLaren hospitality. “Besides, you seem to be avoiding me, thought we could have a little chat”

“I’m not avoiding you” you lied, you definitely were.

“I missed you I hope you know that”

“Lando, let’s not do this”

“No- Y/N let’s do this” Lando said and he stepped in front of you, stopping you both in your tracks “you disappeared on me, blocked my number, blocked me on social media and even threatened your dad to not say anything about you to me”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that” you huffed. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to look anywhere but his eyes.

“You just left and didn’t say anything and I didn’t know why”

And then the butterflies churned into angry hornets.

“Oh you didn’t?” You scoffed, of course he’d say that “Lando, I dont know if you didn’t realize it, but let me spell it out for you, I was in love with you; i thought you might have felt the same way- everything we did- all the things we-“ frustratingly you shook your head, shaking away the tears that burned your eyes “then you turn around and do that with someone else? And you claim she was just a friend? So what was I? Just a friend too, right?”

“You never said anything” he frowned, mixed emotions coloring his face.

“I didn’t think I had to, but it doesn’t matter right now. I’m here for my dad, I don’t need this”

“Y/N don’t be like this, we used to be best friends, we can be friends again, just like we were”

“Friends? I’m not interested in fucking you, considering that’s what all your friendships seems to entail” you knew how harsh that was, but you needed to say it; clear the anger you had harbored.

“And you’re not trying to do the same thing with Oscar? Since fucking your friends is something we have in common?” He lashes back, angrily.

“No you asshole, but that’s a new concept to you isn’t it?”

“You know those girls meant nothing to me”

“And neither do I, so if you don’t mind I have to go” but before you could actually move from his space; the hurt and anger on Landos face drained.

“Y/N look I’m sorry, I don’t want us to fight; I wasn’t trying to make this worst, can we just forget all of this and try to be friends again, you still are one of the most important person in my life”

“I don’t know Lando” you signed, the truth was, no time apart could change that, he was one of your best fiends, he meant the world to you too “I need time Lando, I’m sure we can be friends again but I need time to get us back to where we were, not the sex thing” you smiled at the last part “strictly platonic”

“I can be patient to be your strictly platonic friend again” he promises and kisses your cheek before darting off.

You continued down the corridor; your mind reeling from the back and forth, it left you feeling a little whiplashed.

“Hey Y/N” You heard Oscar before you saw him; his voice alone caused your rapid heartbeat to still; the churning in your stomach settled “you look worried, everything okay?” His browns furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, better now” you said with a smile, because everything did feel better now.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Y/Ninsta posted

Y/Ninsta: There’s no place like Monaco; congratulations to the Leclercs for the 1-2

Comments on this post has been limited

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Race weeks drifted from one to the other; before you knew it you were celebrating another podium for Oscar. Oscar who had effortlessly wedge his way into your life, he was apart of your daily life, even when he wasn’t physically near you, he was always on your mind. You hated how easy it was to let your guard down for him, how easy it was for you to fall for him; not that you would admit it, you promised yourself you weren’t going to put yourself in this position again.

“Hey” You smiled when Oscar sat down besides you, the towel he had wiping the champagne from his hair tossed down on the table in front of you.

“Congratulations, I’m happy for you” You said “how are we celebrating”

“How bout dinner”

“Mhm sure you can come out with me and Carmen and George, we are going to celebrate”

“Thanks but no i meant- just us; like a date?”

“Oh um” you frowned “Oscar, you know i really appreciate you and our friendship but I can’t”

“Because of Lando?”

“What?”

“I know you guys were sorta together in the past, I didn’t know either of you still carried those feelings”

“No Oscar; it’s not Lando, I promise” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours.

“You don’t have to explain, I get it. I’ll see you around” he gently pulls his hand away and gets up, grabbing his towel and leaving.

You let out a sigh and collapsed back into the chair you were sitting in; why was all your feelings so complicated.

Quickly you shot off a text to Carmen, needing her and George to distract you with copious amounts of alcohol.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Wine drunk from dinner you found yourself with your phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear. You frowned when he didn’t pick up and called again.

“Y/N?” He answered after the second ring.

“Lando” you pouted though he couldn’t see you, you could hear the beating tempo of music in the background, he must have gone out.

“Y/N? Where are you, is everything okay?”

“I’m good, so good I’m at Oscar’s hotel, I’m going to see him/ you and I, we are platonic friends” You hiccuped, drunker than you had realized “and I’m gonna say yes to Oscar, gone on a date”

“Y/N” he signs your name, you didn’t know how much you broke his heart in that moment.

“I can’t love you anymore Lando, I can’t” the words left your mouth before your brain could stop you; there was a long stretch of silence between you; nothing but the music from his end. You ended the call and muster up the courage to do what you had planned earlier.

