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movingmusically · 12 hours ago

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Caught Feeling: A Stroke of Intimacy - One Shot

Author’s Note:

I’ve been seeing some set pictures pop up again, and it’s made me miss Hank, so here’s a piece I’ve had sitting in drafts for a while.

Word Count: 5,304

Masterlist

The attic at my mum’s house smelled like old wood and dust, with just the faintest hint of lavender from the sachets she insisted on hiding in every corner. It had been years since I’d been up here, but it looked almost exactly the same—a time capsule of mismatched furniture, faded holiday decorations, and boxes full of forgotten treasures that Mum had always sworn she’d sort through “one day.” That day had apparently come.

Mum had roped us in to help her with a long-overdue clear-out, claiming she’d finally reached her limit with the clutter. “I don’t even know what half of this stuff is anymore,” she’d said, hands on her hips as she surveyed the mess. “It’s time to let go.” Whether or not that would actually happen remained to be seen, but Hank, of course, had jumped at the chance to help.

Now, a couple of hours in, I was starting to think he regretted it. From my spot on the landing, I could hear him shuffling around up there, the occasional curse muffled by the beams as he ducked and dodged low-hanging obstacles.

“You alright up there?” I called, grinning to myself.

“Never better,” came his reply, tinged with sarcasm. “Your mum’s got enough Christmas decorations to start a department store, by the way.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Tell me something I don’t know. Did you find the box labelled ‘mystery trinkets’? That’s her favourite.”

There was a pause, followed by a muffled groan of exertion. “If by ‘mystery trinkets’ you mean twenty different snow globes, then yes. Got it covered.”

Mum appeared at the bottom of the stairs just then, holding two mugs of coffee. “Is he still alive up there?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye.

“Barely,” I replied, loud enough for Hank to hear. His exaggerated sigh echoed down to us, making us both laugh.

It had been Hank’s idea to turn this into a full-day event, complete with lunch breaks and frequent coffee runs. “Might as well make it fun,” he’d said with that easy smile of his, already rolling up his sleeves before Mum could even ask for help. It was one of the things I loved most about him—the way he made everything feel lighter, even tedious chores like this.

“I’m almost done!” Hank called down, his voice slightly breathless. A second later, there was the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floorboards, followed by an impressive thud.

“Hank?” I called again, my tone edging toward concern.

“Fine!” he shouted back. “Nothing broken. Except maybe my pride.”

Mum chuckled, shaking her head as she handed me one of the mugs. “He’s a keeper,” she said with a knowing smile before heading back to the kitchen.

By the time Hank finally emerged, hauling the last box down to the landing, he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a particularly vengeful spider. Cobwebs clung to his hair and shirt, and there was a faint smudge of dust on his cheek. Despite the state of him, his grin was full of smug satisfaction, like he’d just conquered some great feat.

“Last one,” he announced, dropping the box with a dramatic flourish. He wiped his hands on his jeans, glancing at me with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re welcome.”

I bit back a laugh, stepping closer to brush a stray cobweb from his shoulder. “You look like you just survived a horror movie.”

He swiped a hand through his hair, only managing to make it worse. “Pretty sure your attic’s haunted. I’m half convinced I heard something whispering ‘leave while you still can.’”

“You’re fine, drama queen,” I teased, plucking another cobweb from his shirt before reaching up to brush the smudge of dust from his cheek. “It was probably the lavender sachets.”

His expression softened, and for just a moment, he leaned into my touch, his cheek pressing lightly against my hand. The simple act sent a pang of warmth through me, but before I could dwell on it, he straightened, flashing me a lopsided grin. “Don’t know what you’d do without me.”

“Get the boxes down myself?” I quipped, earning a mock glare.

As I glanced down, my attention caught on the label of the box he’d carried down—my name, scrawled in my teenage handwriting. “Hang on,” I said, crouching beside it. “This one’s mine.”

Hank followed me down, crouching behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his curiosity palpable as he peered over. “What’s in it?”

I shrugged, peeling back the tape. The smell of old paper and charcoal wafted up as I opened the flaps, revealing a stack of sketchbooks, some loose papers, and a few half-empty tins of pencils. “Looks like my old art stuff.”

“You used to draw?” he asked, his voice soft with interest.

I nodded, flipping through one of the sketchbooks. “Yeah, all the time. I took art class in school—actually thought about pursuing it for a while before vet school won out.”

He kissed my shoulder, his lips warm and soft against my skin. “Why’d you stop?”

I hesitated, skimming through the pages. “Life, I guess. Vet school took up all my time, and then… I don’t know. I just kind of fell out of the habit.”

Hank didn’t say anything, just hummed thoughtfully, his breath brushing against my neck as he studied the page I’d turned to. It was an old drawing of a bowl of fruit, complete with the wonky shading I’d never quite mastered. I laughed softly at the memory, tracing a finger over the edge of the paper.

“That one’s not bad,” he offered, his chin nudging my shoulder.

“Not bad,” I echoed with a smirk. “Wait till you see the next one.”

I turned another page, showing him a rough sketch of a model seated on a stool, her pose casual but elegant. “We did a lot of life drawing back then.”

“Life drawing?” he repeated, his brow arching with interest. “Like people?”

“Yeah. We had a different model every week. It was… fun. Relaxing, in a way.”

Hank hummed again, his eyes lingering on the sketch. “You’re really good.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I was okay. It’s been years, though.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still be good.” He pressed another soft kiss to my shoulder, his lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You ever think about picking it up again?”

I shrugged, closing the sketchbook. “Maybe. Life’s been busy.”

Hank didn’t say anything else, just nodded thoughtfully, his arms giving my waist a gentle squeeze before he stood. I could see the gears turning in his head, but at the time, I didn’t think much of it.

A week later, I came home to find the apartment eerily quiet.

“Hank?” I called, stepping into the living room and setting my bag down on the sofa. My voice echoed slightly, the usual hum of music or clatter from the kitchen conspicuously absent. “You here?”

“In the bedroom!” His voice drifted down the hall, warm and inviting, with a trace of something that made me pause. Curiosity piqued, I slipped off my shoes and followed the sound, my steps slowing as I approached the door.

When I opened it, I stopped in my tracks.

The space had been transformed. The bed had been pushed to one side, replaced by a single stool set in the centre of the room. A soft, golden glow came from the table lamp in the corner, bathing the space in warmth, the light catching on a makeshift easel positioned at the perfect angle to the stool. Beside it was a neat stack of fresh paper and an array of pencils and charcoal sticks, all arranged with careful precision.

And then there was Hank, standing by the stool in nothing but a pair of black boxers, his arms crossed over his chest, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He looked like something out of a magazine, the sharp lines of his body softened by the warm light, his posture both casual and confident. My breath caught as I took it all in.

“What… what is all this?” I asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind me, the words tumbling out in a mix of awe and disbelief.

He shrugged, the grin widening just a bit. “Thought I’d surprise you. You said you liked life drawing, and I figured… well, I could use a bit of sitting still. Not something I’m particularly good at.”

I blinked, my heart swelling with affection. He wasn’t joking—he’d really gone through all this trouble just to recreate something I’d casually mentioned in passing. My throat tightened as I struggled to find the words. “Hank…”

“It’s no big deal,” he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “Just thought it might be fun. You’ve been working so hard lately, and… well, you deserve a break.”

The lump in my throat made it hard to speak, but I managed a small, wobbly smile. “This isn’t just ‘no big deal,’ Hank. This is… really thoughtful. Thank you.”

His grin softened, and he gave a little shrug, suddenly almost shy. “So… you up for it?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I crossed the room to run my fingers over the pencils. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

“Yeah, but it’s only fair,” he said, his tone teasing but genuine. “You’ve always got my back. I just wanted to do something for you.”

The warmth in his words settled over me, filling the space between us with something soft and intimate. I reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face, my fingers trembling slightly as I picked up a sheet of paper and placed it on the easel. “Alright,” I said, my voice steadying. “Let’s do this.”

Hank’s grin returned, this time with a playful edge. He stepped over to the stool, dropping onto it with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, coach. How do you want me?”

“Comfortable,” I said, smirking as I selected a pencil. “But… maybe sit a little straighter. Hands on your knees.”

“Bossy,” he muttered, adjusting himself with mock reluctance. Finally, he settled, his posture relaxed but composed, and the sight of him made my breath hitch. The light from the lamp painted soft shadows over his shoulders and chest, highlighting the lean definition of his muscles. There was something about the way he sat there, completely at ease under my gaze.

“Like this?” he asked, his brow arching in a way that made my heart flutter.

“Perfect,” I murmured, swallowing hard as I brought the pencil to the page. My hand trembled slightly, the weight of the moment pressing on me, but before I could make a single mark, Hank spoke again.

“Draw me like one of your French girls.”

The laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it, loud and sudden, and I had to put the pencil down for a second, wiping tears from my eyes. “Oh my God, no talking.”

He winked, leaning back slightly. “Gotta keep it fun.”

Still smiling, I picked up the pencil again, letting the familiar rhythm of sketching take over. At first, it felt awkward, my strokes hesitant, my mind too caught up in the fact that I was sketching him. But as the lines began to take shape, the old familiarity returned, the movements soothing and exhilarating all at once.

Hank stayed still, his eyes soft and steady as they followed my every movement. The quiet stretched between us, comfortable and filled with the sound of pencil on paper. Every now and then, I’d glance up, my gaze lingering on the curve of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks, the way the light played over his collarbone.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured after a while, his voice breaking the spell.

“Hmm?” I glanced at him, blinking as if coming out of a trance.

“Drawing. You’ve got this… focus.” His lips curved into a faint smile. “It’s kind of hot.”

I laughed, shaking my head as heat crept up my neck. “You’re supposed to be still.”

But the longer I worked, the harder it became to focus. The lines blurred as my mind wandered, and I found myself watching him more than the page. There was something intoxicating about the way he sat there, so open and vulnerable, he looked so effortlessly beautiful it made my chest ache.

I set the pencil down and stepped around the easel, my feet carrying me to him without a second thought.

Hank’s eyes met mine, a spark of curiosity lighting up his gaze as I stopped in front of him, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Finished already?”

“Not quite,” I said softly, reaching out to brush my fingers along the curve of his shoulder. His skin was warm, his muscles taut beneath my touch, and the way he leaned into it made my breath catch.

“You’re supposed to be drawing me,” he murmured, but his voice lacked any real conviction.

“I think I’m done with that for now.”

I closed the distance between us, my hands finding their way to his jaw as I tilted his face up to meet mine. His breath hitched, and then his hands were on me, sliding around my waist, pulling me into his lap in one fluid motion. The warmth of his skin seeped through my clothes as our bodies pressed together, and I couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped my lips.

His gaze flickered to my mouth before meeting my eyes again, I leaned in, my lips finding his in a kiss that was soft and tentative, a gentle exploration, slow and full of promise.

Hank’s lips parted under mine, the soft brush of his tongue coaxing me further, drawing me into the warmth of him. My hands slid up from his jaw to thread through his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as I tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His grip on my waist tightened, anchoring me against him, the heat of his bare skin beneath my palms sending a shiver down my spine.

He kissed me like he had all the time in the world—slow, deliberate, his lips and tongue exploring mine with a precision that made me forget everything else. The makeshift studio, the forgotten sketch on the easel—it all faded away, leaving only the quiet, electric intimacy between us.

I shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his hands as they slid lower, settling just above the curve of my hips. His thumbs brushed against the hem of my shirt, teasing the skin there, and I felt his breath hitch as I broke the kiss, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes.

“Hank,” I murmured, my voice catching as his hands moved, slipping beneath the fabric to rest fully against my skin. There was something about the way he touched me—like he couldn’t bear to be separated by even a thin layer of clothing—that made my heart ache.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another to the line of my jaw. His lips trailed lower, finding the sensitive spot just beneath my ear, and I felt myself melt, my fingers tightening in his hair as a soft sigh escaped me.

“Every time,” he murmured against my skin, his voice low and rough. “Every time, you undo me.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through me, my chest tightening with the overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to me. My fingers slipped from his hair to cradle his face, gently guiding him to look at me. His eyes searched mine, softening as they held my gaze.

“Do you even realise what you do to me?” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. My thumb brushed over his cheek, tracing the faint stubble there. “It’s not just the way you touch me or kiss me—it’s everything. The way you care, the way you make me feel seen, the way you make me laugh when I need it most.”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though my words caught him off guard, but the corner of his mouth lifted in that lopsided smile I loved so much. “You know that goes both ways, right?” he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with something vulnerable. “You’ve changed everything for me, Y/N. You make me feel… whole. In a way I didn’t even know I was missing.”

Hank’s lips curved into a soft smile, his blue eyes holding mine as his hand brushed lightly over my back. “You know, I still think about that night you walked into Paul’s,” he said, his voice quieter now, reflective.

I tilted my head, my fingers idly tracing a line along his collarbone. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his tone gentle but insistent. “It’s not every night someone like you walks into a place like that. You… stood out.”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t feel like I stood out. I felt completely out of place. I wasn’t even sure why I went in. I just…” I hesitated, the memory of that night still vivid. “I couldn’t face another night of being alone. I needed to do something different.”

His hand stilled against my back, and I glanced up to find him watching me, his gaze soft and unguarded. “Well, whatever it was, I’m glad you did. That night… it felt different the second you walked in.”

I raised an eyebrow, my lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Different, huh? What, you don’t get random women walking into your bar all the time, asking you to surprise them with a drink?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not like you.” His voice dropped slightly, taking on a more serious note. “You weren’t there to impress anyone. You didn’t try to be something you weren’t. You just… were. And I don’t know, it caught me off guard. In the best way.”

I felt my cheeks flush, the sincerity in his words making my chest ache. “I remember seeing you as soon as I walked in. You were leaning against the bar, looking like you owned the place.”

His grin widened. “What can I say? It’s my natural state.”

Rolling my eyes, I laughed softly. “You looked so at ease, like you belonged there. And then you caught me looking, and… I don’t know. It felt like you could see right through me.”

“That’s because I could,” he said simply, his hand sliding up to cup my face. “You walked in looking like you’d rather be anywhere else but there. But at the same time, you stayed. You didn’t turn around. You sat down, and you let me surprise you.”

I smiled, leaning into his touch. “It was a good drink.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “It was an Old Fashioned, not exactly revolutionary.”

“Yeah, but it was exactly what I needed,” I said, my voice softening. “And so were you.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the steady hum of the city beyond the window. Hank’s thumb brushed over my cheek, his gaze searching mine. “You know,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful, “sometimes it feels like… fate.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “Fate?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “I mean, think about it. You could’ve walked past Paul’s that night. You almost did. But you didn’t. You came in. And I just happened to be there. It feels like… like we were supposed to meet.”

I blinked, his words settling over me like a warm blanket. “I never thought about it like that.”

“Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic,” he said with a shrug, though his eyes betrayed the depth of his belief.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You might be right. Maybe it was fate. Maybe I was meant to walk into that bar, and you were meant to be there, leaning against the counter, looking at me like you already knew me.”

His gaze softened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was slow and full of unspoken emotion. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, his hands steady against my back. “Whatever it was, I’m glad it brought you to me.”

“Me too,” I whispered, my heart swelling in my chest.

I smiled, brushing my fingers along the curve of his jaw, my heart aching with how much I loved him. “It’s funny,” I said softly. “Sometimes I think I’m the one who’s got it all figured out. Then you go and do something like this—set up an easel in the middle of our bedroom just because I mentioned I used to draw. You always know exactly what I need, even when I don’t.”

Hank’s hands tightened on my waist, his grip grounding me as his gaze held mine. “It’s not hard,” he said simply, his tone filled with quiet sincerity. “Loving you? It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

The way he said it—not as a grand declaration but as an unshakable truth—made my chest tighten, my throat burning with the weight of my emotions. I kissed him, my lips brushing over his in a soft, lingering caress. His hands moved, sliding up my back as he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss until I was completely lost in him.

I broke away just enough to rest my forehead against his, my fingers tracing light patterns along the back of his neck. “I don’t say it enough,” I murmured. “But I hope you know how much I love you.”

The corners of his mouth curved into a soft smile, and he brushed his lips over mine again, the kiss tender and unhurried. “You show me every day,” he replied, his voice steady and full of quiet conviction. “And I’ll never stop showing you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I let out a shaky laugh, resting my hands on his shoulders as I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Hank let out a quiet chuckle, his hands moving to cradle my face. “Funny,” he said, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing since the moment I met you.”

I kissed him again, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude I felt for him into it, and his response was immediate, his arms wrapping around me like he couldn’t bear to let me go. The kiss deepened, his lips and tongue coaxing me into a slow, deliberate rhythm that made the world fade away. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—just full of quiet, unspoken promises, every touch and caress saying what words never could.

And in that moment, with his hands steadying me, his warmth grounding me, and his love surrounding me, I knew with absolute certainty that he was it for me, just as I was for him.

Hank’s hands slid up my sides, his thumbs brushing over my ribs before they settled on the buttons of my shirt. His gaze met mine, quiet and intent, as if asking for permission without words. I gave a small nod, my breath catching as his fingers deftly undid the first button, then the next, his movements slow and deliberate.

He leaned forward as he worked, his lips pressing soft kisses to my skin with each button he freed. The hollow of my throat, the curve between my ribs—his mouth left a trail of warmth that sent shivers cascading through me. By the time he reached the last button, my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

The shirt slipped from my shoulders, pooling behind me, but Hank didn’t rush. His hands came to rest at my waist, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin there as his lips found the swell of my chest. He kissed me slowly, unhurried, his mouth lingering as though he wanted to savour every inch of me.

“Stand for me,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with need.

I did as he asked, my knees trembling slightly as I rose to my feet. Hank followed the movement with his hands, sliding them down to the waistband of my trousers. He knelt in front of me, his fingers hooking into the fabric as he began to ease them down. His lips brushed along my hip as he worked, his touch sending sparks dancing over my skin.

When the trousers pooled at my feet, he held onto my hands lightly for balance as I stepped out of them. His hands lingered, steadying me before trailing back up my legs. His lips followed, brushing kisses along the bare skin of my thighs, his gaze never leaving mine.

Once I was free of the last layer of clothing, Hank rose to his feet, his hands finding their place on my hips again. The heat of his skin against mine sent a rush of warmth through me, and when his mouth captured mine, it was slow and deliberate, his lips moving against mine with the kind of unspoken devotion that made my chest ache.

We didn’t speak as we shed the final barriers between us. My hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, my fingers trembling slightly as I pushed them down. He stepped out of them easily, his hands steady on my waist as though he could sense my nerves and wanted to ground me.

Together, we made our way to the bed, the world narrowing to just the two of us. Hank lay me back against the sheets, his body following mine as he settled over me. His hands moved with a tenderness that felt all-encompassing, tracing the curve of my waist, the line of my thigh, as though committing every part of me to memory.

His lips found mine again, their movements slow and deliberate, a quiet exploration that deepened with each passing second. He kissed me as though we had all the time in the world, his touch reverent, his body pressing into mine with a warmth that left me breathless.

When he finally aligned himself, the tip of him pressing at my entrance, he paused, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver through me. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed inside, the stretch of him filling me completely, stealing the air from my lungs. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest, his jaw tightening as he stilled, letting me adjust, his forehead dropping to rest against mine.

The warmth of his breath fanned over my lips as he exhaled shakily, his hands tightening on my hips as if grounding himself. His voice was low and rough when he finally spoke, the words barely audible. “Perfect,” he murmured, his tone filled with reverence.

He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm, every thrust deliberate and precise, the pressure of his body against mine igniting a fire that spread through every nerve. My fingers found their way to his back, tracing the hard planes of muscle as they flexed beneath my touch. His movements were unhurried, each one coaxing a soft sound from deep in my throat, a sound that only seemed to spur him on.

I gasped softly as his lips found the curve of my shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed his way up my neck. His hips pressed forward again, a little more insistent, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped me, my head tipping back to give him more access.

