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claire-starsword · 1 year ago

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Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 2-7

[warning for violence and dismemberment on this one. yes you read that right. as opposed to me who did not pay attention to this on my first read. lol.]

The group emerged back into the fields, after safely crossing the mountains. They hurried on their journey, heading towards the Pao Plains.

By Krin and Tyrin's calculations, they should be a day ahead of the monsters. If they could get the mercenaries at Pao and come back, they would be able to ambush the enemies at the mountain path that led to the plains. The devils wouldn't be able to escape a trap in such a narrow pathway.

In the forest, Karin replaced Randolf as the lead. Tyrin gave the general directions by her side, and she decided the exact path to traverse according to the condition of the plants and other forest signs. Bleu was speechless on how observant she was, not letting the slightest detail pass unnoticed.

Bleu struggled the most with the thick cluster of trees. Unlike Camallia and Karna, he didn't have the power to heal everyone's exhaustion either. He grew frustrated with himself. Once they got to a wider place or a road he'd be able to stretch out his wings. He did his best to put up with it.

Once the sun had gone down, the group had finally come out the end of the forest, reaching the road between Bustoke and the Pao Plains.

And there, their calculations failed them.

They ran right into the monster squad that had stolen the Manual. A sudden encounter, one could say.

"They shouldn't be here by our calculations, so why…" Krin complained about the unexpected turn of events, as she stared at the twenty or so monsters that had appeared in front of them.

The devils were just as shocked as them.

"Impossible! Why is there a Sacred Dragon here?"

One of the monsters, accompanying the squad of harpies and armed lizardmen, stared wide-eyed at Bleu, with empty eyes devoid of light. Those eyes caught sight of Camallia by his side. The devil then understood everything.

"So you survived. And you guided them here. It's always you, always… Fine, if you'll be this much of a hindrance, then I, Ziduur, will end you just like those pursuing mages."

The monster's fangs showed over the corner of his lips, and his two horns, atop his head like a moth's antennas, swung backwards in a menacing stance. Deep crimson hair ran from the nape of his neck to his back like a mane, bristling. As if answering to that, the lizardmen raised their slimy triangular heads, their bifurcated tongues flickering through their lips. The harpies let out ear-piercing shrieks.

"If you want this, come and take it."

Ziduur held a box made of ebony. It was full of intricate inlay decorations with a foreign feel.

"Sir Bleu, there's no doubt, the Manual is in there!"

With Tyrin's shout, the battle began.

"Randolf, Tyrin, take care of the girls!"

While shouting, Bleu bolted towards Ziduur, as if drawn to the Manual in his hands. Cerberus followed behind him.

"Wait, don't just rush in, it won't go well if we fight separated," Randolf hastily stopped Camallia, who wanted to jump ahead as well.

"Bleu, come back right now! Bleu!"

Karin's voice did not reach Bleu, and he began to fight the harpies in midair.

All his pent up feelings were unleashed at once. And at the same time, he had confidence in being the one who always broke through the enemy lines. With that amount of enemies, he believed he could strike the commander at once and end the battle with that. There was no reason to eliminate them all. Once he retrieved the Manual, he could just disperse the rest of the enemies. The shorter the battle, the less likely it would be for Karin and the others to get hurt. And by defeating all the monsters himself, he could prove his power to them. Maybe then the girls would stay behind without a fuss, Bleu thought.

However, his reckless advance did not go as he expected.

Superior to him in speed and number, the harpies put up a tough fight against him. Wanting to rush to Ziduur straight away, he had become isolated from his allies.

Randolf and Camallia shielded the others, facing the incoming lizardmen head on.

"Bleu, I'll burn down these enemies, get out of the way!"

Krin began chanting a Blaze spell, but Karin stopped her. If she cast the flames in a wide area, Bleu would certainly get caught in them.

"Krin, give up and target a single enemy," Karin ordered, while shooting down an enemy away from Bleu with perfect accuracy. Their lack of coordination was apparent. Karin bit down her anger at Bleu's stupid actions.

"I won't show mercy to any who interfere. Join the hateful corpses that sleep under this earth."

Ziduur took out a piece of a crimson jewel, and held it tightly within his left hand, as if squeezing it. Beams of light came through between his fingers.

"That light!" Camallia shouted, alerting everyone.

Ziduur punched the ground. Thin sparks of crimson lightning ran at once over the surface.

"What did he do?"

Karna watched in awe as the ground in front of her began to stir, and something jumped out from within.

"Eep!" She let out a strangled scream as she came face to face with a skeleton.

"Get down!"

Hearing that shout from behind her, Karna got down while covering her head with both arms. The end of a flail flew past her, sending the skeleton's skull flying like a football. As she pulled the weapon back, Camallia smashed its upper body as well.

In the brief moment where Karna breathed a sigh of relief, more skeletons jumped from below, one after the other. Those skeletal warriors, carrying all kinds of different weapons, were the warped forms of monsters once defeated in that land, and the travelers they once killed.

"Are we surrounded?"

Watching the growing swarm of skeletons and lizardmen around them, Randolf swung his Battle Axe once again. If the monsters attacked all at once, they certainly wouldn't manage to defend against all of them.

Karna shouted for everyone to get closer together.

"O benevolent ones who watch upon all, please hear our prayers. Gather the righteous light within our hearts, and make it into a shield of holy brilliance!!"

By her incantation, the faint shine of the supporting spell Boost enveloped the whole group from within. The monsters with no flesh nor blood were driven away by that light.

Not wasting the opportunity, Randolf and Camallia attacked. The mages covered the openings between them, Tyrin freezing the enemies to stand as shields, and Krin erecting walls of fire with her Blaze spells. They were doing their best to defend themselves, but the situation still wasn't good as they were outnumbered.

On one swing, Camallia's flail became entangled in another flail wielded by a skeleton. The resulting forces made both of them lose their grips on their weapons. Without delay, the skeleton took a short sword from the back of its shield, and charged at the now empty-handed girl. Another short sword was thrown at the skeleton as it did that. By reflex, the skeleton knocked it down with its shield. Camallia jumped at the fallen sword, grabbing it and swinging it at the skeleton's leg to cut it down. The monster fell down as it lost its balance, and Camallia stepped on its bony body from over its shield, using all of her strength to crush it.

"Thank you, Sir Randolf."

Picking up her flail, she stood back to back with Randolf, who had moved backwards. She extended a hand in his direction, trying to return his short sword that had saved her from her predicament.

"I don't mind. Keep it. Without a spare weapon, something like this might happen to you again."

Answering that, he swung his blade at another monster.

At that time, Bleu was also surrounded by even more enemies than before.

Sacred Dragons had tough bodies and powerful attacks, but were in no way invincible. Their thick hide was hard to penetrate with a blade, yet at some point he had been wounded, and it bled. While he had finished off many of the harpies, he had also hurt his wings. The injury was not severe, but it made him unable to fight the remaining harpies in the air. Having fallen to the ground, Bleu faced a concentrated assault from the group of enemies.

Sustaining minor injuries all over his body, Bleu had made a pile of corpses out of his enemies. Yet he was clearly exhausted. Taking a fierce blow to his chest, he began to cough violently.

In this terrible moment, a lizardman brandished his Large Axe. In Bleu's current condition, he couldn't dodge or spew out his lightning breath.

The monsters became agitated.

Steeling himself for the fatal blow, Bleu saw a silver blur pass through the corner of his vision. Fresh blue blood spilled by. With a deep gash on his torso, the lizardman turned around only to be cut again like a paper doll by sharp claws, this time on the chest.

"Zylo!?" Bleu exclaimed in surprise, seeing the werewolf that had showed up behind the fallen lizardman.

"It's been a long time, Bleu."

Zylo's eyes had the glint of a wild beast hidden within, and he narrowed them in recognition for an instant.

Taking that as an opening, the harpies attacked from the sky.

"Watch out!"

Faster than Bleu's cry, Zylo jumped to the air. He spun next to harpy like a gear, hitting it with a somersault, and knocking it down hard to the ground. The blood from the harpy's torn neck ran in lines across her dead body.

"Before worrying for others, worry about yourself. Honestly, what a pathetic fight you put up. Have you forgotten your past experience? I'll show you how it is to fight as a group. Watch and learn."

Zylo howled.

The lizardmen and harpies flinched at the incoming chants of beast hunters. From its direction came the rushing sound of rain. A merciless rain of arrows…

Once the synchronized barrage of arrows ended, Zylo had also disappeared. Too fast for Bleu's eyes to keep up, he ran between the disoriented enemies, cutting them down as he passed them by. One by one they fell to the ground.

Having broken through the enemies surrounding them, Zylo reached Karin's group.

"It's Zylo, the king of Bustoke."

Krin calmed down the others, who were on guard, unsure if he was a new enemy.

"We'll regroup with Bleu. Follow me without delay," Zylo ordered, and turned away from them without waiting for an answer. He spoke as if certain that they'd obey. Not forceful. Just showing unwavering confidence.

"Diane!!" He shouted. In answer, a squad of archers appeared from the forest shadows, led by an elf girl. Their bowstrings rang as they once again released their arrows in unison.

Diane's archers concentrated their assault on the skeletons. The ropes tied in their arrows perfectly wrapped around their enemies. The skeletons hit by them fell down and tumbled through the ground. It seemed as if they knew what enemies they'd be facing, which made Krin impressed, but also a bit suspicious.

"Let's go!"

Zylo dashed away, heading towards Bleu, who had recovered some energy and continued to fight on his own. The others ran behind him as fast as they could.

"Karna, Camallia, heal Bleu, quickly!"

As Zylo and Randolf took the surrounding enemies down, Karin immediately asked the priests to tend to Bleu. While the archers of Bustoke kept lending them support, Camallia healed everyone who had been injured with Aura, the high level healing spell.

"Thank you, Camallia. You too, Karin…" Bleu thanked the girls.

"There's no time to waste," Zylo urged Bleu. "Let's retrieve the Manual at once with this."

Led by the wolf king, the group split apart the confused enemies. Separated from each other, they had no time to recover, and were shot down by Diane's squad.

"Now. Sir Bleu, the Manual!" Tyrin shouted.

Spreading his healed wings, Bleu flew over the skeletons. The monsters were knocked down by the wings and the gust of wind.

Ziduur held up the ruby in his hand. His body was enveloped in red light.

"Like I'll let you teleport!"

The monster had jumped away, but Bleu sliced him with his claws.

Ziduur's arm was torn and sent flying, tracing an arc in midair, weighted down by the ebony box it carried.

Bleu had his attention drawn to the Manual for a moment. Ziduur didn't miss that, casting a Blaze spell in that time. Bleu crossed his arms in front of him as the flames burst in front of him.

"Bleu!!"

Karin and Camallia left the few remaining monsters to Zylo, and ran to the dragon.

He looked down bitterly at the space Ziduur had teleported away from. It shimmered like hot air, proving that a devil stood there just a moment before.

He picked up the box with the Manual, and Camallia saw that both his arms were bleeding.

"Are you wounded?" she asked, walking to him.

"It's no big deal. Just scratches."

"Even a small injury cannot be left alone."

While he insisted that he was fine, Camallia softly kissed his wounds.

Bleu suddenly felt eyes on him, and tried to pull away from her.

"Please stay still."

Camallia's warm lips moved over his skin as she said the words. Her hot tongue traced over his wound, licking off the blood. Her throat made a glugging noise as she drank it. Her lips continued to move over it, trembling with her incomprehensible chants and sighs.

She let go after a while, and no trace of the wound was left.

"Bleu, the king of Bustoke is calling."