One wobbly step after another (heels weren’t your friend on your soberest of day; let alone now) you made your way to Oscars hotel room. You rapidly knocked on the door before a disheveled Oscar opened the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here, is everything okay?”

“We should go on that date”

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying”

“I am” you admitted “but I’m so sure it; Oscar you make me feel things I tried to close myself off to, I had no interest in falling for you, but I am and I’m not going to let what happened year ago to affect what we can have now”

“Come inside Y/N”

“Is that a yes to the date?” You asked hopefully.

He shook his head and led you into his hotel room “let me get you some water and get you into bed, we can talk about this later yeah?”

“Yeah, sleep sounds good” you yawned and let Oscar help you out of your shoes.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

When you drunkenly showed up at Oscar’s door asking for a date, you hadn’t expected to wake up in his bed the next morning, the bed he was notably absent from. Your stomach dripped, you hoped you didn’t royally screw things up. But the note on the nightstand kindly let you know that he was out for coffee and quote, your hungover cure.

You got out of his bed and practically sprinted to the door when a loud knocking came, assuming it was Oscar, who you assumed forgot his key, you swung the door open without a second thought.

“Osc- Y/N?” Lando’s shocked expression greeted you.

“Hey, Oscar stepped out” you said and averted your gaze when you felt his eyes over your body; which was, as you know realized, dressed only in one of Oscar’s tshirt.

“Um yeah, tell him to call me before his flight to London”

You nodded and shut the door.

Your heart raced as you remembered the phone call between you; guilt settled into the pits of your stomach but you quickly pushed any tagging thoughts away, you refused to let any thoughts or feelings for Lando ruin what you knew can be something good. Oscar was sweet and kind, he was funny and charming; you were falling for him, and you didn’t want to let something from the past dull what could be a bright future.

That morning you ate breakfast together and he made you ask again, which you did, cheeks burning hot the entire time. Then you laid in bed and kissed until you had to reluctantly part. You’d see each other again in London.

London, where each day you spent trading sneaky looks and flirty comments; and each night you’d sneak into each other’s hotel room. You couldn’t be happier, even your dad had noticed, but you brushed him off. The last thing you wanted to do was for him to find out when you were still figuring things out.

As for Lando, you barely saw each other and when you did, you both had mastered the art of pretending the other didn’t exist, if it did come down to it, and you did have to speak, it was nothing but court.

It wasn’t until after Silverstone that you and Oscar managed to have your first proper date; you both had agreed to having a pizza baking night at your place in Monaco, you were in a pleasant happy bubble that you didn’t want to be popped just yet; you knew your relationship would be scrutinized, and you wanted to keep it to yourselves just a little bit longer.

Y/Ninsta posted to your story.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Note: oh boy; this part is a little all over the place but it’s just going to get messier and oh so angstyyyyy

Please let me know what you guys think!

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[mysticpearl]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[dovesdreaming]

Like a real family

Summary: You find a family in the thunderbolts, especially yelena who becomes like a sister to you. (1k words)

Requested

Masterlist

-

The new Thunderbolts base wasn't a military compound or a prison or a bunker. It was a sleek, slightly too modern high rise with reinforced windows, panoramic views. A building that just so happened to be the old avenger’s tower. It was weird seeing the inside of such a famous building especially one that had so much security your suprised the building didn’t burst at it’s seams.

You stood in the living room, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, watching as Alexei loudly rushed and jumped over the side of the sofa declaring it his “throne” only to be half pushed off by Bucky with the calmness of a man who looks like he’s used to living with the chaos of so many roommates. You wondered what he felt like being back here after so many years but now with a different team.

Yelena Belova strolled past all of it with a duffel slung across her back, inspecting all the surfaces her eyes could land on. “You’re quiet” she said, stopping in front of you.

You blinked. “You’ve known me for what.. three minutes”

“Three minutes too long for someone who hasn't insulted Walker yet”

You snorted despite yourself. “I’m pacing myself”

Her smile was quick and mischievous. “Ah. A slow-burn hater. I like it” This was going to be a lot to get used to.

After living with a team of volatile assassins, soldiers, and supers for a few months you could definitely say it was exactly as chaotic as you'd expected and also a little sweeter than anyone would admit. Alexei cooked every Sunday night and insisted on everyone complimenting him. He referred to it as “family dinner” and always wore those cringey, maybe, slightly endearing aprons apron that said things like “mr good looking is cookin”. The dinners went smoother than expected, you would all chat to each other across the table and even have group discussions (which sometimes could get slightly out of hand). They always brought a warm fuzzy feeling to your stomach though because as you looked around the table at the people you met only a matter of months ago you could say that it felt somewhat like a home now. Everyone had their little quirks but it’s what made them feel more like a real family.

