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madamechrissy · 2 days ago

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Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already, you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a- “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.”

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

#yandere gojo #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #yandere jjk #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #yandere satoru x reader

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pucksandpower · 3 days ago

Text

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

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webism · 2 days ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE: The Businessman.

kento nanami x fem!reader. nsfw.

your first night at Tsukumo's Angels, and you get put on the phone sex line.

masterlist. read on ao3

You sit on a peeling leather couch that sticks to the back of your thighs in the heat. An old metal-blade fan sits mounted on the wall to your left, but it’s a sorry excuse for one—someone blowing on you would quicker dry the sweat from your brow. It’s not as dingy as Toji’s apartment, which you suppose is an upside: things are looking brighter already. Yay.

The beautiful woman sitting across from you in a small black tank and jeans—in this weather—taps her nails against the surface of her desk. Her blonde hair gates her vision a little, but you can still feel the sharpness of her gaze on your skin. She’s sizing you up. You aren’t sure if you like it.

“So,” she leans back in her seat. “Your name was..?”

You look up at her, at the way her hands are clasped together. She could look down at the faded resumé in front of her and see your name written as clear as day, but she asks you instead. Maybe to hear it from your own lips.

You tell her your name, and she parrots it back to you to test it on her tongue. She decides that she likes the taste. “I’m Yuki Tsukumo. I own Tsukumo’s Angels, the finest budget escort service in the city.”

You knew that, of course, but you nod as a formality regardless. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Yuki smiles at you—wide and toothy and ever so beautiful. She reaches into her drawer and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag. She blows her smoke to the left and you almost forget just how hot it is in her office. “I hear you’d like a job?”

You’re going to hell. Every late-night-TV preacher and grandmother in the congregation would tell you the same thing. It’s not just what you’re doing—it’s what you’re thinking, what you’re willing to become to make it out of this.

When you were younger, stupider, you’d fear hell like nothing else. Eternal heat, endless suffering, a constant lack of breath, a pit with no end. Now, you’re starting to think it might feel a lot like this city at night: oppressive heat rising from the pavement, the air thick and stifling, and an unshakable sense that something, or someone, is watching you.

Toji used to call the nightlife a cancer. And although he rarely managed the truth, this might have been one of the rare times it slipped past his lips. You tug at the hem of your dress—a little too tight, a little too short. It’s what you had to work with, cobbled together from a half-hearted thrift store run and whatever nerve you could muster.Yuki didn’t say anything about a dress code, and maybe you’re stereotyping yourself here, but you’re out of your element and this dress is short enough to strip the attention from your fidgeting hands.

The fluorescent lights outside Tsukumo’s Angels buzz faintly as you approach, the words glowing in neon pink that is reflected in the puddles on the concrete. The heavy metal door creaks loudly when you push it open and step in. 7 on the dot. You’ll be here tonight, so you don’t have to worry about finding a place to live until tomorrow. Don’t think about it.

Inside, the air is cooler, though not by much. The same peeling leather couch greets you, as does the same faint smell of smoke and something cheap, floral, and over-applied. Yuki isn’t at the desk this time, but a tall man in a plain white button-up leans against it, his arms crossed. He’s an attractive man, a cigarette hangs from his lips—you’re starting to see a trend in staff here.

“You the lamb?” He asks, though the way he looks you up and down tells you he already has an answer to that question.

“Lamb?” you ask.

He smiles, moustached lip curling upwards in something mocking and dangerously sultry. “Yeah, you’re the lamb—” he extends a hand for you to shake “—Shiu.”

Shiu has a rough grip, you note. Not mean or calloused like you’d expect from a man of physical labours, but just… rough. “It’s nice to meet you,” you hum. He laughs.

He takes another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brighter in the dim light, and looks you over once more before flicking the ash into an already overflowing tray on the desk. He blows a plume of smoke toward the ceiling, eyes narrowing slightly as the smoke curls. “You look familiar. I’ve seen you here before?”

You shake your head. “You haven’t.”

Shiu narrows his eyes even further, takes in the way your dress clings tight, how your frame stands in front of him. Your nerves… the tinge of excitement beneath them. “Have we..?”

“No!” your eyes widen, voice a little louder than you intend it to be. “Sorry. I just got out of a relationship so… no, we haven’t…”

“A breakup, huh? That’s always an interesting reason to land somewhere like this.” His voice lowers. He’s toying with you. “What’d he do? Not give you enough attention? Leave you out in the cold?”

You don’t owe him an explanation: you’re here and that’s all that matters, but you find yourself shrugging regardless. “Something like that.”

Shiu smiles, something teasing but not quite mocking. “Right, well if you’re here as a rebound I’d advise you to walk your ass right back out of that door. You’ll get attention here, for sure, but this isn’t the place for… soft comforts.”

“I’m not here for comfort.”

“Good,” says Shiu. “Keep it that way. You’re here to provide a service, an experience, but not without boundaries. Those lines blur when you start wanting cuddles and reassurance after, and when the lines blur you aren’t doing everything in your power to keep yourself safe. These men—and women—pay for sex for a reason. Remember that.”

You know. You know. There’s nothing warm and fuzzy about being an Angel, or a lamb, as he puts it. Still, you want to make the most of the hole you’re in. You narrow your eyes at Shiu and hope he doesn’t chide you for changing the subject when you ask: “and what about you? Are you—”

“For sale?” A door behind Shiu pushes open and in walks Yuki Tsukumo. She’s ditched the jeans from yesterday for a long black dress: one that hugs her figure and flows like liquid down to her ankles. She looks taller, and a whole lot cleaner than the gritty lobby you stand in. “Give me a good offer and I’ll rent him out to you. Shiu is security, he’ll take care of you if and when you need him to.”

Shiu scoffs at Yuki’s joke and takes a step to the left so that she can slot in next to him. Yuki, your boss, looks you up and down. You catch the way her gaze lingers on your dress, though you can’t tell if it’s judgement or approval behind her lashes. She flits her gaze to Shiu. “Are you trying to scare my lamb away, Kong?”

Shiu shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Yuki rolls her eyes and lands her gaze on you once again. Seeing you so out of your element, she gives you a soft smile to try and ease your nerves. “You’ll be okay here. I showed you my office yesterday, I’ll be in there if you need me at any time, okay? You’re never more than a few steps from security and if you have issues with anyone, co-worker or client, you can come to me.”

Weirdly, that does soothe you. Though your moment to take a breath quickly passes when Yuki straightens up and turns on her heels with only a nod for you to follow. “Come then.”

The door she came from leads down a long hallway with dim fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The walls are bare, the paint chipped in spots, revealing patches of old wallpaper beneath. Yuki doesn’t wait for you to catch up; her heels click with purpose on the tiled floor, echoing through the narrow space. You’re almost at the end of the hall before she speaks again, her tone matter-of-fact. “I’m not going to throw you in the deep end, but you’re not getting a soft landing either. I’ll introduce you to one of my angels, Utahime, and she’s going to walk you through our phone sex services. Sound good?”

Without waiting for a reply, Yuki steps through another door and leads you into a big lounge area. Against the back wall are a bunch of mirrors and vanity stations, makeup and hygiene products littered over each tabletop. A few girls in even fewer clothing sit and do their hair and makeup, chatting amongst themselves and shooting you soft smiles as you and Yuki walk past.

Your boss steps over to a cream chaise lounge against another wall where a girl around your age lays splayed across the cushioning. She’s wearing a dress like yours, short and black and very ‘sex-sells’, and is tapping away on her phone with such rapt attention she doesn’t notice the two of you approach until Yuki clears her throat.

“Utahime,” she drawls and gestures to you. “This is our newest lamb. I’d like you to walk her through our phone services tonight. Doable?”

The girl—Utahime—looks you over. She looks a little bored, gorgeous black hair falling over her shoulders and her nails still tapping absentmindedly against her phone screen. Her perfectly arched brow raises, just slightly, before she finally glances at Yuki.

“Doable,” she says with a lazy shrug. “I have the businessman booked in for a call in half an hour… maybe he’d like a session with the new girl?”

You look at Yuki, who looks at you in the same breath. She seems to think about something before ultimately nodding. “If you can get her up to speed before he calls, let her have a go with him.”

“The businessman?” You ask.

Yuki smiles. “He’s a hard worked man, but he’s so unfamiliar with his sex drive that you’d think he was a priest. He might actually benefit from talking to someone new.”

You nod—sex therapy for a businessman couldn’t be that hard. Utahime stands and adjusts her dress before grabbing your wrist and parting from Yuki to pull you across the lounge and into a room off to the side. Utahime’s grip on your wrist is firm but not unkind, and loosens once youre in what she introduces to you as the studio.

It’s so much nicer than you expected. The room is decently sized and lit up with warm fairy lights. Almost like a recording studio, there are doors to a few booths across the wall, each one decorated to the nines with pillows and blankets and a station for water and personal items. A few low tables hold candles, fake or otherwise, alongside a small black box of… what you imagine might be toys. A plush little sofa sits in each one too, for comfort.

“Nice, right?” Utahime hums and gently pushes you into one of the booths. “Everything’s designed to make you more comfortable. Clients pick up on that, even over the phone. It’s all sound-proofed in here too, so if you get into it you can be as loud as you want. Seriously, make it yours. You’ll be in here a lot until you start taking in-person clients.”

Utahime sits down on the floor and tosses a pillow in your direction. You startle a little but look at her with a knowing smile at her efforts to start feeling familiar. “So,” you start, sitting down on the plush sofa and toying with the small headset that hangs from the armrest. “The businessman… tell me about him?”

Utahime leans back against the wall and props her chin in her hand. “The businessmaaaan. He’s sweet. He’s only called in once before, spoke to me but got too nervous to do anything more than talk about his day. He was polite—apologised about ten times for wasting my time, which, by the way, he wasn’t. He’s got this earnestness about him that’s kind of rare. But you can tell he’s not used to this kind of thing. Not even close. It’s… cute.”

You look at her, a soft smile crosses her lips. If it wasn’t just work you’d think she had a soft spot for him. “Do you think he’ll mind talking to me instead of you? Changing things up might make him feel even more nervous.”

Utahime shakes her head. “I think he’ll appreciate someone who’s also new to this. You can learn from each other. He’s booked to call in twenty minutes. We could do some practice calls until then? I’ll show you the ropes.”

She puts her hand up to her ear to simulate a phone and you laugh at the gesture. “Sounds good.”

Meanwhile, in his small apartment bedroom, Kento Nanami—the businessman—paces from door to dresser. Back and forth, back and forth. He tightens his tie, and then loosens it just to feel unmade and tighten it again.

Why did he book a second call? The first was ridiculous, he talked to a nice young lady about officework woes and quarterly reports and hung up after an hour with a call-girl sized dent in his wallet and no sexual relief to show for it. He’s of half a mind to walk over to his mirror and start practicing lines, but he hasn’t yet lost so much of his decorum.

For the next ten minutes, Nanami sits with his fingers drumming over his thighs, dull thuds against his slacks. He’s lost in his mind, is he even aroused? Capable of being aroused? He can’t remember the last time he jerked off—last month?

He’s two minutes late to call by the time he next checks his phone. “Shit,” he mumbles, fumbling to the contact saved under ‘Personal Services.’ Nanami stares at the screen for a moment, his thumb hovering over the call button. He clears his throat, adjusts his posture, and exhales sharply through his nose before pressing ‘CALL’.

The line rings, once… twice… and then— “Tsukumo’s Angels, what’s on your mind?”

His breath hitches. He shouldn’t freeze like this, but the poor man simply cannot help it. “Good evening,” he sounds clinical, and his mind is working faster than his mouth because he’s talking before he can register the words that leave his lips. “You… aren’t who I talked to last week.”

“I’m not,” the voice says, Nanami picks up on an edge of unsurety that traces your words. “You’ve caught me on my first night… you could get to know me, if you’d like to.”

Nanami nods, and then realises you can’t see him. “I’d, uh, I’d like that.”’

There’s a soft hum of acknowledgement from your side of the call, and Kento stops feeling the need to toy with his tie. “Great,” you say, your voice steadying a little. “So… why don’t we start with something easy? Tell me a bit about yourself.”

Nanami hesitates. “There’s not much to tell. I work in finance. My days are… predictable, for the most part.”

“Predictability isn’t always a bad thing,” you reply gently. “But I get the feeling you aren’t fulfilled.”

"You could say that. It’s a practical job. It pays the bills." He pauses, then adds, almost reluctantly, "though I think I’d like a vacation.”