His lips traveled down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, pausing to suck gently at the sensitive skin there. Each touch of his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I could feel the way his breath caught against my skin whenever I moved beneath him. My fingers dug into the broad expanse of his shoulders, holding onto him as the slow, steady rhythm of his hips began to build.

“God,” he groaned, his voice low and gravelly, the sound making my stomach tighten. His hands shifted, one sliding up to cup the side of my neck, his thumb brushing over my jaw as he tilted my face toward his. His other hand gripped my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist, anchoring me closer as he moved. The sounds he made—soft groans and low, broken murmurs—wrapped around me, adding to the symphony of the moment: the creak of the bed, the rustle of sheets, the whispered breaths that passed between us.

I couldn’t hold back the sounds escaping me—the soft cries, the whispered breaths of his name. His hips pressed deeper, the angle sending a rush of sensation through me that made my toes curl. His mouth captured mine in a kiss that was all-consuming, his tongue sliding against mine with a deliberate slowness that made my entire body tremble. The air between us was thick with heat, each shared breath feeding the fire that burned between us.

His pace quickened slightly, his movements growing more insistent, the tension building with every roll of his hips. My body arched into his, chasing the friction, the heat, the undeniable connection that bound us. His groans grew louder, mingling with the broken whimpers that spilled from my lips, the sound of us filling the room, raw and unfiltered.

When we finally reached the peak together, it was like the world stopped for a moment. His body tensed, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he buried himself deep, his grip on me tightening as he shuddered against me. My own release followed, a wave of heat and light that left me gasping, my fingers clutching at his shoulders as my body trembled beneath his.

He stayed there, his weight a comforting pressure against me, as we both caught our breath, our bodies still entwined. The room was quiet save for the sound of our breathing, the stillness wrapping around us like a cocoon, the steady beat of our hearts slowly evening out as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. His hand brushed along my side, his thumb tracing idle patterns over my skin, grounding me in the warmth of him.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his lips curving into a soft, almost shy smile. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I love you sweetheart,” he murmured, the words carrying the same quiet sincerity as every touch and kiss that had come before.

I smiled, my hand sliding up to cup his face as I leaned in to kiss him again, slow and tender. “I love you too,” I whispered against his lips, the words a quiet promise, an anchor in the aftermath of the moment we’d just shared.

“Can we stay like this?” he murmured, his voice hushed and filled with quiet wonder.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him, holding him close as we sank into the stillness together. My fingers traced light patterns along his back, a quiet rhythm that mirrored the way we moved moments before. The world outside faded into nothingness, and I found myself wishing I could capture this feeling somehow—every curve, every line, every breath—like a sketch I’d never forget.

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secretlysamcro · 1 day ago

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Unspoken feelings

Part 1

Female Reader x Jax Teller threatening & explicit language, drug use, possible spoilers. If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show, easily offended or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: Hey! I loved your recent Jax fic. I would love to see one with a reader he has loved since they were kids but nothing had ever happened between them, until she comes to him knowing he will protect her when she needs him. Thank you 😊

Back story: y/n and Jax had a special bond that went back to childhood. Growing up together, you were practically inseparable, forming a tight trio with Jax and Opie. The three of you were like three pieces of the same puzzle, As time passed, things began to change. You had a few relationships during your teenage years - and so did Jax, but none of them too serious enough to last, Until Wendy came along. There had always been a push and pull between you and Jax. An unspoken tension between the both of you that had never been acted upon. All three of you now are grown up and getting on with your own lives dealing with your own shit.

Jax has had an on and off relationship with Abel’s mother, Wendy since their teenage years. The divorce has just been finalized and Wendy who is once again hooked on drugs has been forbidden from seeing Abel. Jax has made it clear that he won’t be allowing Wendy to see their son until she is completely clean.

Time has passed since your last conversation with either boys, and you can’t help but notice how disconnected things have become. It’s as if distance has grown between you, leaving only brief exchanges of casual interactions and small talk. The close bond no longer existing.

Y/N: Hey Jax, haven’t heard from you for a while, thought I’d message but I know it ain’t easy being king and ur probs just wrapped up in the club but I hope everything’s ok. Hows Abel and Wendy? He must be getting so big now, nearly four right?

Jax feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he takes it out, he’s sees nothing but your name on the screen. A small but genuine smile creeps on his face.

Despite the distance, he’s always appreciated the thoughtfulness of you, sending messages on special occasions. Birthdays, memorials, Christmas etc and also checking in from time to time. He tries his best to do the same, but club responsibilities and being a father often get in the way, leaving him with little time.

Jax knows that your mention of Wendy is more of a polite gesture than actual well wishes. The two of you never saw eye to eye in your youth, she always noticed how Jax paid close attention to you, even if you weren’t always aware of it.

A few years ago, you had the unwanted privilege of escorting Wendy to hospital, alongside Jax, as you had found her OD’d on heroin, whilst heavily pregnant with Abel. This was a main factor as to why you and Jax had become so distant, he never wanted to hear you say ‘I told you so’ when it came to Wendy, so he took a step back from you, finding it hard dealing with married life, when the person he really wanted to be with, was you.

[flashback to the night Wendy OD’d]

“Any updates?” You ask Jax, as you step back into the hospital waiting room, getting off the phone from informing Gemma of the situation. “Your Moms on the way, she’s just leaving Luanns”.

“She’s stable, but said they need to keep an eye on her-” Jax’s sentence is cut short as you immediately chime in.

“I don’t give a shit about her, what about your unborn child?” You hiss at him, knowing he knows full well you couldn’t give a fuck about Wendy.

“Drop it y/n don’t be like that, not right now” Jax says in a firm warning tone. You’ve heard this side of Jax a million times, just never towards yourself.

You roll your eyes at him, knowing now probably isn’t the time to tell him you were right about Wendy all along. You both sit down in the waiting area; as you wait for any sort of news.

About 15 minutes later, the corridoor door opens and in walks another doctor. Pretty and tall, her hair clipped up to keep it out of her face. Jax would recognise her from a mile away, and so did you.

“When did she come back?” You ask, slightly scoffing whilst looking at Jax as you both stand up, ready to hear what she has to say. His facial expression displaying the exact same question.

“Tara?” Jax says, as she gets closer, she ignores the fact that you are standing alongside Jax. Another one of Jax’s love interests you never got along with.

“Her hands and feet were full of tracks, toxicology reports aren’t back yet, but it’s most likely crank” Dr Knowles tells Jax, as you stand comforting him. Holding his hand gently with your own.

“The baby?” Jax says frantically, grabbing back at your hand now, eager to hear what Tara has to say.

Tara takes a deep breath before letting Jax know the news. “We had to do an emergency C-section. He’s ten weeks premature”

“Holy shit” Jax says, looking towards you in disbelief.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask Tara, as she finally makes eye contact with you.

You hear the faint sound of footsteps coming from behind as Tara continues to talk.

“He’s got a congenital heart defect and gastroschisis… a tear in his abdomen. The gastro and early birth are from the drugs but the CHD is-”

“The family flaw” Gemma says, as she stands behind you, overhearing what Tara has to say.

Stepping back, you give Jax and Gemma their privacy to continue the discussion with the Dr.

You wait anxiously fidgeting as the minutes pass by. From the corner of your eye, you notice Tara assisting another patient. A few moments later Clay walks in, heading straight in the direction of Jax and Gemma.

As soon as Tara is out of sight, you hurry down to the ICU. You join Gemma and Clay, quietly watching as Jax holds his tiny new born for the first time. A small smile on his face as you lip read the words he whispers to his baby boy. “I’m your old man”.

Gemma turns as she senses your presence. “Hey sweetie” she says softly, rubbing your shoulder gently. “Thank you for getting them here so quickly, I can’t thank you enough. I don’t even want to imagine how things could have ended if you hadn’t rushed that junkie whore over here in time”

You place your hand over Gemma’s, a silent agreement with her words. “You��ll let Jax know I’m thinking of him?” You ask Gemma, Clay nodding at you beside her. “And congratulations… Grandma…” you look over at Clay smiling “…Grandpa” you turn around, taking one last look at Jax and his son, before leaving the hospital and Charming once again.

[end of flashback]

You never knew this, and nobody else did apart from Jax and Opie, but the only reason he ever got with Wendy was to distract himself from not being able to have you. Not being brave enough to admit the feelings he’s had for you since you were kids. Wendy seemed like the easiest option. In hindsight though; he wishes he had never even met her, but then he wouldn’t have Abel, and he’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

You were equally at fault though; you never expressed your true feelings to Jax in fear of rejection. Instead, you observed from a distance as he got involved with Tara, witnessed his heartbreak when she left for Chicago, and saw him meet Wendy; which eventually ended in pregnancy and marriage. All of this led you into a pressured relationship, pulling you away from your hometown, your friends and family, and from Jax.

Jax thinks it’s best not to mention anything about his divorce, or Wendy's current situation as he knows you’ll have something to say about it, so he keeps the text short and brief. Almost as if he hardly knew you.

Jax: Hey y/n. All good here. Keeping the club in line ain’t easy. Abel’s nearly 4 ur right, hope you’re doing well.

Your expression changes to a frown as you read Jax's text message, noticing how sharp and cold his tone is, far different from the Jax you remember. You make a decision to reach out to Opie, thinking he might have some insight into what’s going on with Jax.

Y/N: Hey Ope, hope you and the family are doing well. Just messaged Jax and he seems a bit off? Is everything okay? Was thinking about you all today I might come down soon for a few days. If you’re both around. Let me know!

Opie reads your text and laughs, having a good idea that jax hasn’t filled you in on the details of his recent divorce. He glances over at Jax who’s already in a shitty mood and remarks, “You still haven’t told y/n?” He says, as he brings his cigarette back up to his mouth.

Jax looks puzzled when Opie accurately guesses that he hasn't shared any recent news with you. Opie tosses him the phone, and Jax scans through your text message, as he realises that you're completely in the dark about his recent life developments. “She ain’t around any more so what does it matter? She left to be with that asshole and hasn’t looked back since” Jax says as he chucks the phone back to Opie.

“Did you expect her to wait around for you?” Opie says, shaking his head in Jax’s direction.

“What do you mean wait around for me?” Jax stares out Opie.

“Nothing” Opie hushes, knowing that silence is his best option. He had always been the mediator of the trio - since you were kids, Jax would relay information about you to Ope, whilst you would share your thoughts about Jax with him too, leaving him in the middle of the unspoken love between the two of you. He knew how hard it was for Jax to see you strutting round with other guys who weren’t him, and he knew how hard it was for you when you found out Wendy was pregnant and soon to be married to Jax.

Opie can feel the burn from Jax’s side eye, quickly thinking of something to say, Jax knows that Opie is aware of his feelings towards you and the reasons behind his defensive attitude when it comes to you. Opie uses this opportunity to remind him that it’s not your fault for being oblivious to his emotions. How are you suppose to act upon his unspoken feelings?

Opie bluntly tells Jax, "Maybe if you had the guts to tell her how you felt about her, she'd still be here, and you wouldn’t be stuck with a drug lovin’ ex-wife".

You were always considered like the little sister Opie never had, and that protective instinct had carried on into adulthood. Even if you weren’t as close as you once were. Which is why he still felt the need to defend you in your absence.

“I’m just saying…didn’t think she’d care to know” Jax says, banging his box of cigarettes on the table, knowing he has nothing to say in his defence as Opie is 100% right. He still doesn’t quite understand what Ope meant by you waiting for him though.

"Her coming back to see us only means one thing anyway…” Opie continues, “…she’s probably finished with that douche so she’s finally allowed to come back and see us” He begins replying to your text.

“Well it can’t be that bad… she packed up her whole life for him…” the jealousy in Jax’s tone shining through. Opie smirks and shakes his head towards the jealousy presented by Jax, as he sends his reply to you.

Opie: All good here thank u y/n. Cnt speak for Jax he’s in a world of his own. Lmk if ur planning on stopping by… you bringing your old man? would be nice to see u. It’s been a while. Lylas heard all about u and wants to meet u. - Ope

You roll your eyes at Opies question about your ‘old man’. Hiding your own love life, you don’t respond to the text at all, but internally making the decision that you were in fact going to visit.

It's only been a few days since your breakup, and your ex is currently crashing at his friend's place. However, you don't want to be there when he returns, knowing that it could lead to another confrontation. You grab your laptop, eager to find a place to stay just outside of Charming. You know that anyone from home would have let you stay with them whilst you’re in town, but you decide to do this bit on your own. So you don’t waste any time reading reviews. The first place you see is only about 10 minutes from the clubhouse and, best of all, it’s cheap. Decision made. You’ll be back in Charming sooner than you thought.

[The next morning]

You collect all of your essential belongings, packing them in a hurry and carefully loading them into your car. You don't even bother with any unnecessary or replaceable items, knowing deep down that your departure is final.

You miss everyone back home and crave the familiar faces, even if things have gotten a bit…awkward lately. Leaving well early in the morning, the drive back to Charming took about an hour. Giving you the perfect chance to clear your head. Thoughts of the future swirl through your mind, uncertainty and questions. You wonder where you’ll go, what you’ll say if someone asks about your situation and how you’ll handle the inevitable “we told you so’s” from the ones who saw through your ex’s charming nature before you left to start a new life with him.

He was a narcissist, completely consumed by his own reflection and oblivious to anyone else's feelings or needs. Everything revolved around him, and only him, Of course when you first got together he was the complete opposite. The ideal man for you, the one who convinced you to leave Charming and your familiarity behind. Part of you knows, deep down, that he was also a big reason you stopped keeping in touch with the boys as much as you should have.

He knew about the bond you shared with Jax and Opie, Jax especially and he hated it, hated the way they had your back in ways he never could. On the rare occasion when you were all present in the same room, he saw how protective Jax was of you, how he looked at you and how you looked back at him, in the exact same way.

Jax watches as Opie takes off his helmet and dismounts his motorcycle, Jax swiftly doing the same thing.

“Yo… Ope…” Jax calls out to Opie, as he moves towards the clubhouse. “y/n text you back?” He shouts out.

“Nah, heard nothing back from her… maybe try calling” Opie says, with a tinge of cockiness, knowing Jax would feel a way about calling you and also not wanting to be the middle man any longer.

Before Jax can even argue the idea, Opie walks briskly back into the club house, leaving Jax to ponder his options. Jax sighs as he mutters to himself, “I guess I'll do it,” scrolling through his phone's contact list to find your name. His hands tremble ever so slightly as he holds the phone to his ear, waiting anxiously to see whether you answer or not.

you take a deep sigh as you settle down onto the bed, after carrying the last of your belongings into the motel room. As you glance around, you take in fragments of your life scattered about. Little items that you had brought with you from the place you used to share with your ex. You have no idea what the hell you're going to do from here, but at least here is home, in Charming.

Your phone starts ringing, and you're certain of who it is. You take your phone out of your pocket and roll your eyes at the sight of your ex's name lighting up the screen. It can only mean one thing, he has finally realised that you've moved on and won't be coming back. You ignore the call placing your phone back on the bed. As the call ends, it rings again. You pick up the phone getting ready to block his number, but this time a different name is displayed across the screen.

“y/n?” Jax says in a low tone, Jesus Christ how you missed his rough voice.

“Hey” Is all you manage to get out. Actually hearing him speak after so long has made you feel somewhat… nervous.

Jax can’t help but smile at the other end of the phone. He can sense that you were caught off guard by his call.

“Uh… Ope mentioned that you might be coming home soon… I was just calling to check when… you know, if you are” he says, fumbling over his words.

“Yeah I…-I’m actually already here… well sort of…” you laugh lightly.

“Oh shit… when did you get- wait what do you mean sort of?” He questions, confused by what you mean.

“I’m like 10 minutes out, staying at the Rockstaff motel”

“A motel? You staying there with what’s his face?” Jax can’t even bring himself to use your exs name, it humours you slightly.

“No.. I- it’s just me…” you refrain from going into detail.

“So why are you staying at a motel? You should have called me when you got here. You know you can always come here…or to any of us”

“I know, I know, I just wanted to surprise you guys, like old times… you know?” You rush to explain, not wanting Jax to discover that you’re actually planning on living out of said motel whilst you get everything in order.

“Hmm, always full of surprises you are” Jax’s laughs, walking towards the clubhouse now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You retaliate, slightly defensive.

“Nothing” he snaps back with an awkward laugh. “How long you plannin’ on staying for this time anyway?”

You can hear the attitude in his tone, the way he states ‘this time’ because the last time you saw him was that night Abel was born, and you left without personally saying goodbye.

“Ahhh so that’s why you’ve been so cold with me the past few years, because I never said bye?” You question, wanting to clear the air of all awkwardness.

“Something like that” he says, clearing his throat as he scratches the back of his neck “You gonna swing by today at some point or-”

“Yeah… if not today then tomorrow” you let Jax know, unsure if you’re willing to brave the awkwardness today or not.

“Okay… cool. You’ll let me know yeah?” His protectiveness still peeking through. “You sure you’ll be ok at that motel?”

“I’m a big girl Jax, I’m good” your words come out through a slight smile. You hear him laugh faintly as he disconnects the call.

As you sit with all your feelings and emotions rolling through your mind, you think it’s best to meet up with Jax first and hash out this weirdness going on between you both, you don’t want it to be over your heads whilst around anyone else. Just as you’re writing out a text, one comes through.

EX: what the fuck all ur stuff is gone wtf are u playing at y/n answer the fucking phone.

And another.

EX: where the fuck are you y/n

And another.

EX: do u think u can leave me! U stupid bitch

And another.

EX: u think im stupid dnt u? Wait till I fucking catch you stupid biker whore

‘Biker whore’ you repeat out loud, you have no idea where that had even come from, you hadn’t associated with them for the past 3/4 years, so why he’d mention that, you were clueless. Threats from your ex weren’t out of the ordinary so you weren’t really phased by the texts he had just sent - he doesn’t know where you are, so you’re safe…right?

You continue looking for Jax in your recent contacts, and begin to message him.

Y/N: Hey, just wondering are u still at ur old place? and are u free right now? I’ll come and see you but if not will just catch up tomorrow with everyone else. Lmk

His reply was quick.

JAX: yeah same place. I’ll be home in about 20 minutes if u wanna come by now.

As you pull up to the once familiar address, you see him waiting for you outside, sitting cockily on his bike, foot balancing on the exhaust and a cigarette In hand. a smile slapped across his face, almost as if he’s as excited to see you as you are him.

Part 2 will be on the way! Apologies for being gone for so long, I’m back & writing again, so bare with lol.

GIFs, photos & music do not belong to me.

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xoxo secretly samcro

#jax teller #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #samcro #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #jax teller imagine #jax x reader #secretly samcro #soa #SOA fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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earthlybeam · 3 days ago

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Hello! I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your writing. Especially the way you write Elrond! So good. You've very quickly become one of my favorite tumblr posters :) I don't know if anyone has asked this yet, but if not, how would Elrond, Círdan, and Gil-Galad react to the reader rescuing them from being captured by orcs/bandits? Thanks!

Thank you so much for your kind words! It truly means the world to me to hear that you enjoy my writing. 🥹❤️‍🔥🫶✨

As for your question, I actually wrote something similar to this idea before the title called “Elves reacting their you saving their life’s” it’s on my Masterlist pinned at top of my page you’ll find it in their, though I haven’t explored a scenario with orcs or bandits specifically—so I’d be more than happy to write it for you. It’s such a fun and dynamic setup, and I love the idea of exploring how Elrond, Círdan, and Gil-galad would react in that kind of situation. Thank you for the inspiration! 🥺🤌

how would the elves react to this?

↓

Elrond, Gil-Galad Círdan Version below.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Elrond might react to the reader/you swooping in to save them from a perilous situation like being captured by orcs.

The ancient woods of Eregion were silent, the kind of silence that came when predators were near. The golden light of dusk bled through the canopy, staining the forest floor in hues of amber and crimson. The wind barely stirred, as if the trees themselves held their breath. Somewhere within this tranquil facade, chaos brewed. Elrond Half-elven had been captured. The orcs had struck swiftly and without mercy, ambushing him and his small party as they returned from a reconnaissance mission. His guards had fought valiantly but were quickly overwhelmed. Now, bound and bloodied, Elrond knelt in a rough clearing, surrounded by the jeers of his captors. His silver-threaded tunic was torn, his dark hair matted with dirt and blood. Yet, even in this moment of vulnerability, his eyes shone like steel—cold, calculating, and unyielding.