Walker had tried (and failed) to establish chore rotations and was then was ruthlessly mocked into only managing the trash.

Ghost phased through walls constantly. You stopped flinching after the third time she appeared beside you holding a bowl of cereal at 2 AM like a haunting.

Bob beat everyone in Mario Kart. Every. Single. Time. Now that annoyed you, you swore he was cheating, there was no way he couldn’t be.

Yelena… well, Yelena made herself at home in your space faster than anyone else. She’d drape across your bed without asking, steal your hoodies, and text you memes at 3 AM. She once sent a photo of Alexei snoring on a beanbag with the caption: “we have lost father. funeral at dawn.”

You never had a sister. Not a real one. But somehow, Yelena slipped into that role before you could define it. Well you assumed this was how sisters were with each other from what you had seen. She teased you constantly.

“You organise your socks by color? Psychopath behaviour”

“You're using that serum-enhanced shampoo again, aren't you? Your hair is aggressively shiny”

You gave it back just as hard.

“At least I don’t name my throwing knives”

“They all have different personalities! ‘Stabby’ is very misunderstood”

But when it mattered when a mission left you too shaken to breathe, or your past clawed its way into your mind, Yelena was there. She didn’t hug people often. But she’d sit with you, shoulder to shoulder, offering silence when words were too heavy.

“I know what it’s like” she once said after a bad mission. “To be used. To feel like your scars are instructions someone else left behind” You stared at her, eyes glassy. She looked forward, voice soft. “But they’re not. They’re yours now. You get to decide what they mean”.

You’ve change your mind. Yelena gave the worst advice.

“Text your crush and say ‘I could kill you in 47 ways but I won’t.’ It’s romantic”

“Fight the mission commander. Establish dominance”

“You are too emotionally stable. Go slash some tires”

You never took it seriously… unless she said it in her soft voice. The voice that came out when she was being real. Like the time you doubted yourself before a mission. Too many failures stacked behind you. You’d nearly stayed behind. Yelena found you in the gym, tossing knives at a target with clenched fists.

“You do not have to prove anything,” she said. “Not to them. Not even to me”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be the weak link”

She crossed the room, stopped just in front of you. “Then don’t be. You’re not broken. You’re building” She handed you a knife. “Come. Let us show them what we’re made of” You walked into that mission stronger than ever.

One night, you sat on the balcony outside your room, knees pulled to your chest, staring into the city lights. Yelena had let herself into your room and slid down beside you, legs stretched in front of her, hair up in a mess behind her.

“Is it weird” you asked, “to be happy here?”

She tilted her head. “Yes. But good-weird.”

You looked at her. “Feels like if I let myself believe this is real, it’ll disappear again”

She nodded slowly. “That’s the curse of people like us. We were made to lose things”

Then she leaned her head against yours.

“But I’m not going anywhere, little shadow”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat.

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

She grinned. “I love you too”

[moody-alcoholic]

Freaky Friday

+18 MDNI explicit content

Its Friday which means I try writing new things. This week ✨double penetration.✨ I really had a scene like this envisioned for the finale of missing piece but I couldn’t wrap my head round it. Anyway thought this week was the perfect opportunity to give it another go! I pulled what I had saved in my drafts folder and cleaned it up, it’s definitely something…

Summary: Ghoap x reader. 2.5k words. Johnny suggests some fun in the bedroom.

CW: +18 MDNI explicit content Smut, sex, threesome, double penetration (ass & vagina), oral (M&F receiving), overstimulation, PiV sex, anal, spanking (it’s like once), grinding/ dry humping, little bit of aftercare.

Masterlist - AO3

Enjoy ya filithy animals <3

“How ‘bout we try double penetration.” Johnny says over dinner one day. You almost choke on your carrot.

“Fitting conversation for the dinner table as ever Johnny.” Simon says shaking his head as he forks more food in his mouth. You chuckle as Johnny winks at you. 

“I’m serious though, if you want to of course?” He says tipping his head to the side looking at you. You look over at Simon who sips on his glass of wine.

“I don’t know maybe. It seems complicated.” You feel yourself blushing as reach for your wine glass.

“I’ve been doing some research and I think I've got it figured out.” Johnny say smiling and putting another fork of food in his mouth. 

“Watched an instructional video did you?” Simon asks raising an eyebrow.

“Many, and I think I've cracked it.” He says pointing his fork at Simon

“It would be easy, Si you can take the front I'll take the back. You wouldn't even have to do anything love, just sit there and take it.” Johnny explains bluntly. You think about it, it did sound interesting. Something you thought would come up eventually anyway given the situation of the relationship. You didn't expect it to be over Sunday dinner though. Maybe that’s why Johnny went to so much effort, to ease the blow of bringing it up.