From your spot on the sofa at Tsukumo’s Angels, you lean back and glance at the door. Utahime had stepped out a few minutes ago, giving you space to settle into your first call. “Are you a beach man or a mountain man?”

“Beach,” his reply is immediate. He clears his throat. “There’s something calming about the ocean. The sound of the waves, the salt in the air… it’s grounding.”

You smile at the vivid image his words paint. “I get that. The ocean feels endless in a way that’s comforting, doesn’t it? Like it can hold all your worries for a while.”

“Yes. Exactly that. I’d read, listen to the water, just exist.”

“What does a man like you read?”

“Anything classic. I like things tried-and-true, change is… difficult for me. Hemingway maybe. Or Murakami, if I’m in the right mood.”

“Tasteful,” you reply. “And if I were there on the beach with you, could I distract you from your book, or are you diligent in your focus?”

In his room, Nanami’s mouth goes dry as his cock twitches in his slacks. You haven’t even said anything lewd, but he’s feeling oddly restless nonetheless. “I like to think I’m a focused man,” he starts, shuffling back on his bed to rest against the headboard. He takes his glasses off and rests them on the bedside table. “But under the right circumstances, I could be persuaded to set the book down.”

“Careful, businessman, I could take that as a challenge.”

“I’d hope so.”

He’s blushing at his own words and, in the same breath, reaching downwards with his free hand to palm as his hardening cock. He takes a sharp breath in and prays to every god he’s ever read about that you didn’t hear him.

“You’re saying I’d have to earn your attention?” Your question is honeyed.

“I suppose,” so is his reply.

“Good, I like working for my meals.”

Nanami snorts— “what, you’re going to eat me?”

“Yes,” your voice makes his cock jump. He sighs and pulls his slacks down enough to hook it out. “Have you ever wanted something so bad that you’d consume it whole if you could?”

Nanami thinks for a moment about a promotion, and then shakes his head. His mind jumps instead to the hypothetical beach retreat, with a book in one hand and the back of your head in his other as he pushes your mouth down on his cock so deep you’re gagging and drooling all over the place. Ungentlemanly, but enough of a visual to incite his tip to start drooling precum. He smears it over the head with his thumb, and nearly chokes on his words. “I have.”

“That’s how I feel. There’s an intimacy to taking care of someone, especially when they’re stressed like you. I bet your muscles are so tight they’d be hard under my hands. Being the one to relax you, make you feel good? That’d make me feel good.”

Nanami hums. “Usually I’m the one doing the servicing.”

“I don’t doubt that. You should be the one being taken care of. Poor thing, working so hard every day: carrying all that weight on your shoulders. You deserve a break.”

Poor Kento moans at that—a break. God, the things he’d do for a break. He feels almost pathetic pumping his cock to the thought of reprieve from the monotonous 9-5 he lives, but he hasn’t felt this good in a long time. His breathing grows heavier as your words coil around him. “You’re… ha, you’re good at this. It’s your first day?”

“Don’t distract me,” you hum. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You,” he exhales. “Your eyes. Looking up at me. Or your hands on my thighs. How you’d touch me like you know me. Like we know each other. Like we’ve done it a hundred times before and still aren’t sick of each other.”

He doesn’t know why he says that, why his fantasy quickly shifts from a beachside blowjob to the domestic life. To lazy morning sex or late nights in the kitchen that turn from snack runs to you hoisted onto the counter with his head between your thighs. He pictures you, whatever you look like, laughing as he kisses your neck and brings home gifts carved out of his paycheck. He pictures a life shared, and feels awful for it.

“Sorry,” his strokes falter. “Sorry I don’t know why—”

“I like that thought,” you stop him from spiralling. “Maybe we have. Maybe in another life you’d come home to me every night, waiting for you… ready to make you forget about everything but the way you make me feel.”

His chest heaves as his hand works faster, stroking his cock at a near brutal pace to the images you plant into his mind. You’re in his bed, you’re bent over his desk, you’re lazing on the sofa with him, you’re up against the wall in his shower. “Fuck.”

“I’d know you inside and out,” you continue on, and he swears he can hear a slight hitch to your breath—are you touching yourself? He pictures phone sex operators sitting bored at a desk as they read from a script. But you sound…invested. Heated. “I’d know exactly how to take care of you. You’d come home exhausted and I’d make it all better—god, you’d know all of me too.”

Nanami’s hips jerk up into his hand as he feels his release start to build. It’s already dizzying, after such a long dry spell, and his head tips forward in want.“You’re—ha—too good at this. How the hell… how are you—”

“Shh,” you soothe him. “Don’t think. Just feel, just let me take care of you… even from here. You’re touching yourself, yea? Imagine it’s my hand, stroking you after a long day, love. Or maybe I’m riding you, letting you lay back and feel me around you… you wouldn’t have to do a damn thing.”

His free hand fists the sheets as he imagines the warmth of your body pressing against his, the way your nails might scrape lightly over his skin. He pictures your head tilted back, lips parted in ecstasy as you moan his name over and over again.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he rarely curses like this. Still, he’s never indulged in something like this before—never let himself slip into the raw, visceral need he now feels. The restraint he’s so practiced in every aspect of his life is dissolving fast, leaving him chasing the pleasure you’re pouring into him.

“Good,” you hum. “I want you to let go for me, give me everything you have all pent up. I can take it.”

Nanami’s pace turns frantic, hips fucking up into his fist as he strokes himself at a torrid pace. His mind is hazed with fantasies of a simple life, domestic and passionate and before he can stop himself and force a few more minutes of pleasure he’s cumming—hard. A strangled moan, one made for porn, leaves his lips and is met with a sharp intake of breath from your end. Nanami feels self conscious for a moment, drawing his now-sticky hand from his cock as he listens to the phone—were you uncomfortable?

Far from. You hardly realise you have your dress hiked and your hand under the fabric of your panties until you’re timing your orgasm with the businessman on the other end of the call. This is far from protocol, but the last time you’ve been spoken to about making love was when you and Toji first started dating, when he was still sweet on you. Sex since then has been rough and passionate and bruising and great, but never love-making.

You try and stifle your sounds, not knowing yet if it's appropriate for you to touch yourself alongside your clients. You hadn’t intended on it, that’s for sure. You blink the blur from your vision as you try and regain your composure, sliding your hand out of your panties and holding it up in front of you—your fingers glisten under the soft lights and you scramble for a tissue to clean yourself off.

The silence on the phone between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. “Are you… okay?”

“Yes,” you breathe out a lot quicker than you need to.

“Good,” he says, and you can almost hear the faint smile in his tone. “I was worried I’d—well, that I’d crossed a line.”

You shake your head, even though he can’t see it, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from blurting out how very far from uncomfortable you’d been. “Not at all. I guess we both… just got caught up in the moment.”

He hums in agreement, his voice still a little strained, and something about the lilt of his voice lays deep inside of you. Maybe this line of work isn’t for you if… after one call with a man you don’t know otherwise, you’re already starting to feel open with him. When he speaks, you can hear the nerves lacing his words. “I’m not unhappy it happened.”

“Me neither. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Businessman.”

“You have a way of coaxing them out of me,” he replies. “If I call again, will I get to speak to you?”

It’s a simple question, yet it still implies something more. There’s no rule against it—not officially—but getting closer than needed with clients has already been explained to you as a messy line. Still, you’ve just fucked your fingers to his voice and the fantasies he spoke of—you aren’t in a habit of keeping straight edges.

“Maybe,” you reply, leaving the door open just enough. “Ask for the lamb.”

“The lamb?” He laughs, you like the sound. “I’ll remember that.”

“Please do.”

There's a moment of silence, and you can see Utahime’s shadow in the frosted window on the door. A quick glance to the clock tells you that an hour has passed already. As if sensing your coming end, the businessman speaks. “My time is almost up. Take care of yourself.”

You stare at the door. “You too, Mr Businessman.”

“Nanami,” he corrects you gently. “You can call me Nanami.”

The call ends with a soft click, leaving you sitting there and rpelaying his correction in your head. Nanami.

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register the door creaking open. Utahime steps in, and it’s only when her gaze drops to your lap that the realisation hits—your dress is still slightly rucked up, and your flustered attempt to straighten it comes a moment too late.

“Oh, lamb,” she drawls, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Caught you, didn’t I?”

Your cheeks burn as you stammer, “It’s not—”

“Relax. It happens to everyone eventually.”

You gape at her, mortified. “This doesn’t happen to everyone.”

Utahime grins, her black hair falling over her shoulders as she dips her head down in laughter. It’s not teasing—moreso friendly. She’s trying to laugh with you, not at you. Though still embarrassed, you feel a little less like you want to melt into the couch as she continues. “And you know what that means?”

You tilt your head at her. “What does it mean?”

“That you’ll fit right in here, lamb.”

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heartmix · 2 days ago

Text

My Girls - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singlemom!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning: poking fun at max, dad!max, no use of y/n but daughters name is Aria

A/N: dad max content. I have a part 2 in mind so that will be coming soon

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

"Can I ask you a question, it's totally okay if you say no."

"What is it?"

"When do you think I'll be able to meet her?" the question caught you off guard.

You knew what he was asking, he was asking when he'd be able to meet your daughter. Being a young single mom was not in the books for you. With her father leaving before she was even born you quickly tossed out the idea of finding a relationship. Sure, there have been many instances where people dated single parents, but since you had her when you were young, the idea did seem impossible. You've been preparing for the moment for months, but it still caught you off guard. Coming up on a year of being together it was bound to happen.

Noticing your silence he quickly tried to defuse the tension, "I mean it's totally up to you. I don't mean to rush you or anything, I want to let you know that I'm committed to you and I'm not going anywhere. I want to be there for both of you."

"Sure."

"Sure?" He clarified, a smile spreading across his face quickly, one you matched instantly. A simple nod was all he needed to take you into his arms and give you the most bone-crushing hug. Seeing him make a big deal settled all your nerves.

Max's hand was shaking way too much to be meeting a 2-year-old. From the stories you told about the little one, he saw that she was friendly and was willing to meet new people so the fact that he was shaking so much was comical. He's had meetings with some of the richest people in the world and met world leaders, hell people would have this reaction meeting him and he would laugh it off saying he was just a normal person. So why was this little one making him more nervous than a race day?

It had to do with the fact that she was yours—the light of your life and the only person in your life you prioritized. The more he thought about it, the more that person became you to him, and this was just the final step to make everything feel real. If the little girl didn't like you, he knew you wouldn't hesitate to break it off, and he couldn't blame you.

With one final head shake to try and get rid of the nervousness he knocked on the front door. Did he knock too hard that he startled the little one? Should he have knocked? Maybe he should have texted you he was outside. It's been months since he knocked on your door, having his own key to the place. Before he could think of any other ridiculous thoughts the door opened the reveal you, standing in all your glory with that welcoming gorgeous smile he fell in love with.

"I can't believe meeting my kid got you out of wearing a Red Bull kit. I can't even get you to do that." Your teasing tone snapped him out of the trance. Max couldn't help but laugh at that being your comment in a situation like this.

"It's just a black shirt schatje. I can hardly say I dressed up." he glanced looking down at his black shirt and some jeans. He would be lying if he said he didn't think about what to wear today.

"Oh please, Max Verstappen outside of anything Red Bull is dressing up."

"You're not helping." he groaned seeing as you were enjoying every minute of this. He was going to get payback, if everything went okay after all.

"Why are you so nervous?"

"How are you not?" He asked not seeing any concerning features. He expected you to be more worried and in a worse state than him actually.

"Because I know you, I know how great you are, and that my baby will love you." You smiled while wrapping your arms around his neck, Max immediately circling his around your waist. Maybe if you weren't worried he shouldn't be either. "Come on, she's expecting you." Grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the house.

Before he rounded the corner to the living room he heard the sound of what to be a Disney song playing on the speakers and toys clashing with one another. He's been to your house enough times to know how much toys littered the living room. When the living room came into view he saw the little girl sitting on the ground surrounded by blocks and little toys he didn't recognize.

"Aria, baby. I want you to meet Mommy's friend. This is max. Can you say hi?" Max didn't leave your side as you leaned down to grab the girl's attention. Her eyes immediately locked onto his the second she recognized there was a stranger in her house.

"Hi!" She beamed up at the tall Dutchman with the biggest smile on her face. Seeing that smile every last bit of nerves washed away. Just like seeing your smile for the first time, he knew he was screwed in the best way possible.

"Hi, Aria. Lovely to meet you."