Karin only said that before turning her back and running away.

To next part>

Translation notes:

"Zidur" is apparently a word of a power to summon one of the creatures in the Necronomicon by Simon. I know nothing of that book other than a cursory look so I can't talk much about it, but do you know how hilarious it is to google a Shining Force thing and come up with a pdf full of demon rituals and absolutely no other results? Unparalled experience. Also, the character's name does have a longer "u" sound so I reflected that in my translation as well.

I don't recall Ziduur being explicitly referred to as a man, but his speech manners are pretty rough and he'll eventually be using the rough and masc "ore" pronoun, so unlike Otrant I just made the call to use he/him pronouns for him.

Zylo's species in the original game is given as "wolfling". His base class however is "werewolf", so nothing wrong here.

Up to this point I had been calling the dog "Cerberos" because that's closer to the japanese reading and I didn't think to look it up, but I was recently reminded that the games use "Cerberus" instead. I'd rather stick close to the official translations when it doesn't matter so I've updated past posts and will be using the game romanization from here on.

#shining series #shining force #shining force 2 #shining force novel translation #bloodline of the sacred dragons #sf bleu #there we go. the annoying arrogant protag has learned a valuable lesson about the real super power of teamwork!#now things can finally progress smoothly into a great team dynamic!#...#dont. don't look at the page count. don't- it's fine. it'll be fine #sf karin #if this was a game she should be the leader and not bleu just saying #or it could be a protag choice with a few route differences #*person who has only played two tactical rpgs in their life* hmm. getting a lot of fantasy maiden wars vibes from this #also there's clearly a love triangle rearing its ugly head here but i chose to see it as funny like. girl she's drinking his blood #repressed village girl who clearly doesn't have enough going on in her life watching camallia be a badass freak: God I Wish That Was Me #sfbotsd camallia #NORMAL WOMAN. ABSOLUTELY INCONSPICUOUS WOMAN. GODDAMN #and i refuse to complain she's so cool!! woman's wrongs the novel #sf2 karna twiggy #the boost chant is also so cool and i knew it from the nnd summary i used to watch so i've waited more than a year to show you pals #i wish she did more but i'm not unhappy with her role in battles here generally #sf2 randolf dongo #sf2 tyrin piper #sf krin #sf krin's cerberus #so uh. does anyone else feels the writer is constantly struggling to remember the dog's still here? i legit did not realize the first time #she hadn't been mentioned since the lab. i legit thought she had been left in manarina #a shame because a hellhound on the team is prime shining content and i wish it was better used. i wanna play with this beauty #goddamn this is a lot of characters but i do wanna ramble

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prael · 13 days ago

Text

Positions

Le Sserafim Kazuha x male reader

words: 5.6k Masterlist

Distrust is a funny thing because it should be fairly easy to hide, yet everyone always knows when you're looking at them with it.

He's giving you that look. It's written all over his face. In big, black, bold letters. And yet he hasn't said anything. Betrayal has left him more like a scolded puppy than a vengeful husband.

He doesn't even watch her get out of the car and approach your studio, just looks on at you like it's all your fault, and he's not the one to blame. No one is blameless here - that's for certain. Then he suffers the humiliation for all three of you, though. You don't feel much shame - and she obviously doesn't feel any. So he has to take the brunt of it. That's his penance to bear, and it's why he scowls so hard.

She doesn't even glance his way. Her focus is solely on you. There is something so wrong with that. It's sick - how you can feel like you've broken a man without ever even meeting him.

"Morning, Zuha," you speak as you bow and let her inside your studio. She is a sight, as she is in her usual garb: tight, stretchy pants, and a top which clings to her body, showing off her figure. Today's ensemble is light blue, top and bottom. It complements her skin tone and the deep, dark wave of hair, which, for once, isn't up in a ponytail. It flows over her shoulders, past them, to mid-back, and you wonder why she bothers tying it back if it looks so beautiful when loose.

She's wearing a wide smile, in complete contrast to the man she leaves outside. There is nothing to suggest that this is a day where she does anything other than go about her regular routine of exercise and self-care, but there are a lot of lies here. Her lies. His too.

She's quiet as she walks past. You close the door, shutting out her external ties to the real world, and turning to her. Eyes - warm and inviting - scan your appearance, taking in your casual clothing. It isn't like her to not say anything when she comes in, and it isn't like you to just let her stand in the middle of the studio without a word of instruction. Today, though, today isn't about the usual.

"Kazuha," you begin to say, which she immediately interrupts.

"I've been practising," she informs you, her tone more excited than you have heard it in a while, which, in itself, isn't a surprise to you.

"Maybe you'd like to show me how you're getting on," you reply, but you don't even need to finish speaking to have her nod in agreement and begin to take her position. She faces the mirror at the far side of the studio. You stand behind her. You watch her, and she watches herself. She likes to look at her own body as she stretches it to its limits.

You would be the first to say it's an impressive sight to witness.

She lifts both hands, then bends over and places the flats of both palms on the ground. She's doubled over, her ass in the air. Her legs are stretched taut, straight and firm, and she holds the position.

"I have to ask," you say, taking a step closer to her. "Is this going to be a lesson or a performance?"

She looks up at you from between her legs, head upside down, "Just watch."

She crawls her hands forward and slides her feet outwards. Her legs get wider and her ass begins to sink towards the ground - it's pulled so taut. Round and firm, even though you know it's a soft cushion from personal experience. You watch her legs spread full as she completes the splits. She leans forward and places her chest flat on the ground. Her back is as tense as her thighs and legs, but there's much less fabric there to hide the definition. You watch the way she arches her spine and her shoulders flex to pull herself off the ground, pushing herself back upwards, hands flat to the floor, her legs straight and stretched as far as possible.

She looks over her shoulder at you, and she has the most beautiful of smiles. It's a wide grin complemented by the slight blush on her cheeks and the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. It's a look she has given you many a time - a look you know well. A look that has been etched into your memory for many months. The unforgettable kind.

She knows exactly what you're looking at and she lets out the breathiest of laughs before she speaks, "How's my form?" And she knows it's good. You know she's not asking for your professional opinion on how she's getting along with the splits, she wants you to tell her that her ass looks amazing, which you do.

"It's perfect."

"I can go further, remember, just lift my legs up into the air," she reminds you.

"Yeah, I remember." She had been a natural from the start. Her legs had no trouble with the stretches. They had no issue being forced apart and being suspended at all. "I think we should work on that now, actually."

"And why's that?" she asks with a coy look as she brings her outstretched legs around in front of her and then pushes herself back to her feet.

"Well," you say, as you walk over to her. You take her hand, and then you lead her towards the mirrored wall with the bar for support. "You want the honest answer or the professional one?"

She laughs again. It's a delightful sound, her laugh. It makes your chest tight. "Both."

"Well, professionally," you begin, releasing her hand so she can hold the rail and look at herself in the mirror. You stand behind her, with your hands on her waist and speak into her ear. "Professionally, it's a challenge to your body's strength, balance, and mobility." Your hand travels along the smooth curve of her hip.

"Is that so?" she says with a hint of amusement, as her breathing grows more laboured.

"Mhm," you reply, as your fingers caress down the back of her thigh. You hold her leg in your palm, fingers settling on her inner thigh, ready to guide her into position.

"And the other thing?" She asks, breathless.

"The honest thing?" You ask, but she doesn't reply. "The honest thing is, I like seeing your body pushed to the limit."

"Oh," is all she says, in some pseudo-agreeing and nonchalant tone before she starts to raise her leg. She holds the rail, and you guide her leg up, past the horizontal and all the way to the vertical. It's straight and high, and her standing leg is stable, even with her bare feet. "Like this?"

"Yes. Like that. How's your balance?"

"It's fine. I've got a strong core, you know that."

"All too well," you say as you slip your hand along her inner thigh. No longer supporting, you encroach on the thin barrier between you and the apex of her thighs. Your fingers press against her. The material is tight and thin. You can feel her warmth, even through the layers of fabric.

"You know my husband is right outside." Her tone isn't accusatory, not at all. If anything, she sounds excited. Thrilled even. Her words seem to encourage you, and your hand presses firmer into her crotch, the fabric rubbing against her.

"I know," you say as you look at the reflection, meeting her eyes by peering through the space between her head and her foot. You look at her and see the way she is watching your every move. You glance at the way her leg is up in the air. She's so stable, even as you rub her cunt. Your fingers press in, feeling for the folds beneath her pants, and then you slip a little lower and press your fingertip against her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she exhales with a low groan. You smirk at her reaction.

"Hold the pose," you tell her as your finger rubs in small circles. "Don't move."

She's biting her lip and her chest rises with each deep breath, as if trying to keep herself stable and standing. Her leg trembles, just slightly, and you can't help but laugh as you feel the muscles tense under your touch.

"Stay still," you whisper to her.

"You're making that difficult," she says with a short huff of a laugh.

"You want me to stop?"

"No." It comes out quick and firm.

You smirk, and you keep on rubbing her pussy through the thin, tight material of her pants. You press your hand in harder, as you look her body over. She looks divine. Her body is so tight, with her legs and thighs being pushed to their absolute limits. You watch the muscles of her neck flex and the tension in her shoulders as she holds herself stable, her head up to look in the mirror. She watches you, and watches her leg up in the air, as she tries to focus on anything other than the heat which floods between her thighs.

Her mouth opens slightly, her eyes close and her brow creases, but the moment her breath sounds more like a moan, she clamps her mouth closed and lets out a deep breath through her nose. It makes you smile. Her cheeks are glowing red. Her breath is heavy, and she's trying to be so quiet.

"How long do we have? How long will he wait out there?" you ask as you lean in closer. Her body shudders at the proximity. Your breath hits the exposed skin on her neck, making her tremble.

"As long as I need him to."

"Do you think you'll be able to hold the position while I make you cum?"

Her eyes open again, and she looks at your reflection. She's smiling. She nods, just slightly.

"You think you'll be able to stay balanced while you have my fingers in you?"

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and her breath leaves her in a short, sharp gasp. You know how to get to her. Her smile grows.

"I'd love to rip these open, but I can't send you home in ruined clothes," you whisper. It makes her giggle, a soft and amused noise. You pull her leg back down, and she stands there, hand on the railing, with a slight bend in her hips and a slight arch in her back. It pushes her ass out, and she does it with a purpose. She knows what she's doing. She knows exactly how she looks. "Never get tired of that ass," you comment as you grab it. A quick, firm squeeze. It's so pliable in your hand. She laughs.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her blue yoga pants, pulling them down slowly. You expose the expanse of her back, the curve of her spine, the dimples just above her cheeks. And then, finally, her ass is bare. There's nothing underneath her pants but toned curves and soft flesh. Your eyes drink in the sight. It's not new to you, but it's always exciting.

She steps out of her pants, and as you toss the clothing aside, you watch her. The muscles of her thighs and legs are tense and tight, and her skin is so smooth. You run a hand up her calf, past the back of her knee, along her inner thigh. She burns under your touch. Your eyes wander over her. You can see her arousal; the shine on the lips of her cunt, the slight pink hue to her flesh. Your fingers brush over her. The wet sound is unmistakable. She moans at the sensation and the noise.

You stand, and she raises her leg again without being asked or instructed. She's watching you, her eyes on yours as her leg rises higher and higher. Your eyes wander down, along her leg, down to the place you can't help but be fixated on. It's a beautiful sight. Your hand comes down to caress her cunt, and you feel her lips and the wetness which seeps from between her thighs.

Your eyes rise to meet hers in the reflection, and she's smiling as you press two fingers inside of her.