“Okay, we could try. I have Tuesday off next week. How about then?” You look round the table. You feel like you could see a smile forming on Simon's lips. Maybe he was more up for it then he seemed to be.

“Its a date.” Johnny says raising his glass

—------------

When Tuesday rolls around you’re strangely nervous. You don’t want to be a disappointment, but if Johnny meant what he said that you would basically just have to hold onto Simon and they would do the rest. This is definitely the most adventurous thing you’d done with them so far. Also the thing that’s required the most ‘prep’ work.  

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Simon asks you quietly as you come out the bathroom.

“Yeah, are you?” You ask trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. 

“Yeah, just remember if you want to stop just say. You know how enthusiastic Johnny can get.” Simon says. You smile nodding and he wraps his arm round your shoulder as you walk with him into the bedroom. Johnny is stood in just his boxers patting down the sheets on the bed. This is the first time you’ve planned for sex. Most of the time its just spontaneous. 

“Okay Simon sit on the end of the bed.” Johnny says. 

“What no foreplay?” Simon asks pulling his shirt off. 

“Oh, they’ll be foreplay. I just need to see how this works.” Johnny says as Simon sits down on the end of the bed. You go over to him as Johnny instructs you to sit on his knees facing Simon. You follow the instructions Simon’s hands wrap round your back and he holds you in place. Its not the most comfortable position with Simon’s large thighs. He scoots back on the bed a bit and you straddle over his waist smiling at him as you feel his cock twitch between the layers of fabric.

Johnny comes up behind you standing between Simon’s legs his hands squeeze your ass. You hear Johnny hum as you look down at Simon laid back propped up on his elbows. You start grinding up against him, feeling his cock grow in his pants. You lean down to kiss him as Johnny runs his hands up your back under your shirt. You sit up letting Johnny take it off over your head and fling it to the side. Simon’s face lights up as your breasts fall free and you move off him so he can take his trousers off. You’re kneeling on the bed as Johnny strips his boxers off.  

“Why don’t you sit on his face?” Johnny asks. You look down at Simon who nods. Guess you’re trying two new things tonight. You pull your underwear off and straddling over Simon’s face. His hands reach up and grab your ass you look down as him smiling as you let him lower your body onto his mouth. His tongue licks from your entrance to your clit, you let out a moan reaching forward for something to grab. You don’t find anything instead digging your nails into your thighs. It feels weird, this new position. Simon’s strong his arms holding your legs securely in place. You move one of your hands to your breasts cupping one and squeezing the nipple, it sends waves of pleasure down to your already aching pussy.

You hear Johnny behind you, the guttural sounds coming from his throat as he pleasures Simon. It’s hot, the noises he’s making sending vibrations through your body, not helped by the fact Simon keeps moaning making your clit spasm with each suck. You wish you could turn and see, you stop trying to grind on Simon’s face as you moan feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. Your nails are dug deep in your legs as you tip your head back, thighs accidentally squeezing Simon’s head as you cum. You feel him groan under you as you loosen your legs hearing Johnny chuckle behind you. You’re still panting when you flop your body to the side hearing Simon suck in gasps of air. 

“Sorry.” You say between breaths. Simon smiles looking over at you laying next to him, the pulsating between your legs is fading but the ache is still there. You scoot yourself down the bed and roll over so you’re face to face with Simon, who’s propped himself back up on his elbows. You both look down at Johnny who has a smirk on his face, knelt between Simon’s legs watching you both with his hands still working Simon’s shaft. You give Simon a quick kiss then you sit up swinging your legs over his stomach.

You feel Johnny grip your waist pulling you down to meet Simon’s pelvis. You reach behind you feeling for his cock. Your thumb circles around the familiar tip, your hand thrusts down, already so wet with a mix of Johnny’s saliva and Simon’s precum. You kneel up and over him guiding the tip to your entrance. You look down at him he’s still up on his elbows as you ease yourself down on him. You watch his expression change as his eyes roll back and he lets his body flop down. You move up and down on him feeling Johnny come behind you, hands wrapping round to your breasts, squeezing your nipples. It makes you moan Johnny’s name and Simon’s hands find your thighs.

“Feel good?” Johnny asks breathing down your neck. You hum in response as he starts kissing your neck, tongue dancing over the sensitive spots. You don’t need anything else you don’t even need to play with your clit you could just ride Simon and let Johnny play with you until you cum. You said you would try this though and honestly how hard can it be.

Johnny gently angles your body forward a bit and Simon looks up feeling your change in pace. Your body now arched forward slightly means Simon’s cock is hitting a new spot that's making clench down on him, he can feel it too becoming more vocal his hands squeezing your thighs. Simon’s beautiful moans are making it harder to concentrate. You get distracted by the sound of a drawer opening behind you, and what sounds like a cap of something. 