"Can Max spend the day with us?" you then asked although, with one look at the smirk on your face, he knew the answer.

"Play with me?" In the cutest voice Max ever heard, he wasted no time sitting next to the girl who held a stuffed cat up to his face.

"Of course. I would love to!"

"Baby, why don't you show Max your cars."

"My cars!" She excitedly said before running to her room to retrieve her cars. Not a second later she came back with a bag filled with a few cars. Max was expecting Hot Wheels or toys from the cars movie, in no way was he prepared for the girl to pull out a replica of his car.

"Do you know the cars we watch every week? That's Max and that's his car." You pointed out watching the girl's face turn into shock.

"You 1?" Turning to Max who held the same shock expression as hers.

"I am. You like cars?" At this, she let out a little squeal and pushed the car into his hand.

One by one she pulled out every car she had even the names she gave each of them. Max was 1, the McLarens were orange, and more specifically Lando was 4. The Ferraris were horsey and the one Mercedes car being Lewis of course was pretty due to the fact that she could only point out Lewis out of his racing gear.

By the end of the day, Aria was all tired out. After all day playing with Max and telling stories at dinner, she passed out beside Max on the couch while watching cars. Your choice of movie just to poke fun at Max more. Taking her to bed you saw that Max pulled out wine from the fridge and handed you a glass before settling on the couch. The stark contrast from the noise-filled day to the quietness of just you two was a reality check for Max. He made it through and from the way you were cuddled up into his side, he knew that he was right where he needed to be.

"Thank you. For being so good with her, she loved you so much, probably just as much as me. You made her day and she is going to be excited to see you in the morning."

"You don't need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for letting me into the biggest part of your life. You are doing such a wonderful job with her, you're an amazing mother." At his confession, you couldn't help but feel tears brim your eyes.

"I'm sorry, silly thing to get emotional about but that means a lot. I'm just happy you accept me and her with everything we have going on." Before your hands could wipe the tears streaming down your cheek his hands wiped them away.

"I meant it when I said I'm with you through everything. I wouldn't change anything about you or her. I want you to know I love you both and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're such a freaking sap Max Verstappen. If your fans could see you now." You teased making him chuckle.

"The duality of you to turn a heartfelt moment into teasing me."

"You signed up for it when you agreed to date me."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1

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luvyeni · 2 days ago

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jeongin finally giving in after all your oblivious teasing

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 아이엔 x fem!reader ) ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. oral ( f ). unprotected sex. word count. 0.8k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ my smau will definitely be a ayen one i miss him.

if it wasn’t for the fact that this has happened almost every day for the last year you two have been living together jeongin could’ve sworn you were doing this on purpose — riling him up just to leave him high and dry each and every time.

but you didn’t know it , you didn’t know that when you’d squeeze his thigh when you’re randomly talking about something that excited you, he had to think about anything else to keep him from getting hard. or when you’d walk around the house in an oversized shirt and shorts so short they might as well be panties while you cleaned or lounged around.

he constantly had a hard on when you were around ; and you didn’t even notice , and it was eating him up inside. “innie?”

he was brought back hearing your voice. “are you listening?” no he wasn’t , his eyes were current bulged out of his head because you were standing there in a towel. “i said the water is cold , you need to cool it on the 2 hour showers.” you pouted , the water dripping down your face. “i could only shower for 15 minutes that’s not even enough time fo…” it was like your voice was fading away , he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “you aren’t even listening.”

before his brain could send him a warning ; his feet were moving , and moving near towards you. “jeongin.” his hand coming to your face , you gasped out. “please shut up.” before you could even scold him his lips were on yours , you took a step back , but he didn’t let you pull away , he only pulled away when he began to get light headed due to lack of oxygen. “fuck i need to do that again.”

he could barely keep it together as he basically dragged you back to your room. “je-jeongin slow down , what’s gotten into you?” it’s not like you didn’t like it , you were just confused. “you , you’ve gotten into me , you don’t even know.” he pushed you down on the bed. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

he was bent down on his knees in front of you , his mouth kissing in between your thighs. “innie.” you sighed , moaning as you felt his breathing on your cunt. “fuck you smell so good.” he kissed your mound , licking your folds. “oh fuck innie.” your hands tangling up in his hair as he ate your cunt like a starving man , finally getting a taste of you.

“so good.” your legs hanging off his back ; your taste was addicting , it was even better than he envisioned , he groaned , his cock becoming unbearably hard. “fuck innie , im gonna cum.” you tugged at his roots to try and pull him away from your cunt , but he held your thighs tightly , he did not want to let you go. “fu-fuck! im cumming !” you shouted as you came , your juices dripping on your tongue. “i-innie.”

he finally pulled away, the towel now laying on the bed leaving you bare. “fuck if i didn’t need to feel you on my cock , i could spent the rest of the day in between your legs.” he slowly made his way up to you , undoing the string to his sweats. “you taste so good.” your face was flushed watching him pull his cock out , it was big , and veiny with a precum dripping from his red tip. “so-so big.” he cursed , pressing his cock against your hole. “but you can take it right?”

he didn’t even wait for you to answer , pushing his cock inside , watching your mouth drop open. “oh fuck you’re so tight.” he pulled out , pushing back inside. “so fucking warm.” folding your body in half , legs pressed against your chest as he began to pound into you. “fuck just like i dreamt of.” he grunted. “re-really?” you stuttered.

“fu-fuck baby yes , but you have been so inside the pretty little head -shit- you haven’t even noticed how bad i wanted to fuck you.” he hit that spot inside you , your fingers raking down his back , he hissed. “jeongin im gonna cum.” you cried out , the knot in your stomach tightening. “fu-fuck me too.” he groaned. “where do you want it?”

“inside.” he had to stop for a second to keep from cumming that second. “sh-shit i almost came.” he moaned. “you want me to cum inside you?” you nodded. “ye-yes please.” he sped up his movements. “fu-fuck im gonna cum , want you to cum on my cock.” both of you moaning out. “fuck cum , cum on my cock.”

you let out a breathy moan , mouth dropping over as you came. “of fuck , im fuck-fucking cumming, nmph!” he cursed as he came inside you , you whimpered as he rode out your orgasms. “fuck im still hard.” he said breathlessly. “i need more of you.” he started to move again , slowly dragging his cock in and out of you. “fuck i need to make you cum more.”

“i need to fuck you until you only remember my cock.”

©️LUVYENI

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greengoblinswifey · 23 hours ago

Text

Game of Fate—Hwang In-ho/Front Man x Fem!Reader

summary— After discovering that you, a girl he had a one night stand with entered the deadly games, the Front man disguised as a player 001, infiltrates the games under the guise of monitoring Gi-hun but his focus becomes protecting you at all costs. based on this request.

warnings— none! fluff undertones, slight angst, season 2 spoilers, usual squid game chaos, in-ho being protective and possessive(he has a heart) <3

In-ho sat in his private quarters, the screens in front of him displaying the death and desperation of the games. His attention drifted from one player to the next until his eyes fell on you. A bolt of recognition shot through him. It was you, his one night stand from years ago, someone who had left a mark on him in ways he hadn’t expected.

He remembered every detail about you, your wit, your boldness, and the way you made him feel alive, even if just for one night. It infuriated him to see other players whispering in your ear or lingering too long in your space. His possessiveness surprised even him. You had been the best fuck he ever had, and seeing you here now stirred something he couldn’t ignore.

That’s when he made a decision.

By the time you met “Young-il,” the newest player in the games, you couldn’t place why he seemed familiar. His face was shadowed by the chaos of your surroundings, and you had no time to dwell on it.

“You,” he said, approaching you during a moment of uneasy rest.

Your eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“You could say that,” have a sly smile, “Call me Young-il.”

You tilted your head, trying to recall where you might have met him. There was something about him, his confidence, his presence, that struck something. Still, you shrugged it off. “Okay, Young-il. Hope you know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You didn’t realize he was watching your every move.

During one of the more grueling games, you faltered. The sound of gunfire rang out as players dropped like flies, and your heart pounded. You’d made a critical mistake, one that should have cost you your life.

You braced yourself for the inevitable, but nothing happened. The guards moved past you, their guns silent. You stood frozen, confused, but grateful.

In-ho, hidden behind the mask of a player, allowed himself the briefest sigh of relief. His influence was subtle but effective, you were still alive, and he’d made sure of it.

Later, as the remaining players rested, he approached you again.

“You were lucky out there,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Mhmm. Don’t know how I pulled that off,” you said as you glanced at him, still shaken from the day’s events.

“You’ve got more lives than a cat.”

“Or someone’s watching over me,” you joked.

He smiled faintly, hiding how true your words were.

As the games continued, his protectiveness grew. When another player made a sly comment about your appearance, he was quick to cut in.

“Keep your eyes on the prize,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The player backed off, muttering under his breath, while you arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to fight my battles,” you said sassily.

“I wasn’t fighting,” he said as he leaned closer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at your lips.

In-ho found himself conflicted. He hadn’t planned to step into the games, let alone risk his identity. But seeing you here, vulnerable yet determined, pulled at something deep within him. And when you finally cornered him one night, your wary gaze demanding answers, he knew he couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.

“You’re not just another player, are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your eyes searching his.

He hesitated, then smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got secrets. But shit, me too. Let’s survive this first.”

“Deal,” he said.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you, protecting you, and falling deeper into the very thing he tried to avoid. The very thing he said he wasn’t there for. Wasn’t he there to target Gi-hun?

Young-il seamlessly integrated himself into the group with Gi-hun and the rest, his calm demeanor and quick thinking making him reliable. Despite his apparent calmness, his sharp gaze constantly flicked to you. He positioned himself strategically, always close enough to step in if anything went wrong.

Gi-hun often exchanged glances with Jung-bae, silently questioning why Young-il seemed more concerned about you than the games themselves. But they never voiced their suspicions, after all, his protectiveness benefited the group.

Young-il wasn’t subtle about his priorities. When Thanos, one of the annoying and aggressive players, approached you with a smirk and a comment about how “a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here,” Young-il’s jaw tightened.

“Walk away,” he said, his voice cold.

“Relax, man. Just talking—” Thanos chuckled nervously.

“I said, walk away.”

Before Thanos could respond, Young-il took a step forward, fists clenched, his eyes dark. Thanos scrambled back, muttering curses under his breath.

You crossed your arms and shot him a look. “I didn’t need you to step in. I could’ve handled that.”

“I wasn’t going to let him near you.”

When the lights went out, the dormitory turned into chaos. You barely managed to sleep, anxiety gnawing at you. But Young-il stayed awake, his body perched against the wall near your makeshift bed. His eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, remained trained on the room, scanning for any sign of danger.

At one point, you stirred, catching his silhouette in the dim light. “You’re not sleeping?”

“Not tired,” he lied, his voice soft.

“You should rest. I’m fine.”

“I’ll rest when this is over. Someone has to make sure you’re safe,” he said as he shook his head.

His words lingered in the air, and you turned away, confused by his constant concern.

When food rations arrived, Young-il always ensured you had enough, sometimes splitting his share without you noticing. If you hesitated to eat, he nudged the portion toward you.

“Eat,” he insisted once, placing his biscuit in your hand.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” you said. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting,” he replied. “I’m keeping you alive.”

In the third game, players had to quickly form groups based on the number the organizers called, and with each failed attempt, the penalty was being shot to death. Fear ran high, and each moment felt like it could be your last.

You were with Young-il, trying to keep calm as the guards shouted the numbers. The merry go round platform spun as everyone scrambled to form groups and find a room, but it quickly turned chaotic. Someone tried to push past you, their eyes wild with desperation, and before you could react, Young-il was already stepping in.

His face was hard, his eyes cold as he grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him to the back of the room. The man’s protests were cut short as Young-il raised his hands and broke his neck, ending his life. The room fell silent for a moment before the countdown ended.

You froze, shock creeping into your body as you realized what had just happened. You hadn’t expected him to kill so easily, even after all the brutality you’d witnessed in the games. His gaze softened when he turned to you, seeing the fear in your eyes. He stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know this is hard,” he whispered, his voice gentle compared to the violence he had just shown. “But you need to understand, this place doesn’t have mercy.” He looked down at you, his hand reaching up to cup your face, brushing away the few tears that had fallen. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words as he pulled you into his chest. The harsh reality of the games had taken root in you, but with him, you knew, even if just for a minute, you wouldn’t have to do it alone. His feelings for you were clear, he wanted you to survive, to make it out of this, and he was determined to ensure that you would.