"Fuck," she exhales in a short, breathy word. You can feel her pussy squeeze your fingers.

"You're soaked," you say as you watch her in the mirror.

"Been thinking about you all morning," she confesses as her head falls backwards and her hand grips the bar. Her fingers flex and tighten. Her body trembles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"He ever got you this wet?" You can't help yourself. It slips from your mouth in a low, almost growl of a tone. You press your fingers in and pull them back out. You repeat it a few times, fucking your fingers in and out of her wet hole. She's so hot, her body trembling and tense.

"No," is all she says, her voice soft, her eyes opening again. She's watching you. "Not anymore," she adds with the slightest shake of her head. Her eyes close, and her lips open. Her mouth forms a perfect circle as you fuck your fingers in and out of her.

"He doesn't make you cum, does he, Zuha?" Your voice is a low rumble as you speak to her, watching her face contort and twist in the reflection. You look down, at the sight of her pussy wrapped around your two digits, the wet lips spread open as you fingerfuck her. She looks divine. Her legs are trembling, and she's so tense. You have to push in firmer to keep her stable.

"Only when he leaves me alone," she replies, breathlessly laughing.

"Only when he leaves you to think of me," you say with a grin as you curl your fingers inside her. Her hips buck, her body sways, and she lets out the softest whine. You press your thumb to her clit as your fingers rub inside of her. You feel her squeeze around them. She has to grab her leg, she can't keep it there on her own.

"Oh, god," she whines.

"Careful. Don't lose it now." She nods, her lip between her teeth, as her eyes screw shut. "You're nearly there," you say, in a soft tone as she writhes in front of you.

"So close," she whispers, hot and panting. Trembling and tense. You can feel it all; the way she tightens and flexes, her muscles clenching. It's a struggle for her to stay standing. She can't balance, even though her hand grips her leg and the other the railing, hard enough to make her knuckles turn white.

Her eyes fall closed. Her mouth hangs open slightly. Kazuha holds her breath.

She's cumming all over your fingers - a muted cry, muffled whines and whimpers, the tightening of her pussy and the spasming of her muscles, the tremor in her body and the gush of fluids which seeps from her. She's making a mess, though, from the waist up, you wouldn't know it. She's so elegant, even now, as she's being fingered in the dance studio with her husband outside. The only thing that betrays her calm appearance is her face, contorted and twisted with pleasure. She has her lip bitten, her brow creased and her jaw tense.

Finally, she relaxes, standing on two feet again as you pull your hand away and take a step back. She leans forward, forehead pressing against the cool, soothing glass. There's that same slight bend at the hips, that same arch in her back and the protrusion of her ass. Only this time, her cum seeps down her inner thigh.

You step against her again, your hands settling on her waist. She looks up at your reflection, smiling that satisfied, lazy grin.

"How's my balance? My composure?" she asks, amusement dancing in her tone.

"You're flawless."

"As are you," she compliments as you press a kiss to the back of her shoulder. "But..."

"But?" you repeat, lightly planting your hand against her butt, which she finds hilarious, as she laughs and shakes her head at you.

"But time's running out. It's only a one-hour session."

"Can't keep him waiting?" you tease. You already know that she doesn't care how long she leaves him waiting outside, but it is funny to watch her try to act like she does. She shrugs and gives a little non-committal sound. "We can still take our time, enjoy it." You kiss her neck. "There's still so much I want to see from you."

"What do you want to see?"

"You're a dancer. And dancing is all about the hips. You can move those things so beautifully."

She smirks and looks away, down at her own body, at her lower abdomen and the place where your hands are caressing her. She nods her head slowly as she bites her lip. "You wanna watch my ass shake, don't you?" She asks, still biting that bottom lip. She laughs as she watches you nod. She's right. So you nod, and she tells you: "Get on the floor then."

You don't even need a moment to process what she said to you. You get down, knees hitting the wooden boards. You sit back on your legs, and look up at her - she's standing in front of the mirrored wall. She looks over her shoulder. "Enjoying the view?" She asks, a teasing hint in her voice as she looks down at you. You look up, nodding and smirking.

"Immeasurably," you reply. You watch as her hips move, the muscles of her thighs flex, and the soft flesh of her backside shakes. She's hypnotic, her body swaying and her hips moving in slow circles. You reach up to grab her, hands on the back of her thighs as you watch the way she moves. She laughs at the way your fingers sink into the flesh. She's so warm under your palms.

"You can lie down if you'd like," she says as you watch the slow, rhythmic motion. "I'll put on a show." Your hands drop away, and you lower your back onto the floor. You watch as she looks at herself in the mirror and rolls her body. Each time, she sinks a little lower, bends at the knees, and her thighs flex. Her body rolls and she laughs, and you lie there and watch her move. Her hips shake, and her ass jiggles. "You won't need those pants."

It's a thinly-veiled instruction, and she knows it, but she still says it in the form of a statement, as if it isn't a command for you to undress. You pull them down and off, and then you toss the garment aside. As you do it, she steps over you. A barefoot on either side of your hips. She looks down, over her shoulder, and you barely see her smile. "I was wondering where that was," she says. Her tone is so casual, it's like you aren't naked on the floor in a studio, and her husband isn't waiting for her in the car park.

Kazuha lowers herself into a split, one foot on either side of you. Her legs are stretched out wide and her ass is right over your cock. You get to see her muscles flex, and you watch as she moves herself up and down, grinding herself against you. Your cock slips between her pussy lips and you feel her arousal soaking your length.

"I can feel you getting harder. You're enjoying the view, huh?" she asks as she leans forward. She puts a hand on the floor between your legs. You watch her, the arch of her back and the way her legs are spread wide. She grinds her cunt over the shaft of your cock and she lets out the softest, low moans.

"Never seen a body quite like yours, Zuha," you say as your hands run up her thighs and to her ass.

"That's why I'm doing these classes - keeping in shape, keeping myself limber," she replies as she pushes herself back up and then slides back down, her cunt grinding over your dick. You groan and watch as your cock throbs against her. She reaches under, to grab your cock, guiding it to her opening. "I like the look of you, too. You look good down there, like you belong beneath me."

Your hands are on her cheeks, thumbs rubbing her soft skin. She sinks, her cunt swallowing the first inch of your dick. It's a warm, slick sensation as she takes the tip inside. She's so tight. She stops. You're barely inside her, and she starts to bounce those hips. She's just taking the tip, in and out, shaking her ass over your cock. Flesh ripples as the tight heat squeezes around your tip. Your hands squeeze, your fingers sink in, and your thumbs pull her cheeks apart.

Her hips shake, and she takes you in a little further. It's just two or three inches, nothing more, but she rides that part of your cock like she wants nothing else. You watch as your tip disappears between her lips and reappears again as she rides your dick in slow, steady motions.

"God, I can't wait for you to fill me," she says in a breathy tone. You look up at her reflection in the mirror, watching the way her chest heaves with each deep breath and the slight flush to her face.

"Why wait?" you ask, and you watch as her head rolls back. She's grinning, and she laughs as she sinks herself down your full length. Her ass presses against your pelvis. Her body stills with your cock throbbing inside her.

"Oh, that feels so good," she groans, throwing her head further back. Her back arches more, and in the mirror, you can see the way she stretches her tight abs. That tight top rides up. It still caresses her little tits, but her belly is on show. You can even see her ribs when she's fully stretched.

She's running her hands up her body, fingers splaying on her stomach, and then she cups her chest. You watch in the reflection, seeing the way her body is contorted, and her cunt squeezes around you.

"You're stunning," you say, breathless and panting.

"You're so big," she replies as she runs her palms over her covered tits. Her thumbs trace over the top of the material. The tight fabric clings to her chest, but you want to see her without it.

She starts to ride. Her ass bounces over your hips, and you feel her pussy tighten with each movement. You can only admire the strength it must take to ride you in full splits, with her body contorted and her muscles stretched taut. But she does it, her body rolling in a smooth motion and her thighs tensing with each rise and fall of her ass.

Your hands are on her butt. Fingers sinking in, you guide her to a slower pace, and she moans as your dick slides inside her. She's watching in the mirror, seeing the way she takes all of you in. You watch it, too.

And then she does the most insane thing. She reaches back, leaning over you, and you take her hands to support her. As she arches further and further, stretching her core and her thighs - everything - you see it. Your cock bulges under her skin. The outline of your cock in her stomach as her skin pulls tight. She moans as she leans, arching her body and contorting it in the most insane of ways, and your eyes fix on her abdomen. You watch it as you start to thrust your cock inside her.

"Can you see that?" She asks. You nod, and she laughs as her eyes close and her head rolls. "That's so hot," she says, as her fingers flex in yours. She's squeezing tight. She's panting. She's stuck suspended over you, her body contorted in ways that would make most women - and men - very jealous.

You hold her like that and begin to thrust up into her. You feel her clench around you and you watch the outline of your dick in her stomach. Your eyes wander over her chest and the slight jiggle of her breasts beneath her top, and her legs outstretched. She's so flexible, and you take advantage of that. Your hands support hers as you fuck up into her.

"Oh god," she pants, her body writhing and twisting in your grasp. "I'm not going to last long," she warns you.

"I can feel that." It isn't hard to see that she's enjoying herself, but the physical reaction is just as apparent. You feel her tighten and squeeze, and you know it's only a matter of time.

You move a little faster, buck a little harder, and she can't stifle the strained moans anymore. She cries out, head back, moaning like a woman possessed, but she holds the pose and you hold her, as you feel her body shake and her cunt clench. She cums - cums hard. She gushes and her body quakes in your grasp, but she never falters, even though she is whining and whimpering in pleasure.

"Good, Zuha, so fucking good," you whisper to her, still moving your hips. She's panting and her eyes flutter as she tries to catch a breath and stay in the same position. "Look at yourself, taking all of my cock, even like that."

You keep bulging her stomach, the shape of your dick pushing outwards. You can feel yourself throbbing inside her, and you're close, so close, and you can feel the heat and pleasure pooling between your hips. You have to stop, or else you'll finish too. Her legs can't hold the split anymore, coming to a close on either side of your own body. You lower her gently against your chest. Her back to your front, your dick still throbbing inside her cunt.

She's panting and laughing and shaking. "You didn't finish." It's a question and a statement.

"No."

"I want you to."

"Not like this." You wrap your arms around her slender frame. Just lying there with her atop your chest feels wonderful, and with the added sensation of your dick inside her, it feels incredible.

"Tell me how," she says. Her head is resting on your shoulder, and she looks up at the ceiling. Her breathing is heavy, and her chest is still rising and falling rapidly.

"Against the wall. With your ankles over my shoulders." Her lips curl into a wide, amused smile.

"I think you just like my flexibility more than you like me," she jokes.

"Nah," you reply, as your hand runs up her body and to the tight material over her chest. You feel her nipples under the material, and as your fingertips run over the peaks of them, she shudders. Her cunt clenches in reaction to your touch and you let out a short laugh. "I like everything about you."

"Yeah?" she breathes the word out as you run your fingers over her hard nipple. You roll the peak under the material, pinching it between two fingers as she squirms against you.

"I'd list it all, but that would be quite the task, and your husband's waiting," you tell her. Your hand is sliding over the material of her top. You're feeling her tits under the fabric. You cup the small handful, and she's so soft in your palms. Your fingers squeeze her chest, feeling her warm flesh beneath your touch, even if the fabric is still covering her. You roll her nipple again and you feel her arch her back and her ass push down on your lap.

You pull up her top, enough to see the underside of her breasts, the slight curve of the lower part of each mound. It exposes her enough for you to slip your hand beneath the material and feel her naked breast in the palm of your hand. Her body trembles as your fingers rub over the stiff peak of her nipple.