“Lube,” Johnny says as he sees you trying to turn. You feel one of his hands on the bottom of your back as you hear the other rubbing lube over his cock. You stop bouncing when you feel Johnny’s hand run between your ass cheeks. You clench again you don’t mean to. Simon sits up one of his hands coming round your back. You don’t know how he can be comfortable but he presses his lips to yours as his tongue works in your mouth Johnny’s fingers press up against your hole. It feels strange but you're too distracted as you moan in Simon’s mouth. 

“So soft.” Johnny breaths his other hand running up your back. You pull away from Simon as you feel Johnny’s finger on your ass replaced with the tip of his cock. 

“You ready?” Johnny asks you look at Simon and feel him twitch inside you. You realise he's been doing all the work grinding his hips into you. 

“Yeah,” you reply. Your arms wrapping round Simon’s neck. Johnny presses his back up against you as he slowly pushes into you. You gasp, it feels like all the air is sucked out your lungs. Johnny pauses as you clench round them both. 

“Fuck love,” Simon says breathing into your neck. 

“Christ, you feel amazing.” Johnny says pushing in a little further. You let out a moan feeling shivers run up your body. Your hips start buck against Simon feeling his cock pulse against your dripping walls. You can feel yourself slipping round his hips. Johnny pushes up inside you with one last thrust. It feels good, you feel full like you’re almost too tight being able to feel each movement from them.

Johnny was right as soon as him and Simon got comfortable all you really has to do was sit there. It took a few seconds to get used to it but before you knew it you were a painting mess your head slumped in Simon’s neck. One of Johnny’s hands ran up your hair lightly gripping it as his fingers massaged your scalp. You feel each thrust they’re making as your bodies all become a hot sweaty mess.

Sometimes their thrusts are in sync and its like fucking fireworks as moan out. They’re getting faster and you’re being bounced around more. Hearing Simon and Johnny moaning while their both inside you is amazing, its almost too much you’re starting to feel overstimulated. You know Simon is close by his painting and tight grip on you. 

“Johnny..” you breath as you tip your head back. He turns his face to kiss your cheek. You try to move your head as you do his lips meet yours. Its hot and sloppy your lips trying to stay together while you’re bring moved around. You’re not going to last much longer. Johnny seems to be able to tell as he increases his speed as Simon struggles to match him. Now Johnny is almost picking you up in his arms and bouncing you on them both.  

“Christ, Johnny..” is the only warning you get from Simon before he cums, its a few thrusts later you feel yourself cuming too, the feeling of Simon’s cock throbbing inside you pushing you over the edge. You call Simon’s name as you cum feeling Johnny resting you down on him while he continues to fuck you from behind. Simon flops down on the bed. His hands still gripping your thighs, you watch his chest rising and falling as he takes deep breaths.  

“Did so fucking well taking us both.” Johnny says he's almost feral pushing down on your lower back bending you forward. You feel Simon’s spent cock slip out of you and he moans. Its a completely new feeling now having just Johnny inside you, you feel almost empty. You moan at the praise as your clit starts rocking against Simon’s half hard twitching member. He’s almost shaking from overstimulation maybe you should get off him. But it feels too good you’re still so sensitive if this keeps up you’re going to cum again.

You plant your hands on Simon’s chest, you can feel his heart racing as you try not to dig your nails into him. It just feels too good and you bend over completely your head resting on his chest. Simon’s arms rub round your back. You hear Johnny grunting behind you as you angle your hips to chase the pleasure building inside you. You’re incoherently moaning and calling names as Simon’s hands brush over you. You listen to Johnny’s moans, and praises telling you how good you’ve been.

The orgasm takes you by surprise you squeeze your eyes closed moaning into Simon’s chest. Johnny cums too as you’re clenched around him so tight he has to almost fight to keep inside you. You’re panting wet mess on Simon’s chest, Johnny bent over your back, you can feel his chest pressed up against you his heart racing. You both just lay there on top of Simon, Johnny feeling like a warm weighted blanket. 

“Move Johnny,” Simon says after a few seconds slapping Johnny’s thigh.

“In a second Si,” Johnny replies between breaths. You chuckle which makes him move you let out a yelp as he pulls out of you, your whole body tingling with overstimulation. Johnny slaps your ass which makes you jump and you go to sit up but Simon keeps his arms around you keeping you in place. 

“I’m going for a shower, there’s room for more.” Johnny says, you know he’s winking at Simon you can almost hear it. A shower does sound nice, you let out a long breath and Simon loosens his arms so you can sit up. You almost slip off him your thighs coated in your slick and cum.