The orcs had made a mistake. They had underestimated him. But even Elrond, for all his cunning, could not see a clear path to freedom. His hands were tightly bound behind him, the ropes cutting into his skin, a reminder of his helplessness. His weapons were gone, and though his mind raced with strategies, every scenario ended the same: with his blood soaking the earth. His pride and experience told him to fight, but in the quiet dark of the clearing, with the weight of captivity pressing down on him, Elrond knew he was out of options. For a fleeting moment, something close to frustration stirred within him—but he quickly pushed it aside. Anger wouldn’t free him, nor would it serve him here. He needed to think, needed to wait, but time was a luxury he no longer had.

The orcs were already bickering over their prize. One particularly large brute brandished a jagged blade and snarled something in their guttural tongue. Elrond didn’t flinch. He met the orc’s gaze with cold detachment, refusing to grant them the satisfaction of his fear. He had seen this before—death in various forms, and in many guises. If this was to be his end, he would meet it with dignity. But even as he steeled himself, he could feel the weight of his impending fate, the very real possibility of this moment being his last. And then, a sound—a faint rustle in the underbrush. The orcs didn’t notice, too consumed by their squabble, but Elrond’s keen ears caught it. His sharp gaze flickered toward the shadows at the edge of the clearing, where the fading light painted shifting patterns on the forest floor. For a moment, his mind raced. Was it a stray animal? A larger threat? No. The movement was too deliberate, too precise, to be mere chance.

A slight shift in the air, a tension, drew his attention fully. He felt a strange spark of hope—a quick, unfamiliar surge, like a breath after being submerged too long. And then, his senses sharpened, pulling his attention entirely to the darkness beyond. Something—or someone—was coming. Someone was there. Someone you. You had tracked the orcs for hours, following the trail of broken branches and spilled blood. When you’d come upon the scene—Elrond bound and surrounded—you hadn’t hesitated. There wasn’t time to formulate a grand plan or to consider the consequences. All that mattered was saving him.

From the shadows, you moved with practiced stealth, each step as quiet as the fall of a leaf. Your hand tightened around the hilt of your blade as you assessed the situation. The orcs were many—more than you’d expected—but their focus on Elrond gave you the element of surprise. It would have to be enough. Your attack was swift. The first orc didn’t even have time to scream before your blade slid across its throat. The second fell just as quickly, your dagger finding its mark in the gap between its armor. By the time the others realized what was happening, you were already upon them, a whirlwind of steel and determination.

Elrond’s head snapped up at the commotion, his sharp gaze locking onto your form as you cut through his captors like a storm. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by something else—something akin to awe. You moved with a grace that rivaled even the elves, your every strike precise, your every motion purposeful. The orcs snarled and lunged at you, but you were relentless. The clearing erupted into chaos as you danced between them, your blade gleaming in the fading light. One by one, the orcs fell, their cries echoing through the trees. Still, more kept coming, their brute strength and numbers threatening to overwhelm you.

Elrond, though bound and weaponless, wasn’t idle. He twisted his wrists against the ropes, his sharp mind analyzing every detail of the fight. When one orc charged toward you from behind, he shouted, “Behind you!” His voice, commanding even in captivity, gave you just enough warning to sidestep the attack and deliver a killing blow. Finally, the last orc fell, its body hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The clearing was eerily quiet once more, the air thick with the stench of blood. You turned to Elrond, your chest heaving as you hurried to his side.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your voice breathless but steady. “Nothing that won’t heal,” he replied, his tone calm despite the ordeal. His eyes, however, betrayed the storm of emotions roiling beneath his composed exterior—relief, gratitude, and perhaps a touch of disbelief. You knelt behind him, cutting through the ropes with quick, efficient movements. As the bindings fell away, Elrond flexed his hands, wincing slightly at the raw skin beneath. He rose to his feet with the grace of one who had endured far worse, his imposing presence undiminished by his injuries. “You should not have come for me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It was reckless.”

“Perhaps,” you admitted, meeting his gaze without flinching. “But I wasn’t about to leave you to them.” For a moment, Elrond said nothing, his piercing gray eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, the corners of his lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Foolish,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But brave.” Together, you moved through the forest, leaving the carnage behind. Elrond insisted he was fine, though you couldn’t help but notice the way he favored one leg as he walked. When you offered to slow down, he waved you off with a faint smirk. “I am not as fragile as I look.” As night fell, the two of you stopped to rest in a small, sheltered glade. Elrond sat with his back against a tree, his eyes fixed on the stars above. You sat beside him, the silence between you comfortable but charged with unspoken words. Finally, Elrond broke the silence. “You saved my life,” he said, his voice soft. “I do not say this lightly, but I am in your debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you replied. “I did what anyone would do.” “No,” he said, turning to face you fully. “Not anyone. Few would risk their lives for another, let alone against such odds. You have my gratitude—and my respect.” There was a sincerity in his tone that left no room for doubt. For all his wisdom and strength, Elrond was not one to offer his trust easily. Yet, in this moment, he looked at you not as a subordinate or even a savior, but as an equal. As the night deepened and the stars shone brighter, you realized that this moment—shared in the aftermath of danger—was the beginning of something far greater than either of you could have anticipated.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

Gil-Galad might react to the reader/you swooping in to save them from a perilous situation like being captured by orcs.

The night air was cold, and the sky overhead was shrouded in a blanket of clouds. The dark, twisted trees of Middle-earth seemed to close in, casting ominous shadows across the forest floor. In the heart of the woods, Gil-galad, the High King of the Noldor, stood tall—his regal bearing unshaken, even in the face of danger. The faintest shimmer of starlight glanced off his golden armor as he and his companions prepared for an ambush. His keen silver grey eyes scanned the surroundings, always vigilant, always prepared for what came next. But even the most vigilant of Elven kings could be caught off guard. The attack was swift. Orcs, crawling from the dark crevices of the forest, came at them like a tide. The clash of metal on metal rang out as Gil-galad led his warriors with strength and precision, a beacon of light in the chaos. His movements were fluid, his strikes calculated, but even he was not immune to the overwhelming number of attackers.

In the midst of the fray, one of the Orcs, taller and stronger than the others, launched itself at Gil-galad with terrifying speed. It knocked the King off balance, sending him crashing to the forest floor with a heavy thud. His sword fell from his hand, skidding away into the underbrush. For a fleeting moment, Gil-galad’s breath was knocked from his lungs, his vision blurred from the sudden impact. The sting of the fall reached deep into his ribs, and the sharpness of the pain reminded him that even a King was not invincible. The Orcs closed in, snarling, their eyes gleaming with malice. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his pulse quickening as he struggled to regain his bearings. Gil-galad’s gaze sharpened despite the fog of disorientation, his mind already calculating his next move. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a blade aimed at his heart. He reached for his sword, but it was too far away. There was a fleeting moment, a brief weakness—something unfamiliar—that passed through him. A flash of helplessness that he rarely allowed himself to feel. It was swiftly buried beneath layers of command and duty, but it lingered just a little longer than he would have liked. Just as the Orcs began to close in, something unexpected happened.

A rush of movement swept through the trees. In a blink, you appeared—your form silhouetted by the faint moonlight that filtered through the canopy above. Without hesitation, you leapt into the fray, your blade flashing like a streak of lightning in the darkness. The battle paused for a brief second as Gil-galad, still on the ground, turned his head in your direction. His heart skipped a beat—not from fear or shock, but from an overwhelming sense of awe. With swift precision, you cut through the nearest Orc, your movements an elegant dance of strength and agility. The creatures fell back, surprised by the sudden turn of events, their snarls turning to fearful hisses. But it wasn’t the Orcs that held Gil-galad’s attention. It was you. Your movements were effortless, your focus unwavering. You cut through their ranks, protecting the King as though you were born for this very moment. Gil-galad’s thoughts raced. He knew his warriors were skilled, but there was something about you—something about the way you moved, the way you fought with such certainty and grace—that left him speechless. A profound sense of gratitude and admiration swelled in his chest.

His breath was still ragged from the fall, but he forced himself to push off the ground, his hand gripping the earth for support. His eyes locked on yours as you cleared the final Orcs with a grace that could only come from an elf with purpose. The moment you turned toward him, your gaze filled with concern, his lips parted to speak, but no words came. For the first time in many long years, the weight of the battle felt distant compared to the relief that flooded him at your presence. He could feel the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but it was tempered by an undeniable surge of gratitude. You had been there when he faltered—when the weight of the crown, the history of his people, and the perils of the battle had threatened to pull him down. You stepped toward him, your voice calm and steady as you spoke. “Are you injured, my king?” Gil-galad, still shaken but steadying himself, nodded. “I am unharmed, thanks to you.” His voice was low, but the words carried a sincerity that he could not conceal. There was no formality in his words, no regal distance between you. Only an unspoken appreciation. He would have never admitted it aloud, but in that fleeting moment, he felt an unfamiliar vulnerability, one he did not know how to shield himself from.

You bent down to help him, extending your hand. He took it, and as you helped him rise to his feet, a look of quiet admiration crossed his face. For a moment, he simply stood there, his gaze softening as he took in the full depth of your actions. A flicker of something more stirred within him—a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. But it was the steadiness of your touch, the way you stood by him without hesitation, that left him in awe. The king, ever the leader, found his heart racing not with the weight of his title, but with something far simpler: a respect, perhaps something even deeper, for the one who had stood by him in the face of danger. “You have my deepest gratitude,” he said, his tone rich with meaning. “Without your intervention, I may not have made it out of this alive.” There was a weight in his words—an acknowledgement that, in this chaotic world of shifting alliances and countless battles, your presence had changed everything. He had long borne the weight of his kingdom, the responsibility of leadership, but tonight, that burden had been eased by you.

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the world around them faded. The sounds of battle, the crashing of blades, the cries of the fallen—all of it melted away as Gil-galad’s gaze softened. “Your bravery… it does not go unnoticed,” he added, his voice low and earnest. “I will not forget this.” As you stood by him, your hands still holding his, he felt the weight of the moment settle between you both. The connection was undeniable. He had seen countless lives lost in the wars of Middle-earth, witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms, but in this fleeting moment, he felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time—trust. Perhaps, even something more. The night was still, the threat of the Orcs momentarily forgotten, as the two of you shared a brief but significant moment. It was then that Gil-galad realized the depths of your loyalty—not just as a warrior, but as someone who had saved him not for glory, but for the simple love of what was right. And as he returned to the fight, standing side by side with you, the King’s heart swelled with something he hadn’t expected—hope.

🌊 𝓬í𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷

Círdan might react to the reader/you swooping in to save them from a perilous situation like being captured by orcs.

The salt-laden air of the Grey Havens stung the skin as the distant waves crashed relentlessly against the shore, their rhythm a cruel backdrop to the chaos unfolding on the docks. The normally serene harbor had become a battlefield, its once tranquil shores stained with the blood of the brave and the wicked alike. Orcs had struck swiftly, their guttural cries mingling with the clang of steel and the roar of flames licking the sky. A boat had been set ablaze, its wreckage casting an eerie glow on the water as smoke swirled into the darkening sky. Círdan, his silver hair flowing behind him like a banner, stood as an unyielding sentinel amidst the chaos. His movements were fluid, a dance of deadly elegance as he cut down the attackers one by one. Despite the ferocity of his strikes, his age was beginning to show. His breath, though steady, came with more effort now, and his movements were slower, less sharp than they had once been. The weight of centuries rested on his shoulders, and though his resolve was unbroken, fatigue crept into his limbs.

The orcs were relentless, and soon he was surrounded. A heavy cleaver struck his sword with a resounding clash, forcing him back against the stone wall of the harbor. The ground beneath his feet was slick, and for a brief moment, Círdan felt the full weight of age and weariness. His heart pounded in his chest, but still he raised his sword, determined to protect his people, to fend off the dark tide. Then, the sound—a rustle in the trees above, so faint it could have been mistaken for the wind. But not to Círdan. His sharp eyes flickered toward the movement, his heart quickening with hope. He knew what it meant. You were here. You had been tracking the orc band for days, following their trail with patience and precision. But when you had seen the smoke rising from the docks, when you had realized that the mighty Shipwright himself was in peril, there was no hesitation. You burst from the shadows, a whirlwind of action and determination. Your blade was already in your hand as you descended from the ridge above the harbor, landing with the grace of a predator.

The first orc never knew what hit it. You moved like lightning, your strike clean and efficient, the orc’s blood spilling across the stones before it even had time to scream. The second orc fared no better, falling at your feet with a single, well-placed blow. Círdan’s blue eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you, the flicker of disbelief in his gaze quickly replaced by something far deeper—recognition, relief, and perhaps even a touch of awe. You had come for him, risking everything to pull him from the jaws of death. “Stay behind me!” you shouted as you moved toward him, your voice firm and unyielding amidst the chaos of battle. For a moment, Círdan hesitated. He had always been the protector, the one to stand between others and danger. But as he saw you cut through the orcs with such deadly precision, the decision was made for him. He gritted his teeth, his sword rising once more to meet the next foe. Together, you formed an unstoppable force, a seamless unity that struck terror into the hearts of the orcs.

The battle raged on, but your combined strength was a force of nature. At one point, a brutish orc captain, wielding a massive axe, charged at you. Círdan saw it coming before you did. Without hesitation, he stepped into the line of fire, his sword parrying the deadly blow that would have otherwise struck you down. The force of the strike rattled him, but his gaze remained as steady as the sea. “You risk much for an old shipwright,” he said, his voice calm even in the midst of the battle. “I’m not leaving you here!” you replied fiercely, spinning to meet another attacker. “Not after all you’ve done for Middle-earth.” For a fleeting moment, Círdan’s expression softened, and his eyes lingered on you with a new respect. Few understood the sacrifices he had made over the centuries, the countless battles fought in the shadows, the weight of leadership that bore down on him. But you—here you were, putting everything on the line for him. And somehow, it stirred something deep within him.

With renewed purpose, you fought side by side, driving the orcs back, step by step, until their resolve shattered. The last of the attackers fell with a guttural cry, their bodies littering the stones of the harbor like discarded refuse. The once-bloody battlefield fell silent. The air was thick with the scent of salt and blood, but the clamor of battle had ceased. Only the gentle lap of the waves against the shore and the distant cries of gulls broke the stillness. Círdan stood beside you, his breath coming in measured, steady bursts. He was still strong, but the toll of the fight had left its mark on him. His cheek was bloodied, a thin cut running across his face, but his posture was unyielding. He looked at you with gratitude and something deeper—an understanding that had not existed between you before.

“You have my thanks,” he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with unspoken emotion. His blue eyes held yours, and for the first time in your presence, he spoke not as a leader, but as a fellow soul who had witnessed your bravery firsthand. “Few would have risked their lives for me. Fewer still would have succeeded.” You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “You’ve spent centuries helping others, Círdan. It’s about time someone returned the favor.” A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips, rare and fleeting but filled with warmth. “Then I am fortunate it was you,” he said, his voice low but sincere. As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the harbor, you and Círdan stood side by side, looking out over the water. The battle had been long and fierce, but the bond forged between you in the heat of conflict was even stronger. There was no need for words now. The understanding between you was clear.

Círdan placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip gentle but strong—a silent gesture of respect. “You have the heart of a mariner,” he said softly, his voice carrying the cadence of the sea. “Fearless, steadfast, and loyal. I will not forget this.” And as the light of the new day broke over the Grey Havens, you knew that, in your heart, you had not only saved a life—you had earned the trust and respect of one of Middle-earth’s greatest figures.

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laughinglynx · 6 months ago

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#most of the time I am fine being single with no prospects but every once in a while someone brings it up #and then I spend 10-20 business days feeling sorry for myself #my roommates (very nice and did not mean any harm) were talking about people in the costume shop they think are hot #and asked who I have my eye on #no one. literally always no one.#for years and years any time someone seemed even mildly interesting I’d go ‘yeah but they’re not interested in You’#‘so stop spending energy thinking about that when it will not happen’#idk and it’s weird talking about it to any of my friends #90% of whom are in very happy relationships and the others are happily single afaik #and yes. I am aware. that I could try a dating app or whatever.#I have gotten that advice a lot.#also yes yes yes I am aware that I am young. also something I have heard a lot.#the issue is that I told the brain cells manning the crush station to go do something else #and now the crush station is broken and no one knows how to repair it or if repairing it is even worth the effort #because it’s been made very clear many times that I’m not. the kind of person anyone would want to date.#idk.#like I said. usually that’s fine. usually I’m fine just having friends and being happy with that.#it’s just when someone asks directly about it that I get really bitter and sad and frustrated

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screampied · 7 months ago

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toji realizes he’s in love with you when he lets you shave his face for the first time,

he’s got the biggest grump of a scowl plastered on his naturally crooked lips. as he’s glowering, he’s also trying to prevent himself from smiling because you looked so cute. your touch with him was gentle—like it always was. after you wiped his face with a dampened face towel, you rub your hands against the lower part of his jaw. “soooo,” you utter, breaking the dead silence as he’s just peering down at you. “tell me ‘bout your day, toji.”

with the palms of your hands tenderly caressing against his chiseled jawline—you smear every part of his chin and cheekbones with shaving cream. even the secluded areas underneath his nose. as you do so, toji tchs. “day was fine, baby. ‘n i told ya i can shave myself.”

“i know i know,” you hum, creating a circular motion with your hands before gently making sure every sector near the lower part of his face was lathered with nice frothy amounts of shaving cream. “wowww, you’ve got such soft skin. skin routine when?”

“ugh, y’er insufferable,” he rolls his eyes. although, his skin was surprisingly clear. toji only had a bit of a stubble, hardly any facial hair but it was growing the more he aged. you took it upon yourself to ask to help him shave and he said yes, not realizing how much he’d soon grow to like it. the feeling of your delicate, warm hands rubbing against his face was somewhat . . soothing. with a deep, heaving sigh, toji’s hooded jade eyes meet yours. he spots your pout and his shoulders lower. “alright fine, i’ll teach you one day. only if ya stop poutin'..”

with a cheeky grin, your little pout falters and you smile. “okay,” and you wait for about a good three minutes to allow the spumous cream to souse everywhere on his pores. it takes a while—and as you wait, you take a moment to stare at his features. toji was definitely easy on the eyes up close. naturally long black lashes of his flicker as he returns your loving gaze, and he avoids eye contact for a moment. perhaps you were making him a bit . . nervous. darkened eyebrows of his arch into an almost sheepish raise while he watches your adorable curious simper stretch further. “don’t be so stiff, what are you, nervous?”

“not nervous. jus’ don’t want ya to cut my face off.” he grumbles in a hoarse tone, ogling intently at you opening the bathroom cabinet for his razor. “you know what y’er doin’ right? i’d like ‘ta keep my face.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic,” and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. toji’s got a growing smirk tugging against his lips as he gawks you carefully start to shave in the exact sectors of where his facial hair resides. you did lots and lots of research—he knew this because he caught you reading various wikiHow articles on how to shave a guy’s face correctly. toji would never in a million years tell you, but he found that fact entirely adorable. you made sure you knew how to avoid burns and razor bumps. as you’re fixated on his chin, you mumble, “you’ll keep your pretty face, don’t cry.”

“aw, think ‘m pretty?” toji says, and you see the playful glint in his eyes. he’s easing up a bit, and he acknowledges that you were right. right about his stiffness, he was a bit tense. shoulders raised and all, but now—as of late, he’s starting to calm down a bit the more you talk to him. “i’d prefer the term 'handsome' but that works too, i guess.”

you deadpan, continuing your trail against his face—the razor sings out a shrieking tiiiing the more you gingerly shave with soft, gentle strokes.

it’s somewhat relaxing with the way the edges of the instrument adapts to the chiseled contours on his face. the foam starts to come off within each downward stroke and you’re very slow and precise. “okay, don’t be cocky,” you titter, and he feels his heart flutter a bit at how you’re just so dedicated. you’re so focused that your tongue briefly sticks out of your mouth, trying to make sure you do it perfectly. you tried your hardest not to cut him—you were so careful and that simple detail alone could have been enough for him to propose. “you should let me do this more. ‘s kinda fun.”