"Come on," you whisper, and you slip out of her, and she pushes herself off you.

A few moments later, she's got her back to the wall. You're standing between her open legs and kissing her. Your tongues dance in each other's mouths, and she's pulling you in by your neck. Her hands are in your hair and your hands are on her body - her thighs, her ass.

"Gonna fuck me now?" She asks with her eyes closed and her head back against the mirrored wall.

"Gonna make a mess outta you, Zuha."

She laughs and looks down, watching as you lift her legs up, carrying her with the help of the wall and your arms under her knees. She's holding on to your neck. Her legs spread open. "Do your best," she says, before pulling you into a kiss. She has her fingers in your hair, and her thighs against your chest as you thrust into her. She lets out the softest gasp against your mouth.

It's the perfect angle, the perfect position. You can't get enough. You start to fuck into her in hard and fast thrusts of your cock, filling her tight cunt, and you can feel the pressure of her body against yours as her cunt clenches around you. She moans against your mouth. Her thighs shake.

You've got her pinned against the wall, pressed to the cool, smooth mirror, her thighs held in the crook of your arms, her calves dangling over your shoulders as you fuck her. You pull your mouth from hers and you watch the way her body moves, you push up her shirt to watch her cute little tits move with each hard, rough thrust. She looks up at you and smiles that lazy smile. She looks blissful, and content. Her eyes close, and her mouth opens. You watch as she lets out soft, breathy noises with each motion.

She has one hand on the mirror and one in your hair, her nails are scraping at the back of your scalp as you fuck her. Her thighs are tight, pressed against your chest and tensing. Her toes are curled. And her body, her slender, taut body, is moving in a smooth rhythm against the mirror.

It's mesmerising. She's folded in half, suspended in the air with the wall behind her and your body holding her up. You're pounding her into it, and she's letting out such filthy, sweet noises. At this point, she's a toy. A vessel to fuck. She looks beautiful. Her hair is loose and hanging down over her face. The colour is in her cheeks, the pink of arousal, and she's biting her lip.

She doesn't need any help, you know that. You're giving her what she wants. The way her cunt tightens around you tells you as much, and the sounds which fall from her lips are all the encouragement you need. "Harder," she tells you. You give her harder. She cries out in pleasure, head back, and eyes screwed closed. "Harder!" she repeats. So, again, you give her harder.

It's rough, but she can take it. Her body can take the pounding. Her pussy can take the fucking. She's cumming again, with her fingers clawing at the mirror and at your hair, with her legs tensed and her toes curled. You don't stop fucking her through the spasming and squeezing of her body. She writhes, her mouth open and moans tumbling forth from her throat, her eyes closing, and her cunt tightening.

"Please cum," she whimpers, as she trembles. You can see the tears of ecstasy in her eyes, and you know you've fucked her well and properly, but there's only one thing missing. "Fill me."

And you do, you slam your hips forward, burying yourself as far in as possible and you cum deep in her cunt, spurting inside of her, filling her. She's panting, smiling that wide grin. "Yes," is all she says, in a breathless moan, as your body shivers against hers and your seed spurts deep in her pussy. She's clenching her thighs, tensing them and squeezing her cunt around your cock.

You keep cumming until you can't anymore until the pleasure fades to oversensitivity. Her hands are stroking your neck, your chest. She's panting and her eyes are closed, and you just stay there, with your forehead resting against hers. You breathe in the scent of sweat, of her, and the smell of sex in the air. It's an incredible aroma, all of it. And she's an incredible woman.

"I have to get in that car, full of your cum," she laughs, as she kisses your mouth, her hands cupping your face.

"That's so dirty. So wrong." You laugh as you speak, and you feel her smile.

"So dirty, and so good."

You slowly let her legs down. She holds you for support. Kazuha slips her top back over her chest and you pull out of her, letting your dick slip from her warm, wet pussy. Her thighs tremble, and she has to steady herself.

"I should clean up, I might leak your cum on his leather seats," she laughs loudly. She's so full of life and joy, it's wonderful. "And that's a bit too much, even for me."

"One day he's going to walk in here, you know that?"

She nods. Her smile doesn't falter. "Probably. And when he does, he can see what I look like when I'm not faking it."

#Kazuha smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #le sserafim kazuha smut #Kazuha #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #m reader #male reader

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acidblum · 4 months ago

Text

babysitter!vi (g!p) loves peeping at you like a perv. MDNI +18. voyeurism.

the perfect escapism for her troubled mind was you, the sway of your hips as you walked around your house comfortably, the way you carried yourself, the print of your lipstick against the rim of the cups that she volunteers to wash, secretly planting her own lips against them without your knowledge. your motherhood, your perfume, hair, nails. it made her extremely hyper aware, sent her in a trance that's filled with nothing but you, you, and endlessly you.

you've often voiced your concern of her taking the train this late at night, this able bodied woman whom looked like she could fend for herself well enough. and then it came, what she's been waiting for since she started the job. you told her she can sleep in the guest room after she tucks the kids in their beds.

and here she is, nestled in the comfiest bed she's ever seen, and it all smells like you, the air, the bed, and the clothes you oh so willingly gave her—you said it was a friend’s and the jealousy took over her. her dick already hardening against the fabric of the trousers from the smell taking all over her senses.

slow steps trudge along the hallway that leads to your room, and lucky for her, the door of your room is left the tiniest bit open. something yelled at her to turn around, sleep it off. the heaviness of her balls was soo hard to miss and her hand slithered its way into where she ached for you most.

lust fueled her at the sight of you, getting irritably hard at your sleeping gown that rode up your waist, black lace underwear snug against your body. stroking herself she shudders, leaning her head against the wall whilst keeping an eye on you, moon illuminating the side of your neck. she revels in the thought of licking it for you, marking it for you and ravishing it all, the soft movement of her hand as she pulls and pushes at her dick. heat taking over her body, forefinger swiping against her slit.

soft whines she cannot help but release, your name glides against her tongue in tiny murmurs. a soft gasp leaving her as your body starts moving and you turn on your back, chest rising and falling softly. and oh does her mind short circuit at the vision of your body, bra-less and hardening nipples against the sleeping gown had her teeth clamping her lips hard nearly drawing blood.

her breathing halters as she picks up the speed, hips borderline fucking her own palm “u-ugh ahh fucking b-beautiful”. she heaves as she comes hard, flashes of her sucking on your perky nipples filling her brain. never loosening her hold as hot spurts of cum land against the pants that's now painted with her load. heaving she rests her cheek against the wall, catching her breath before taking her hand out, licking it clean without an ounce of shame before walking back into the guest room.

the next morning she wakes up early with a pep in her step, fiery hair all over the place and a smile blasted on her mouth as you offer her a cup of orange juice dressed in your work attire, and when you ask her if she slept good she cannot but nod eagerly.

#☆-acidblum #→ arcane blurbs ☆.#arcane #vi #violet arcane #vi arcane #arcane smut #arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #violet x reader #violet x you #violet x y/n #vi smut

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housepartyprotocol · 4 months ago

Text

Existing Love

Max Verstappen x Uni Student! Reader

Summary: a sneak peak into the life of Max and his private girlfriend

Masterlist / TipJar

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, yourbff and 3,952 others

ynusername It's getting colder, workload is getting heavier

view all 79 comments

yourbff I hate looking at photos of what you do

ynusername its beautiful no yourbff no

user is this max's girlfriend? i saw he liked

user thats the public idea, they are quite private user she is pretty

maxverstappen

liked by redbullracing, landonorris, ynusername, and 651,876 others

maxverstappen One more race before winter break, lets keep pushing!

view all 10,008 comments

user 4 time world champion right here!

user god he is delectable

user he is taken i swear user if not posted officially doesn't count user thats fucking stupid

landonorris Looking forward to seeing you soon, you know where

user what on earth is going on maxverstappen don't you dare embarrass me landonorris i would never do such a thing

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, yourbff, and 2,643 others

ynusername When your friends are the only things keeping you going...

view all 12 comments

yourbff okay, now i'm feeling worried about your mental state

ynusername Thriving! Dying! Same thing! yourbff u need an intervention

user shes who i wanna be when i grow up

maxverstappen

liked by landonorris, redbullracing, ynusername, and 520,263 others

maxverstappen and with that, the 2024 season comes to an end.

view all 240 comments

user Dutch Lion!

user sometimes i forget how not old he is, and then he says something like this

user i bet this was written by like a young social media manager user or his gf, shes younger than him user he has a gf? since when? user why is she never in the paddock tho, that's sus...

landonorris 4 seasons in a row of championships. I say no more

maxverstappen Agressive, shame you werent on track landonorris wow danielricciardo woww redbullracing wowww user damn! max has got some SASS landonorris you will be regretting that.... you'll see maxverstappen Lando....

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, yourbff, and 3,140 others

ynusername Approach to the Christmas holidays may not be synonymous with parties, but for a uni student, everything is synonymous with parties

view all 19 comments

yourbff feral

ynusername wowwwwwww ynusername true maxverstappen true

landonorris I maybe shouldv'e gone to uni

ynusername all you would like is the parties, and they don't happen to often with us landonorris i would find other people

user okay i came across this account, why is lando norris here?

user and max verstappen?!? user thats Max's gf, we all think

maxverstappen

liked by landonorris, ynusername, danielricciardo and 473,838 others

maxverstappen Lando may be cut out for the partying lifestyle of a uni student, but I cannot handle another party for a year.

view all 275 comments

user lando looks hot as shit

user okay that girl must be his gf, she used the same picture in her posts

user you guys are getting insanely stalker-y user is it really stalker behaviour if they are both public Instagram user yes

user why is Max posting thirst traps of Lando. Not complaining

landonorris I mean i think i feel my liver die but YOLO

mclaren do we need to talk about your alcohol consumption maxverstappen Ha, get outed! landonorris No I was just getting an immersive week experience into the life of a uni student user he got sooo wasted

user damn i wished max posted thirst traps of himself like that

ynusername

liked by yourbff, maxverstappen, landonorris, and 4,002 others

ynusername driving flying home away for Christmas!

view all 21 comments

yourbff I am still so jealous you are in Monaco for Christmas

yourbff I am jealous you are in Monaco again full stop, this time without me ynusername I can't believe it myself yourbff also stop posting him, its sappppy ynusername girl its the first time i've posted him! yourbff stop it im feeling singleeee

user she has gone to see MAX it's so obvious

user or she is having fun on holiday with no other reasons user god leave some people be

user Monaco looks insane

maxverstappen

liked by ynusername, redbullracing, landonorris, and 620,632 others

maxverstappen it really is a wonderful time of the year

view all 352 comments

user max in a relationship confirmation?!

user does it matter

landonorris can't believe you got her to join you for Christmas, how?

maxverstappen becuase she loves me... landonorris bs. how much you pay her? maxverstappen nothing landonorris fine. Ill ask

user max being a white wine drinker, would not have guessed

user he is a sophisticated man

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, yourbff and 2,952 others

ynusername Ending the holiday on a high point

view all 17 comments

maxverstappen <3

ynusername <33 user OMH

yourbff come back I miss you

yourbff ... i need your notes ynusername I'm coming home soon yourbff YAy, bring ya man ynusername maybeeee

maxverstappen

liked by ynusername, landonorris, and redbullracing, and 835,235 others

maxverstappen 2 years ago a beautiful woman got tripped up by an idiot (me) on the sidewalk of the streets of Monaco, and since then has had my heart wrapped around her finger. YN, my love, to many more years

view all 872 comments

user CONFIRMATION

ynusername <33

user this is her?? user we were right! user the fact that you were right with an assumption, doesn't justify a year of stalkerish behaviour maxverstappen I love you x landonorris gagggggggg maxverstappen grow up

#social media au #social au #f1 #max verstappen #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstaooen smau #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #formula 1 smau #f1 smau

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kissracing · 5 months ago

Text

THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND, lando norris.

summary. a man named lando norris can’t stop fawning over his girlfriend, yn ln &&. people are SICK of it!

featuring. lando norris x fem!poc!reader (faceclaim, jennie k).

warning the following fic has. . . swearing, reader being equally in love, people being mean (as a joke).

lando.jpg • instagram

liked by iamrebeccad, user, and others

lando.jpg photo dump but its mainly my girlfriend 😍😍😻😻🫶🏻🫶🏻👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

♥︎ 577k 💬 62.9k ➢

view comments. . .

user MAINLY?? BRO THE ENTIRE POST IS HER 😭

user THEY GOT BUILD-A-BEARS AND MARRIED THEM??? FAWKK

user shes so beautiful what the hell

⤷ lando.jpg EXACTLYYY

user YALL NEED A MAID?? A CHEF?? ANYTHING??

user yall are disgusting ❤️ (in a good way)

user now how the hell did he bag this baddie

user CON😭GRA😭TU😭LATIONSSS😭

iamrebeccad Who is that gorgeous girl 😍🫶🏻!