During the dark night when the O Team launched their attack, chaos erupted. Players were dragged from their beds, screams echoing through the dormitory. When someone lunged toward you with a fork, Young-il stopped them in an instant, knocking them to the ground with a brutality that left you stunned.

He positioned himself between you and the attackers, his stance firm. “Stay behind me,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I can fight!” you shouted back, trying to step forward.

“Not tonight,” he said, shoving you back gently but firmly. “You’re staying behind me. That’s final.”

Despite your protests, he shielded you with everything he had, fighting off anyone who dared come near.

When the group decided to attack the guards and confront the ‘Front Man’, Young-il hesitated. His gaze flickered between you and Gi-hun, his usual resolve wavering.

“You’ll be okay,” he said finally, pressing a gun into your hand.

“I don’t even know how to use this,” you said, eyes widened.

“You don’t need to. Just point and shoot if you have to,” he said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Because you’re mine,” he said quietly, his words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned to follow Gi-hun. Over his shoulder, he added, “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you with more questions than answers and a determination to survive—not just for yourself, but for the man who had somehow made you his priority in this death game.

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kirammanswifey · 2 days ago

Note

Would you be down to write some reverse comfort with the Arcane characters?

Basically just make them go through one of the worst days of their lives then have the reader take care of them (I mostly just wanted to see Viktor in this scenario, but if you want to write for other characters too that'd be awesome)

Either way take your time and I hope you have a wonderful day ~☁️

arcane characters reverse comfort x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i'm always down for this kind of scenarios, make me feel like a teenage girl again. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

It has been an exhausting day in the lab. The experiments have failed time and again, each mistake weighing heavier on Viktor’s shoulders. You can see it in his eyes when he finally gives in, letting the tools fall with a long, heavy sigh. He leans against the workbench, his slender, hunched figure casting a shadow of defeat on the walls illuminated by the flickering equipment.

"This doesn't make sense..." he murmurs, as though the words are a burden he needs to release. His fingers drum frustratedly on the metallic surface, and you feel the despair in every tap. "I’ve made mistake after mistake... Maybe this was all a mistake from the start."

His words hit you, but it’s the tone of his voice that wounds you more, filled with a self-criticism that is painfully familiar but no less difficult to hear. You know how much his work matters to him, how much of himself he has poured into these projects. And you know this failure consumes him more than he’s willing to admit. You can't just stand by and watch him spiral.

"Viktor," you say softly, stepping closer and placing a firm yet comforting hand on his arm. "You’re a genius, and even geniuses have tough days. Today was one of those days, but it doesn’t define who you are or what you do."

At first, he doesn’t respond. His gaze is lost, searching for answers in the shadows that stretch across the lab. But then his grey eyes meet yours, filled with doubt and exhaustion. "How can you be so sure? Every day without progress... I feel like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing everyone, even myself."

Your heart tightens at his words. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers gently, feeling the coolness of his skin against yours. "Because I know you, Viktor. I’ve seen your dedication, your passion. Every mistake, every small setback is part of the process. You don't have to carry this weight alone. I’m here to help you shoulder it."

The silence that follows is thick, but instead of uncomfortable, it’s a space where words aren’t necessary. Slowly, you see his posture relax, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. Without letting go of his hand, you step even closer, sensing the fragility of the moment.

"Let’s step outside for a bit," you whisper, "You need to clear your mind, get some fresh air. You don’t have to do it all today, not tonight."

He looks at you again, with a mix of gratitude and weariness, and finally nods. "Alright," he says softly, as if it’s hard for him to admit he needs the break.

You walk together to the exit, your fingers still entwined with his. The night air is a balm, cool and light, carrying away some of the day's heaviness. You walk in silence through the almost deserted streets, the distant hum of the city a constant murmur.

"Thank you," he finally whispers, breaking the silence with a voice soft, almost breaking. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You stop, turning to face him. "You don’t have to know, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, through the good and the bad days. You don’t have to bear this burden alone."

He tilts his head, and for a moment it seems like he’s about to say more, but instead, he simply squeezes your hand tighter, a silent gesture that speaks volumes.

"Come here," you say, leading him to a nearby bench. You sit beside him, and for the first time all night, you see him take a deep breath, as if the fresh air could cleanse not just his lungs but also his mind and soul.

Viktor rests his head on your shoulder, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor the moment. You kiss his head and gently stroke his hair, cherishing these rare moments, knowing how precious they are when they happen.

"Today was a bad day," he finally says, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. "But, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with… with you here."

You smile softly, feeling warmth spread from his acceptance, from his openness. "I’ll always be here to remind you that even the worst days come to an end. And that you are stronger than you think."

He looks at you, and for an instant, the world seems to stop. His gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, envelops you. Before you can say anything more, you feel him leaning towards you, and in that moment, everything falls into place. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that disarms you, a kiss soft yet laden with unspoken emotions.

When you part, just inches away, his eyes remain closed as if he wants to hold onto the moment a little longer. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

You cradle his face in your hands, gently caressing his cheeks. "There’s no need to thank me, my love."

Jinx

The day had been chaos, even by Jinx's standards. Everything had gone wrong: a botched attack, crumbling plans, and to top it all off, an unexpected explosion that almost trapped her in her own trap. Now, she sat in her lair, surrounded by the wreckage of her shattered inventions, her breath short and pulse racing. Her mind, always a whirlwind, now felt like a hurricane of uncontrollable voices and thoughts.

The laughter of her imaginary "friends" echoed in her head, growing louder, mocking her. "Failed again, Jinx. You always fail." She pressed her hands against her temples, squeezing as if she could silence the voices. But the laughter wouldn’t stop, and the crushing weight of loneliness and failure bore down on her.

You approached cautiously, knowing that Jinx in this state was a minefield. But you also knew you couldn’t leave her alone in her internal storm. "Jinx," you called softly, keeping your voice low and calm. "I’m here, sweets."

She didn’t respond at first, her body tense like a spring about to snap. But as you drew closer, her bright blue eyes, wide and wild, met yours with a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why do you keep coming back? Don’t you get it? I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this."

"I’m not here to judge you," you replied gently, sitting down next to her without encroaching too much on her space. "I’m here because I care. Because I know that sometimes, even the strongest people need a breather. And there’s nothing wrong with that."

She let out a bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm. "A breather? You think I can just... breathe and everything will be fine? That’s not how my head works. It’s... broken. Everything’s broken."

Your eyes softened at the pain in her words, the self-loathing and anger intertwining dangerously. Without much thought, you reached out, lightly touching her hand, hoping the physical contact might ground her somehow.

"Maybe you can’t fix everything right away," you said softly, "but at least you’re not alone in this boat. I’m on board with you, and I’m not getting off, even if we hit an iceberg." You joked to lighten the tense atmosphere.

She looked at your hand on hers, and for a moment, it seemed like she would pull away. But instead, her trembling fingers closed around yours, with a grip that betrayed just how desperately she needed something—someone—to understand her.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m a mess. Everything I touch... I ruin."

"Because you’re more than your mistakes," you said, squeezing her hand gently. "You’re strong, creative, and even if the world doesn’t understand you, I want to be here for you, to help you see that, even when everything gets tough."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice breaking as she murmured, "I don’t know if I can do it... but thank you... for not giving up on me."

You smiled softly, leaning closer to her. "I’ll never give up on you. And you know what? Let’s make a deal. Today was a bad day, but just for today, we’ll do whatever you want. How about we start with some ice cream?"

Her eyes lit up slightly, though there was still a shadow of doubt in her expression. "Ice cream? Really?"

"Serious business," you said, smiling a little more. "Pick your favorite flavor. We’ll go get it, and then we can do whatever you want. You can draw, launch rockets, blow things up—whatever makes you feel better."

"Can I dye your hair blue?" she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes hopeful.

"Anything but that," you corrected, not quite understanding her obsession with wanting to dye your hair.

She burst out laughing, pressing a hard kiss to your cheek. "Just kidding, hon. I love everything about you, even your boring dark hair."

"Hey!" you playfully patted her shoulder.

Suddenly, her smile faded again, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

"But what if everything keeps going wrong?"

"Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces with you," you said, gently stroking her hand. "You’re not alone, sweets. Not today, not any day."

She launched herself into your arms, hugging you tightly, her body trembling slightly. "Thank you..." she whispered against your neck, clinging to you as if you were her anchor in a storm. And in that moment, you knew the only thing that mattered was her feeling your presence, your unwavering support.

Vi’s mind was still trapped in the ring, replaying the final moments of that crucial fight. She had bet everything on it—her money, her pride, her reputation. Everything hung by a thread, and she had lost. The cheers had faded, leaving only the echo of failure resonating in her head.

She limped back to her hideout, her knuckles bloodied and her jaw clenched. Dropping onto the worn-out sofa, she let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with a hand as she tried to contain the fury and humiliation. She had risked so much, and now it was all gone.

The whispers of her defeat spread like wildfire. You knew Vi wasn’t one to admit defeat easily, nor to ask for help. So, with a heart full of concern, you went to find her, worried about her state.

The door creaked open as you stepped inside. "Vi," you called gently, finding her on the couch, shoulders tense and gaze fixed on the floor. You approached cautiously and sat on the floor in front of her, your chin resting on your hands as you looked at her intently. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, her voice sharp but laced with vulnerability. "I’m fine. Just... need a moment."

"Vi," you said softly, "it’s just one loss. You’re incredible in the ring, babe, but you can’t expect to win every time. Besides, we learn more from our mistakes than from our victories. It’s okay."

"No, it’s not okay," she shot back, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze, her blue eyes filled with frustration. "I bet everything on that fight. Everything. And now I have nothing."

"That’s why I’m here," you responded, sitting beside her and gently taking her bloodied hand in yours, inspecting it with care. "You don’t have to carry this alone. Let me help you."

"I don’t want your help," she protested, trying to pull her hand away, but you held on firmly. "I don’t need saving. I can handle this."

"Vi, don’t be stubborn," you chided, your voice firm yet warm. "I care about you, and I’m not going to stand by while you drown over something we can fix together."

Her gaze softened, a mix of wounded pride and unspoken gratitude in her eyes. "I can’t take your money," she muttered, looking down again. "It’s not fair to you."

"Babe, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d do the same for me," you reminded her. "This isn’t about fairness or debt. It’s about caring for someone I love."

The last word hung in the air, making Vi look up again. "You... love me?" she whispered, as if it was something she hadn’t allowed herself to hear before.

"Love you? I’m crazy about you, woman!" you admitted with a chuckle, gently squeezing her hand. "And because of that, I’m going to help you through this. Take the money, just this once. It’s not weakness to accept help, Vi. It’s strength to know when you need someone."

She let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing slightly as the tension began to ease. "Alright," she murmured finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I’ll take your help... just this once."

"That’s all I needed to hear," you said, smiling softly as you caressed her hand. "We’ll get through this, together."

Vi looked at you, and for the first time that night, a faint smile curved her lips. "Thank you," she said, leaning toward you. Her hand suddenly slid to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You looked at her, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. She just shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What? It’s my way of saying thanks," Vi defended, following it up with a loud slap.

Laughing, you climbed onto her lap, leaning in close to her mouth, "Well, if I’d known your gratitude was this charming, I’d hope for favors more often."

Vi leaned in and kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of gratitude and something deeper, needing no words. "I love you," she murmured against your lips.

"And I love you," you whispered, your lips still brushing hers.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn's office was silent, the only sound breaking the stillness was the soft scratch of her pencil against paper as she reviewed the reports that had come in. It had been a particularly difficult day for her. The weight of the decisions she'd had to make hung heavily on her shoulders, and her mind couldn't stop replaying the latest case she had been handling. Even though she tried to maintain her composure, you knew Caitlyn wasn't invincible.

You approached cautiously, gently tapping on the door before stepping inside. "Cait," you called softly, seeing her immersed in her work, her eyes glued to the desk, but her rigid posture betrayed her exhaustion.

She looked up and forced a smile. "Don’t worry, everything’s under control," she said, her voice slightly tenser than usual.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched her with concern. "I know you're working hard, Cait, but this isn’t just about work, is it?"

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes narrowing as if fighting herself not to admit what was clearly troubling her. "It’s nothing. Just... tough cases. Nothing you need to worry about."

You knew her too well. Something wasn’t right. Caitlyn always maintained her facade of strength, never showing vulnerability, but you knew even she had limits. You decided to step closer, gently removing the papers from her hands and sitting on her desk, right in front of her, catching her off guard. Her hands instinctively found your thighs, her fingers pressing into your skin as a silent sign of her pent-up stress.