“eh. maybe,” toji shrugs, his voice coming out in a rough rasp. he doesn’t even realize it but his expressions significantly soften. he was only this way around you. to him, the thought of that was kind of scary. after you start to edge with the precision trimmer and reach underneath his nose and chin, you wrap it up. successfully discarding all of the foamy cream from his face, spotting his now clean jawline, you break away to rinse off the now grubby blades in the sink. “all done?”

“wait— don’t look yet,” you gasp, preventing him from gazing at himself in the mirror. “i still have to do the uh . . what’s it called again?”

toji snickers. “aftershave, baby.”

“aftershave,” you repeat. “right right,” and you’re so cute, kneeling down towards the wooden cabinet directly underneath the sink. you take out the mini bottle, pouring a nice goopy amount into your palm. you let toji wash his face with cold water first, patting it dry, and then you start to bedaub the facial balm in all the sensitive areas against his skin. he adores the mushy texture of your hands making contact with his face as each second passes. toji’s eyeing you, an almost grunt leaving his lips as a thumb of yours gently tickles against his infamous scar. the scar that slants itself near the right side of his lip. “thereee we go,” you give him a soft smile, the aromatic scent of tea tree oil setting against your nostrils. up close, his pores were now all so clear and you stare in awe for a bit at just how charming he was. the moisture that lays against his skin feels a lot more smooth. you grow silent for a moment before your own face softens. “okayyy, ‘m done.”

toji finally glances into the mirror, seeing his freshly new spotless face and he sees your proud toothy grin in the mirror’s reflection behind him. he cranes his neck to the side, feeling the once rough texture of his jawline now soft. he then lets off a tiny exhale. “looks good. y’er a natural,” and he turns to face you, he’s pondering on what to say. oh, your eyes sparkled with such admiration from his praise that it was just adorable. “thank you, sweetheart. for y’know . . takin’ care of me. y’er really . . sweet.”

and with that, his lips inch down to press a warm kiss against the crown of your head. your heart immediately swarms up with a frantic school of butterflies and so does his. toji prepares speak again and it’s an almost inaudible mumble. you could barely even register what he said at first because it was so hushed, but toji gruffs in a low tone. “i … love you..”

“h- huh?”

scoffing, he hides the burning embarrassed flush against his face by pulling you into his broad chest. you giggle at how he just abruptly snatches you close into his warm body before he slings a beefy arm around you. “i said, let’s uh.. do our skin care together later t’night.”

“awww i love you too toj—”

“oh my god, s-shut up..”

#★vegasbaby.#toji x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fic #jjk imagines

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lxnarphase · 7 months ago

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━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi x you #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #hq x you #🍉 ── wakatoshi.#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ

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imaginedisish · 4 months ago

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Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself.

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time.

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night.

Or so you thought.

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you.

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?”

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?”

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth.

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.”

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head.

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him.

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game.

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy.

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks.

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest.

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you.

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask.

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer.

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again.

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.”

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop.

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why.

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone.

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask.

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?”

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes.

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.”

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people.

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks.

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks.

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly.

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say.

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below.

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on.

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts.

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.”

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts.

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties.

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you.

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips.

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit.

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly.

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing.

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles.

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst.

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish.

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming.

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop.

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp.

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release.

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice.

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit.

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist.

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

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sleepymarimo · 6 months ago

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toji x reader // sfw!

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t remember the last time he was gifted something.

“you got me what?” he asks again, kicking his sandals off at your front door for what seems like the millionth time.

you rise from your couch, the wood creaking slightly as you do so. “just some stuff for you to keep here so you stop using mine,” you reply, the shrug of your shoulders indicating how little of a deal it is.

in the kitchen, you rinse out the glass you’d been using. toji’s footsteps are barely audible over the sound of running water.

“there’s a few pairs of sweats in the hall closet,” you tell him, setting the glass down to dry. “and some other stuff in the bathroom. shampoo, body wash, toothbrush…”

the assassin lets out a small huff, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway. “you tellin’ me i reek or something?” he accuses, more so to brush off the odd feeling building in his gut.

“maybe.” comes your playful quip, your head tilting as you rest your weight on the counter and look at him. “but seriously, you just come around so often,”- his nose wrinkles at that, as he knows he crashes here much more than he should- “that i figured i’d just get you your own things. it’s not like it cost me an arm and a leg.”

with a yawn you stroll toward your room, lightly poking his chest as you pass him. “plus, you use up all of my stuff, dummy.”

he grunts, his eyes following you until you’re out of sight. “i don’t need fancy clothes or any of that crap,” he murmurs to himself, taking a few steps toward the hall closet.

his large hands wrap around the handles, sliding the doors open until he sees a pile of clothes resting on one of the shelves. three black tees stacked atop three pairs of sweats, some boxers and socks in a little box, all for him.

he picks up a shirt without hesitation, the fabric smooth against his calloused fingers. his brows furrow in concentration, maybe unease. this is for him, it’s his, and maybe that’s why this shirt is the softest one he’s ever felt.

with a gruff exhale, he snatches a pair of sweats and a clean pair of boxers, his steps unhurried as he heads for the bathroom.

the fan hums above him as the lock clicks into place, his eyes immediately darting to the shelves to see the new toiletries. his stuff.

inside the shower, toji’s shoulders sag.

it’s as if the water is washing away his defenses, the rugged, nonchalant exterior he wears now melting away in the comfort of your shower.

toji pops open one of the new shampoo bottles, taking in the scent and pouring it onto his palm. he wonders if this smell reminds you of him, if you put some thought into each item.

while he rubs it into his hair, he thinks about if he should pay you back. it’s not like he asked you to get him all this stuff, but still.

even when you’d first started letting him crash on your couch, you hadn’t demanded much in return.

“just don’t make a big mess and be decent, alright?” he remembers you saying.

and he was just fine with that. free room and board just for something so simple? he’d be a moron to decline.

it was only after around a week that he felt a familiar itch. he wouldn’t be in your debt, wouldn’t wait for the day when you’d inevitably ask for something.

so, he offered what he always did- himself. that’s what women usually wanted from him, anyway.

his idea didn’t exactly go as planned. if anything, it made him feel more conflicted, made him wonder why the hell you kept him around.

were you just lonely? did you enjoy his company?

“oh, no… i don’t do that,” you’d said, holding your hands up, flustered but adamant. “you don’t have to sell yourself to me or anything. who does that? like, what?”

the water patters on the tile floor, his body and mind feeling more clear and clean than they’ve been in a long time.

when the faucet squeaks shut, he steps out and snorts as he sees a new, fluffy black towel hanging beside yours behind the bathroom door. he grabs it, rubbing his scarred skin dry and running it through the damp strands of his hair.

the new clothes feel like heaven, truly.

in your room, engrossed by your phone, you barely hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. toji’s steps are almost silent, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches you beneath the covers.

he’s amused as you snicker at some post, the dim screen lighting up your face in the otherwise dark room.

“let me crash here, yeah?” he suggests, though it’s more of an order.

you’re startled, rightfully so, hiding your phone against your chest while you sit up straighter. “oh, you scared me! new clothes and you think you’re all that, huh? too good for the couch?”

yet, even as you chide him, you’re peeling back the covers for him, grabbing the extra pillows and moving them out of the way.

a satisfied grunt leaves him as he spreads out on the mattress, careless of the space he takes up. he tugs the blankets over his person, settling in like a big cat.

he curls into you. you don’t mind.

while you scroll along with one hand, the other supports his head and absentmindedly strokes the skin of his cheek.

his eyes watch you, his breaths becoming more steady and even. he’d never admit how much it means to him that you’d gotten him new clothes, new toiletries, practically a new home.

it’s more than he deserves, but he finds himself wanting to take as much as he can get.

he’s yours, even if he doesn’t know it. and, as the days go by, he wonders if you can be his, too.

#jjk x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji fluff #more toji fluff ofc #my heart yearns for him #soft toji my beloved

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irisinluv · 4 months ago

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Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

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amourane · 8 months ago

Text

flustered and blushing

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff so much fluff that it's insane

w/c: 1.7k

summary: in which you're a flustered mess around theo nott and he absolutely adores it.

warnings: none!

a/n: *screams* i just combust every time i write for theo but this piece especially has me just screaming at the cuteness!!!

Everyone who went to Hogwarts knew who Theodore Nott was. It wasn’t hard to miss the dark chestnut hair that would fall in his eyes and the charming smirk that he always wore. Theodore Nott was gorgeous and he knew it. His popularity often led to him being the topic of most conversations and a receiver of many love confessions. Girls would flock to him and try their best to twirl their hair and flirt with the Slytherin but all they were met with was indifference.

Theodore Nott would tune out their obnoxious laughter and shrill squeals. He would stare blankly at them, reject their advances without a care in the world. Word got around that the infamous Theodore Nott was seemingly unreachable. His unattainability only made him that much more interesting to everyone else.

You were blessed, as some would say, to sit next to Theo during Charms. Flitwick had randomly assigned the seating at the start of the year and you got stuck with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t bad at the subject by any means it just got a bit overwhelming with all the stares and whispers that were directed at your partner. You weren’t one for attention or drama, always preferring to hide in the shadows and not be seen. Sitting next to Theo didn’t exactly grant you that freedom.

Theodore Nott was handsome. So so so handsome. You couldn’t deny your attraction and as much as you tried to push it down you often found yourself staring. The slope of his nose and the angled jaw. His eyes that pulled your attention away from anything else. You would watch as he scrawled his notes onto the parchment. His quill would glide effortlessly without hesitation and you often would forget to take your own notes. You couldn’t help but feel your heart pound whenever he spoke to you or whenever he would offer you even the tiniest smile.

“Hey Y/n you free after dinner tonight?”

The boy beside you drawled with his chin in his hands. He looked at you expectedly and you blinked at him confused.

“Sorry?”

“Were you not listening? We have an assignment together, I was asking if you were free so we could get started.” He smirked as if he knew you had been watching him all this time. You felt your cheeks heat up and you spluttered for words. Theo chuckled as he shoved his things into his bag, still waiting for your answer.

“Yeah I’m free tonight.” You mumbled, refusing to look at him. You felt your heart race and you gulped. “Wait where are we meeting up?”

It was then that you realised looking up was a huge mistake because Theo’s face is mere inches away from yours and you felt yourself flush scarlet at the proximity. You blink like a deer caught in headlights trying to calm your own rapidly beating heart. Theo grinned. He tilted his head to the side as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Words died on your tongue and your eyes locked with his and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

It was all too much. Way too much.

You cleared your throat, backing away in your seat as far as you could. Theo bit back another smile as he finally leaned back into his seat again. You felt lightheaded from what had just happened and you looked over at the Slytherin only to find him already staring at you causing your eyes to bulge out of their sockets and for you to turn away quickly.

“W-Where did you say?”

“The library of course, I’d bring you to my dorm but don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for that principessa?”

Even if you couldn’t see Theo Nott you definitely could imagine his trademark smirk that would spread across his face whenever he was feeling smug with himself. His words registered in your mind finally and you let out a squeak at the implication before quickly throwing your stuff in your bag and saying a goodbye.

You darted down the hallway, desperate to get away from your seatmate and to your dorm. Theodore Nott had always been like this with you. All smiles and suggestive comments. Your heart couldn’t take his charming grin and angelic laugh. Ever since you had quietly greeted him back in September he had stuck by you and you really didn’t know why. You weren’t popular by any means and you had no pureblood connection that would be of any use so you weren’t sure why Theodore Nott had taken such an interest in you.

His words filled your head once more and you felt your whole body heat up at the memory. You flopped down onto your bed, groaning into the pillow as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You just knew tonight was going to be so much worse.

“-and I was thinking that we could also talk about non verbal spells since- are you listening to me Y/n?”

You snapped out of your thoughts only to see Theo’s brows furrowed and his lips pulled into a frown. The library was fairly quiet and the two of you had picked a secluded corner to ensure no one would disturb the two of you. Your eyes drifted to the textbook in front of the two of you and you blinked blankly towards your partner.

“Sorry I wasn’t paying attention, what were you saying about non verbal spells?”

Theo smiled and you felt your heart flutter at the sight. His eyes seemed to twinkle more in the warm lighting and you told yourself that you needed to stop having these ridiculous thoughts. Everyone knew that Theodore Nott had no interest in dating anyone much less you.

“You seem to be daydreaming a lot today Y/n, I’m honestly hurt that you haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve been saying.” Theo pouted but you could see the mirth that spread across his face. He leaned towards you and your eyes widened. “What’s got you so distracted today hm?”

He was so close to you. Too close even. You could smell the familiar citrusy scent that he always wore. It felt warm, you didn’t know if that was possible, but he smelt like what you imagined home would be. The slightly sweet but earthy scent invaded your senses and you felt your brain melt.

Your eyes search his face. The sharp cheekbones and jawline contrasted with the smooth curve of his lips. His dark tousled hair that you couldn’t help but imagine running your fingers through his curls. His long eyelashes framed his beautiful grey eyes. The soft glow of the lamp highlights his complexion and you continue to stare, completely mesmerised.

“Nothing…I just have a lot on my mind.” You replied awkwardly, hoping that he didn’t sense that you were lying.

“Hmm…well I’m always here to talk.” Theo folded his arms as he leant onto the wooden desk in front of the both of you. He buried his head into his arms before turning to the side to look at you, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “But I guess we’d just be talking about me, wouldn’t we?”

Immediately you burst into flames and you tried to stutter out an excuse. You knew he had noticed your staring. There were only so many times you could get away with not paying attention in class. Then again, it was still mortifying to get caught.

A group of girls decided that that was the perfect time to walk past the two of you and you froze as they saw you and Theo together. They looked at you and then the Slytherin beside you. Your jaw hung open, gaping like a fish, unable to comprehend the multitude of events that were thrown at you. The girls mirrored your expression before scurrying off whispering loudly.

“Are they dating?”

“No way I didn’t actually think he was capable of liking someone.”

“Who is she anyway? I’ve never seen her around.”

You felt your heart race and you deflated in your chair, head in your hands. This was not meant to happen. You felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked up to see Theo. His smile wasn’t on his face anymore, now replaced with a worried look.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Of course not!” You cried out softly. “Everyone’s going to think I’m your girlfriend and it’s going to spread across the whole of Hogwarts by tomorrow morning. And and…” You groaned, putting your head back into your hands, too overwhelmed by everything that was happening.

Silence spread across the two of you.

“Would that be so bad?” Theo’s voice broke the quiet. You looked up, startled by his words. “Dating me, that is.”

“T-That’s not what I meant-” You stammered, scrambling for an apology, but Theo interrupted you.

“I don’t smile and flirt with just anyone you know. You’re special to me Y/n. I like you, a lot.”

He was looking at you now, his eyes filled with a warmth you had mistaken for amusement. His gaze was soft and filled with affection, a small smile playing on his lips. Your cheeks heated up at his unexpected confession. Your heart pounded, and you gripped your fingers, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you like me too?”

Try as you might you couldn’t find any words to express your emotions or your feelings towards Theodore Nott. All you could muster was a nod as an answer to his question. Theo laughed as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He tugged you closer to him and once again you were face to face with Theodore Nott.

“I want to hear you say it principessa. Tell me how much you fancy me.”

He was doing it on purpose. He knew exactly what to do and what to say to get you completely flustered and a blushing mess for him. And you would be a fool to say it wasn’t working.

“Theo I...” You whispered finally finding your own voice. “I really like you Theodore Nott, I really really like you.”

A bright beam graced Theo’s face and he pressed his forehead against yours, hugging your body close to his. You wrapped your arms around his waist, melting into his touch. Theo pulled back as he placed a kiss on your cheek. You blinked before you felt yourself heat up at his affectionate action. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed at your flustered state.

“You’re so adorable.” Theo chuckled as he embraced you tightly. “I really really like you too Y/n L/n.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theodore x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #fluff #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theo nott #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

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rmview · 11 days ago

Text

they say something hurtful, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — when the enhypen boys say something hurtful to you in an argument!

contents — angst, hurtful words.

hee 𖦹 seung

arguments weren’t common between you and heeseung, but when they happened, they were intense. he was usually calm and collected, but tonight was different. stress from his packed schedule and the unresolved tension between you had created the perfect storm.

“i don’t get why you always make everything about you,” heeseung snapped, his voice rising in frustration. his words stung, and you flinched.

“i’m not making it about me! i just want you to hear me for once!” you shot back, tears threatening to spill as you tried to keep your voice steady.

he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “you know what? if i’d known you were like this — so needy and dramatic — i wouldn’t have dated you in the first place.”

the silence that followed was deafening. heeseung’s own words echoed in his mind as he saw the hurt in your eyes. your lips parted slightly, as if you were about to say something, but no words came out.

you stepped back, shaking your head. “you didn’t mean that… right?”

heeseung’s heart dropped. he knew he had crossed a line, but his pride kept him silent. you waited for him to say something — anything — but the room stayed painfully quiet.

“i can’t believe you,” you whispered, voice trembling. without another word, you turned and grabbed your coat. “you know what, heeseung? if this is how you really feel, then maybe you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t have dated me.”

as you walked out the door, the sound of it closing behind you felt like a finality heeseung wasn’t ready for. the guilt hit him immediately, but by the time he moved to chase after you, it was too late. you were already gone.

jay 𖦹

jay prided himself on being patient, but tonight his limits were tested. the argument had started small — a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control.

“i’m tired of this, jay! you never listen to me!” you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration.

“and i’m tired of you always nagging me about everything!” he shot back, his tone sharper than he intended.

you recoiled slightly, hurt flashing in your eyes. “nagging? i’m trying to communicate with you, but all you ever do is shut me out!”

jay clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. “maybe if you weren’t so clingy all the time, i wouldn’t feel the need to shut you out!”

his words hit you like a slap. “clingy?” you repeated, your voice breaking.

jay’s anger faltered as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, but his pride kept him from softening immediately. “yeah,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

you took a shaky breath, your hands trembling at your sides. “if that’s how you feel about me, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

jay’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, panic briefly flashing across his face. “wait, that’s not —”

“no, jay,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the pain. “you’ve made it clear how you see me. i won’t stay where i’m not wanted.”

before he could stop you, you grabbed your bag and walked out. jay stood frozen, the weight of his words crashing down on him as the door shut behind you.

jake 𖦹

jake was usually the one to keep things lighthearted, but tonight, the argument had dragged him into uncharted territory.

“why do you always assume the worst about me?” jake asked, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“because you never give me a reason not to!” you retorted, your frustration bubbling over.

jake threw his hands in the air. “you’re being ridiculous! do you even hear yourself right now?”

“ridiculous?” you echoed, your voice rising. “you’re the one who never takes anything seriously, jake!”

the comment struck a nerve, and jake snapped. “you know what? maybe this is why i don’t take things seriously — because being serious with you is exhausting!”

the room fell silent, his words hanging heavily in the air. jake’s eyes widened slightly as he realized what he’d just said, but the damage was done.

you stared at him, your heart breaking. “exhausting?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake opened his mouth to take it back, but the guilt and panic froze him. “i didn’t mean —”

“no,” you interrupted, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. “i got it, jake. i get it now.”

you grabbed your bag and headed for the door. “if i’m so exhausting, then maybe you’ll feel better once i’m gone.”

“wait, don’t —” jake called out, stepping forward, but you didn’t stop. the door closed behind you, leaving him standing alone, regret consuming him as the silence in the room grew unbearable.

sung 𖦹 hoon

sunghoon wasn’t one to raise his voice during arguments, but tonight was different. the frustration in his tone was sharp, and it only seemed to escalate the tension between you.

“i don’t get why you always have to make things so difficult,” sunghoon muttered, pacing the room.