You move to get off the bed Simon stands behind you. Your legs are wobbly as you both make your way to the bathroom. They have a big shower, maybe that was on purpose it means it’s perfectly comfortable for all three of you. You enjoy being pressed against their bodies as you wash each other. It’s a different kind of pleasure, feeling their hands run over you almost fighting each other for touch over your sensitive spots.

You let the steam make you sleepy your body always pressed against one of their chests, with the warm water splashing on your back you could nap right there. When you exit the shower your body feels heavy and you almost slip on the tiles. Someone grab's your arms pulling up up. It’s Simon he throws a towel over you and scoops you up in his arms. 

“Bedroom or sofa?” He asks.

“Bedroom.” You yawn. He puts you down and you dry yourself off as you pull on some underwear and a shirt. You crawl into bed as Simon grabs some clothes for him and Johnny.

“Don’t let me sleep too long, I have work tomorrow.” You say as your head hits the pillow. Simon chuckles.

“Okay, we’ll wake you up for dinner.” He says as he steps out the door. 

“I love you Simon.” You call. 

“I love you too.” He replies as he closes the door.  

——————————

I really don't know how I feel about this but I tried. XD

[quintessenceofdust88]

Several Sentence Sunday (and also Inspiration Saturday)

I was tagged by my darlings @bidisasterevankinard and @typicalopposite for Several Sentence Sunday, and since I procrastinated Inspiration Saturday yesterday, this will serve as both hehe ♥

(okay, so this isn't in any of my WIPs and will probably not go anywhere, I just needed someone to vent my frustrations about Eddie and Tommy is the one I chose! inspired by many thoughts I've been having since Thursday, and conversations with many people but mostly @agentpeggycartering @bidisasterevankinard and @iredastead, thanks for the yapping time lovelies ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up." Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. "Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..." "Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him" - tbc -

Np tagging @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @fairytalegonewronga03 @sad-girl-hours23 and whoever else would like to join ♥

[eskir]

domestic headcanons - sunday x gn!reader

after years of dating, engagement, and years after the marriage, sunday and you have a family now. set in an alternate universe and the children can be adopted or not, you choose! this is written before i've played the 2.7 sunday quest.

robin, the certified responsible aunt, would definitely sing your children to sleep. as a result, your children might not exactly understand that she's a famous star, and instead just think she's the cool aunt who takes care of them. and maybe also the cool aunt who sneaks them candy when you and sunday aren't looking.

however, if you also give them candy, make sure to give it to them in moderation or sunday might lovingly berate you. something along the lines of "they barely brush their teeth already" or "moderation is good." you choose to only laugh a little and shake your head.

while you and sunday might have your hands full with the children (as mischievous as they could be) it is a monthly ritual for you two to have a date night. whether it be going out to a fancy dinner place and spending the night at a hotel or merely enjoying a quiet moment together, you two try to keep that routine. of course, it can be hard when complications arrive, but it allows you and sunday to spend more quality time together.

robin will always volunteer to supervise your children if that happens, but if she isn't available (let's face it, she's most likely going on at least month long tours), there's always some friends of yours or someone you could hire. although when hiring someone, sunday would meticulously check their background.

additionally, when the children are young, sunday would sing them lullabies. he might do so when you're not around, and when you walk in he'll cover his face with his wings in embarrassment. the children would most likely laugh at the sight and ask him to do that again, and he would begrudgingly do so.

also, if you have halovian children, expect them to copy sunday's wings' behavior. also expect them to try to fly with their wings, much like sunday when he was younger. of course, the attempt will fail, and that child will be nursing a broken wing if they fall.

i honestly see sunday as being a very gentle father. of course he has his rules concerning bedtime, screentime, and foods, but if he can definitely be persuaded. once your children figure out how to do so...

well have fun.

there could also be family cuddle sessions, where you all position yourselves on a couch and watch tv. of course, sunday would fight to be next to you, but most times the children would win with a very very smug grin on their face(s).

although his pouting face always did make you snicker, the way his wings would droop and he would turn his head in protest. he might be a little dramatic.

while i did mention my headcanon of sunday was that he's a gentle father, he also doubles as the father who, when the children were younger, would sit next to their bed and watch over them with a melancholy look on his face.

he still remembers gopher wood, and he doesn't ever want to become like him. so he's always cautious to let his children fly and roam free, trying to not talk of any of his ideologies too much. he doesn't do too much guilt tripping and whenever one of them might break a dish or cause trouble, he's quick to comfort them first before gently telling them why they're in the wrong.

so make sure to shoo him out of the room sometimes. he can be a bit of a worrywart, especially when the children go off to school. eventually he'll learn how to cope, but the first time he took the day off of work and was just pacing around in the house.

side note, but i also believe sunday to have either the best work-life balance or it's absolute trash. he'll either immediately stop working and worrying about work after hours or continue working and stressing. you might even see some more white hairs in his head.

at those moments you might just call robin.

also, while he might be wary of giving the children too many sweets, if he starts eating a dessert, he'll reluctantly finish it all. you and the children might catch his wings fluttering, and your children will definitely use that to their advantage.

but, overall, it's a good family. one that you, sunday, and your children wouldn't trade for any other.