"You're not doing this alone tonight, Cait," you told her firmly. "I know you feel the pressure, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

She tried to smile, but the gesture only highlighted her fatigue. "I can't afford to show weakness. Everyone expects me to have the answers."

"That’s precisely what makes you human," you replied softly, cradling her face and appreciating her delicate features. "The burden of leadership, the tough decisions... it can’t all rest on you. If you need a break, you’ll take one. If you need to talk, I’m here."

Caitlyn remained silent, her gaze now locked onto yours, as if considering your words for the first time. You could see her defenses slowly crumbling, her breathing easing into a calmer rhythm. "Sometimes I feel like no one understands... how hard it is to keep everything together, always being the one expected to know what to do."

"I understand," you said, gently holding the hand that gripped your thigh. "And you don’t always have to have all the answers, Cait. It’s okay to feel lost. You can lean on me for these things and anything else."

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you, and for once, her face displayed a vulnerability she rarely showed. Finally, she sighed, letting the tension in her face melt away.

"I know," she murmured, almost as a confession. "Sometimes it’s just hard not to feel like a burden."

"You’re never a burden to me," you assured her, leaning in and wrapping your arms around her, your fingers tenderly running through her hair. She responded with a soft sigh of relief. "You’re the strongest person I know, Cait. And that strength doesn’t make you invulnerable. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You carry so much responsibility and expectation, and you handle it as best you can. You can share that with me too, love. I’m not in your life just to enjoy your company and admire your beautiful face."

With an intense gaze, Caitlyn gently squeezed your hand, displaying a rare tenderness. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone much softer than usual. "Thank you for this. For always being there when I need it. For knowing what I need when I don’t even know myself."

You moved a little closer and, without thinking, kissed her forehead, a warm and comforting gesture. "I’ll always be here, Cait. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to rest in your presence. And although the day's worries wouldn't vanish immediately, there was something about that small gesture, that silent connection between you two, that made her feel less alone. She knew that, no matter what, she would always have a refuge in you.

Jayce

The door creaked open, and instantly, the tension that Jayce carried with him filled the room like an unwelcome guest. He stood in the doorway, his figure worn down as if each step of his day had chipped away at his strength. His face was a canvas of frustration and exhaustion, the lines of weariness on his forehead barely hidden by his tousled hair. The warm light of home contrasted sharply with the cold night air, but even the comforting ambiance seemed powerless against the heavy burden he bore.

Without a word, you moved towards him, your presence a sanctuary in the storm he was weathering. You gently took his cold hands in yours and led him to the couch, where he sank down with a deep, weary sigh. The weight of the day clung to him, a cloak of responsibility and fatigue. He barely acknowledged you as you spoke.

"Rough day?" Your voice was gentle, laced with concern.

Jayce exhaled sharply, his exhaustion evident as he turned his head to you. "More than you can imagine." His tone was rough, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Viktor and I... the experiment in the lab was a disaster. Then, the Council meeting... a complete mess. I’m not even sure how I made it back here tonight." His voice cracked for a moment, followed by a bitter laugh. "And tomorrow? I have to give that damned speech to the entire city. I haven’t even started writing it."

The air felt thick, laden with everything he couldn't put into words. You squeezed his hand, holding it with a tenderness that cut through the fog of his mind. "Breathe, Jayce. You don’t have to solve everything at once. One step at a time."

Instinctively, you sat behind him, guiding him until his back rested against your chest. You began to massage his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly seep from his muscles. Each movement of your fingers seemed to ease his burdens, though his sighs suggested the thoughts still swirled in his mind.

"I’ll help you with the speech," you offered softly. "We’ll write it together. You don’t have to face it all alone."

Jayce closed his eyes briefly, as if clinging to your words to prevent drowning in his thoughts. "But... it all depends on me. If I screw this up, the consequences are massive. I can’t afford to fail." His voice broke, and he sat up abruptly, anxiety gripping him once more.

"It’s just a speech, Jayce. It doesn’t define you." You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him from behind. "What matters most to me is that it doesn’t destroy you. The city needs you, yes. But you need yourself too."

A long sigh escaped his chest, a release of some of the weight he'd been carrying. "How do you stay so calm through all of this? How do you have the patience to listen to my problems over and over?" His tone softened, a realization of what your presence meant to him.

"Because I love you, you big lug. And because I respect you," you said without hesitation. "Now... first things first. Dinner. I made your favorite." You whispered in his ear, the warmth of your embrace surrounding him, offering a sliver of peace. "Then, I’ll draw you a bath. You need to relax, to stop thinking about everything for a while. We’ll have dinner together, and afterward, we’ll stay up as long as you need. I’ll help with the speech. And if you need to rehearse all night, we will. The important thing is you’re not facing it alone. I’m here, Jayce, because I know how much this means to you."

Jayce let the silence hang for a moment, absorbing your words, your support the anchor he desperately needed. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his face finally showing signs of easing. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, a small pout forming on his lips.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my spoiled giant baby," you teased with a soft laugh, cupping his face with care.

Jayce chuckled, a low, grateful sound that was music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, feeling the anxiety that had gripped him start to dissipate. "Can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked quietly, his tone vulnerable, more human than ever.

"Of course, love," you whispered. "There’s no rush tonight."

And there, between tender laughs and promises of unwavering support, time seemed to pause. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the warmth of home, and the certainty that, no matter what the next day brought, you would face it together.

Ekko

The sound of gears grinding and tools sparking filled Ekko's workshop, a familiar symphony that usually brought him a sense of calm. But today, the rhythm was frantic, almost as if he believed that focusing on the intricate mechanical details could help him outrun the weight pressing down on his heart. It wasn’t working.

"Ekko, what’s wrong?" Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the tension hanging thick in the air. You could sense something was off, not just from the hurried way he moved but from the pallor that had taken over his face in the past few hours.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers continued their precise dance over the wires and components, but there was a distant look in his eyes, a clear sign that his mind was far from the task at hand. Finally, he looked up, and though he tried to hide it, you could see the frustration and pain etched into his features.

"Things are... out of control," he admitted, his voice heavy. "The people of Zaun keep dying, and we can’t do anything about it. The illnesses are spreading, the air is becoming unbreathable, and the solutions... they seem further away than ever. How am I supposed to lead them when I have nothing to offer?"

His question lingered in the air, a cry of desperation in the stillness. Ekko had borne the weight of leading the Firelights since their inception. It was his strength, his refuge, yet also his greatest burden. Every day, he witnessed more of his people falling victim to the oppression and the harsh realities of Zaun, the toxic air swallowing those he cared about, and the seeming futility of their efforts gnawed at his resolve. What could one do when everything seemed stacked against them?

"Ekko," you approached him, gently taking his hands in yours. "Listen to me. I know what you're thinking. I know it feels like everything is collapsing, like there’s no way out. But you're not alone in this. You have the Firelights, and you have me. Caitlyn Kiramman might be able to help with this problem."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, confused. He knew Caitlyn, as an Enforcer, symbolized the oppressive system that had kept Zaun in misery, but he also knew you didn’t speak lightly. You must have had a plan.

"I don’t trust Piltover," Ekko muttered, his tone firm. "Or their damn Enforcers. How am I supposed to ask someone like Caitlyn for help? After everything they’ve done to us?"

"I know," you said, gently stroking his hands to calm him, "but hear me out. You're not just asking Caitlyn for help. You’re asking the person who owes me a few favors. Trust me. I think we can secure some supplies, maybe some of the medicines we need, at least to keep us going for a while. Something to help the Firelights keep fighting. Don’t see it as surrendering, Ekko; it’s a step towards giving us a real chance to make our voices heard."

For a moment, Ekko stared at the ground, lost in thought. It was clear he struggled to trust anyone outside his circle, especially someone like Caitlyn, who embodied Piltover’s oppressive power. But your words resonated with him, and for the first time that day, something inside him eased slightly.

"Maybe you’re right," he finally said, his voice low, as if only partially convinced. "But this... it can’t just be words. We need to do something real, something that actually makes a difference."

"We will," you assured him with a soft smile, trying to instill a bit of hope. "Together, step by step. Let’s start by talking to Caitlyn and see what we can secure. I don’t know how, but I believe we’ll make it happen."

Ekko looked at you, and for a moment, everything in his expression changed. The usual anger gave way to a mixture of gratitude and, perhaps, a hint of relief. He was exhausted, but the idea that not everything was lost gave him a tiny spark of hope.

"Thank you, babe," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I don’t know how you do it. You always know what to say."

"That’s because I’ve learned how to deal with your stubborn, grumpy self," you said with a light laugh. "Now, how about we take a stroll through the city? Maybe a few hours of disconnecting will help."

A trace of a smile appeared on his face, though still tinged with fatigue. "What? Are you planning to make me forget all this by tagging the walls with graffiti?"

"Exactly," you responded with a mischievous grin. "That way, at least for a while, we can forget the world and do whatever we want."

Ekko finally gave in, his soft laugh filling the air as he grabbed his hoverboard. "You know, that sounds like a great idea. Let’s go before I change my mind."

And as you wandered the streets of Zaun, the weight on his shoulders didn’t entirely vanish, but for a while, Ekko could relax, paint his frustrations on the walls, and most importantly, remember that he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, all it took was stepping back and breathing, even if just for a moment.

Silco

The air in Silco's office was heavy, thick with the unmistakable scent of Zaun: metal, sweat, and burnt chemicals. Yet beyond those familiar odors, the room was saturated with the tension of recent events. The sting of failure clung to him, unsettling the usually composed mastermind. His meticulously laid plans had unraveled, and while his followers proclaimed loyalty, cracks in their devotion were becoming apparent. Zaun teetered on the brink of internal rebellion. The Firelights, the Enforcers, even the streets themselves seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

But what truly unsettled him, what gnawed at his very core, was the ever-present specter of betrayal, the fear of losing those who mattered most. In these moments, when chaos felt imminent, you chose to enter.

Silco stood with his back to you, staring out at the city’s dim lights through the window. You could sense the disquiet within him. His silhouette was somber, almost ghostly, with one hand resting on the glass. He seemed like a man who had lost faith in everything around him. Without hesitation, you approached him with a calmness that contrasted starkly with the storm raging within him.

"Silco," you began, your voice gentle but resolute. You refused to let his fragility consume him, not now. "We've faced this before. You don’t have to bear it all alone."

At first, he remained silent. The tension in his frame was palpable, and you could tell he was fighting a battle he wasn’t ready to share. Yet, you knew that struggle all too well. Beneath his layers of hatred and ambition lay a man as broken and vulnerable as any other.

Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes, usually burning with disdain, now dulled. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, roughened by a restrained fury. "This isn’t like before. It’s not just about winning anymore. It’s about maintaining control, about not losing everything. If I fail now, all we’ve built will be for nothing. What’s looming isn’t just a challenge—it’s war, and I need to be ready."

You stepped closer, studying the exhaustion etched into his face. His words were a glimpse into the turmoil that consumed him. "You will be ready. We will be ready. But isolating yourself in this downward spiral won’t help."

Silco’s gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability surfaced. He appeared more human, less the monster Zaun feared. But his pride fought to keep that part of him hidden.

"I don’t need your pity," he said, though his words lacked conviction, a feeble defense against the truth you were unveiling. "Spare me the empty reassurances."

"They’re not empty," you replied, your voice steady. "I know what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about controlling Zaun. This is about you."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken truths. Silco’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in contemplation. "It’s a war I can’t win. The city hates me, even my own daughter—"

"Don’t speak of her as if you’re some monster," you interrupted gently but firmly. "Jinx needs you, and you need her. This war isn’t just against Piltover, Silco. It’s against yourself. And if you keep fighting it alone, you will lose."

The room was still, the weight of your words settling in the air. Silco’s expression softened, touched by a realization he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t accustomed to being seen so clearly, to having his inner battles laid bare.

You took another step forward and, without allowing him time to withdraw, you took his hand. "You don’t have to do this alone," you whispered. "Not now, not ever."

For a brief moment, conflict flickered across his features, but then it happened—he relented. It wasn’t the surrender of a defeated man but of someone willing to trust, if only for a moment, that there was more to life than his solitary fight.

"I don’t know why you persist in keeping me upright," he murmured, his voice softer, laced with weariness. "Sometimes… sometimes it feels like too much."

"It’s not," you assured him without hesitation. "We’ll face it together. I won’t let you fall."