“make things difficult? i’m just asking you to talk to me, sunghoon! you keep shutting me out!” you shot back, your voice trembling.

“maybe i shut you out because you always blow things out of proportion!” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

your breath hitched, and sunghoon immediately regretted it. the hurt in your eyes made his heart drop, but his pride kept him standing stiffly.

“blow things out of proportion?” you echoed, your voice soft but laced with pain. “if you really think that, then maybe you don’t know me at all.”

sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words, but his silence spoke volumes. you let out a shaky laugh, more out of disbelief than humor.

“i get it now,” you whispered, grabbing your coat. you couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. “if that’s how you feel, then maybe i should stop trying.”

“wait,” sunghoon said, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out toward you, but you had already opened the door.

you turned back, your expression heartbreakingly calm. “don’t worry, sunghoon. i won’t bother you anymore.”

the door clicked shut, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, the weight of his words crashing down on him. he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands, consumed by regret.

su 𖦹 noo

sunoo hated confrontation, but tonight, the argument had spiraled out of control. his usual patience was worn thin, and the words tumbled out before he could think.

“you’re so sensitive about everything! why can’t you just let it go for once?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

your eyes widened, the sting of his words hitting you like a physical blow. “sensitive? i’m trying to talk to you, sunoo! i’m trying to fix this!”

“well, maybe i don’t want to fix it right now!” he shot back, his voice trembling with frustration. “maybe i need space from all of this — space from you.”

the room went deathly quiet. sunoo’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said, but the damage was done.

“space from me?” you repeated, your voice cracking. “is that what you really want?”

“yes... wait, no — i didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, his tone softening, frustration still clear in his eyes, but you had already stepped back, hurt etched across your face.

“fine,” you whispered, grabbing your bag. “if you need space, you can have it. don’t worry — i won’t take up any more of your time.”

“wait, don’t go,” sunoo pleaded, stepping forward, but you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“i just… i can’t do this right now,” you said, your voice breaking as you walked out the door.

sunoo stood frozen, the weight of his words suffocating him. he sank to the floor, tears streaming down his face as he realized he might have just pushed away the one person who meant the most to him.

jung 𖦹 won

jungwon was usually the calm one, the one who diffused tension with logic and patience. but tonight, his composure cracked under the weight of the argument.

“why do you always assume the worst about me?” jungwon asked, his voice louder than usual.

“because you never let me in!” you fired back, your frustration bubbling over. “you keep everything bottled up, and i’m always left guessing how you feel!”

“maybe i keep things bottled up because you’re impossible to talk to!” he snapped, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

you froze, the hurt in your expression instantly replacing the anger. “impossible to talk to?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

jungwon’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had come, and he immediately regretted his words. “wait, i didn’t mean it like that —”

“no,” you interrupted, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. “you did mean it. and now i get it. i’m impossible to talk to, so why should i even try?”

“please don’t say that,” jungwon pleaded, his voice soft and filled with guilt.

but you had already grabbed your bag, your movements stiff and robotic as you headed for the door. “i won’t bother you anymore, jungwon,” you said, your voice trembling.

as the door closed behind you, jungwon sank into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. the silence of the room was deafening, and he replayed the argument in his mind, each word cutting deeper as he realized how much he had hurt you.

ni 𖦹 ki

ni-ki had always struggled with expressing his feelings during arguments. he often relied on humor or avoidance to diffuse tension, but tonight was different. the argument had escalated quickly, and before he knew it, his frustration boiled over.

“why do you always have to push me like this?” ni-ki snapped, his voice louder than he intended.

“push you?” you retorted, your eyes narrowing. “i’m trying to talk to you because you never let me in, ni-ki! you act like nothing bothers you, but it does, and i know it!”

he rolled his eyes, a frustrated groan escaping his lips. “maybe i don’t let you in because you always make everything a big deal!”

the words hung in the air like a slap. ni-ki froze, realizing too late what he’d just said. your expression shifted, the hurt in your eyes piercing through his defenses.

“a big deal?” you repeated, your voice shaking. “i just wanted to understand you, ni-ki. but if you think i’m such a burden, then maybe i shouldn’t be here at all.”

“no, that’s not —” ni-ki began, but you held up a hand, cutting him off.

“i get it,” you said, your tone quieter now, yet filled with finality. “i’m always the problem, right?”

he panicked, stepping closer to you. “wait, no. i didn’t mean it like that —”

but you were already grabbing your bag, your movements stiff and deliberate. “it’s fine, ni-ki. if that’s how you feel, i won’t push you anymore.”

as you walked out the door, ni-ki stood frozen in place, his heart pounding as he replayed the argument in his mind. the click of the door shutting behind you was deafening, and regret settled heavily in his chest.

he sank onto the couch, his hands gripping his knees tightly. “what have i done?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. he stared at the door, willing you to come back, but the silence of the room only confirmed his worst fear.

notes: happy new year lovelies hehe

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month ago

Text

I’d die for you.

Viktor:

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Please don’t.’ He says almost pleading with you to reconsider after hearing you say such a thing, to be willing to trade off your own life for his own that was already on borrowed time, so wouldn’t your sacrifice be a waste if he was bound to die regardless?

He came from the undercity where loss was an constant occurrence and survival was the norm. So the idea of loosing you wasn’t one he’d warmly welcome nor want to endure as he’d only bury himself deep within his work, going to such lengths with the off chance that he could theoretically bring you back from the cold embrace of death,

‘You’ve got so much ahead of you Viktor.’ You countered. ‘So much to do to achieve your goal of helping others!’ You add.

Viktor moves to look at you from his workplace with a raised brow. ‘And so you automatically think your life is forfeit in comparison because of this?’ He asks as if to show you just how ridiculous it was to just throw your life away because you believed his dreams for the future outweighed the worth of that of your own life.

You stayed quiet as you could see the disbelief clear within his amber eyes as he grabbed his cane and made his way over to you to hold your hand in his long, slender and calloused ones as they caress the back of your knuckles. ‘For it’s not. No life is more important than the others solely based on what the person can give to others.’ Viktor tells you as sits himself down next to you.

‘Our lives are of equal value and I’d would much rather you’d live for me instead.’ He says with a small smile. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ He then asks softly, intertwining your fingers together. You smiled back at him. ‘I can sure try as long as you do too.’ You replied and Viktor let out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hand in thanks.

‘Then we shall live for each other.’ Viktor said but little did you know that he’d be lying and he wasn’t going to be staying very soon.

Ekko:

‘I’d gladly die for you.’

‘No, you wont.’ Those words might’ve come out more harsher than Ekko wanted but he wasn’t about to let you joke about trading your life for his own. He just wouldn’t.

Even now the idea of you being the self sacrificial hero made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He was the one who should be protecting you, protecting everybody really and once his mind was made up Ekko was more or less an immovable object, never yielding and never budging from his ideals for nothing.

So to say he wasn’t liking the idea of you dying on him was an understatement. He didn’t like it for a plethora of reasons as he’s already lost enough people close to his heart, he wasn’t willing to have you be amongst them, painted on the mural by his own hand as he feels the guilt and grief eat away at his heart. ‘Promise me you won’t be reckless the next time we’re out on a mission.’ He gives you his pinky, something you two did when you were being serious about things.

‘Ekko-‘

‘Promise me you won’t.’ Ekko cuts you off in desperation, his eyes wide and his breathing becoming rapid and uneven the longer you didn’t immediately link pinkies with him like you usually did, it had him feeling as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. ‘I don’t want to loose another person I love.’ He adds and you interlock your pinkies with him before being pulled into his strong embrace where he buried his face into yours neck, not wanting to let go of you after hearing that statement leave your mouth.

‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.’ He whispered into your neck, grip tightening on you as he feels you rub his back soothingly. Ekko wasn’t ready for the day he’d have to say goodbye to you and so until that day he’ll keep protecting you until he couldn’t anymore, for he’d rather see you move on forward without him, but if he knew you as well as he did then you would just be equally as stubborn to see him live another day.

So he’ll just keep ahold of you like this everyday when you were alone just to remind himself that you were still here and here you will stay.

Silco (young) :

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Don’t say such things, haven’t we suffered enough?’ He’d say as he has you by your shoulders, his grip tightening in tandem with the idea of possibly loosing you to all sorts of things, whether it’d be Zaun or the corrupt enforcers from topside. Silco wasn’t exactly willing to lose the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

It was a day he’d never wish to see pass him by as he didn’t know what he would do should he find you dead in the rubble from a something that was purposely intended for him, he’d blame himself and be left to seek solitude in the darkness and shadows should that ever be the case.

‘But it’s true.’ You’d reply.

Silco grits his teeth at your stubbornness but it was one of your defining traits that he deeply adored. ‘Well I’m not going to allow it.’ He retorted. ‘I won’t allow you to hastily throw your life away just because you felt like being a hero.’ He practically spat out the last part as though it were poison. Hero what the hell has being a hero ever done for anyone? Nothing that’s what and Silco would refused you at every time you got like this, not once liking the implications it left within his head.

‘Not a hero, just someone who cares enough about another person to be willing to see them keep living, even if it means dying in the process.’ You defended yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to look him in the eyes to prove your words true, but you didn’t need to do that for Silco knew well enough you were a person of your word, never once going back on it when you probably should’ve.

‘Heroes don’t exist in Zaun.’ Silco said as he rests his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. ‘So don’t try and be the first for I don’t want to be the one to make your mural. Don’t make me have to leave you behind. Don’t make me mourn for what we could’ve had.’ He pleads with you as you gently hold his face and caress his cheeks, allowing him the chance to rest his eyes and drink you in through your touch.

He didn’t like the idea of you dying before him, not one bit, so he’ll try and make sure that you survive together long enough to see the betterment of Zaun.

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luvth0t · 9 months ago

Text

RIDICULOUS ━ L.N

in which lando can longer cope with you laughing at the mere idea of being with him, and you realise it wouldn’t be that ridiculous. but it may be all too late.

warnings; nswf, smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, lando in the friend zone, implied that reader is a year or two older than lando, little bit of angst, choking, soft dom!lando, silly reader, overstimulation i guess, lotta praise, oral, fluff at the end if you squint

lando was infatuated the moment he met you.

it took a while to realise how strongly he felt, considering he met you at arguably the most chaotic time of his life.

his first year in f1, carlos his teammate; meaning you were around every race from the start, to this day.

he wanted his own photographer after a mere few interactions with you, but quickly realised he only cared about photos because you were the one occasionally taking them.

carlos signing for ferrari meant lando was losing two people; his teammate and you. his friend.

he’d jokingly asked you to jump ship, work for him instead. if only you knew how serious he was being.

you never looked at lando the way he looked at you. he was like a friends annoying little brother, one you couldn’t help but pity and adore.

he made you laugh, was fun to be around. a change from the personality’s you would come across in the paddock. it was no shock to you that carlos built a bond with him ━ as did you.

since joining ferarri you didn’t see the brit as much as you’d like, not that carlos’ new teammate was a let down. charles was lovely. you didn’t feel invasive taking shots of the pair of them.

but you still kept it touch. occasional group outings, dinners and celebrations. you weren’t oblivious to the way he always made time for you. but you were naive to the deeper meanings.

his flirtations were nothing of concern, to you it was a running joke. amongst many of you; you didn’t think lando actually wanted anything from you beyond platonic.

he could handle rejection. but being laughed at? he could only cope for so long.

“he begged me to invite you tonight,” carlos’ words were teasing, directed towards you yet his eyes rested on lando; out for dinner with a few other team members from mclaren carlos hadn’t caught up with in a while.

melbourne was one of your favourite races for this very reason, having to get here so early meant you had time to catch up with those in the paddock away from the craziness.

lando’s eyes lifted from the menu he was reading; scoffing immediately, already prepared to jump on the defence ━ not giving you a chance to speak.

“i was making sure you hadn’t forgotten anyone, y/n included.” lando corrected, flashing you a grin in the midst of his explanation, one you mirrored.

“i’d like to think my presence would be a given,” you huffed back at carlos; and lando felt a fool for allowing his heart to jump at the prospect of you also defending him.

“of course it is. just saying, lando was set on making sure you’d be here.” carlos smirked; eyes now on his own menu, pretending as if he wasn’t attempting to stir the pot.

“he misses you,” an engineer spoke up from besides lando, nudging the british driver who could only roll his eyes; not at all unfamiliar with being targeted with such banter. he copped it a lot worse when you were all on the same team.

“mhm, misses me. not carlos.” you grinned; practically bragged ━ nudging carlos this time; you’d grown a talent it seemed for redirecting the topic of conversation. trying too at least, and the way lando smirked made it clear he appreciated your efforts.

he’d nodded as well, confirming your words. in no way ashamed to admit he missed you more than the spaniard, while it didn’t seem like there was any truth to his words with the playful smile on his face; the assumption couldn’t be any closer to the truth.

“if you miss her so much you should go out for dinner just the pair of you,” carlos challenged quickly; earning an eye roll from yourself and a small giggle at the idea ━ oh the shit show that would be, you and lando out for dinner. you could read the headlines now.

lando caught the way you laughed, you however missed the way his eyes snapped to you in the moment. the way his smile faltered, merely from watching you completely dismiss and laugh at the idea of spending just a single dinner with him alone. what’s so funny about that? could it really be the most absurd idea? no matter how many times you reacted in such a way it always stung.

he recovered almost instantly however, like he always does.

“wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, know you don’t like to be left out.” lando mused; earning another laugh from you ━ one that was music to his ears, hearing you laugh at his jokes was always enough to have him holding his chin a little higher.

“oh i’d be more than happy to see you finally get out of the friend zone.” carlos regretted his words the moment they left his mouth, catching the way lando’s smile fell and jaw tensed ━ quickly realising his teasing may have gone too far.

your lack of reaction killed lando more than carlos’ words did, the way you barely battered an eyelash ━ completely unbothered while he sat here trying to not pop a blood vessel. he wanted to defend the relationship or friendship you had, but there wasn’t much to defend.

because carlos was right, he was painfully stuck in the friend zone.

“how much longer till you realise these jokes got old two years ago?” you sounded awfully unbothered as your gaze remained on your menu, only looking up when another engineer spoke up.

“it’s just a joke?” he’d asked in full seriousness, eyes flickering between yourself and lando. he wasn’t on carlos’ side of the garage, always working on lando’s side. he barely interacted with you; only heard things through the grapevine.

“obviously.” you spoke as if it was…obvious, and the laugh you let out would’ve softened the blow of your words had lando not already heard this a thousand times.

“ah, ah, ah. don’t forget about silverstone.” carlos simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut; bringing up the night where everyone was convinced you and lando spent the night together.

which would be valid if you actually had, but you hadn’t. you went home together purely because you both were tired. he dropped you at your hotel room, didn’t even come inside. somehow no one believed either of you when you squashed their suspicions that ‘lando’s wish had finally come true.’

“don’t be ridiculous.” you scoffed, shaking your head ever so slightly. lando’s silence would’ve been deafening if others weren’t jumping in to speak, and maybe you would’ve noticed his lack of input if you spared him a glance.

he was managing to muster a fake smile, it was almost painful. any amusement he was clinging too had vanished, wanting the conversation to be over with.

“it’s not ridiculous.” carlos huffed; and lando almost wanted to nod in agreement. thank him even. because it wasn’t ridiculous, he didn’t think so at least. it made sense to him. you made so much sense to him.

“it is.” the nail in the coffin, lando couldn’t keep smiling anymore. you sounded oh so certain, all the while the smile hadn’t left your face. “come on now,” you added in exaggeration at carlos’ unconvinced face.

lando wasn’t sure what you said next, he didn’t want to hear it. he couldn’t figure out why hearing all of this was suddenly unbearable, but before he knew it he was not so subtlety excusing himself ━ something about getting another drink, before standing up and bee lining to the bar.

the abrupt departure didn’t halt anyone else’s movements, conversations continuing and carlos joining in a debate with his cousin and his old mclaren press officer; while your attention got stuck on lando’s full glass ahead of you.

he didn’t need another drink.

you watched as he weaved through the crowds, the way he failed to smile at anyone he passed by; the tension clear in his jaw; it almost appeared as if he was scowling.

it was funny, because your first thought was if you offended him. but you couldn’t figure out what possibly could have; it was laughable how unaware you were of his feelings.

“i’ll be back,” you excused yourself, standing up and following in lando’s directions without any hesitance; a slight frown on your face as you dodged people left and right to get to the bar.

you weren’t sure why the prospect of upsetting him upset you so much, but the sudden urgency to check on him was too powerful to ignore.

“rude to not offer a girl a drink you know?”

lando’s eyes only shifted towards you for a mere couple of seconds when you made your presence known. he could count on one hand the amount of times he wished to be alone when you were near, but this was one of them.

he was drained, unable to fake any more smiles or shrug off any more comments. blame it on the jet lag.

“apologises,” he hummed; not offering you another glance which had your suspicions confirmed, your furrowed brow showing concern not that he could see. his blue eyes were focused ahead on the busy bartender.

“you good?” you internally cringed as the words left your lips, unable to figure out a way to address the sudden mood without sounding overbearing or overstepping.

you watched as his shoulders tensed; as his eyes strategically continued to avoid you, only making the pit in your stomach feel deeper, as if it could swallow you whole.

“peachy.” his sarcasm was clear, and while it would usually be a relief it wasn’t laced with the usual humour. it was blunt, dismissive ━ and if you had any doubts left about being the reason for him running off, they were now squashed.

“did i say something━ did carlos say something?” the questions stumbled out of your lips in concern, biting down on the inside of your cheek. “i’ve tried to tell him to lay off with the jokes, it’s stupid i know.” you began to ramble.

lando finally let his gaze land on you, and the sight of your sympathetic eyes and worried frown had him feeling guilty. which was ridiculous, but suddenly he felt an urge to reassure you he was fine. that you hadn’t said anything.

but you had.

“it’s not the jokes,” lando cut you off; hands running over his head, even letting out a laugh at how pathetic he sounded. he was going to continue, explain it further; but he stopped himself.

he couldn’t. it was a can of worms that must remain shut.

you stood in silence for a moment, under the impression he’d keep speaking. but he didn’t. leaving you with no explanation; just further confusion.

“no?” you hummed; eyebrows raising. “because i totally get if it is. it’s ridiculous how they keep going on━” you were rambling again, trying to make the situation better. attempting to ensure he felt heard, that he could speak to you about what was bothering him.

so oblivious to the fact you were just digging yourself a deeper hole.

there was that word again; ridiculous.

“is it? is it really that ridiculous?” lando couldn’t stop the question from flying out of his mouth; only now turning to properly face you; in time to catch the dumbfounded look on your face from his question.

it took a few moments to try understand what he meant, coming up short as you stared at him clueless, lips parting to try come up with something to say but falling short.

“is what?” you mumbled, suddenly all confidence was gone. almost scared to hear the answer; purely because you recognised the doubt and regret illustrating his face.

but lando had nothing else to lose, you’ve rejected him in front of everyone else without realising. what’s once more?

“us. dinner us two, having gone home together in silverstone. this?” lando sighed out like it was obvious, hands waving between the pair of you.

because to him it was so obvious. the amount of times he’s almost asked you to join him for a meal, just the pair of you.

maybe if he had you’d see what he saw.

silverstone meant so much to him, having expected nothing from you but he thought about the taxi ride back to the hotel more than he’d like to admit. he could’ve sworn you’d been flirting with him that night.

he even thought it would’ve been the start of something.

optimism was a curse however, because stupidly lando thought perhaps after finally expressing his feelings that maybe you’d reveal your hidden reciprocation. that maybe you were scared like him.

but instead all he could see was shock. and confusion. and fuck, was that sympathy?

“what?” it was a weak response, but all you could muster. you were attempting to find any other explanation for his words, to figure out what he could be implying.

lando had to laugh, shaking his head as he faced the bar again; hands running over his face as you quickly realised he was being fully serious.

“it’s not━ we’ve never━ i mean it would be weird.” word vomit, you didn’t know what you were saying; usually so careful with your words you knew the moment lando looked at you in shock and offence you’d be haunted by that very sentence. “not weird━ but,” you attempted to fix your mistake, eyes screwing shut.

another laugh from him beat you to it however.