⤷ lando.jpg my girlfriend 🙂‍↕️ 🙂‍↕️!

⤷ yourusername rebeccaaa 🥹🫶🏼🤍

user no one loves y/n more than lando

user something about him only posting 2 photos of him is killing me

user that pizza look good omg

random users • twitter

yourusername • instagram

liked by maxfewtrell, user and others

yourusername my November edition with ＠wkorea is out now! ♡

♥︎ 912k 💬 97.1k ➢

view comments. . .

user FIRST LMAOO

⤷ landonorris 🔥🔥 FUCKK ＠yourusername DELETE THIS COMMSNT. THIS IS EMBARRASSING 🔥🔥

landonorris FIRST 💯💯💯

landonorris HUBBA HUBBA 😍😍😍

landonorris can i PLEASE take you out 🙏🏻

⤷ yourusername Sorry! I have a boyfriend

⤷ landonorris FUCK HIM 😒😒

⤷ yourusername i do every night 😼!

⤷ user Y/N WE SAW THAT???

landonorris ZOO WEE MAMA 😻😻😻😮‍💨😮‍💨

user someone please put THAT ANIMAL (lando) on a leash.

user I CAN BARK IF YOU WANT!!

user the motorcycle photo?? whew 😮‍💨

user please universe if you rock with me, give me same love lando gives y/n ✊🏽✊🏽

maxfewtrell i’m pretty sure he cried over these photos

⤷ user oh that’s—

⤷ landonorris THAT IS A LIE

⤷ landonorris okay no it isn’t ☹️

landonnorris • instagram

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and others

landonorris brief padel session 😵‍💫

♥︎ 663k 💬 45.0k ➢

view comments. . .

yourusername WHO LET YOU OUT THE HOUSE LIKE THIS??

yourusername WHORE 🫵🏼

⤷ landonorris only for you 😻😻

yourusername gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

⤷ user at first i didn’t get this relationship but after this, i see why yall are dating

user PEOPLE DIED LANDO

user WHEW 😮‍💨

user LANDO ONE CHANCE PLEASE 🧎

user i need to lick the sweat off of you wow

user yn you lucky lucky girl…

⤷ landonorris erm actually! i’m a lucky lucky man 🤓😻🔥

yourusername didn’t realize i was running a damn BROTHEL. 😾

yourusername come home the kids miss you

⤷ landonorris KIDS???

⤷ yourusername THE ONES WE’RE GONNA MAKE WHEN YOU GET BACK.

⤷ carlossainz55 He just tripped over his shoes and then hit his head on the wall. You guys are gross

⤷ user have yall no shame??

yourusername i love you boyfriend 🧡

⤷ landonorris I LOVE YOU MORE GIRLFRIEND!! 🤞🏼👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

amera speaks. first fic woohoo!! *tiktok happy emoji*. i hope you all enjoy <3. i hope it’s not to long. not much to add. bye bye!

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x poc reader #poc reader #formula 1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #ln4 x reader #amera.writes

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midnite-c6 · 4 months ago

Note

Omg so I just LOVED the fics that you wrote about thanos and namgyu soo I wanted to ask can you like write more fics about them in like threesome degrading tf out of us so much that we cannot even think of anything or maybe like a second part for timid!reader THAT ONE WAS AMAZING!!!! keep up w your work btw its really good 😭🙏🏻

help thank you😭😭 honestly i love writing abt them i jus.. meow...

thanos & nam-gyu imagine pt. 4!! 🤤

warnings: 18+ DARK content, drugging, dubcon (read at ur own riskk!!)

they both believe you can't fight for yourself since you're so quiet, so they do their best to keep you safe!! they're so kind despite their nature!! you think to urself..., and despite the way they used your body after the six legged race, you still stick with them since they helped you in mingle too!! honestly, thanos and nam-gyu would've thought you'd be getting away from them after that incident, so by you staying, they've confirmed they've got you right in their trap!!

thanos looks up from his food, his eyes lighting up when he sees you "señorita?" he tilts his head, "i don't have any other group to eat with.." you say, looking down at your feet, "nooo! i know what it is!" he nudges nam-gyu's shoulder, "you're here for more aren't you?" he says with that smirk again, dramatically gasping. "what..no.." you weren't like that, you swear! nam-gyu laughed "shit, she's just using our bodies, man!" you quickly shake your head "no!" nam-gyu tilts his head "when did you learn to say no?" thanos stands up, getting closer to you, "listen here, beautiful, we'll do whatever you want, sure.. you're the one in-charge." he smiled 'innocently', leaning in to whisper in your ear "c'mere after lights out, kay?"

nsfw below.. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

"you really are a fucking whore." thanos quietly whispers into your ear as he slams in and out of you, your back pressed against his chest, your moans being muffled by his hand, it was a good thing thanos' bed was closer to the ground and that the players above him were already dead, but you know the other players could still hear the faint squeaking of his mattress. "of course you'd listen like a slut, coming here, infact, you were excited for this. hmm?" why DID you go there anyway? ..maybe it did feel good? but poor you! his thrusts weren't giving you any mercy at all.

"i bet.. you don't have any shame at all. you're quietness is just an act.." nam-gyu whispered aswell, with his body infront of you, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, painfully pinching your nipples and biting your neck as you rub your hand in and out of his cock. "you're practically begging for it." "n-n.." you couldn't speak back because of that purple-haired addict's hand!

"wait.. fuuuck, you're sucking me in like crazy, you're gonna cut my dick off, god." thanos whined, putting in two fingers inside your mouth, the taste of his fingers all over your tongue.

"y'knoww.. so fucking funny how she's volunteered to be our personal ..stress toy." nam-gyu's hand find it's way to thanos' necklace filled with ecstacy, he grabs a pill, his attention back on you "we truly thank you for that.. are you proud of your services, freak?" he says mockingly just to spite you, his other hand grabs thanos' hand muffling your mouth. "let go, dude." "she's gonna scream," "nah, nah, she won't. she doesn't wanna die does she?" you whined, shaking your head. "good, slut." nam-gyu smiled, taking the pill he had in his hand and putting it in his mouth. thanos' takes off his hand, his middle and ring finger covered in your saliva as he now places it on your clit, rubbing sloppily. and before you could make any noise, nam-gyu slams his mouth against yours, making you swallow the pill of ecstacy. his tongue tasting your mouth, swallowing each moan escaping your lips. nam-gyu pulls away from your mouth, forcing it to open just to spit inside.

with all the pleasure they were giving despite the mean words, you camee:( your legs were shaking like crazy! "hey! no fair, bitch! i didn't get to cum yet." thanos was frustrated, yet you whimpered in response, you didn't mean to cum!!. "but.. just means we'll be here for muuuuch longer, baby. ya' can't complain, you know you're a whore who can't live without us." thanos didn't lie, your cunt was throbbing and overstimulated by both of their cocks in and out of you. he also didn't lie about how you wouldn't be alive without them, it's true, they saved you anyway, guess you gotta thank them for keeping you safe. ♡

this is pretty long, im srry guyss!! only putting in what my mind is thinking of atm AHHAAH 3somes are so hard to write 😭😭😿🙏🏻

#squid game #squid game x reader #player 124 #squid game 2 #nam-gyu #squid game smut #nam gyu #squid game season 2 #namgyu #nam gyu x reader #thanos smut #thanos #thanos x reader #player 230 #choi su bong

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kathaelipwse · 2 months ago

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The barista who stole his heart | K. Mingyu

TROPE: Idol x Non-Fan | Barista AU | Mingyu Falls First | Found Family | Heavy Insecurity to Full Acceptance | Protective Love WARNINGS: Mentions of past toxic relationships | body shaming | Public scrutiny | | mild social media hate | Lots of fluffy affection | soft romance | Mingyu being the ultimate green flag™ | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE WORDCOUNT: 5051 words {Reading time: 18mins} SYNOPSIS: You never expected a regular customer at your café to be a famous idol—especially not one as kind and ridiculously handsome as Kim Mingyu. What started as casual interactions turned into lingering glances, playful flirting, and a slow, inevitable fall. But when your past insecurities resurface and public attention turns critical, Mingyu makes one thing clear: he’s not going anywhere. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one-shot is for anyone who’s ever doubted their worth because of society’s beauty standards. You are enough. You are beautiful. And if Mingyu were for us girlies, he would absolutely worship you. Enjoy this soft love story!

The café, a cozy haven nestled amidst the urban sprawl near the broadcasting station, hummed with a quiet, almost reverent energy. Its walls, painted in warm, inviting hues of cream and ochre, absorbed the city's relentless clamor, replacing it with the gentle whir of the espresso machine and the comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. You, a silent guardian of this tranquil space, moved with a practiced grace, your movements fluid and efficient as you prepared orders. The late shift was your sanctuary, a time when the world outside faded into a distant murmur, allowing you to immerse yourself in the simple rhythm of your work.

The evening was drawing to a close, the last few stragglers trickling out into the cool night air, when the bell above the door chimed, announcing a late arrival. A figure stepped into the café, impossibly tall, his silhouette framed against the streetlights outside. He moved with a quiet weariness, his shoulders slumped, his steps measured. Yet, despite his exhaustion, there was an undeniable magnetism to his presence, a quiet intensity that filled the space.

As he approached the counter, you looked up, your gaze meeting his. His eyes, dark and deep, held a hint of fatigue, yet they sparkled with an inner warmth that caught you off guard. His face, sculpted with sharp angles and softened by a gentle curve to his lips, was undeniably handsome, a fact you acknowledged with a professional detachment.

"Americano, please," he requested, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent a subtle shiver down your spine. It was a voice that held a quiet authority, yet it was laced with a gentle politeness that was almost disarming. The way he looked at you, a quiet searching look, made you pause just a moment longer.

You nodded, maintaining your professional demeanor, your gaze unwavering. "Name?"

"Mingyu."

The name was simple, ordinary, yet it lingered in the air, a quiet echo in the stillness of the café. You scribbled it on the cup, your mind already moving to the next task, the familiar routine of grinding beans and steaming milk. A moment later, you placed the cup before him, the name scrawled on the side in your hurried handwriting: Minkoo.