Silco said nothing more, but he didn’t pull away as you held his hand more firmly, a silent acceptance of your comfort. And for the first time in a long while, the cold steel of his demeanor cracked, if only for a fleeting second.

Mel

Mel's balcony was as sleek and cold, a testament to her meticulous nature. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light over the cityscape, illuminating the endless sea of Piltover's lights below. Yet, amidst the serenity of the night, an unseen storm brewed within her. Tonight, her mind wasn't consumed with political maneuvers or strategic plans. Something far deeper gnawed at her: the weight of her ambitions had begun to manifest in ways she hadn't anticipated, threatening to fracture the carefully constructed facade of her life.

She stood by the railing, gazing out at the city that never slept, as if the twinkling lights could somehow chase away the growing void in her heart. You could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the railing a little too tightly. She was a picture of composed authority, yet the subtle cracks in her armor betrayed the turmoil within.

"Mel..." Your voice, soft yet firm, broke the silence. You approached from behind, your footsteps light but deliberate. You didn't need to be loud; she had always been attuned to your presence, as if you existed in a part of her consciousness she couldn't ignore.

Mel turned slowly, her face a mask of unyielding calm, but her eyes... her eyes told a different story. They held a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea she wasn't ready to voice. "What is it?" Her voice was cool, almost detached, but you knew better. The detachment was a shield, one she had crafted over years of political warfare.

"What’s wrong?" you asked again, your gaze unwavering as you closed the distance between you. You could sense her struggle, her reluctance to admit that something was amiss. "I can see it, Mel. You're not okay."

She sighed—a sound so heavy it seemed to carry the weight of the city. It wasn't frustration; it was the exhaustion of someone who had carried too much for too long. "It’s Piltover. My role in the Council... I can't keep up with it all," she admitted, her words slow, measured, as if each one was a reluctant confession. "I’ve been playing this game for so long, but the pieces are moving in directions I can’t control. And..."

Her voice faltered, and she didn't need to continue. You understood. This wasn't about Piltover alone. It was about her, about the toll her ambitions had taken on her soul. Here, on this balcony, she wasn't the indomitable Mel Medarda. She was a woman, weary and yearning for something she couldn't quite name.

"Mel, not everything needs to be under control. Not everything needs to be perfect," you said gently, stepping closer. "You can handle what’s happening in Piltover, but you don’t have to carry it all on your own."

Her eyes darted away, as if looking at you would make her break. She was so used to being the one in control, to bearing the burdens without complaint. "And if I fail... what then? What’s left after all of this? I've given everything to Piltover… everything."

Her voice trembled with a sadness that cut through you. Despite her steely exterior, you knew there was a part of her that longed for something more—connection, peace, perhaps even love. But the world she had built around herself left little room for such indulgences.

"If you fail, Mel, you’ll have the chance to start over. You don’t have to keep fighting for something that's slipping through your fingers," you said, your voice steady as you reached for her. "Sometimes, letting go of what we fear losing the most is what sets us free."

Mel's eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a vulnerability she rarely showed. She wasn’t used to conversations like this, to empathy. But in your gaze, she found something she hadn’t seen in a long time: safety, support, and perhaps... the promise of something different. Something better.

"I know it’s not easy," you continued, your hand gently brushing her arm. "But you don’t have to carry the weight of Piltover alone. You have people who respect you, who admire you. There are other ways to move forward without losing yourself in the process."

The silence that followed was thick, but not oppressive. It was as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response. For a moment, Mel said nothing. Then, her lips, always so carefully set in lines of authority, softened. "And if I fail… what happens to you?"

"You won’t fail," you said with a conviction that only you could have. "But even if you did, I’d be right here, helping you rebuild. Because what really matters isn’t the power or the control. What really matters is you, Mel."

For a second, she looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. The iron-willed woman everyone knew, the strategist, the leader, was now gazing at you with a newfound sense of recognition. And in that moment, she allowed herself a rare indulgence: she let her guard down.

"Maybe... maybe it’s not always about winning," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "Maybe you're right."

You smiled softly, knowing that Mel had just taken a step towards something beyond ambition—towards her humanity.

Sevika

The night had fallen with an oppressive stillness, but Sevika couldn’t find peace. The hours had dragged her into a whirlwind of stress and frustration. Each minute felt heavier than the last, and the air around her seemed thick, as if the city itself was pressing down on her chest. The decisions she had to make, the moves she had to plan, the constant need to watch over and protect her people… all of it had left her exhausted. But what weighed her down the most was the lack of control over her own life.

The shadows of the streets seemed to stretch out, enveloping her with an invisible pressure. Silco, as if things weren’t bad enough, was more erratic than ever, his paranoia brushing the edges of madness. To top it off, Jinx had played one of her twisted jokes: locking her in a room with a bomb that looked ready to explode. Sevika had been on the brink of death, only to discover that the bomb was a cruel joke, the kind only Jinx could conjure. If she had the time, she would have made sure the girl paid for it. She despised feeling vulnerable. But there was more. She had to deal with some of Silco’s men, and her day culminated with a direct punch to the face, leaving a visible mark on her otherwise stoic features.

On any other day, Sevika might have sought solace or at least retreated into the quiet of solitude, but today was different. No matter what she did, the sense of losing control gnawed at her insides. She needed to see you. She needed your presence, your calm way of looking at her and making her feel that everything, even if just for a while, would be okay.

Finally, the door creaked open. The sound of your footsteps was a balm to her weary spirit, and Sevika lifted her gaze. The damp night air lent a melancholic intensity to her eyes, now etched with fatigue and disdain. Though she tried to maintain her tough exterior, you quickly noticed the bruise marking her face.

“What happened?” Your voice, soft yet filled with concern, echoed in the room. Sevika tried to muster a smile, but it was futile.

“Just another day, you know?” she rasped, moving to lean against the table. She wasn’t about to crumble in front of you, but the exasperation in her tone was unmistakable. “Silco’s paranoid as ever. Jinx pulled one of her idiotic pranks… locked me in a room with a fake bomb about to explode. I thought I’d die there, amidst confetti and laughter. And if that wasn’t enough, one of Silco’s guys managed to land a punch on me.”

Your gaze, laced with worry and tenderness, softened instantly. You stepped forward, cupping her face gently, trying to ease the storm swirling inside her. Sevika stood still, unresponsive at first, but the hard lines of her face began to relax, even if only slightly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” you asked, your eyes never leaving hers, your words carrying a silent concern. You knew she hated appearing weak, but it didn’t matter; you would never see her that way. Sevika closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh.

“You know I don’t like to worry you.” Her tone was sharp, but softer than before. She could feel how your warmth affected her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit, but needed more than she was willing to acknowledge.

Without missing a beat, you acted. With a small smile, you stepped back a little, creating some space to prepare something that might bring her some comfort.

“Tonight, I’m making something special for my strong and sexy warrior,” you said, a mix of tenderness and teasing in your voice. “It’s not much, but I know you’ll like it.” You headed to the kitchen, and instead of a typical meal, you decided on something you knew would make Sevika smile: a homemade chocolate cupcake, with a hint of vanilla and a soft cream topping. While the sweet treat took shape, you thought about how this small gesture might lighten the night. The smell of freshly baked chocolate began to fill the air.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a slight smile. “A cupcake?” she asked, almost playfully, though her voice held a softness rarely heard. “Am I a child needing comfort now?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling as you set the table. “Sometimes we all need something simple and sweet.” You playfully tapped her nose.

With the cupcake served and a cup of aromatic tea, the two of you sat together, letting the calm settle for a moment. As she savored the cupcake, your fingers brushed hers gently, as if that simple touch could convey something deeper. Sevika’s gaze, usually so hard and closed off, softened as it met yours.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost with a humility that was unlike her. “I needed this more than I thought.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said with a gentle smile, intertwining your fingers with hers.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter what was happening in the outside world. For an instant, everything else faded away. Only that small space between the two of you existed, where love and understanding felt like the answer to all the burdens Sevika carried within.

403 notes · View notes

thesquidgame · 1 day ago

Text

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed.

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room.

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you.

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled.

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!”

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit.

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube.

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown.

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face.

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?”

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.”

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon.

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!”

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed.

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.”

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.”

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder.

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.”

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable.

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.”

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.”

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

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jobean12-blog · 1 day ago

Text

Birds of a Feather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.

Author's Note: Seeing so much of happy Seb lately-and looking so good-made me want to write something sexy and fluffy so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet, tense and flirty, Bucky is the best in every way!

‘Come on up. Room 322.’

His thumbs hang limply over the phone screen, his brain going blank.

When he sent the text ten seconds earlier to let you know he’s arrived he figured you would meet him down in the lobby or at the hall.

Meeting you in the hotel room is a problem he anticipated when he gave himself a pep talk before leaving.

“She’s your best friend. Don’t do anything stupid…like go to the hotel room.”

His fingers finally start to move over the letters. ‘I can meet you down here…’

But maybe you need help with something?

He deletes the text, now typing, ‘is there anyone with you?,’ but that just sounds weird and possessive.

‘I can see you typing,’ you text. ‘Just come up. I need help.’

With a laugh, he deletes everything again and types simply, ‘be right there doll.’

His long legs carry him quickly to the elevator and when he presses the button for the third floor he takes a deep breath, his pulse climbing it’s way up his throat.

The door to your room is propped open with the dead bolt, but he knocks anyway.

“Come in Buck!”

Pushing it open just enough to peek his head in, he calls out, “I could be anyone, and you just invite me in without checking!”

“You just texted me you were coming up,” you sing from the bathroom, quickly continuing before he can say more, “and most of the people on his floor are friends or relatives here for the wedding.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you take your safety as seriously as I do,” he shouts back.

Your voice gets louder as you walk into the bedroom. “With you around I never have to worr…”

You stop for a breath when you see him, but your next words are lost to the blank void of his brain as he takes in your dress and how you look in it. To put it simply- stunning.

“Bucky?”

He startles, having no idea how long he’d been silent.

“Yeah doll…that’s…I’m here.”

When he finally drags his eyes to your face, you’re fighting a smile. “I asked if you could help me?”

“Oh, right. Sure. With what exactly?”

He cringes but steps closer.

“My dress?”

You turn around to show him the fabric at the back that hangs open, a tiny zipper dangling down at your lower back.

Trying to suppress a groan, but not being entirely successful he swallows hard. “That zipper looks very tiny.”

“It is,” you agree. “I realize I should have asked someone with smaller hands to help me out, but everyone is running around with their own nonsense so here we are.”

He approaches with a casual, “sure, of course doll.”

But then he does something without fully realizing it until the shiver runs along your back: he drags a knuckle down the curve of your spine.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder.

He just blinks and looks down to grab the zipper, mumbling about how small it is.

It’s quiet as he carefully pulls the zipper up and when he reaches the top he lets it fall and gently runs a finger along the top of the dress as he moves around to look at you.

“All set,” he whispers.

You smile and clear your throat before giving him an appreciative once over.

“You look hot.”

“Thanks doll. You…” and he struggles when his voice comes out a bit strangled, “you look breathtaking.”

You reach up and touch his bow tie, pulling at the neatly tied ends as you tell him, “I was hoping you’d arrive a flustered mess over how to tie this so I could do it for you.”

With a grin, he reaches up and tugs the end, untying it in a smooth pull.

“Figure you should do something in return after I battled that zipper,” he teases.

Still smiling, you take a hold of the tie, tugging it to align the ends evenly around his neck. “I didn’t get the impression it was such a hardship.”

His answering smirk is so telling you have to stifle a laugh.

“Are you feeling ready for this? I know these big events aren’t your favorite.”

“I’ll manage just fine doll, thanks. Besides, I’ve got the most beautiful date in the whole place.”

With your focus still on his bow tie he takes the opportunity to openly stare. When you smile at his sweet words he’s mesmerized by the way your soft lips part and his eyes stay glued to your mouth.

You look up to meet his gaze and he quickly lifts his eyes, a light pink sweeping across his cheeks.

You blink away and he looks down at your hands, noting the very little progress you’ve made.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Well…yes. I’m sure I can…”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“You might be right!,” you quip, “but I’m no quitter.”

He’d be happy to stand there all night.

You finally step back, surveying your work, and frown. “I’m going to be honest, not sure I made it look as good as you did.”

He looks down and undoes the mess and you glower as he handily fixies it.

“Wow, no need to gloat you butthead.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh, eyes crinkled, and nose scrunched, and you enjoy the sight before he explains, “I’ve done it a million times. I’m always the one in the tux when we go undercover.”

“That’s because you’re the one that looks the best.”