“ridiculous. i got it,” lando spoke through a breath, sounding incredibly defeated which had your stomach dropping.

you struggled to find words to assure him, still attempting to process what he’d just told you. you hadn’t ever looked at him in that way. he was always just… lando.

“lando…” you trailed off with a frown, only now starting to realise the position you both were now in.

the awkward tension was growing quickly and you’d never despised something so quickly. you refused to let this be the bitter end to your friendship.

“it’s fine. just drop it.” lando huffed, standing up straight; eyes finding yours once more. he didn’t want you to feel bad, he’d accepted long ago that his chances of you feeling the same were slim.

you can’t apologise for how you feel.

“no we should talk about it,” you disagreed, so much concern and care in your eyes it almost made him sick. he didn’t need that from you. and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about how he’d spent years pining over you.

he’d kept it secret for a reason, to avoid this.

“i’ll pass,” lando hummed; the half smile he mustered up did little to comfort you as he licked his bottom lip and glanced around the room. “i’m gonna head up,” he cleared his throat.

you’d gone to express your dismay with such thing, but he was walking off before you could get another word out; left alone at the bar dumbfounded and suddenly in need of a drink.

it would be quite sad to admit that one revelation could change your whole weekend. but it did.

you’ve never had trouble sleeping, in fact the jet lag usually knocked you out. yet you’d spent the best of your time in melbourne thinking through every word lando said. looking back on every damn interaction the two of you shared.

you felt like an idiot. because suddenly it made a lot of sense, what you failed to realise in the moment fell together piece by piece.

an insight into his intentions for the effort he’d put into the friendship over the last couple years was eye opening, and while you were unsure as to how you hadn’t assumed such thing sooner, you found yourself asking the question how it made you feel.

you’d be lying if you didn’t have a few moments of giddiness as you recounted certain times. how he drove you home from pre-season testing one time because you didn’t feel well. how he always got you flowers for your birthday.

suddenly your mind was consumed with the thought of lando every waking second. from the moment you entered the paddock on thursday you were looking for him. which didn’t make sense considering you had plans to avoid him.

you didn’t want to make things worse than they were. but for some reason he was the only thing on your mind, to the point it was becoming an issue as you tried to go about your work.

not once in your career had you been pulled up on anything, so when carlos questioned if you were okay friday afternoon ━ claiming you had been slacking, you knew you were fucked.

there’s no way you felt the same. surely not.

you had to stand by what you said. it’d be weird?

he was lando. annoying lando who couldn’t grow a speck of facial hair and flinched at the sight of fish.

except saturday, when you finally laid eyes on the driver again, it was cruel slap in the face of reality when you realised that was almost 5 years ago. you’d both changed. lando had changed.

you almost spiralled when you found yourself admiring the driver. had his mclaren top always been so tight around his biceps? had his skin always been so sun kissed? not to mention the way his curls sat atop his head.

you suddenly felt insane. you’d never looked at him in that light, never thought what if. but his confession had you a mess of thoughts, one’s you had to run away from. causing you to spend the rest of the weekend hidden away in ferrari’s hospitality.

you could only hide for so long, carlos had won ━ which was enough to get your mind off of the british driver for a whole 4 minutes until they were up on the podium together.

work was your priority however, but you couldn’t help but notice just how nicely lando photographs. you only ever focused on carlos, considering he paid your wage. but as you took shots and shots of the pair interacting before and after the podium from afar you couldn’t help but note how lando was practically glowing.

your head was a mess, and as you now stood in a random club in melbourne, you had no idea what your next move was.

you couldn’t exactly deny going out to celebrate when carlos had won. so your next wish was that lando simply wouldn’t be in attendance.

but he was, and your eyes hadn’t left him all night.

still having not spoken for days, you couldn’t shake the urge to congratulate him. yet for some reason you were scared, you didn’t trust yourself. fearing you’d say something you’d regret. which was a foreign feeling. lando was usually the easiest person for you to talk too.

however you could only stand in the corner with a drink as your only company for so long. a sudden wave of confidence washing over you, or more so desperation to stop being so childish, causing you to down your drink before setting off towards the british driver.

it was when you were only a few metres from him that you realised you should probably have a game plan, and if he hadn’t locked eyes with you there was a high chance you would’ve backed out. turned around and walked away.

instead you were left to improvise.

“good job today,” you smiled widely when you got into ear shot; unable to shake the tightness in your chest, feeling suddenly out of breath as if you had sprinted over here.

lando appeared much more relaxed than he had last time you spoke. which made sense. he’d put it on the podium, why wouldn’t he be in a good mood?

“thank you,” the driver grinned, unable to be stumped when he was still running high off adrenaline. plus, he figured you would pretend the other evening never happened. which he would happily take.

your script ended there however. you had no idea what to say. or where to look, since when was eye contact with lando hard?

“impressive from carlos,” lando managed to fill the silence, and you could feel the relief at the fact he’d saved you from creating an awkward silence.

“yeah, yeah i know. very proud of him. i’ll never complain about pain again.” you spoke through a dry laugh; one he mirrored, your lips pursing as you attempted to think of something, anything, to fix the mess you found you guys in.

to apologise for your rudeness? to explain your mindset? to just talk. you needed to talk to him, for your own sanity.

“look i just wanted━” you finally built the courage up to speak, but were interrupted as a blonde woman slid next to lando’s side, handing him a drink while doing so.

it shouldn’t have shut you up so quickly, but it did ━ eyebrows raising as you attempted to figure out how to respond to the image in front of you. one you’d never seen before actually.

“line was long,” the girl hummed in explanation, and you only just caught lando’s sorry eyes as his attention turned to the girl next to him.

he would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the lifeline that was the blonde he’d just met 20 minutes ago. he did not need to hear your reasonings as to why you should just remain friends, not tonight.

“i’ll um, i’ll talk to you later.” there was no way you’d try get your words out again, not when you barely spoke up the first time. yet for some reason, you’d hoped lando had insisted you could speak now.

instead left to watch as he nodded and offered you a small smile; practically sending you off on your way.

embarrassment was the one word to describe how you felt as you made your way to the nearest booth, attempting to hide away and let the darkness swallow you whole.

apart of you felt you should be grateful, maybe being interrupted was a saving grace. god knows what you were about to say, you definitely didn’t. but right now you found yourself in the same position as you were 5 minutes ago.

it felt selfish. lando had practically admitted to having feelings for you, that’s what you gathered at least, and you’d been unaware for years.

you’d been slightly uncertain in your feelings for five days and you felt as if you were losing your mind. you had no right for an explanation really, but you needed something. attempting to decipher everything to do with the main man of mclaren was giving you a headache.

although your vision became a bit clearer as you sat and watched him interact with the girl who’d placed the drink in his hands.

it suddenly made sense why you hadn’t seen him like this before. his attention was always on you, his efforts and time focused towards you if you were in arms reach.

which you couldn’t help but feel grateful for as you sat and watched your new personal hell.

you didn’t want to label it as jealousy. because that would be ridiculous, but it was beginning to be hard to watch the way lando whispered in her ear and grinned widely as he earned a laugh or two from the girl.

were you mad at the sight or mad at your own reaction? you weren’t sure. it felt wrong, to feel so strongly when only a few days ago you’d laughed in his face about the prospect of being with him.

what was it they said about you only want what you can’t have?

“it should be illegal for you to be sitting here moping after i’ve won.” carlos’ voice snapped you from your thoughts, being met with the driver who slid into the booth opposite you, a sheepish smile forming on your features.

“i’m not moping.” you huffed, leaning back in your seat ━ attempting to look and feel relaxed, allow your tense shoulders to loosen, glancing back to lando once more before your attention was on the driver ahead of you.

“you have been all week.” carlos disagreed, eyebrow raising as you frowned; not having a reply because he was right. and suddenly you felt horrible.

“i’m sorry━ that’s the last thing you need with the couple weeks you’ve had,” you sighed, head falling into your hands. it was as if you suddenly couldn’t do anything right.

you missed the way carlos smiled, having looked at the direct reason of your problems moments prior.

“don’t apologise.” carlos dismissed, assuring you it was fine; and when you peaked up through your hands, the smile he was flashing you was enough to put your mind at ease. “i’m assuming lando said something.”

there it was. lando. again. back in your head. as if you ever got him out.

you only sighed, head falling back this time as you now stared at the ceiling. of course carlos knew.

“you knew?” you huffed out, it clear you already knew the answer.

“everyone does.” carlos chuckled, and you wish you too could take amusement from the situation. how comforting, this whole time you’ve either appeared as an idiot or the biggest bitch.

“why wouldn’t you tell me?” you practically whined, looking back at the driver once more; watching as he put his hands up in defence and innocence.

“i thought you knew.” carlos claimed, sounding so honest you couldn’t question him ━ nor blame him. you shouldn’t have needed someone to spell it out for you. plus, you’re not sure what you would’ve done if you did know.

because it wasn’t like you were handling the current situation very well.

you had no answer, just left him to watch as you sat wallowing in self pity. you should’ve never chased him to the bar.

“he’ll be fine. look at him, moving on already,” carlos attempt to comfort you was more like a punch to the stomach ━ because you had to stop yourself from glaring at him. had to stop yourself from spitting out how that wasn’t what you wanted.

you didn’t want that at all, and that thought was suffocating. you were in no place to come to terms with your feelings, but right now they seemed to be demanding to make themselves known.

“i need air.” you huffed as you stood up, thankful that you had taken notice of the smokers exit not too far from you.

the crisp air felt like a soothing blanket, hitting your skin the moment you got outside. the balcony was empty and finally you felt as if you could breathe; allowing your arms to rest against the railing as the music became muffled and the sound of melbourne’s night life filled your ears.

it felt stupid, staring across the city skyline as if it would answer your questions. maybe the stars could align and write out a solution for you, tell you what to do.

but with every passing second you didn’t find any clarity or idea on what to do, how to feel. you shouldn’t want him. you haven’t wanted him before. it isn’t fair to suddenly feel so drawn to him after unknowingly rejecting him for so long.

but it was the reality. you’d been exposed to the idea of lando wanting you; and with every passing moment it became clear to you it wasn’t weird. it sounded fucking incredible.

the music suddenly filled your ears again, moments later becoming muffled as you became aware someone had joined you outside. it wasn’t till they spoke that you tensed up.

“it’s cold out here,” his voice was instantly recognisable, you didn’t need to look at him to know it was him.

“too hot in there.” you hummed simply in reply, feeling his presence next to you as he joined you in observing the city skyline; although you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

falling into a comfortable silence was the last thing you expected, both too scared to speak up and face the inevitable. if you could stay like this forever you would. it was the first few moments of peace you’d known all week.

“we can pretend the other night never happened. i don’t want things to be weird.” lando spoke, words so soft as if you’d break. as if he needed to be careful with you.

his whole demeanour had you frowning, turning to face him. he shouldn’t be fixing this mess, nor prioritising your feelings over his. not when both of you had neglected his for so long.

you parted your lips to disagree, to tell him that was the last thing you wanted. you wanted to talk about it. it’s all you needed to do.

but quickly you realised that was contradicting your initial thoughts.

“if that’s what you want,” you spoke through a breath; unable to understand how you still couldn’t find the right thing to say when this very conversation has been the only thing on your mind all week.

it was lando’s turn to stay quiet, you watched as he thought through what to say; practically seeing his mind tick.

“i just want to know why it’s so ridiculous to you.” lando practically blurted the question out, as if he was almost afraid he wouldn’t say it ever if he didn’t now. it’d been weighing on his mind, it killed him that he had no explanation as to why you were so against the idea of him in anyway that branched further than platonic.

and while you wanted to give him an answer, you didn’t have one.

“i don’t know.” you answered truthfully. “i never looked at you that way lando i…” you trailed off, eyes getting lost in his when you realised just how close he was. your admiration these past couple days from afar was one thing; but up close was a whole new ball park. “you were like this little kid, i don’t know,” you struggled to articulate your thoughts.

“yeah five years ago,” lando’s response was quick and blunt; even with the chuckle that escaped under his breath, it didn’t lessen the intensity in his eyes that were now pouring into yours. it was as if he’d been wanting to say such thing for years. he was challenging you.

you’d gulped at his words, because he was right and you’d only come to terms with such thing these past few days.

“yeah.” you mumbled in agreement, suddenly feeling small under his gaze; it was all so new. you’d been in this position with lando countless of times, why did you suddenly feel as if every nerve inside of you was being set alight? why did you feel as if you couldn’t dare look away from his eyes.

you could spot the moment lando realised the change in your behaviour, the way his eyes flickered across your face; his lips parting ever so slightly as he took a breath.

he recognised the look on your face, purely because it’s how he would always look at you.

“it fucking sucked you know? having to sit there while you laugh at the idea of spending the night with me. even just going on a date with me.” lando hummed, voice barely above the whisper because with the minimal distance he didn’t need to speak any louder. although if he spoke any quieter you’d be worried you wouldn’t hear him over the sound of your rapid heartbeat.

you didn’t know what to say, head tilting aside ever so slightly as you watched him take a step closer; dangerously close now yet for some reason you found yourself leaning further towards his frame ━ and the moment you let your eyes flicker to his lips you knew you were done for.

“m’ sorry,” you mumbled; eyes pouring into his once more as if that would ensure he knew you meant it, but he didn’t want nor need an apology. but god would he love an opportunity to change your mind.

it was as if you could act without thinking again the moment his hand cupped your cheek, lips pressed onto yours in a rush that had your hand moving to find a grip in his shirt.

you didn’t know how to describe it, but suddenly everything made sense as your lips moved together in perfect sync.

the moment almost came crumbling down however when lando pulled away only a few moments later, heavy breaths as his hand remained on your cheek; eyes looking down at you as if you were gods greatest gift to earth.

but as much as this felt like heaven, lando knew he couldn’t risk this just being a one time thing. he refused to get a taste of you just to be starved again.

“if you don’t━” lando barely got his words out, you had him read; could see the doubt beginning to creep in. as much as he hated being vulnerable it was almost self perseveration.

thankfully however you didn’t give him much time to worry, shaking your head before tugging him closer to you ━ reconnecting your lips with such certainty lando had no room to fear or doubt you.

it was all he needed, the lid was off and he finally could act on his wants ━ hands moving to grip your waist as he trapped you between himself and the railing, lips moving against yours without a care in the world that anyone could walk out and see.

it was as if the kiss was the answer to all your questions, suddenly it all made sense. lando made sense; you felt stupid, how had you denied yourself of such thing for so long?

your hands were tangled in his hair, his were clutching your sides for dear life ━ large hands pawing at your waist then your hips, having to stop himself from getting too greedy and travelling any further.

so caught up in him you quickly realised you needed to breathe, pulling away momentarily; yet you had no time to recover as lando only busied himself with peppering kisses on your jaw.

naturally you tilted your head back, a sigh of content escaping you as you invited him to explore more of you. and lando was not going to ignore such thing, soft kisses now pressed to the skin of your neck.

suddenly you were incredibly aware of the closeness, the way his body was pressed against yours; the cold railing behind you doing little to cool your hot skin; his knee pressing between your thighs having your eyes fluttering shut.

heaven was the only way to describe it.

but really you were on the smokers balcony of a crowded melbourne club, a reality that hit the pair of you as the door swung open and laughter and chatter was suddenly heard.

your eyes flickered to the group who appeared, lando regrettably lifting his head and glancing over his shoulder. the group was unbothered by your presence, you weren’t sure the pair of you were even noticed.

lando’s grip had tightened on your waist ever so slightly, as if you could slip away from him like the moment had.

“we should get out of here,” you spoke through heavy breaths as your eyes met his, watching as his lit up with both relief and eagerness. he only nodded, taking a step backwards as his hands ran over his now crinkled shirt.

the pair of you may had gotten yourselves together in those few seconds, but as you worked your way through the crowded club towards the exit, it was quite clear what had occurred.

the elevator ride only caused swollen lips and messy hair, and you struggled to keep your hands off of him once in the back of a taxi ━ kissing him was addictive, that’s the only thing you could think of right now.

the silence wasn’t awkward as you stumbled into his hotel room; only the sounds of quiet laughter as he struggled to find his room key. small curses escaping his mouth as he failed to move in the urgency he was currently feeling.

it was messy the way you both discarded your shoes and belongings, a few words and mumbles exchanged before he was tugging you into his chest again ━ lips once more reconnected.

the space allowed you to wrap your arms around his neck this time, body practically melting into his hold. you wanted to apologise again, explain your thoughts over the last few days, how your change of heart had occurred.

you weren’t even sure it was a change of heart; more so just now thinking about new possibilities.

but lando seemed to be the thing that could put those thoughts at bay, finally your mind was silent ━ all senses consumed with the man in front of you.

you weren’t sure which wall he’d backed you against but you didn’t care; welcoming the familiar feeling of his lips on your neck once more ━ taking the few seconds of your brain not being foggy to tug on the end of his shirt before trying to push it up his body.

he got the memo, ridding himself of his shirt and you could feel your breath get caught in your throat at the sight of his toned torso.

“what do you want?” lando’s question was matched with an intensity that almost had you squirming, his knee pushing between your thighs once more as you peered up at him.

you were suddenly lost for words, unsure how to vocalise what you wanted.

him. just him. anything he had to offer.

the feeling of his finger running up the side of your leg gave you plenty of ideas; but you were too flustered to articulate such thing.

the sight of you dumbfounded had him letting out a breathy chuckle, eyebrows raising in expectance ━ yet somehow it just had you squeezing your legs together.

“anything.” you mumbled, cheeks a tint of pink as he only smirked at your answer; you hadn’t realised how desperate you sounded. you weren’t sure you’ve ever sounded so needy.

“gotta be more specific pretty,” his grin told you he was revelling in your flustered state. how could he not? his mind was running wild with plans to have you a needy mess all for him.

the term of endearment was new, a boundary that had never been crossed in your friendship; yet it sounded so natural. what wasn’t natural was the way your heart seemed to flutter at the compliment.

“want me to touch you?” lando was almost mocking you as his hand moved to push your hair back out of your face, cupping the side of your head while doing so to ensure your eyes stayed trained on him ━ and the mere act had you falling further into submission.

it was pathetic, you were somehow able to identify such thing ━ standing here with parted lips and wide eyes, having nodded at his words almost too eagerly. you needed to control yourself, at least for now; he’d barely touched you yet.

“what do you want?” your words were no where near as confident as his, but you weren’t complaining; the confidence suited him, it only had you wanting him more.

you watched as his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, attempting to keep your mind off his finger that was dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“want to ruin you so you’ll only ever think of me if another man touches you.” lando was honest with his answer, you hadn’t expected such words to escape his mouth. such bluntness, what sounded like a promise had your knees feeling weak ━ the idea sounding perfect to you.

but he wasn’t finished.

“want you to cum on my fingers.” he added quietly, your legs spreading ever so slightly as his hand finally ventured under your skirt. “then my tongue,” he practically chimed; head ducking down to your neck now, his hot breath fanning your skin.

thinking was only getting harder, his words were turning your mind into a puddle, much like the state of your undergarments.

“then my cock.” he concluded before paying extra attention to the skin on your neck, kissing intently as you let out a shaky breath.

attempting to process such words from him was difficult, but you were quick to figure out it sounded incredible to you.

“hm?” his hum was a taunt, head lifting to look at you once more, watching as you nodded quickly.

“please,” you practically whimpered, god you’d get on your knees and beg. lando almost groaned from the word leaving your lips alone, the way you were looking up at him with doe eyes had a grin forming on his face, one you mirrored for a brief moment.

the man couldn’t believe his eyes, a sight he’d dream of too many times was in front of him in the flesh and he wanted nothing more but to make sure you too would never forget these moments.

his lips returning to yours almost had you failing to notice the way his hand slipped under your skirt, finding your soaked panties with ease. he groaned into your mouth as he realised how wet you were, your only reply a slight tug on his curls.

light and teasing touches were only tolerable for so long, you could deal with his fingers dancing around your clothed folds while his lips stayed on yours ━ but when he pulled away your breaths became irregular, clinging to every ounce of patience you had.

you were about to whine when his hand pushed your panties to the side, slipping a digit inside of you without warning was enough to have you choking out a moan ━ hand flying to grip his bicep to ensure your legs wouldn’t give out on you.

lando was watching you as if you were gods gift to the earth, thumb settling on your clit naturally that within seconds of him getting to work your eyes were fluttering shut ━ head falling back against the wall.