He stared at the cup, a flicker of surprise, almost disbelief, crossing his features. He blinked, then looked back at you, a subtle question in his eyes. "It’s Mingyu."

"Mingyo?" you repeated, your brow furrowed slightly, as you tried to match the spoken word to the written one.

His jaw dropped, ever so slightly, a subtle disbelief etching on his usually composed face. He looked around the empty cafe, then back to you. “…She really doesn’t know me?” The thought was almost spoken aloud, a quiet, incredulous murmur that hung in the air.

For the first time in a long time, Kim Mingyu, the idol known for his charisma and widespread recognition, was caught completely off guard. He was accustomed to the whispers, the gasps, the immediate recognition that followed him like a shadow. He was used to the way people’s eyes widened when they saw him, the way their voices rose in excitement. But here, in this quiet café, under the soft glow of the overhead lights, he was just another customer, another name to be misspelled, another face in the crowd.

The lack of recognition was a strange, almost liberating experience. It was a novel sensation, a breath of fresh air in the midst of his carefully constructed public persona. He watched as you moved about the café, your movements unhurried, your focus unwavering, and he found himself intrigued. There was a quiet confidence in your demeanor, a self-assuredness that was both captivating and disarming.

He took his coffee, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, a silent question hanging in the air. As he turned to leave, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter, this simple misspelling, was the beginning of something unexpected, something that would disrupt the carefully orchestrated rhythm of his life.

The "Minkoo" incident, as Mingyu privately dubbed it, became a peculiar sort of lodestar, drawing him back to the café night after night. It wasn't just the coffee, though it was undeniably good; it was the quiet, almost surreal normalcy of the place, and most importantly, you. He found himself inexplicably drawn to your unpretentious demeanor, your calm efficiency, and the way you seemed utterly unfazed by his presence.

He started timing his visits, subtly adjusting his schedule to coincide with your shifts. He’d arrive just as the evening rush was dying down, the café bathed in the warm, golden glow of the setting sun. He'd sit at the counter, a quiet observer, watching you work your magic behind the espresso machine. He’d study the way your brow furrowed in concentration as you measured out coffee grounds, the gentle curve of your lips as you smiled at a customer, the soft sway of your hips as you moved around the small space.

His members, ever vigilant, noticed the pattern. "Look who it is, Mr. Americano," Seungkwan would tease, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Back for more of that… Minkoo special?"

"What? Their coffee is good!" Mingyu would protest, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He'd try to sound casual, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his growing infatuation.

"So is every other café, but you don’t go to those, do you?" Hoshi would chime in, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You only go when she’s working."

Mingyu would ignore them, his gaze drifting towards the counter, where you were engaged in a lively conversation with a customer. He was captivated by your laughter, a warm, melodic sound that filled the café. He was fascinated by the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, the way your hand gestures punctuated your words, the way you seemed so effortlessly you.

He started trying to engage you in conversation, asking about the daily specials, commenting on the weather, even attempting a few clumsy jokes. He’d try to flirt, subtly, with lingering eye contact, playful touches on the counter as he paid, and compliments slipped into casual conversation. "You have really nice eyes," he'd say, his voice low and sincere.

You, however, remained blissfully unaware of his growing infatuation, attributing his attention to his naturally friendly demeanor. You’d laugh at his jokes, offer him a friendly smile, and engage in polite conversation, but you never seemed to see him as anything more than a regular customer.

The moment it truly hit him, the moment he realized he was falling, was a simple, unassuming exchange. He’d made a joke about his clumsiness, a self-deprecating remark about his tendency to trip over his own feet, a habit that often became a source of amusement for his members. "I swear, I’m a hazard to myself," he’d said, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

Without hesitation, you’d said, "Well, I think it’s kinda endearing."

The words were simple, but their impact was profound. For the first time, someone hadn’t teased him, hadn’t made light of his insecurities. They’d found it endearing, a quality to be cherished, a quirk that made him unique. The sincerity in your voice, the gentle warmth in your eyes, it was like a balm to his soul.

And in that moment, his heart wasn’t just beating; it was sprinting, a frantic rhythm that echoed in his ears. He felt a strange mix of exhilaration and vulnerability, a raw, unfiltered emotion that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wanted to know more about you, to unravel the mystery of your quiet confidence, to understand the depth of your kindness.

He wanted to erase the distance between idol and regular customer, to bridge the gap and see if there was something more, something real, something that could withstand the scrutiny of his public life. He wanted to be seen by you, not as Kim Mingyu the idol, but as just Mingyu, the man who found your simple kindness utterly captivating.

The café, usually a haven of quietude, was buzzing with an unusual energy that evening. A small group of young women, their faces flushed with excitement, had gathered near the counter, their eyes darting between you and a certain tall, handsome customer. You paid them little mind, focusing on the intricate latte art you were creating, the delicate swirls and patterns a testament to your practiced skill.

The illusion of anonymity, the comfortable bubble of normalcy that had enveloped Mingyu during his visits, shattered when one of the young women, her voice trembling with excitement, recognized him. Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she whispered to her friends, "Oh my god, you’re Kim Mingyu!"

The name hung in the air, a sudden, sharp intrusion into the quiet atmosphere of the café. The other women gasped, their eyes widening, their whispers escalating into excited murmurs. You paused, your hand still hovering over the latte, your brow furrowed slightly. You looked up, your gaze shifting from the excited fans to Mingyu, who stood near the counter, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"Wait… you’re Kim Mingyu? Like, the Mingyu?" you asked, your voice laced with a playful skepticism. You'd seen the name before, heard the excited chatter from some customers, but you'd never put two and two together. It was just another name to you.

Mingyu braced himself for the inevitable wave of excitement, the squeals, the requests for autographs, the sudden shift in your demeanor. He was accustomed to the instantaneous recognition, the way people’s eyes lit up when they realized who he was. He watched you, a silent observer, wondering how you would react.

Instead of the expected fanfare, you just smirked, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you assessed him. "Damn, if I knew you were famous, I would’ve charged you more."

The unexpected response caught him off guard. A breathy laugh escaped his lips, a mix of relief and amusement. He watched as you returned to your latte art, your movements unhurried, your focus unwavering. There was no starstruck awe, no fawning admiration, just a playful jab and a return to your work.

The fans, initially taken aback by your nonchalant reaction, erupted in a flurry of questions and requests for autographs. Mingyu, however, found himself drawn to your quiet composure, your lack of pretense. You treated him like any other customer, a regular who happened to be famous, and he found it strangely refreshing.

He lingered at the counter, watching as you interacted with the fans, your smile genuine, your demeanor polite but firm. You politely declined requests for photos, explaining that you were working, but you offered to sign a napkin for them.

As the fans finally departed, their excited chatter fading into the night, Mingyu turned to you, a curious smile playing on his lips. "You’re not… impressed?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You shrugged, your eyes focused on cleaning the espresso machine. "Impressed by what? You’re a customer. A regular customer, in fact. And one who gets his name spelled wrong, apparently." You gestured to a stray coffee cup, a faded "Minkoo" still visible on the rim.

Mingyu chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Right. Minkoo."

The air between them shifted, a subtle change in the dynamic. The anonymity was gone, the illusion shattered, but something new had taken its place. There was a spark of curiosity, a flicker of intrigue, a sense that this unexpected revelation was just the beginning of something more. He was no longer just a customer, and you were no longer just a barista. They were two people, their worlds colliding in the quiet intimacy of a late-night café, and the possibilities were endless.

As the days turned into weeks, a comfortable familiarity settled between you and Mingyu. The initial awkwardness of his revelation faded, replaced by a quiet intimacy that thrived in the late-night hours of the café. He’d linger after his orders, engaging in conversations that stretched into the quiet hours of closing, sharing stories and laughter that filled the empty space.

Yet, despite the growing closeness, Mingyu couldn’t ignore the subtle but persistent habit that lingered beneath your easygoing demeanor: the way you deflected every compliment, every word of praise, as if they were poisoned darts. It was a subtle flinch, a momentary tightening of your shoulders, a forced laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"You look beautiful tonight," he’d say, his voice soft, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of your cheek, the way the soft light of the café illuminated your features.

"Pfft, yeah right," you’d reply, a dismissive wave of your hand, a self-deprecating chuckle that betrayed a deep-seated insecurity. "Don’t lie to me."

He watched you, his brow furrowed, a growing concern etching his features. He saw the way your smile faltered when he complimented your eyes, the way your gaze dropped when he praised your laugh. It was a subtle language, a silent conversation of self-doubt that whispered beneath the surface of your confident exterior.

One night, as he helped you close the café, the quiet intimacy of the empty space emboldening him, he decided to confront the unspoken pain that lingered between them. The last customer had left, the chairs were stacked, the counters wiped clean, and the only sound was the gentle hum of the refrigerator.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, his voice low and serious, his gaze unwavering.

You froze, your hands stilling on the cloth you were using to wipe down the counter. "Do what?"

"Act like I’m lying when I say you’re beautiful."

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the countertop. The silence stretched, a tense, fragile quiet that amplified the unspoken pain.

Finally, you sighed, a soft, resigned sound that spoke of years of ingrained self-doubt. "Because I don’t fit the standard, Mingyu. I never have. My exes made sure I knew that."

The words were barely a whisper, a fragile echo of past hurts, but their impact was profound. Mingyu’s heart clenched, a wave of protectiveness surging through him. He saw the vulnerability in your eyes, the raw honesty that trembled in your voice, and he wanted to erase the pain, to heal the wounds that had festered for so long.

His grip tightened on the counter, his knuckles white. "What did they say?"

"That I was too heavy. That I wasn’t what guys wanted. That I didn’t belong." Your voice was barely audible, a fragile confession that spoke of years of emotional scars. "They said I was too much, or not enough. That nobody would love me like this."

Mingyu’s expression darkened, a fierce protectiveness surging within him. If he could go back in time, he’d shake those men until they realized the magnitude of their foolishness, the precious gem they’d discarded. He’d make them see the beauty they’d overlooked, the strength they’d underestimated, the love they’d rejected.

Instead, he made a silent promise, a vow etched in his heart. He would rewrite your narrative, replacing the lies with truths, the pain with love. He would show you the beauty he saw, the strength he admired, the love he felt. He would make sure you never felt that way again.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, reverent. "They were wrong," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "They were blind. You are beautiful, inside and out. You are strong, you are kind, you are worthy of love. And I… I see you. I see all of you, and I love every part of you."

His words hung in the air, a silent promise of unwavering support, a vow to heal the wounds that had been inflicted by others. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, that the years of ingrained self-doubt wouldn’t vanish overnight. But he was determined to be your anchor, your safe haven, your unwavering champion. He would show you, day by day, moment by moment, the truth of your worth.

From that night forward, Mingyu embarked on a quiet mission, a personal crusade to rewrite the narrative of your self-perception. He became your most ardent admirer, your fiercest champion, a constant source of unwavering affirmation. He showered you with compliments, not empty platitudes, but genuine expressions of the beauty he saw, both inside and out. He wanted to re-educate your heart.

He’d trace the gentle curves of your stomach, his touch light and reverent, whispering, "I love how soft your stomach is. It’s warm and inviting, perfect for cuddling." He’d kiss the soft skin of your inner thighs, his lips lingering, his voice husky as he murmured, "Your thighs drive me crazy, you know that? They’re strong and beautiful, and I could lose myself in them."

He’d hold you close, his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "God, I could hold you all day and never get tired. You feel like home, like the safest place in the world."