[pia-nor481]

Lando norris nsfw alphabet

A- Aftercare (what are they like after sex)

I feel as though it’s very dependent on his mood, sometimes it’s a little chaotic running around grabbing water and rushing to the shower, where other times is just soft pillow talk and cuddles.

B- Body part ( their favourite body part of theirs and their partner)

In my mind he favours his hands due to their size, maybe a little bit of a size kink. He enjoys the difference and perhaps how one can cover most of her throat, or how he could easily grasp both of his partner’s wrists together

While on his partner, we know he likes ass so I don’t know what you expected. However, I feel like he might also really like tits, but keeps it a secret because it’s considered “childish” by some (mainly in the uk). In a less sexual sense, I believe he’d really love his partner’s eyes, whether it be staring at them, or how you can tell so much emotion from them.

C- Cum (anything to do with cum)

I don’t know why I get the feeling that he cums a lot in one go. Anyway I think he’d like to pull out and cum on his partner, whether that be tits, thighs or stomach etc. But if can cum inside he definitely would, this would be a main factor in deciding the type of aftercare given.

D- Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He may or may not have jacked off to a normal voice note of his partner. The context wasn’t even sexual, he just missed hearing their voice and was very horny.

E- Experience (how experienced are they?)

Is it bad I don’t think he has that much experience? We don’t know about many ex girlfriends. But I think he likes to fuck a lot, so he would be very experienced in pleasuring just his partner after learning (being taught) what gets them off.

F- Favourite position

I think we can all agree he likes doggy, but not for the reasons as most men ((boys) bc a man would never!)) He really wants to be able to see his partner’s face and reactions to what he is doing, he likes the ego boost. Plus I think he likes spanking, not too hard in this specific position, just a few light taps and some groping.

But cowgirl gets an honourable mention, as mentioned above he does like tits so getting so stare at them really gets him off

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment?)

Very dependent on the lead up. There are times where sex just has inconvenient moments; struggling to take clothes off so that just leads him to resting his head on his partner’s shoulder, letting out a sigh then a little chuckle. Or maybe a time where he’s just hard, not for any specific reason and asks (begs) for his partner to get him off, and he’s all giddy about it, so it’s just laughs in between moans and groans. On the other hand, I think there are times where he’s very serious , mostly when sex is on the rougher side or post race. Maybe even on an anniversary or special occasion he’d try to be much more serious. But in general I don’t think he’d actually make a joke, or at least not on purpose.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

I’ll be honest, I think it’s a little darker than the hair on his head. I don’t think lando is clean shaven (now that he actually has pubic hair), he tries to keep it quite short though, but sometimes he gets a bit busy and so neglects the length and doesn’t trim it. But I think he may refrain from blow jobs at this time and opts to fuck his partner’s tits instead. Separate thing, but, I think he also has Sunday everything showers on non-race weeks.

I- Intimacy ( how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I think a mix of both as he’s a very horny man so sometimes he rushes for pleasure, yet other times he likes to be slow and passionate, making love not fucking. He would really like to take his time, traveling from room to room, spending lots of time feeling up his partner.

J- Jack off ( masturbation headcanon)

I think he masturbates a lot, a few times a week and I think it would be roughly at the same time of day as well. But he can’t just sit there, he needs material!! Whether that be just pics or short videos in his ‘my eyes only’. Again let me mention the voice notes, he does think it’s bit strange how much he liked it, and how quick he came. But he would much prefer phone calls where he’s limited to just his girlfriend’s voice. Almost teasing himself. And her

K- Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned above size and voice.

But he really likes control and being dominant. He knows that dominance isn’t just position. He knows how to dominate without putting in any of the physical work

Sensory deprivation- so blindfolds, mainly again as he really likes control (as said in some interview) and he knows not being able to see will heighten your other senses so he would talk/whisper a lot more and be more feather light with touches. This idea can also tie in with the only phone calls not face time

Impact play- again linked to dominance, I think of this of being very specific and planed out. It doesn’t happen just because he got hard 10 minutes ago, but this is specifically reserved for non-race weekends. Mainly trying new toys, whether it be a crop or any object. Maybe just his hands. I think a lot of this is exploring based; testing different areas like the very top of the thighs, instead of just the ass. He always makes notes (during the sex in his head, then after maybe in a book as that can’t get leaked) but this started with a lot of communication to prevent any real injuries, making sure to use a safe word system (I imagine the traffic light system as it fits best) and ensuring that he only hits fatty areas not where organs reside. He wants to play yet it must be safe or it isn’t fun.