“you’re soaked baby,” his words were barely audible; too in awe of you, but you still managed to catch them as you nodded ever so slightly.

“for you,” you breathed out ━ not that it needed clarifying, but the reassurance had the driver smirking proudly, even rewarding you as suddenly a second finger slipped inside of you.

for him. lando would never had thought that would ever be possible. if he wasn’t so focused on getting you off he’d be replaying those words in his mind again, and again.

suddenly it was becoming hard to keep quiet, strings of moans and whimpers escaping you in succession, causing lando’s pants to feel incredibly tight. but that was the last thing on his mind, holding you against the wall with the only goal of having you come undone in his grasp.

his name sounded heavenly as you moaned it, so much so lando thought no one else should ever speak it again ━ nothing would compare to that.

“look at me.” lando’s demand was so calm you almost missed it, eyes still fluttered shut as your thighs squeezed around his hand. despite hearing him you couldn’t act, control of your body slipping away ever so quickly with the way his thumb was circling your sensitive bud.

lando’s breathy laugh wasn’t enough to capture your attention either, his touch was all your mind could focus on. so it was when his free large hand trailed up your body to wrap around your neck that your eyes fluttered open.

his eyes were inquisitive, clearly attempting to gage a reaction to the action which had your lips parting despite having no pressure applied. however it was the way you clenched around his fingers that told him enough.

the slight squeeze of your neck was enough to draw a moan out of you, and lando could only hum in content. you were fucking perfect.

it was quickly becoming overwhelming, pleasure suddenly building so quickly ━ eyes pouring into his as you struggled to form words.

“close,” was all you managed out; lando’s nod was in sync with his curled fingers ━ your nails digging into his skin as he brushed the spot that had your legs almost giving out.

you were holding onto him for dear life, moans growing louder and whinier as your vision started to become starry despite having your eyes open.

“let go baby,” his words were enough to push you over the edge, releasing onto his fingers as you practically panted his name like it was a prayer.

lando had concluded a long time ago that he couldn’t fall for you more than he already had; but as he watched you come undone, he realised he’d been wrong. your beauty truly knew no ends ━ and he was only now more eager to watch your face contort in pleasure again and again.

admiration filled your own eyes as they opened once more to peer up at him, flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile spreading on your face as you attempted to catch your breath.

“you’re incredible,” lando couldn’t stop the praise from escaping him, and watching the way your smile grew had him feeling no regret either; no shame like he usually would when a compliment perhaps too sentimental slipped passed his guard.

however this time it was reciprocated, you could see the meaning behind it ━ not dismissing it as a friendly comment, instead it had your already flushed cheeks reddening further.

“you are.” you spoke like it was obvious, even letting out a small giggle ━ sounding somewhat out of breath but such thing was granted. your arms moved to wrap around his neck again, both to ensure he stayed close and because your only strength was in your arms.

your legs already felt like jelly.

he’d read the situation with ease, because suddenly his hands were hooked under your thighs ━ halting you up as your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso.

your skirt was bunched at your hips, ruined panties almost shameful. your hands spread out against his toned back, unable to help yourself from feeling as much of his flexed muscles as possible.

messy kisses were exchanged as he moved you through the hotel room, lips lazily moving against each other before your back was hitting his plush mattress.

the sight above you rendered you speechless, no shame in your eyes raking over his frame as he stood at the foot of the bed ━ you quickly felt overdressed.

your own hands found the hem of your shirt, peeling it off your body, no bra meaning your upper body was exposed to the brit.

you could visibly see him gulp, his eyes dancing over your half naked frame as he took a few deep breaths; tongue flicking over his bottom lip. the man even shook his head in disbelief, unable to help himself when you invitingly leant back on your elbows.

he was on top of you within moments, situating between your spread legs as his head found the exposed skin of your chest, open mouth kisses pressed to your neck, slowly making their way to your breasts.

“you’re fucking beautiful.” he’d practically grumbled, your fingers finding his curls once more you could only whimper as his teeth tugged on your skin momentarily.

“want to make you feel good,” you whispered, unable to ignore his hard on pressing into your hip ━ the feeling had you squirming, keen to feel more of him.

he’d shushed you however, not being derailed as his kisses moved to your stomach now, your head hitting the pillow as you tried to control your breathing ━ left to stare up at the ceiling momentarily.

“i feel amazing,” lando spoke matter of factly, his hands spreading over your thighs as he parted them to his liking ━ your eyes flickering down, not expecting to meet his blue ones.

he looked like he was ready to devour you, it made your core practically ache ━ offered no relief as your legs could only squeeze against his hold.

he was quick in removing your skirt, and your panties ━ having you bare for him before he was hooking your legs over his shoulders. but his urgency seemed to still there, kisses pressed to your inner thighs instead of your glistening cunt.

“lando,” you’d whined, using all your strength to ensure you could keep your eyes on him, a pretty sight that was rendering you impatient. “please,” the plea left you in desperation.

you could still feel his breath on your thighs, not where you needed him, and when you heard him chuckle lowly your eyes had to press shut to keep your composure.

“oh baby,” he dragged out; cooing so sweetly your eyes narrowed when they met his again. “needy little thing,” he commented; quirking an eyebrow your way and you couldn’t argue, only pout.

he wasn’t wrong, much to your surprise. you’d never found yourself in such position, needing and craving someone so badly. depending on someone else for pleasure was practically foreign.

“not gonna make you beg,” lando ended your torture, if you could even call it that, mouth connecting with your cunt and your jaw dropped as his tongue quickly found your clit.

you were already sensitive, back arching immediately as you moaned out softly ━ hands flying to find his curls again.

pure ecstasy was the only way to describe the feeling, his tongue working so perfectly that you were fighting to not press your thighs against his head ━ body moving with every action, his hand moving to press down on your hips and keep you in place.

your eyes caught his own for a mere few moments, seeing him look up at you however had your own eyes rolling back; too sensitive to stay cool with the onslaught of pleasure.

he was everywhere, consuming every one of your senses ━ tugging on his curls your only outlet as you moaned and shook.

you weren’t ever sure you’d be able to cum from head alone, but you were about to find out ━ pathetically close already, stomach tightening having barely recovered from your first orgasm.

you forced yourself to gaze down at him again, wanting to see his head between your thighs ━ watch the way his arms flexed as he held you in place with ease.

his tongue was flicking between your folds, then paying attention to your clit; never missing a beat, it flood over you suddenly.

you could no longer hear the sounds you were making as you came again, back arching off the bed once more ━ seeing stars, lando sure to catch the sight as you came undone for him again.

it was a blur the next few moments, not present as lando shifted your legs off of his shoulders and back onto his knees, but once you realised the sight in front of you it didn’t take long for you to push yourself up the bed so you were sitting up.

“you good?” lando’s voice was soft now, ensuring you were okay; not oblivious to your tired body. you nodded however, a lazy smile spreading on your lips in reassurance, hooded eyes taking him all in. you just wanted to feel all of him.

“perfect,” you breathed, leaning forward to connect your lips without another word. it was greedy, a few moments of no contact and you were drawn to him again. you just wanted more and more, and the way lando’s hands flied to your waist showed it was truly reciprocated.

you pushed him slightly to sit down, switching positions so he was resting against the headboard now ━ it didn’t take much force, he was letting you guide him, hands delicately roaming your fatigued frame.

climbing into his lap your hands made quick work of his pants, unzipping them and moving all material out of the way to finally free his hardened cock.

lando moaned into your mouth the moment your hand wrapped around his length, pumping a few times was the relief he’d been ignoring since you entered the hotel room.

he struggled to kiss back for a mere moment, causing your eyes to flutter open, lips curving upwards at the sight of his face contorted in pleasure.

fuck you could get used to that image.

“come on baby,” lando rasped out as his hands found a home on your hips ━ guiding them upwards ever so slightly. “fuck yourself on my cock yeah?” there was a slight smugness in his tone; the type that had you falling into submission once more, despite him vocalising your plans.

your arms moved to hold onto his shoulders, enough to help steady you as you guided your hips on top of his, lowering yourself down onto his cock.

the pair of you gasped in sync, your forehead resting against his as you took him all in at once, jaw going slack from the stretch.

you stilled, needing time to adjust to his size ━ and lando had no complaints, the feeling of you wrapped around him having him content.

“you feel fucking incredible,” the driver rasped, lips brushing against yours as he spoke; and you could only whimper at first, a few deep breaths escaping you.

“so big,” you mumbled; having to swallow intently before mustering the energy to begin moving ━ eyes pouring into his as you began to ride him.

the closeness and intimacy would usually scare you; heck, it would normally terrify him. yet somehow it felt right, as if this wasn’t the first time between the pair of you.

your nails dug into his skin once more as you shifted up and down, lando’s hands only on your skin to ensure he had a hold on you ━ letting you set the pace as he watched, jaw tense and eyes adoring.

“fuck lando,” you whined when he’d bottom out once more, hitting a spot so deep inside of you that your toes were curling ━ the sound of his own grunts and moans only adding to the pleasure.

“doing so good for me gorgeous,” his praise only encouraged you, words so delicate. you sped up as much as you could, not too fast but with more urgency than before; as much as your sore body would allow.

it wasn’t long before you started to tire, your moans grew whinier but you didn’t need to say anything ━ a choked moan escaping your throat when his hips suddenly thrusted up to meet your movements.

you hadn’t thought you could feel more full but you were wrong, and lando didn’t relent as he started fucking up into you.

you were like a doll in his hands, as he started to practically move you up and down his cock; his own hips continuing to thrust up you couldn’t keep up, eyes screwing shut as your mouth fell agape.

“fuck lando fuck,” you were practically chanting; a string of curses and his name; it all felt too good. fucking perfect, you couldn’t comprehend any of it.

“take it baby.” he grunted, and you nodded so quickly as if you’d ever disappoint him, fingers reaching to his back and nails dragging across the skin ━ his thrusts harsh, not slow but not too quick that you wouldn’t have time to feel every inch of him.

your head was thrown back, exposing your bare chest further to him ━ which lando made the most of for the time being, lips ducking down and attaching to one of your nipples for a few moments.

but as your sounds got louder he needed to be able to see your face clearly, hand moving up your back and tangling in your hair to force you to look at him.

“open your eyes princess,” he practically demanded, and at this point you’d do anything he said without question; eyes fluttering open to look at him.

his stamina was impressive, not surprising, still bouncing you on his cock as if it was nothing ━ but the way his breaths got shaky and his hooded eyes revealed he was feeling the pleasure like you were.

“who’s making you feel this good?” lando’s question escaped him without much thought; he just needed to hear you say it. wanted to revel in the fact he had you in such a state. your praise and reassurance held such a high value to him.

“you, lando, you,” you whined out in response ━ and you felt his hand move back to your hip, needing to use your own strength now to keep your head upright. “feels so good,” you told him ━ squeezing him as you did so.

he’d groaned at the feeling, almost having cum on the spot; thankfully he didn’t, because he needed to see you fall apart one more time.

“want to cum again yeah? that you want?” his mouth seemed to know no ends, the taunting only making your stomach grow tighter as you nodded to the best of your ability.

his breaths were heavy now, hands travelling to your ass as he used that as his grip of your body instead.

“wanna hear you say it,” lando grumbled ━ head ducking into the exposed skin of your neck, more kisses pressed onto your skin and the thought of marks being there from the amount of attention he’d paid to it was the last thing on either of your minds.

you were struggling now, too fucked out to process his words as quickly as he’d like ━ so much so a harsher thrust upwards had you aware you needed to answer him, yet you already forgot what he said.

“too fucked out to form words baby?” lando teased now that he knew he had your attention; and he chuckled once more when you shook your head quickly. “want to hear you say it.” he repeated, eyes piercing yours.

“wanna’ cum again,” your words were laced with desperation, needing to take a breath between sentences as his cock spread you open. “please let me cum,”

the british driver’s hum of satisfaction turned into a moan of pleasure at your plea, sounding and looking so pretty for him, it was clear you’d done enough as you felt his hand snake down between your bodies to your clit.

your vision went white practically immediately, almost yelping from how sensitive you were; thrown over the edge with little warm as you came on his dick ━ practically screaming his name as you did so.

lando came inside you merely a few seconds later, jaw slack from the sight of you and the way your walls squeezed him once more ━ only now was his thrusts sloppy as you both rode out your highs.

you were practically limp in his lap, forehead pressed against his shoulder as his own head rested against the headboard; heavy and irregular breaths filling the silence.

his hand moved to your head, fingers running through the strands of your hair comfortingly, the action causing you to hum in appreciation.

both of you were content with the silence, purely because neither of you knew exactly what to say. what to do. this was unexpected, to say the least.

you sat up straight after a couple minutes however, eyes meeting his ones; noticing the lack of intensity and confidence they held prior.

he was studying you as well, attempting to not spiral into a ‘what now.’

this meant a lot to him, he wouldn’t put that on you ━ that wouldn’t be fair. but you already had a good idea.

“i was wrong.” you finally managed to say what had been on the tip of your tongue, offering a small smile as his eyebrows raised in question.

he didn’t fully understand.

“about this. us. not making sense. being ridiculous.” you clarified, and the realisation washed over his features. you could feel him tense up slightly beneath you ━ shaking his head quickly.

“we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he assured in certainty. he didn’t want you to feel obligated to protect his feelings because you slept together.

which you appreciated, it was cute. he was thoughtful ━ which shouldn’t be a surprise.

“i’m not promising anything,” you clarified, dismissing him this time; you didn’t feel obligated at all. you weren’t saying you’d be his girlfriend and expected flowers when you woke up, but you needed him to know you no longer stood by what you said. you were also relieved to be able to articulate your thoughts. “but i was wrong.” you hummed.

a lazy smile spread on his features at that, acting like a catalyst for your own. a mumble of an okay and laughter was exchanged, before his lips were on yours again; a gentle kiss this time.

one you could certainly get used too.

━━

a/n: 615 days later and i’ve finally finished another fic. hope y’all r still there 😀😀

incredibly sorry for my inactivity and special shout out to everyone who has continued to support me despite the radio silence??? i love u

anyways i don’t love this but the fact i had the motivation to see it through was enough. hoping it’ll ease me back into writing and getting back up to standard, so apologises that it’s a little rusty 🫶🏼🫶🏼

what hasn’t changed is that it’s currently unedited and the ending is rushed hehe

as always feedback is always very much appreciated love u all mwahhh xoxo

#f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #x reader #f1 #lando norris angst #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #f1 angst #f1 one shot #lando norris #lando norris imagine

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago

Text

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans.

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile.

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache.

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on.

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong.

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag.

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive.

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh.

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows.

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm.

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty.

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off.

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long.

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask.

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow.

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos.

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him.

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters.

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink.

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys.

It’s just the wind.

Nothing else.

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love.

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone.

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything.

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself.

It gets frustrating.

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you.

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction.

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check.

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence.

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering.

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers.

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise.

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind.

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost.

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping.

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place.

But it’s not anyone else.

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much?

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files.

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it.

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on.

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter.

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat.

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you.

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk.

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown.

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight.

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief.

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket.

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush.

You smile to yourself.

Still got it.

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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yieldtotemptation · 5 months ago

Text

RITUAL ft. Yujin

yujin x male reader smut

7k words

Let’s be clear: you’re well aware of what a monumentally stupid idea this is.

For you, it’s just a job. You’ve been fired from plenty before, and there will be plenty more after.

But for her, for Yujin, it’s her career. Her life. Her everything.

And yet, here, in the cramped confines of a bathroom stall, your hand on her ass and hers diving down your jeans; you can’t let go of the nagging suspicion that maybe that’s the fucking point.

“How much time do we have?” Yujin’s lips are on your neck, tiny, hot breaths tickling your skin, nimble fingers at your waist, negotiating with your zipper.

“We had fifteen minutes, an hour ago,” you remind her. “We’re gonna miss soundcheck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Yujin’s unbothered, dismissive of anything that isn’t freeing your cock from its denim prison. “They’ll wait for me. They always do.”

There’s that hint of arrogance, that unshakeable confidence of youth, the invincibility that comes with being that absurdly hot. You can’t blame her at all for it.

What Yujin wants, she gets. You've seen it first hand.

It’s one of the many things you’ve learned about her over the past few weeks.

Well one of the few that don’t concern how good her cunt feels when she rides you, or how her eyes roll to the back of her head when you hit that spot just right, or the way her voice goes hoarse when she screams your name.

“Oh, it’s so perfect.” Yujin’s seen your cock before, tasted it, taken it, had it in every way possible (in every place available), yet that still doesn’t stop her eyes from lighting up the second she sees it springing out from the waistband of your briefs, standing tall and throbbing painfully. “I’d say this is worth being late for.”

You’ve got a groan for her when she takes you into her hand, her grip firm and familiar. A half-hearted protest, too: “Yeah, but if we’re late, Princess Yujin gets a slap on the wrist, whereas I get fired.”

Yujin scoffs at that. “Well, I am your boss, so I think I get the last say if it comes down to it.”

Part of you wants to correct her, wants to explain that technically you’re not her employee but an independent contractor hired by the touring company. However, that part of you needs to shut the hell up, because the intricacies of employment contracts for musicians-for-hire really don’t seem pertinent at this moment.

Regardless, it all becomes trivial in the face of Yujin. So annoyingly, unfairly pretty, not even the unflattering harshness of the bathroom lights are capable of marring her in the slightest.

You’d probably give her the world if she asked.

She’d happily settle for your dick.

Her hand’s moving now, her fingers dancing around your shaft, exploring the contours of your cock from base to tip, and she's forcing you to resign, “Your logic, as always, is flawless.”

“See?” Yujin smiles up at you, that wide, confident grin that’s graced a million posters, been on every magazine cover and TV channel, and is now laser focused on you. “I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Her point's made with a squeeze around your length, stroking you in earnest, building to a rhythm that’s become so familiar over the past week—quick and precise, dangerously efficient. Like she was made for this. Made to tease your cock. As natural for her as breathing, really.

Yujin’s had plenty of practice, after all—on the morning of every concert, in the evening back at her hotel, on tour buses and in dressing rooms. On a plane once, even. It's the same torrid routine that’s now become a required pre-show ritual. A quiet spot, a secluded room, and she steals you away, bringing you to the brink and back.

And to think it all started because she asked you to help her ‘calm her nerves’.

Or more correctly, fuck all the worries and concerns out of her pretty little head.

Still, she's never pushed it this far, never cut it this close.

You lean back against the stall door, your breath catching in your throat, the cheap plastic giving slightly under the pressure. Outside you can hear it, hear the bustling sounds of the venue coming to life—staff moving about, the distant roar of fans, the occasional clang of sound equipment. But in here, it’s overpowered by the noisiness of her palm sliding along your shaft, slick with her saliva, and it fills the small space, echoing across the cold tiles beneath your feet.

She’s undeniable—you know you’ve spoilt her. You’ve let her get her way with you far too many times, let her push this arrangement past any semblance of professionalism. Let her poison your mind with whispered sweet nothings that have you pounding her into the nearest available surface whenever she gets a twitch of stage fright.

But you’re also acutely aware of the fact that without these moments, without the promise of her tight, wet cunt wrapped around your cock, you’d be out there on that stage sleepwalking through just another concert with nothing but a drum kit and a bunch of songs you could play with your eyes closed.

“Fucking hell, Yujin, you look too good doing that,” you manage to get out, doing your best to endure her fingers gliding along your length, to last under the microscope of Yujin's dark, hungry eyes.

Another thing about Yujin: there's a special thrill she gets just from watching you, eyes glued to your face, taking in every single nuance of agony she’s wringing out.