And he did hold you, often. He’d lift you effortlessly, his strong arms cradling you, spinning you around just to hear your laughter, a melody that filled his soul with warmth. He’d pull you into his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands tracing the lines of your body, his touch a constant affirmation of your beauty.

"Mingyu! Put me down! I’m heavy!" you’d protest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks, a hint of lingering insecurity in your voice.

He’d just smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief, his grip tightening. "No, you’re perfect. Every curve, every inch, every part of you is perfect."

He worshipped every inch of you, finding beauty in the places others had found flaws. He’d kiss the small scar on your knee, tracing its delicate line with his fingertip, whispering, "This tells a story, a story of strength and resilience. It’s beautiful."

His favorite things:

Kissing your neck, shoulders, and collarbone when you’re tired, his lips leaving a trail of warmth, a gentle reassurance that you were safe and cherished. He'd whisper soft praises against your skin, telling you how hard you worked, how beautiful you were when relaxed.

Back hugs while you cleaned, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, murmuring soft praises into your ear, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering insecurities. He’d tell you how much he admired your work ethic, your dedication, your quiet strength.

Tracing his fingers over your stomach folds, his touch light and reverent, grinning as he whispers, "So soft, I love this," his adoration palpable. He’d kiss the soft skin, his lips lingering, his touch a silent declaration of his love.

Resting his head on your thighs, looking up at you with pure adoration, his eyes filled with a love that transcended words. He’d tell you how much he admired your strength, your intelligence, your kindness.

Holding your hand while you walk, his grip strong and reassuring, a silent promise of unwavering support. He’d intertwine his fingers with yours, his touch a constant reminder that you were never alone.

Pulling you into his lap when you're sad, whispering sweet nothings until your tears cease. He'd hold you close, his arms wrapped around you, his touch a comforting presence.

Kissing the inside of your wrists, and the soft skin under your ears, his worshiping kisses a silent prayer of adoration. He’d linger over the delicate pulse points, his touch a reverent exploration of your skin.

Falling asleep with you in his arms, his hold tight but gentle, as if he's afraid you'll slip away. He'd hold you close, his breath warm against your hair, his presence a comforting weight.

Running his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and soothing, a silent lullaby that eased the tension from your shoulders.

Making you laugh until your sides hurt, his playful teasing a constant source of joy, a reminder that life was meant to be enjoyed.

Gaze at you while you work, his eyes filled with a soft adoration, a silent appreciation for your dedication and skill.

When he pulls you close, and kisses you deeply, a kiss that tells you how much he loves you, a passionate declaration of his unwavering devotion. He will sometimes pull back, and just stare at your lips, like he is memorizing every curve.

He wanted to rewrite the narrative of your self-perception, to replace the lies with truths, the pain with love. He wanted to show you the beauty he saw, the strength he admired, the love he felt. He wanted to create a safe haven within his arms, a place where you could finally believe in your own worth.

As your relationship with Mingyu deepened, the inevitable public scrutiny began to surface. Whispers turned into rumors, rumors into articles, and articles into a full-blown media frenzy. The internet, a double-edged sword, became a battleground of opinions, some supportive, many cruel.

When dating rumors surfaced, accompanied by candid photos of you and Mingyu sharing a quiet moment in the café, not all fans were kind. Some comments were venomous, laced with jealousy and prejudice, questioning why an idol, a figure of perfection in their eyes, would choose someone like you. They scrutinized your appearance, your background, your very existence, dissecting you with cruel precision.

The harsh words echoed the insecurities you’d carried for so long, a cruel reminder of past hurts. They whispered doubts you’d tried to bury, amplified the voices that had told you you weren’t enough. The online vitriol began to seep into your daily life, a constant barrage of negativity that threatened to erode the fragile confidence Mingyu had worked so hard to build.

Mingyu, however, didn’t stand for it. He was a force of nature, a shield against the storm of negativity. His response was swift, unwavering, a public declaration of love that sent shockwaves through the internet:

"If you can’t support the person I love, then you don’t support me either."

The statement was bold, a clear line drawn in the sand. He chose you, unequivocally, without hesitation. He chose love over the fickle adoration of those who couldn’t see beyond their own narrow perceptions. He made it clear, your happiness, and safety, were his priority.

Behind closed doors, in the quiet sanctuary of his apartment, he held you tighter than ever, his embrace a silent promise of protection. He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soothing, his presence a comforting weight against the storm raging outside.

"Don’t listen to them, baby. They don’t know you," he’d whisper, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "They don’t see what I see. They don’t see your kindness, your strength, your beauty. They don’t see the way you light up a room, the way you make me laugh, the way you make me feel like I’m home."

"You belong here, with me," he’d murmur, his lips pressed against your hair, his breath warm against your skin. "You belong in my arms, in my life, in my heart."

He’d hold you close, his arms wrapped around you, his touch a constant reassurance that you weren’t alone. He’d kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, his touch reverent, his lips a silent prayer.

He’d spend hours talking to you, reminding you of your worth, of your strength, of your beauty. He’d recount the moments that made him fall in love with you, the small gestures, the quiet kindnesses, the unwavering strength that shone through your vulnerability. He’d remind you of the way you laughed, of the way you smiled, of the way you made him feel like he was the only person in the world.

He’d cook for you, even though he was terrible at it, just to see the smile on your face. He’d play your favorite music, holding you close as you danced in the living room. He’d watch your favorite movies, even the cheesy ones, just to cuddle with you on the couch.

And slowly, little by little, the walls you’d built around your heart began to crumble. The doubts, the insecurities, the ingrained beliefs that you weren’t enough—they began to fade, replaced by the unwavering certainty of Mingyu’s love. He was your anchor, your safe haven, your unwavering champion, and he wouldn’t let anyone, not even the cruelest of online trolls, take that away from you. He made sure you knew, his love was a shield, and he would always protect you.

As the storm of public scrutiny subsided, a quiet peace settled between you and Mingyu. The initial intensity of his protective fervor mellowed into a gentle, unwavering love that permeated every aspect of your lives. You began to see yourself through his eyes, to embrace the beauty he saw, to believe in the worth he so tirelessly affirmed.

One day, Mingyu called you beautiful, his voice soft and sincere, his eyes filled with a quiet adoration. And for the first time, you didn’t deflect, didn’t dismiss, didn’t shrink away from the compliment. You simply smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that lit up your entire face, a smile that reflected the newfound confidence blooming within you.

And in that moment, he knew—this was love. Real, unwavering, unshakable love. A love that transcended superficialities, a love that embraced every imperfection, every vulnerability. A love that was built on a foundation of acceptance, respect, and unwavering support.

Their relationship blossomed, a quiet intimacy that thrived in the small, everyday moments. Late-night conversations over steaming mugs of coffee, stolen kisses in the quiet corners of the café, hand-holding during long walks through the city streets, shared laughter during mundane tasks. They found comfort in each other’s presence, a sanctuary in each other’s arms.

Mingyu loved to trace the lines of your body, his touch a gentle exploration, his lips whispering praises against your skin. He loved the way your laughter filled the room, a melodic sound that chased away the shadows of past insecurities. He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you were happy, a reflection of the joy he’d helped to cultivate. He loved the way your hand fit perfectly in his, a silent affirmation of their connection.

He’d bring you flowers, not just roses, but wildflowers, sunflowers, and other unusual blooms, each one handpicked and chosen because it reminded him of you. He’d leave small notes around the apartment, tucked into books, slipped into pockets, reminding you of your beauty, your strength, your worth. He’d cook for you, even though he was terrible at it, the burnt edges and lopsided dishes a testament to his love.

You, in turn, learned to appreciate his quirks, his clumsiness, his infectious laughter. You learned to see the quiet strength beneath his playful exterior, the unwavering loyalty that anchored his heart. You learned to trust his love, to believe in his words, to embrace the woman he saw within you.

Their love story was a quiet revolution, a testament to the power of acceptance, the beauty of vulnerability, and the unwavering strength of a love that defied all odds. It was a love that found comfort in imperfections, strength in vulnerability, and a forever in the quiet moments shared between two souls destined to find each other.

It was late, the café bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights outside. The last customer had long since departed, leaving behind a quiet stillness that hung in the air. Mingyu sat on the counter, his eyes fixed on you as you wiped down the espresso machine, his gaze filled with a quiet adoration that spoke of a love that had deepened and matured over time.

Then, without thinking, without hesitation, you turned around and said it. "I love you."

The words were simple, yet their impact was seismic, a ripple that spread through the quiet space, altering the very fabric of their world. Mingyu froze, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes widening with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy.

Then, his knees buckled, a sharp exhale leaving his lips as he gripped the counter, his knuckles white, his gaze fixed on you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion, a plea that trembled in the stillness.

You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes filled with a love that mirrored his own. "Mingyu—"

His hands found your waist, gripping like he needed to ground himself, his touch both tender and desperate. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, his body trembling with an emotion too profound for words. "Say it again, please."

So you did, your voice soft but unwavering. "I love you."

Mingyu laughed—a breathless, disbelieving sound that echoed through the empty café. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, his lips curved into a smile that radiated pure, unadulterated joy.

"God, you just—" He shook his head, unable to articulate the depth of his emotion, before crashing his lips to yours, a desperate, passionate kiss that spoke of a love long held in check, a love that had finally found its voice.

When he pulled away, he cupped your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks, his eyes filled with a love that transcended words. "I love you more. So much more. So much, it actually hurts."

He showered you with kisses, his lips tracing a path across your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw, his touch reverent, worshipful. He kissed your eyelids, your nose, the soft skin beneath your ears, his touch a silent prayer of adoration.

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you, his body a warm, comforting presence. "I’m never letting you go," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re mine, forever."

And in that moment, in the quiet intimacy of the empty café, surrounded by the scent of coffee and the warmth of their love, they knew—their forever had begun.

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misswynters · 6 months ago

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𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎

jinx x fem!bombshell!reader

synopsis: You are a model for (victorias secret equivalent but in arcane universe) and jinx becomes infatuated with you. Known for you bombshell persona and explosive personality, you are the most well known model in all of piltover and zaun. Possibility even watching noxus and the other regions.

warnings: 18+, smut, kissing, smut, wlw , the use of a toy, jinx calls you sugar,

a/n: my first jinx fic <3, also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

note | pls give me feedback (and don't only just like but also reblog and comment) this was supposed to be short but it went overboard

𓏲 ˖. ♡ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 for Piltover. Too clean, too polished, too boring. The people were all fake smiles and ridiculous hats, and she preferred the chaos of Zaun to its glittering streets. That all changed the day she first saw you. She’d been in Piltover on a whim, loitering in the shadows as she planned her next prank. Explosives in a fancy clock tower, maybe? She hadn’t decided yet. But her chaotic thoughts screeched to a halt when she looked up at the enormous neon screen in Piltover Square and saw your beautiful face.

You were walking down the runway in a show so glamorous it put Piltover’s polished spires to shame. Wrapped in a shimmering, barely-there gown that hugged your curves, you strode with an air of absolute confidence. Your bombshell persona was magnetic, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as the crowd erupted into applause. You gave the camera a cheeky wink and blew a kiss, and Jinx’s brain short-circuited.

“Holy… Who the hell is that?” she muttered, her wide eyes glued to the screen.

A vendor passing by glanced at her. “That’s her. You don’t know? The biggest model in all of Piltover and Zaun. Hell, even Noxus and Ionia are crazy about her.”

Jinx didn’t respond, too transfixed by the image of you flashing across the screen. You were a living firework, a walking explosion of charisma, beauty, and sheer presence. Your bold, flirty persona was a match for her own chaos, and it wasn’t just your looks that had her hooked—it was the energy you carried, the way you owned every moment. From that point on, Jinx was utterly captivated.