“Thanks doll,” he answers quietly.

“There are so many people here,” you whisper as you lead him through the crowd in the hall.

He let’s out a low whistle, nodding in agreement and aking in the décor.

You greet people as you walk, introducing Bucky to those that don’t already know him. Their eyes follow you, curiosity piqued in their expression as they wonder who he is to you.

You wonder the same. Your favorite person in the world. Your best friend…and so much more?

You take his elbow and guide him forward toward the outside set up where the ceremony will take place. On the way you find your grandmother and introduce him.

Since he can’t take his eyes off you he notices the subtle shift in your demeanor, the softening of your face and the adoration in your eyes.

He expects a gentle handshake but instead gets pulled in for a hug.

“Oh darling, isn’t he a sight,” you grandma says, patting Bucky’s cheek. “And you,” she says, turning her eyes your way. “Gorgeous.”

“Thanks grandma,” you beam.

A woman whizzes by, catching your eye and pointing to her watch.

“Looks like it’s time,” you announce.

Bucky holds out one arm for your grandma and the other for you.

“And a gentleman too,” your grandma gushes as she loops her arm through his. “Definitely a keeper.”

“You can keep grandma company,” you say as you approach the chairs.

“Of course, doll,” he says and leans in to kiss your cheek before helping your grandma into her seat.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony.” You gather your dress and turn to head back inside to meet the wedding party. “Miss me,” you call over your shoulder with a playful smile.

He stares as you walk away, quietly admitting, “I already do.”

Slight nerves take over when you hear the music start but the moment you walk out into the crowd your eyes zero in on Bucky. And what do you know? He’s looking right back at you…and he doesn’t take his eyes off you the whole ceremony.

After the ceremony it takes forever to work your way through the crowd to him, and in between catching up with friends and family or directing someone somewhere, you catch glimpses of him smiling and laughing with your grandma and happily keeping her company.

When you finally do reach him, your grandma has been safely escorted to her seat and now a woman hangs off his arm- Jessica. You know her, an old family friend, and you like her well enough, but you step up behind them right as she asks Bucky if she can steal him for the first dance, and your stomach drops.

You jerk to a stop. He hasn’t seen you. He should accept. You’ll hate it, but you’re not in any position to protest.

But then Bucky says only a gentle, “sorry, no can do. Tonight, I’ve only got one dance partner.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you step closer, swallowing down the emotion.

“Hey you two!”

Bucky turns, extracting his arm from Jessica and setting a warm palm at your lower back.

“And here she is. My favorite dancing partner.”

Jessica leans around from his other side and says hello.

“Thanks for coming,” you tell her.

“Oh my god, of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And I was just meeting your friend, James, here.”

She emphasizes the word friend and at her usage of his real name you have to hold back a giggle.

“Isn’t he wonderful,” you hum, sliding your hand up his bicep. “He’s been keeping my grandmother company this whole time.”

She swoons and smiles at Bucky before turning back to you.

“He is. I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date. You’re usually always flying solo at these family events.”

You feel the smile slipping from your face and an uncomfortable laugh escapes.

The simple answer never comes to you, and you feel caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Actually, that’s only because I was away for work,” Bucky steps in smoothly. “I hate to miss any chance to be her date, but my schedule can be pretty demanding sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jessica says. “Work is important of course.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “but not as important as her. So, from now I won’t be missing another event.”

Jessica’s face does a thing. It’s a barely restrained, ‘oh okay, I see.’

Bucky’s smile remains but it doesn’t look entirely natural anymore but when he looks at you, every emotion on his face is genuine.

“Ready to find our seats doll face,” he asks you.

“Sure,” you reply.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Jennifer. Enjoy the party.”

With a firm hand, he leads you away. You allow yourself to be guided up the grassy path and indoors to where a band plays. Bucky grabs you two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands you one.

“That was swoony,” you tell him then take a sip.

“All I did was grab it from a tray doll. Time to raise your bar a bit.”

Laughing, you smack his beefy shoulder with your free hand. “Not that! The way you gently let Jennifer have it back there.”

He takes a sip, eyes on you. “She deserved worse, but I didn’t want to start trouble.”

With your brow raised you match his mischievous grin then you take his glass and set it down on one of the small tables, leading him to the dance floor.

He looks confused at first but when your hands slide up his chest and around his neck he circles his arms around your waist.

He relaxes against you, hands warm and strong on your lower back and you rest your cheek to his shoulder.

“You’re always so comfy.”

“Thank you.”

“And you always look out for me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, doll.”

“You’re my favorite person in the Universe.”

He doesn’t respond at first, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. You keep waiting for the feeling of rejection in his silence but instead it feels like an agreement and finally his words confirm it.

“Mine too, doll.”

Your quiet slow dance is the last moment alone you have for the next few hours because what follows is a whirlwind of a reception.

And the whole time he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Think I’m ready to get out of here,” you say as you slump against his side.

He carefully holds you up as he stands and reaches to take your hand.

“Come on doll face. I’ll take you home.”

When you reach your apartment door your feet are aching, and your legs are tired. You retrieve your key from the hidden pocket in your small purse and slide it into the doorknob.

“I��m going to need you to unzip me,” you say, gesturing casually to your dress.

His silence makes you slowly turn around to face him and when you meet his eyes they’re heavy with heat and desire.

“Bucky?”

“Turn back around,” he says gruffly.

You do as your told and feel his exhaled puff of air against your bare shoulder before he takes your wrists in this hands and places your palms flat against the door. His metal fingers slide down one arm then trace the curve of your shoulder, while his other toys with the small zipper.

He starts to pull it down, so slowly, you feel every brush of his skin against yours and it sends a tremble across your body. For every new inch of your skin that he exposes his breath quickens. You can feel the heat of him so close and your fingers press into the hard wood of the door.

Once the fabric hangs loosely at the sides he stops and slips his hands inside to your waist and turns you back to face him.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I…”

You drag your fingers along his temple and down his jaw. Your finger falls to his bottom lip, tracing it’s outline.

You can see it in his eyes, the understanding that everything between you is easy and you don’t have to try. It’s too good.

Your gaze drops to his lips again and your mouth goes soft. “Kiss me Bucky.”

The words are just barely out of your mouth and he’s already leaning in, lips on yours, warm and urgent, his hands rising to cup your face. Your instincts send tight, possessive fists to the lapels of his jacket and you melt completely into the domination and tenderness in his touch.

With a quiet groan he tilts his head, deepening the contact into a decadent slide, sending a hungry hand down your body once again and grabbing your ass to press all your softness against the hard planes of his body.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, drags slowly away, and you chase the contact, but he stops you, pressing his thumb over your lips.

He stares for what feels like forever, then kisses you again, lingering before he murmurs, “you’re so beautiful,” into the sensitive skin below your ear, and then repeats it quietly into your neck.

“Are you going to stay the night?” you ask breathless.

“If you’ll have m…”

“Yes. Yes Bucky.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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tree-of-blue-squirrel · 7 hours ago

Text

if you want to equate AI, specifically generative AI (chatgpt and stuff) with anything, equate it with nuclear power

when humanity started messing with radiation and later nuclear power, we did NOT understand just how fucking dangerous it could be. Radium water was sold as a snakeoil cure-all. RADIUM. And nobody really did much about it until people started dying from the stuff (Search up Radium Girls)

It took a good few disasters until it was properly understood just how dangerous radiation can be and why safeguards cannot be treated as a luxury expense when working at a nuclear plant.

Generative AI, as of now, has very VERY few safeguards and is available to EVERYONE with an internet connection. Sure, it cannot outright kill you the way radiation can, but there is nothing stopping generative AI from giving you information that could lead you to do something dangerous. Sure, FEW things have already been somewhat safeguarded, for example asking AI for step by step instructions on how to construct a bomb will most likely result in it apologizing that it cannot give you that information.

But that is one specific scenario. At the end of the day, generative AI will give you the answer it thinks you want to hear and since there is usually no overseer that reads every single piece of input to estimate if it is good input, it is impossible to safeguard ALL of the dangerous answers it might give to people. It is a system based around customer wording the input just right and pressing repeat button until the mechanical monkey prints out Shakespeare, so to say.

Except it only connects words into sentences. Meaning of those words and danger they may pose in the hands of a fool are not taken into account. Which is especially scary as AI develops further into versions that are less and less recognizable as emulated human speech instead of genuine human creation.

'People are panicking about AI tools the same way they did when the calculator was invented, stop worrying' cannot stress enough the calculator did not forcibly pervade every aspect of our lives, has such a low error rate it's a statistical anomaly when it does happen, isn't built on mass plagiarism, and does not obliterate the fucking environment when you use it. Be so fucking serious right now

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bubblingbowie · 2 days ago

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just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

#x plus size reader #plus size reader #x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #wolverine #i'm in love with flower mutant btw #you'll get more of her TRUST #logan howlett x flower!mutant

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hanniebaeee · 11 hours ago

Text

Feral Puppy

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: colleagues/friends to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin has the hugest crush on you, and you've been trying to avoid any workplace drama. He's an idol after all. But what are you supposed to do when this feral puppy is totally invested in winning you over?

a/n: Sweaty Jinnie is a weakness 🤭🤭🤭

You sat at your desk, deep in work. The office was quiet this early in the morning, except for the rhythmic tapping of keys. You were so focused on your task that you barely noticed the group of boys passing by your little cubicle.

That is, until a soft thud caught your attention.

You glanced up, just in time to see a certain dark haired menace dropping a cupcake onto your desk - perfectly adorable with heart-shaped sprinkles, no less.

Hyunjin flashed you a wink that could make anyone melt. And you? You were trying so hard to not react.

You could feel your heart skip a beat, and you sighed in exasperation, your cheeks heating up. Felix who was passing by gave you a wink.

“Honestly, I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed.” you muttered, and Felix snorted in response.

"A little bit of both, I think." He said, picking off a sprinkle and popping it in his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh, because Hyunjin had been trying to get your attention for months. He was always sneaking little treats or flowers to your desk, or winking at you as you passed each other in the hallways.

It was adorable in the most frustratingly complicated way, especially since you were colleagues - technically- and it was strictly against the company policy. Especially since he was an idol and all that.

But you still felt a rush of affection that made your heart ache. Hyunjin was too cute, and you hated that you had to keep it professional.

---

It was just a little after lunch that you had walked into the practice room to have a word with Chan. You've been bracing yourself for impact, because you know what a feral puppy he could be sometimes.

The second you entered, naturally his head snapped around - he’d caught a whiff of your perfume. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the way his whole body seemed to tense.

"Down, boy!" Changbin barked, grabbing Hyunjin by the collar just as he took an eager step forward.

But Hyunjin just growled, still looking at you with those wide, pleading eyes.

"I just need to see her face," he insisted, his voice a little too dramatic, and oh dear, lets just say it hit you just at the right spot.

Felix was leaning against the wall now, clearly entertained.

"Bro, her face is your phone wallpaper," he teased with a wink.

The comment made you blush harder than you ever had in front of these idiots. Your eyes darted to Chan, who was supposed to be the mature one here. And now the said mature one was desperately trying to stifle his laughter.

You gave him a glare and he just shrugged, like there was nothing he could do to stop this chaos.

“Chan, are you serious right now?!” You hissed and he cleared his throat trying to regain some seriousness.

But before he could respond, Changbin was back at it, pulling Hyunjin back by the shoulder.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Down, puppy, down."

You couldn't help the little chuckle that left your lips.

God, you loved him. It was undeniable. But there was no way you could get involved with him, not with all the rules in place. You just had to keep pretending that his antics weren’t making your heart flutter in the most inappropriate of ways.

"You’re such a menace, you know that?" You muttered, shaking your head at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, "If that means getting your attention, then I’ll gladly wear that title."

Your poor heart screamed at that, because honestly, you loved every minute of it.

And so did he.

A few days later, you found yourself staying late at the office, finishing up some urgent reports. You were surrounded by an ominous stillness, because you were the only one left working on your floor and it was getting a little creepy by the moment.

You sent your emails quickly, packed up in record speed and bolted out of your workspace. But as soon as you turned the corner, you walked straight into a wall of muscle.

You froze, heart skipping a beat as you looked up slowly. And seeing Hyunjin’s sweaty, disheveled face staring back at you, you let out a sigh of relief.

That didn't last long because this exactly was your biggest…undoing. Sweat soaked Hyunjin was a weakness you didn't even like to discuss with yourself.