Katoptronophilia- mirrors. I believe that he likes to make his girlfriend watch what he’s doing to her as well as see the pleasure he’s giving her. It’s like a power rush as well as a sense of accomplishment/ achievement.

L- Location (favourite place)

Definitely bedroom. This is mainly due to privacy, but I also think it’s because he’s not very tall, so perhaps his hips aren’t high enough for counter sex. I’m not sure though, I may have tested it ( for context when I’m on my tiptoes I’m almost his height and my hips were not above the kitchen counter.) but tables I think he’d like, as well as bending her over the sofa or in the bathroom sink in front of the mirror.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

I think most things would turn him on, but I think being challenged would give him motivation to put his girlfriend in her place. Also, just generally intimate/ domestic situations

N- No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Probably watersports etc but to be honest I don’t know with him. To me I think most people don’t really like that, or at least won’t say they do.

Electro stimulation- it just seems a bit too scary

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill)

He’s a man so will probably prefer receiving, but he would really enjoy eating his girlfriend out for a sense of pride. However, I feel as though you may have to teach him a little, like he knows what he’s supposed to do but may struggle with actual delivery, but he’s so willing to learn, all smiles. We should take into consideration that he is an athlete so his breath control will be amazing.

P- Pace (are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

Not to be repetitive, but, it will depend on the situation. However, I believe he leans more on the rough side, I don’t have evidence but I stand with that opinion. Furthermore, he’s likes to be rough due to the power and trust it gives him.

But he usually isn’t particularly fast as he’s been informed (generally speaking on the internet) that women will say harder but a man would go faster and they wouldn’t like it. (I know that’s super generalised but he would definitely listen and do what would give her pleasure) he likes research and found some study that wearing socks can make women cum harder and immediately suggested it.

As mentioned before he likes to make love, so winter or summer breaks are reserved for kinky fucks and sensual love making. I rest my case

Q- Quickie (their opinions, how often etc)

He absolutely loves them. He gets horny very quickly and so would want a release as quick as possible. Also the convenience of his drivers room allows for quickies all the time, pre and post race. But if he’s at home he’ll want long and more passionate sex

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

If it’s not a hard no he’ll probably try it at least once, but he also must worry about his career. Although he really wants to fuck publicly, he can’t take that risk

S- Stamina (how many rounds can they go for)

Again he’s an athlete so can go for long periods of time yet I don’t think he could cum more than twice in one go. He can definitely cum many times in the same day, but he needs a few hours break. But he will make the time he’s fucking his girlfriend as long as possible.

T- Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves)

He knows toys are his friend not his enemy (as told by the bathtub toys thing.) Anyway, I think he once bought a vibrator when he was single just because he saw some men talk about how amazing the orgasm felt and he would have really enjoyed it, but always cums way to fast for his liking, he wants to last longer than three minutes. He will definitely use toys on his partner, whether that be a dildo or vibrator of some kind. He also really wants to try hand cuffs but he feels as though he needs to build up to it, as such a physical restraint can be quite a mental strain; so he decides to try it with just paper first so she could very easily get out it she wanted to, then tried those silicone “cuffs” for the same reason. Then finally used metal ones with a lock. But he will always cuff her hands in front of her.

U- Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

I think verbally he teases A LOT. But physically not too much. He may deny the orgasm once or twice before letting her actually cum. But foreplay will be quite lengthy, he wants to slowly drag his hands along her thighs or only push his cock in 2 inches before pulling out fully.

V- Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

I think he will always be making noise just not overly loud. Always groaning and moaning (thank you for the twitch streams) he can be completely quiet, except for heavy breathing, if he really needed to.

W- Wild card (a random headcanon)

I think, at some point, he bought one of those moulds to make your own dildo. Just the thought of his girlfriend fucking herself with a silicone version of his cock really gets him going. Along with those remote control vibrators. He would love them especially when she can’t be at a race and so he can make her cum when he’s on the other side of the world. (I didn’t know that was possible until the other day) it’s just so hot to him.

X- X-ray (how big are they?)

You know what they say about the skinny ones. He’s either very long and is relatively thin. Or average length but girthy as fuck. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think his tip is pink/ red ish. I’m totally basing this off the colour of his lips. But you know. Just a thought.

Y- yearning (how high is their sex drive)

This man is so horny. 8 or 9/10

Z- Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

I don’t think very quick, unless it’s been a super long session, but even then he’d make sure his girlfriend is situated before daring to fall asleep. He likes cuddles so expect to be in his arms for as long as possible.

If you have any other ideas/ headcanons please comment. I really want to see other people’s opinions.