Back in her lair, your face became a constant presence. Jinx scavenged every poster, magazine, and billboard she could find that featured you. Her walls were covered in them, glossy images of you smirking, posing, and looking like you owned the world. She couldn’t get enough of you, and it drove her mad in the best way possible.

“Look at her,” she’d whisper to herself, lying on her bed and staring at a magazine cover where you lounged in a shimmering gold corset. “She’s a walking explosion.”

Whenever one of your commercials aired on Piltover’s big screens, Jinx made a point to watch. She’d perch on the rooftops, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you spoke directly to the camera, your voice sultry and teasing. Sometimes, she’d mimic your lines, laughing to herself at how ridiculous she sounded compared to you.

The first time Jinx saw you in person, she nearly short-circuited. You were in Zaun, of all places, stepping out of a sleek transport at one of the fancier underground clubs. It was rare for someone like you to venture into the depths, but you carried yourself with the same confidence that lit up your photoshoots. Heads turned as you walked through the crowd, a knowing smirk on your lips as if you knew exactly the effect you had on everyone around you. Jinx’s pulse quickened. This was her chance.

She darted through the crowd, weaving between gawking onlookers until she was standing at the bar beside you. Up close, you were even more stunning, your beauty almost overwhelming.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in a dump like this,” Jinx drawled, leaning casually against the counter. Her nerves were on fire, but she masked it with her usual cocky grin.

You turned to her, one perfectly arched brow raising as you took her in. Your gaze lingered on her bright blue hair and manic energy, and a small, amused smile played on your lips.

“Maybe I like a little chaos,” you replied, your voice smooth as silk. “And you certainly look like the chaotic type.”

Jinx grinned wider, her confidence surging. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not just chaos—I’m a full-blown explosion.”

The two of you spent the night trading flirty remarks and playful banter, the tension between you crackling like a lit fuse. Jinx couldn’t believe her luck. You weren’t just a pretty face. But you had a fiery, explosive personality to match. You were bold, unapologetic, and just as dangerous as you were beautiful. At one point, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmured, “So… what’s it like knowing the whole damn world’s obsessed with you?”

You laughed, the sound low and sultry. “I don’t mind the attention,” you said, turning your head so your lips were almost touching hers. “But right now, I’m more interested in you.” Jinx’s heart nearly stopped.

Back at her lair, were things escalated rather quickly. Jinx couldn’t keep her hands off you, tracing every curve and line of your body like she was memorizing you. Her fingers lingered on your hips, her lips trailing heated kisses along your neck as she whispered breathless praises. “You’re even better than the posters,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

You teased her with your signature confidence, your voice dripping with flirtation as you pulled her closer. “So you’ve been staring at my posters, huh? What did you think about me?”

Jinx blushed, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she grinned wickedly, her fingers tightening on your waist. “Thought about all the things I’d do if I ever got you alone,” she said, her tone low and rough. “And now, I’m not holding back.”

The tension was electric, charged with the crackling hum of her inventions and the intensity of her gaze on you. She had been teasing you mercilessly all evening, brushing her hands against your skin, dropping flirty remarks that sent heat pooling low in your belly. You could feel the mischief radiating off her as she twirled one of her newest creations in her hand. It was a bright, colorful pleasure device she'd been gushing about for days. Jinx loved experimenting, and tonight, you were her favorite subject.

She grinned at you, her sharp, mischievous grin that made your heart race every time. "Alright, Sugar," she purred, tossing the toy between her hands like it was some casual gadget and not something designed to make you lose your mind. "You trust me, don't ya?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your usual flirty composure. "You mean to tell me that thing isn't gonna explode?"

Jinx cackled, tossing her head back. "Not this time, babe! Well, probably not. But hey, if it does, at least we'll go out with a bang!" She winked, and despite your hesitation, you couldn't help but nervously laugh. "You're impossible," you murmured letting her guide you to the mattress piled high with pillows and blankets.

"And you're irresistible," she shot back, pressing you down onto the bed with a surprising gentleness for someone so wild. Her hands were steady as they traced over your skin, her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you, Sugar," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness and heat. "Promise I'll make it fun."

The first sensation was the gentle hum of the device she'd created, a soft vibration against your folds that made you arch into her touch. It was colorful and whimsical, much like Jinx herself, with blinking lights and playful patterns painted across its surface. Despite its toy-like appearance, the way it worked against your body was anything but innocent.

Her free hand skimmed over your inner thigh, her touch featherlight and maddeningly slow. The wetness pooling between your legs became impossible to ignore, and Jinx took full advantage, sliding the toy up until it pressed directly against your bundle of nerves. A slick, wet sound began filled the room, the vibrations amplifying the noise as your arousal spread. Jinx froze for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Oh, look at you," Jinx teased, her eyes bright as she watched your reaction.

"Didn't take much, huh? Bet I could've just touched you, and you'd be melting for me." You tried to retort, but the words caught in your throat as she pressed the device lower, her mischievous grin widening as your body jerked in response.

"Aw, Sugar, don't hold back," she crooned, tilting her head to the side as if studying you. "I like hearin' you. Makes it more fun for me."

Your head fell back, a moan slipping past your lips as she adjusted the settings, the vibrations intensifying. She laughed softly, her free hand stroking your thigh as if to ground you. You buried your face in your hands, mortified but too overwhelmed by the pleasure to stop her. The toy’s vibrations grew stronger, and the obscene wet noises only intensified as she moved it against you, her laughter turning into a low, appreciative hum. “Damn, you sound so good,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something more serious. “Bet I could make you scream just with this.”

Your hips bucked against the toy, your slick arousal coating it and making the sounds louder and wetter with each movement. The lewd squelching only seemed to spur Jinx on, her grin growing wider as she adjusted the settings, sending sharper bursts of pleasure through your body. “Listen to that, Sugar,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re a fuckin’ symphony for me. All wet and messy, just how I like it.”

The embarrassment of her words was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure, your moans growing louder as the toy worked you closer to the edge. Jinx’s free hand slipped beneath your thigh, lifting your leg to spread you open further.

“Look at you,” she said, her eyes dark with hunger as she watched the toy glisten with your slick. “So damn pretty like this. Could stare at you all day."

Her words made your cheeks flush, though you couldn't focus on embarrassment for long. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation of her toy paired with her teasing kisses and caresses driving you to the edge. And then she pulled it away, grinning wickedly at your gasp of frustration. "Not yet, Sugar," she said, clicking her tongue. "I'm not done playin' with you."

She shifted her attention, leaning down to press her lips against your neck. Her kisses were hot and open-mouthed, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt her grin against your throat when you whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. Her lips found your collarbone, her teeth sinking into the delicate skin to leave another mark.

"Gotta leave my mark," she murmured between kisses, sucking a particularly dark bruise just below your jaw. "Let everyone know you’re mine. My perfect, messy little bombshell.” Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you hesitated, your modeling career flashing through your mind. "Jinx, I..."

She pulled back, her wide, manic eyes locking with yours. "Aw, don't worry about all that fancy-shmancy stuff," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "Bet they'll just airbrush it or whatever. C'mon, Sugar, lemme have my fun."

Your protests melted away as she kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. The way she looked at you, like you were the most precious thing she'd ever seen, made your resolve crumble. "Fine," you murmured, breathless. "Do your worst."

Her grin was feral. "Oh, babe, you asked for it." Jinx worked her way across your body, leaving a trail of marks in her wake on your neck, your collarbone, and the valley between of your chest. Each one was a testament to her possessiveness, her need to claim you in a way that went beyond words. "You're gonna look so pretty tomorrow," she murmured, her hands and lips everywhere at once. "Walkin' around all marked up, like a damn work of art."

You couldn't even bring yourself to care about the consequences anymore. Her touch was overwhelming, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure through you. She alternated between using her toy and her hands, keeping you teetering on the edge but never quite letting you fall. "Beg for it," she whispered, her voice dark and playful as she hovered above you. "C'mon, Sugar, lemme hear it. Tell me how bad you want me to finish you off."

Your pride wavered, but the need coursing through you won out. "Please, Jinx," you gasped, your voice shaking. "I need you. Please."

She chuckled, clearly satisfied with your quick surrender. "That's more like it," she said, finally pressing the toy back against you. The sensation was overwhelming, and this time, she didn't stop, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered, a cry escaping your lips as you came undone beneath her. Jinx didn't stop right away, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, your body spent and your mind hazy.

When she finally set the toy aside, she crawled up beside you, pulling you into her arms with surprising gentleness. "See?" she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told ya it'd be fun."

You tilted your head up to meet her gaze, a small smile playing on your lips despite your exhaustion. "Guess I'm stuck with you then," you teased, your flirty nature peeking through even now.

Jinx grinned, her signature chaos in her expression, but there was something softer there, something that tugged at your heart. "Damn right you are. You're mine, babe. Every last gorgeous inch of you." Her fingers danced across your body, tracing the bruises she'd left, her eyes filled with pride as she admired her handiwork. You shivered under her touch, the sensitivity from her earlier teasing still lingering.

"Look at this," she mused, her tone somewhere between awe and glee. "You're a freakin' masterpiece, Sugar. Better than any of those shiny posters they plaster all over Piltover and Zaun."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound weak but genuine. "You think so?"

"I know so," she said firmly, leaning down to nuzzle her face into your neck. "They see the bombshell, the glitz, and the glam, but I get this. I get the real you, all wrecked and perfect just for me." Her words sent warmth spreading through your chest, the vulnerability beneath her usual bravado making your heart ache. You reached up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Jinx snorted, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. "Too good? Babe, I'm a menace. But I guess l've got a soft spot for you."

"Lucky me," you teased, letting your fingers trail down to the nape of her neck. She leaned into your touch, her grin softening into something sweeter. "Damn right. You're the luckiest gal in all of Piltover, Zaun, maybe even Noxus." Her playful boasting earned another laugh from you, and she kissed you again, slower this time, her earlier fire giving way to something gentler. The kiss lingered, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

When she finally pulled away, she flopped down beside you, pulling you into her arms as if she couldn't bear to let you go. You rested your head on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat as your body relaxed into hers.

"Y'know," Jinx murmured, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, "I used to look at those big, fancy posters of you and think, ‘She's way too good for someone like me!"

You tilted your head up to look at her, surprised by her confession. "Jinx..."

"But then I thought," she continued, her voice growing steadier, "what's life without a little chaos, right? And lucky for me, you're just as explosive as I am." Her words brought a smile to your lips, and you reached up to brush a strand of blue hair from her face. "Guess we make a pretty good match then, huh?"

She grinned, her manic energy shining through even in this quiet moment. "The best, Sugar." As the adrenaline from earlier began to fade, you let yourself sink into the warmth of her embrace, her steady presence grounding you. Despite the chaos that always seemed to follow Jinx, moments like this reminded you why you'd fallen for her in the first place.

banner: @anitalenia

taglist: @blazemaster4014 @st6rship @axoluxy @1nakitofan @redskye11 @cxcilla @evneedshozierrn @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @raspberry-lava @alduinworldeater11 @m00nd0v3 @idk2anym @emmy21842 @ladey @keysmashsstuff @blkmystery

#arcane #arcane masterlist #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #jinx smut #jinx season 2 #arcane characters #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane fluff #model! reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

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do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down.

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!”

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg.

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly.

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases.

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.

Almost.

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed.

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back.

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him.

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice.

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

He hums contemplatively.

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.

“About what?”

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn your first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?”

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?”

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly.

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy.

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum.

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you.

part two

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