His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his body, and you could actually see the muscles in his chest through it. His damn hair fell messily around his face, and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, making him look like some kind of god sent from another realm.

His wide eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You looked away quickly, absolutely embarrassed, but the damage was already done.

You could feel the string of control inside you stretching taut, ready to snap.

Hyunjin watched you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Not aggressive. No, it’s playful - and so damn hot.

“Didn’t expect to run into you tonight,” he said, his voice husky.

You forced yourself to look up at him, and for a second, you both just stared at each other. Your body was screaming for release, but your brain was holding on.

You couldn’t cross that line. Not when it could ruin everything.

"I…uh, didn’t mean to startle you," you managed, your voice trembling just a little too much for your liking.

His scent is intoxicating, a mix of sweat and his cologne. And pheromones or whatever.

"Startled?" he teased, his lips curling into a smile. "You’re staring. Are you sure you didn’t come to see me?"

"I-I wasn’t staring," you stammered, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You were so aware of every inch of him right now - it was like the droplets of sweat trickling down his skin were begging for your attention.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a wave of heat shooting straight to your core. "You’re trying not to break, but I think it’s too late for that."

“Hyunjin-”

"How long are you going to pretend you don’t want this?" he asked, his words heavy with desire, making your heart race faster. "I can’t be the only one who feels it."

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling, your resolve completely gone. You wanted him so badly, it hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Seeing that he has tormented you enough, Hyunjin pulled back just slightly, giving you a playful look that said, I’ll let you off the hook for now.

"You’re so annoying," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He just smiled, completely unfazed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Am I?"

The next few days were a nightmare. The lingering, burning tension that Hyunjin’s created between you two was literally frying your insides. And let's be real. Seeing him in all his sweat soaked glory, you were so unbearably turned on.

Seeing you at the edge of your own self control, has unleashed something in him. He knows you were just as interested. That little moment? He was holding onto it.

So you did the best thing - the only thing at this point - avoiding him. You asked Chan to meet at a conference room for a quick chat when it was necessary. Or you generally didn't venture towards the practice room.

You’ve learned to keep your distance, at least a little. And you hoped that Hyunjin wouldn't notice. But Hyunjin was not having it. No. He was making it his personal goal to make sure nothing went unnoticed.

---

You were walking through the hallway, minding your business, trying to get to the elevator. You heard the footsteps behind you too late. You could swear you felt the heat of his presence before you even saw him.

Hyunjin, being the menace he was, barreled into you out of nowhere, pressing you up against the wall in a move that was so absolutely ridiculous that for a split second, you wondered if you were dreaming.

“What the hell, Hyunjin?!” you exclaimed, flailing as you try to regain your balance, your palms slapping against the cold wall.

You're heart raced and you glanced around feeling kind of dazed. But Hyunjin just stood there, smirking, totally unbothered.

“What?” he said innocently, his body still pressed against yours. “There’s not enough space to pass.”

“Are you serious?!” You flailed again, trying to step aside, but he just shifted his body to keep you pinned, making it impossible to escape.

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, move!” You were flushed, not just from the physical contact, but from the audacity of it all. You didn’t even know if you were angry, embarrassed, or completely turned on.

He looked down at you, his eyes glittering with something so mischievously feral.

“I know you don't mind, sweetheart,” he said, and you groaned internally. How did he keep doing this? The way he was so confident, so sure of himself.

“Hyunjin, please.” You tried to get him to step back, but it’s like he’s glued to you.

“I didn't even do anything,”

Oh the nerve!

You tried to wiggle away, but his arms came up on either side of you, trapping you even further. You’re caught, pressed against the wall with nowhere to go, and his body is all around you.

“Let me go, Hyunjin,” you breathed, but it’s almost a plea now. “There are cameras everywhere!”

His grin widened as he watched you, and said, “Oh is there?”

You let out a soft growl of frustration, realizing you’ve lost all sense of control. Your grip on his shirt tightened, and Hyunjin bit his bottom lip seductively. Your were trembling in his arms.

Maybe that was what he was aiming for, because he dropped his arms and took a step back.

You quickly scrambled away, muttering curses under your breath as you speed-walked away. And Hyunjin watched you go, that mischievous smirk never leaving his face.

“See you around, sweetheart,” he calls out after you.

Hyunjin has successfully invaded every corner of your mind that you had so meticulously disciplined against doing exactly that.

The teasing. The tension. Oh the need - it's been eating you alive. You couldn’t focus at work. You couldn’t go anywhere without your heart hammering at the thought of him.

You’ve tried to ignore it, tried to compartmentalize it, but the truth is - you were well past the point of no return.

And then, of course, it happens again.

It was another late night at the office - one you tried so hard to avoid, but here you were. You were discreet and quiet.

You thought you'd made it. That this time you’d escaped his clutches. But as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, your heart just started to race again.

Because of course, he was coming toward you from the other side. And he stopped in front of you, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Are you trying to avoid me?" he asked, his voice so low and husky, you wanted to jump off a cliff.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head as you said, “Why would I do that?”

Your voice wavered worse than a leaf in a storm.

“Just making sure you don’t get any ideas,” he whispered - his face was so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips.

You were so damn tempted to lean in just a little. You shouldn’t. You couldn't.

“You know, I’m waiting for you to crack, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, you know you want to.”

Your heart raced and flipped and fluttered all at once, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You tried to step back but obviously there's nowhere to go. But he followed, matching your every movement.

“Hyunjin,” you said his name so softly, a breathless sound that made his eyes flash with something darker, something predatory. “Please, just-”

But he was done playing nice. His hand came up to gently hold your chin, lifting your face so you couldn't look away and you were forced to meet his gaze.

“You think you can just keep running from me?” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “If you didn't want me, you would've said that by now. But you keep me hanging, and I'm just about done with that.”

And that was when you lost it.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand came up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, unrestrained. The kiss was hot, messy - all tongue and teeth.

And it was everything you’ve wanted.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you even closer. His body was hard and slick with sweat, and you could feel the heat radiating from every inch of him.

His lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp as he kissed the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Told you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot. “I knew you couldn’t keep pretending.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

“I need to hear it, okay?” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Tell me you want this too.”

You looked at him, your breath coming in shallow pants. You were done pretending.

“No more running,” you whispered. “I want you too…”

And Hyunjin gave you a smile so radiant, you could die happily at the moment.

“Come on,” He said, taking your hand and pulling you away. “Let's go somewhere safe.”

A room next to their studio. Barely used. Kind of dusty. But it worked.

The minute you stepped in, his lips were on yours. He had you pressed up against the cold wall of the unused office, your bodies tangled together in an almost desperate need. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he didn’t even hesitate, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

His hands roamed over you, caressing, groping, pulling you closer as if he was starving for you.

“God, I love you-” He growled, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you into him. The heat radiating off his body and the feel of every muscle flex beneath his skin - you were blinded by it.

His hands were sliding up your sides, tugging at your clothes, as if he was hungry to see every inch of you. You gasp when his fingertips grazed the skin of your waist, as he took off your shirt.

"Hyunjin..." you whispered, breathless, the sound of his name escaping your lips like a prayer.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he growled, his lips finding their way down down chest. His fingers pulled down the cup of your bra, as he pressed soft kisses around the flesh.

Your lips parted, but no words came out, just breathy gasps as his lips wrapped around your nipple. The soft scrape of his teeth on your skin made you shiver, and you couldn't stop the low moan that escaped from deep in your chest.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned against your skin, his breath hot, sending goosebumps across your body.

“Hyunjin,” you gasped, tugging him closer, your hands finding his waistband of his sweats. He groaned, clearly as desperate as you are, and his lips crashed back to yours. His tongue sweeped over yours, and you lost yourself in the kiss.

His hands moved down to your waist, his grip tightening as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt how hard he was for you.

He carried you effortlessly toward the desk in the corner of the room. Placing you on the edge of the desk, his hands trailed up your thighs as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn't stop the trembling in your body as you pulled him closer.

Hyunjin’s hands move quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes. His dark eyes take in your body, pupils blown wide with lust.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding over the exposed skin of your tummy.

“Hyunjin… now.” you said desperately, pulling at his pants again, and they're gone in a flash.

When he finally stood completely bare before you, the sight of him sent a shock of heat straight through your body. He was so beautiful - every inch of him.

His eyes never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist as he brought you closer to him. You felt his hard length pressed against you, and you whimpered softly at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“I need you,” you whispered, your hands running through his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. “Now.”

And with that, Hyunjin moved, spreading your legs and pushing into you slowly. You shivered as he filled you completely, stretching you out.

You gazed up at him, the beads of sweat (he was sweating again - again) trickling down the side of his face.

“Oh my God,” You whined softly, closing your eyes, and he grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to move, slipping in and out of you with every thrust. Your hands gripped at the edges of the desk, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure built between you both.

You were so wet, and Hyunjin couldn't stop looking at where you two were connected, and with a frustrated sigh, he pulled out completely.

You gasped and stared up at him, as he grabbed your legs and pulled you more to the edge and then, his face was in between your thighs.

You almost shrieked - because that was absolutely unexpected. He wasn't wasting any time, his tongue lapping at your dripping folds and nudging your clit. Your hand landed on his hair, pulling at it gently and Hyunjin hummed - the vibrations of it making you drip even more.

“Hyun… Hyunjin!” You moaned, as he licked softly over your clit and nibbled on it gently making your breath catch.

It didn't take long for your first orgasm to crash down over you, and when Hyunjin straightened, he had the most satisfied grin on his face.

“You're so sweet, baby,” He cooed and you were sure your cheeks were at least two shades redder than before. “I couldn't resist it.”

You laughed, a tired one at that and he laughed with you before stepping in between your legs again. He ran his hands up and down your thighs and you watched, breathing heavily.

“Can I?” He asked softly, and you nodded with a smile.

It felt deliciously good when he slipped in this time, and the rhythm between you was slow at first - tender - but it didn't take long for that to change. Hyunjin’s need took over, and he began to move faster and harder, his body crashing into yours with a force that left you breathless.

The sound of his body slapping against yours filled the room, and you couldn't stop the moans that escaped your lips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you clung on to him tightly.

He was everywhere - his hands, his lips, his body - and you were drowning in him.

You pull him closer, you lips kissing down his nand - glistening with sweat - and you loved the way he moaned as you bit down right below his ear.

You didn't know this was such a turn on for you until today. This man did things to you that even you didn't understand. And you didn't mind really.

And you could feel that knot tightening in your belly again. Your eyes met, and you gripped him tightly, as his name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp.

Your whole body shuddered as you hit your peak again, and Hyunjin kept moving, till you heard him groan and pull out quickly, spilling all over your tummy.

You were both left breathless, hearts racing, tangled together in a mess of sweat and your releases. For a moment, neither of you speak.

Finally, Hyunjin gently cupped your face with his hand, his eyes softening.

“I love you, Y/N. So damn much.” He whispered and you could swear you've never seen him being this serious. Ever.

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You said, and your smile had him smiling. And the two of you were giggling and hugging each other tightly.

“I told you I’d make you mine,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Yeah yeah,”

The next morning, you walked into the office, trying to act like everything was normal. But as soon as you stepped in, the atmosphere just felt different.

You sat down at your desk, but before you could even open your laptop, Changbin, Felix, and Chan came strolling into the office like they’ve been waiting for you.

Oh they knew.

“Morning, Y/N,” Changbin said, his tone way too casual. “Sleep well?”

You forced a smile, trying to stay calm, but inside you’re screaming.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for asking.” you managed to say, as you avoided making eye contact with him.

“I’m sure you had a very eventful night, huh?” Felix was leaning against your desk now, his chin on his hand and a toothy grin in place.

You dropped your head into your hands, already feeling the embarrassment creeping up. And then, you heard it. That sweet, chuckle which had you wanting to crawl under your desk and never come out.

“Hyunjin,” you hissed, glaring at him as he strutted over to you, like a damn puppy who’s just been given a treat.

And he looked so fucking proud of himself.

"Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, dropping that mandatory cupcake on your desk.

You didn't hold back the sigh.

“Oh my God, Hyunjin,” you whined, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “Please.”

“What? You think they didn’t notice?” he asked innocently, pointing at the spot under his ear, where he sported a very evident hickey.

Oh you wanted to die. Felix snickered, totally enjoying this.

“And you’re glowing love, it looks good.” he said kindly.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you groaned, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Could you not?”

“You know we should have a talk about office etiquette. But then again... if it was that's good…” Chan added, raising his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced between you and Hyunjin.

“I’m going to murder all of you.”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut

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