“So fucking—” you settle on the most obvious word in your lexicon, “pretty.”

Yujin keens at the praise, her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her teeth grazes the soft skin of her bottom lip. It's hardly new for her to hear this, to have people rave about how she's the hottest piece of ass this side of the equator. Yet there's something about hearing it from you that has her eating up your words every time. "Am I, now?"

You nod, voice momentarily failing you as she pumps your cock, her grip never wavering, never faltering, like she’s milking you, milking words of adulation from your lips.

You still haven't pinned down exactly what it is about you that unwinds Yujin, that makes her chase you so hard. Maybe it's because you're slightly older, a touch more mature than the usual plastic smiles that try to charm her out of her pants.

Or maybe it's because you said 'no' the first time she sniffed in your direction, and then made her scream 'yes' every time after.

Whatever it is, it has Yujin’s other hand reaching up to fiddle with the choker at her neck, flooding your mind with memories of your hand around her throat, her gagging on your length, her eyes watering while you fuck her face.

“And what about this outfit?” She asks, oh-so-innocently. “You think the fans will like it?”

“Yujin,” you say, like she doesn’t already know the very obvious answer. You’ve seen her in it all—tiny hot pants, tight little bralettes, that fucking leather catsuit. Yujin’s a fucking goddess in anything she wears, even a blind man would burn from the sheer heat radiating from her body. “You look fucking incredible, as always.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

“I heard a ‘but’,” Yujin ponders, her hand still working your cock like it’s her favourite toy. “Like: ‘but the shorts are too short, and everyone’s gonna see my cheeks when I bend over’.”

A blatant invitation to take a glance, to look down, down at those denim shorts so tight against her curves, the fabric stretched so taut that it might split open at any moment. Look down at her thick thighs, the way they flex and release as she jerks you off, every movement making the material cling tighter to her skin, moulding themselves around the outline of her perfect, round ass, those juicy cheeks that you’ve had the honour of spanking and biting and bruising.

“Or is it: ‘but your top is cut too low, your tits are gonna spill right out’?”

She’s drawing your gaze upwards, over that smooth, creamy expanse of skin, her stomach flat and toned, up the thin fabric of her flimsy excuse for a shirt, that dips just enough to tease the tops of her breasts, squeezed together and pushed up by her bra. It's so thin, wrapped so tight around her, highlighting the faint outline of her nipples poking through, already stiffened and calling for your tongue.

“Or maybe it’s: ‘the outfit looks good, looks nice and slutty, but you’d much rather rip it off me and just fucking ruin me like I deserve?'"

Yeah, that’s more like it.

You take that as permission, and reach for the hem of her top, eager to finally see those tits, to feel their warm weight in your palms, to have her stripped and laid bare like she knows you’d love to. But Yujin’s too quick, slapping your hand away with a laugh.

“But unfortunately, there’ll be none of that, drummer boy.” Yujin stops, her grip on your cock tightening for a brief, painful second. “Can’t have you ruining my outfit before I go on stage, can I?”

There’s a challenge there, a test to see if you’ll argue, maybe grab her, throw her against the wall and show her just how little of a fuck you give about anything that takes place outside of this toilet stall. But you know she’s right. You're the adult here, remember? Besides there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

You settle for her lips, leaning down, pressing the pad of your thumb against her chin. You tilt her head up towards yours, only for Yujin to pull back, leaving you kissing air. “Seriously?”

Yujin grins, clearly delighting in denying you again, in making your blood boil and cock throb. “Can’t ruin the make-up either,” she explains, making sure to bat her long, fake lashes for extra effect.

“So, I take it that means the pigtails are off limits too?” You ask, idly toying with the ludicrously slutty hairstyle that’s framing her face, bobbing slightly with every stroke she gives you.

“Now you’re learning.”

So, with a frustrated grunt, you keep your hands at your sides, resigning yourself to Yujin’s sweet torture. It’s maddening, just standing there, panting and so horny, at the mercy of Yujin’s slow strokes. “And no concern for my outfit, whatsoever.”

Yujin’s eyes wander over your choice of clothing, and laughs, rather insultingly, if you're honest. “I’m sure all the fans will be very focused on the drummer’s fashion choices,” she says, trusting you to pick up on the sarcasm.

You feign injury. “Ouch, I put a lot of thought into my clothing.”

“Sure you do. Thoughts like: how easy will it be for your little fuck buddy to tear them off?” Yujin’s thumb finds that sensitive spot just beneath the head of your cock, swiping over it with a smugness that’s both infuriating and incredibly hot.

“You’re going to get it later for that one,” you warn, your hand curling into a fist.

“Oh, I know.”

Yujin picks up the pace, her hand a blur, running up and down your shaft, fingers sliding across your slit, smearing the pre-cum that’s beaded there over your cockhead. And there’s a glint in her eye, that needy look that tells you she’s getting off on this, getting off on having you, having someone she shouldn’t be left alone with, squirm and beg and be so desperate for her.

“Look how big you are for me, daddy.”

There’s that word, that sweet, sweet ‘daddy’.

The first time she called you it was an accident, a slip of the tongue during a particularly intense moment when you had her against the window of her hotel, tits squashed against the glass, cunt dripping with your cum. But every time since, it’s been deliberate, calculated, a button she knows she can push to make you give it to her as rough as she wants; as rough as she craves.

“Look how big you are in my tiny hand.” She’s got you moaning now, melting between her fingers, bucking your hips for that extra bit of friction. “You love it when I jerk you like this, don’t you, daddy?”

‘Daddy’ again, rolling off her tongue like a fucking love letter, a song to send your head spinning and your cock pulsing in her hand.

There’s another challenge, can you last a little bit longer? Can you resist the urge to cum all over her fingers? Paint her pretty nails a fresh shade of white? Or would you rather wrap your hand around her lovely neck and force her to admit that she loves all this just as much as you do.

You swallow down the groan that’s building in your throat, your teeth grinding together to maintain some semblance of control. Yujin catches it, sees the effort it’s taking you, and she shakes her head, her lips pursed in a perfect little pout.

“Don’t hold back, daddy,” Yujin's chiding you, disappointed with your restraint. “I want to hear it. I need to hear how good it feels, how desperate you are. Need you to show me just how much you want to see me filled with your cum.”

She twists her hand down on your cock, squeezing when she reaches the base, her other hand coming down to cup your balls, tickling them with her fingers. That has a moan escaping your lips, a low, desperate sound that makes Yujin preen.

“That’s it,” she’s overjoyed, getting what she came for, basking in your pleasure, “tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you want to cum for me.”

And so you do. You tell her, your voice strained with the effort of keeping your orgasm at bay. Not yet, not until you’re deep inside her, not until you're sure that not a single drop will go wasted. “You're too fucking much, Yujin, too fucking hot,” you manage, the words a choked noise that you hope she can hear over the blood pounding in your ears. “You’re driving me fucking mad.”

Yujin’s strokes keep building, one on top of the other, and she’s pressing herself against you, the warmth of her, soft breasts pushing into your chest, her lips sucking at your neck, kissing into you hard. After all, who will notice? Who gives a fuck if the drummer shows up on stage with a few extra bruises on his skin?

You fall into the crook of her neck, your forehead on her shoulder, as her lips make their way up your throat, across your jaw, until she’s nipping at your lobe, whispering in your ear, “You’re desperate for my cunt, aren’t you, daddy? You want to fill me up right before I go on stage?”

“Yujin,” you grit out, and you’re holding her, hands on those perfectly round cheeks, holding on for dear life, pulling her close to you so that she can feel just how right she is. The words spill out of you like a confession, “I need to fuck you now, Yujin. I need to feel your cunt, make you cum so hard you won’t be able to fucking move, let alone dance.”

And Yujin leaves one last, lingering kiss on your pulse. “So do it, daddy.”

Her words are a fucking gunshot, and you’re off to the races.

You spin her around so fast she yelps, your chest to her back, your cock trapped between her ass cheeks. Her shorts are barely an inconvenience, yank them down, denim catching on her hips, sliding down to her ankles, leaving her in just her panties.

Yujin gasps, the cool air meeting her bare skin, and she braces herself against the wall of the stall, needing something to keep her on her feet. She’s all soft curves and sweet smells, so insanely proportioned, like she's built for this, curvy and thick in all the right places.

While she’s distracted you sneak a kiss onto the creamy-white skin of her shoulder, hard enough to give her a mark to match yours, a badge of honour that brands her in the same way she’s done to you.

Her panties never stood a chance, completely drenched to the point of ruin, sticky with anticipation, snug against her lips. You pull them aside, thumb brushing against her swollen clit, making her hips jerk forward. She’s on your time now, you’ve got the green light to turn the tables and drag her through the same torment she’s put you through.

“Look at this,” you’re in her ear now, taunting, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Yujin’s cheeks burn red, and she’s pushing back against you, grinding her ass into your cock. “Of course I am. I can’t help it,” she’s a little breathless, a little shaky, “I need it.”

“You’re so beautiful,” your hands like magnets on her bare ass, squeezing, marking her in places only you'll ever know. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” Yujin whimpers, as you slide your finger down, between her legs, tracing her wet slit, testing her tightness, feeling her warmth, feeling how ready she is. “Please, fuck me now.”

You can’t resist her, you never can, not with so little time left and so much of her to ruin. Your cock dips, lining up with her pussy, the tip nudging at her entrance, and all it takes is one strong thrust, and you’re pushing into her, burying yourself to the hilt in a swift, brutal motion.

There’s a scream from her, a grunt from you, blending and echoing through the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles and the stall walls. Someone’s going to hear it, someone’s going to come in and see you fucking the star of the show and that’ll be it for the both of you.

But really, fuck all of that.

Fuck the concert, the venue staff, the fans, the tour managers, the PR nightmare that will follow.

Fuck everything that isn’t inside this stall, that isn’t Yujin’s tight cunt squeezing around your cock, that isn’t the way she’s shuddering in your arms, gasping your name, needing her daddy to fuck her harder, faster.

There's no easing her into it, not like you know you should. You fuck her hard, just like she’s begged. Your hips snap against her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out the noise outside, again and again, in and out, over and over.

Yujin’s never needed much to get started, always so easily soaked, so easily ready. She'd told you as much one late night (or one early morning): "I can take it, take anything, as long as it's coming from you. "

Her walls clamp down around you, she’s already pulsing, her cunt desperate to wring you dry. You’re gliding in and out of her, using her, letting her mold herself so perfectly around you, her juices coating your cock, making it slicker with every thrust.

“Yes—that’s what I fucking need.” Yujin cries out, her voice high-pitched, her head thrown back, and the flimsy plastic isn’t enough anymore, she needs you to hold her steady, to dig your fingers into her hips and nail her into the wall.

Each stroke, each thrust into her cunt, each time you fill her, stretch her—each one could be the last one, the one that has you exploding inside her. Could be the one that overwhelms you, the one that makes you forget where you are, that there’s anything that exists besides fucking this needy, little brat.

It’s the way Yujin clenches around you, tight and perfect, like she’s made just for you, like she’s never been fucked this way before, will never be again.

(Even though you have. Even though you will.)

Each time is like the first, you’re discovering her all over again, peeling back layers of this beautiful, untouchable idol, and finding something new, something beneath the sheen of purity and perfection. Something that makes you want to ruin her, bring her down to your level, to roll around the filth with the rest of you mere mortals.

And Yujin knows it.

There’s a need to make her feel it, and there’s her fucking pigtails, dangling in front of you like a carrot, flicking up and down in front of your face with every thrust. You need to grab them, to yank her back onto your cock, to force her to take it as hard as you want to give it. It’s almost too much to resist.

But even in your haze you know better. Instead, you settle for that choker on her neck, your thumb sliding under the black leather band, feeling the pulse of her blood racing beneath her skin. You grip it, tight, but not too tight. Just enough to make her gasp, to make her cunt tighten, to make her cry out—

“Gah—God—fuck—”

Strangled cries have her screaming, have her needing you to go deeper.

“Fuh—fuck—yes—right there—right—fucking—there—”

She’s chanting, almost sobbing, doing her best to take everything you’re giving her, everything she’s needs, everything she deserves. You’re tapping into that deep, dark desire within her. The one that gets off on being treated rough, the one that loves having a daddy, the one that needs to be nailed to a wall and reduced to nothing but a shaking, mewling mess of climaxes.

You dare to snake a hand under her top, you’re not going to mess her outfit, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get a taste of what’s underneath. Your fingers stretch under her bra, testing the elasticity of the cotton, before finally finding the swell of her breasts, cupping it, filling your hand with it.

Yujin’s moan is all the encouragement you need, a wordless permit to squeeze, to pinch her nipple, roll it between your thumb and forefinger until it’s a hard little nub.

“Oh fuck yes—touch me. You love touching me, don’t you?” She's feeling it, really feeling you, the stimulation of your palm on her breast, the sting on her nipples. “You fucking love my body.”

It’s the damn truth—these past weeks have been a crash course in Yujin, and you haven’t found an inch you didn’t immediately fall in love with. Every curve and dip and line, every soft place and every sharp edge; the weight of her in your arms, the way she fits against you, how she responds to your touch like she’s been waiting for it, for you, for fucking ever.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, daddy, just like that.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, Yujin. So tight, so wet, so fucking mine.”

You slur words into her, words that make her shiver, make her tremble against you, make her so fucking happy to hear them. It’s the words that she loves, hearing you talk like that, like she’s the only one who can make you feel this way. And maybe she is.

So you keep talking, keep whispering those loving, filthy soliloquies into her ear, keep telling her how good her cunt is, how desperate you are for her body, how much cum you have to give her. And her body has an answer for you each time, each syllable a caress that sends shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Yujin. So beautiful when you’re like this, when you’re all mine.” You can feel it boiling up inside you, that pressure building with every smack of your hips against her ass. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, princess.”

There’s the guitar, the bass, the keys, the band tuning up outside, noise filtering into the stall, faint but unmistakeable, the only thing missing is the beat of the drums, the only thing missing is you.

Yujin’s grinning, knowing she’s the one keeping you occupied, knowing it’s her cunt that you’re buried in, that’s not letting you go.

“If only they knew,” she’s giggling like a schoolgirl (she might as well be with those pigtails), “if only they know how good you’re fucking me right now. They won’t have a fucking clue, will they?”

“Such a fucking tease, Yujin.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and sends a coy, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you, you little slut,” you answer, not bothering to mince your words. Your hand tightens around her choker, not enough to cut off her air, just enough to keep her right there, panting and needy and yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing out there. I see how you dance, how you move. Like you’re forcing them to picture you fucking, making them all want a taste of what they’ll never have.”

The truth makes her shiver against you. “They all wish they could do this to me, all wish they could fuck me and fill me like you are.”

There’s a tension building inside her too, the blend of your words and the reality of the performance she’s going to have to put on afterwards. It has her body tightening like a bow string, ready to snap at any moment.

And you’re going to be the one to release it.

You venture a hand downwards, gracing over her stomach, her belly button, until you reach the wetness of her pussy. There's her clit, ripe for teasing.

You fuck your cock in deeper still, matching the swirl of your finger with the pounding of her cunt, timing it just right to make her leak all over you.

“That feels so—fuck,” Yujin purrs, so, so blissful. “Only you—only you, daddy. No one else will get to have me—fuck—fuck me like this.”

“Whenever I want, any time I want,” you’re telling her, promising her, even though it’s more likely to be the opposite. That it’s Yujin that will seek you out on those lonely nights and those quiet mornings, or just whenever she’s bored and needs someone to fuck all the nerves and stress out of her system.

“They’d be so—gah—so jealous if they knew. I see it when they look at me—how much they want me,” she’s straining to say it, but needs you to hear it, needs you to know it. “I see it—read it in places they think I don’t look.”

She’s lost, lost in a sea of her own musings, thoughts of how everyone with a working pair of eyeballs wants to fuck her. Relishing in the knowledge that she's found the only person that can fuck her right, and that their cock is buried in her cunt, their fingers working her clit.

“They call me a slut, a whore, but that’s not true, is it, daddy? I only fuck you,” Yujin repeats, “I’m only a slut for you.”

There’s an edge to her voice, a raw, animalistic need that makes you want to prove her right. Want to erupt inside her so badly that she’s forced to carry a part of you inside her when she’s on stage.

“Yours to use,” Yujin taunts. “To fuck, to fill...”

Jesus.

“To break.”

Fucking.

“Maybe I should let you rip off my clothes, fuck up my hair—fuck—my makeup. Go out on stage with all the marks you’ve left on me, with all your cum—gah—all over me.”

Christ.

It hits you like a sledgehammer, adding another layer of taboo to this already fucked up situation. The thought of it is fucking wild, ridiculous to contemplate, you’re sure it’s all just part of the game, another button Yujin’s pressing for her own thrill… right?

“Then everyone would know—everyone would know that it’s you—that you’re the one that’s fucking my brains out when no one else is watching.”

You’re all over her and deep inside her, lips on her throat, her jaw, hands at her tits, her cunt. Devouring her, all of her, from those tightly binded pigtails all the way down to her carefully manicured toes.

And then she stops dancing around the subject and demands it.

“Ruin me. Fuck me, please, daddy. Just—kiss me, now.”

“You said—”

But Yujin’s already twisting around at her waist, angling her body so she can seize your lips, smear her lipstick across your teeth, flood your mouth with her tongue. She’s got fistfuls of your shirt, pulling you closer, as if she’s trying to claim you, claim every inch of you as property of An Yujin.

Now that you’ve got permission, you thread your fingers into her hair, gripping tight, pulling her by the pigtails like you’ve been dying to, kissing her like your life depends on it.

You’re getting rougher with her now, tugging her head back, peeling her lips away from yours, sliding your cock out of her. You ignore the whine, ignore the tears. It’s game over for her makeup, for her hair, her outfit. She’s a beautiful, chaotic mess—so shamelessly yours, so perfect in every way.

The separation barely lasts a second, you’re lifting her up, turning her and depositing her atop the toilet seat, spreading her legs wide, putting her on display.

This is the real show—Yujin looking up at you, eyes dark with need, tits out and heaving with every breath; thick, toned thighs glistening with her juices, your precum; and her pussy, all puffy and so ready to be filled again.

“Daddy—” Yujin starts, and ends, as you’re inside her again. Inside her tight, welcoming cunt, her back arching off the cold porcelain, her legs wrapping around you, ankles crossing and locking in place.

Just one hard thrust and you see it—it's in the watering of her eyes, the wobble of her lips.

She’s close, and you’re not far behind.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, nearly lost somewhere between your haggard breaths and the sloppy wet sounds of your bodies colliding.

But you hear it, and it’s all you need.

It’s her pigtails in your hands again, strands wrapped around your fist, and you’re taking a front row seat in the spectacle that is Yujin falling apart.

“Please, fuck me.” There it is again, louder now. “Fuck my tiny little pussy, daddy. Make me yours.”

It’s every single sound out of her mouth, every folding and crumpling of her perfect features, every single drop of sweat sliding down her neck, every time she says fuck me, or break me, or over and over again—make me yours.

You want to savour this, burn this image into your mind, live off the memory of Yujin’s cunt pulsing around you, but there’s no time, no time to do anything but kiss her again; clumsy, hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Please,” she’s biting into your lip, licking into your mouth, clawing at your shoulders, “say my name.”

“Yujin,” you give it to her, offer her name like a sacrifice. “Yujin, I’m so fucking close.”

The porcelain is doing its best to bear your weight, to survive the punishment you’re hammering into Yujin’s tight, perfect body, to outlast your relentless fucking. “Cum for me daddy, cum for me.”

But it’s her, it’s Yujin that crosses that threshold first, coming apart until she’s nothing but a mess of whimpers, moans, and cries of your name. Of pleases and thank yous, until she’s just a hot, tight cunt getting used for your pleasure.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m cumming—daddy, I can’t—it’s so—”

It’s all there across her face, all in the way she’s shaking, the way her cunt is gripping you, her walls fluttering around your cock like a fucking heartbeat, tightening and releasing in endless waves that crash down on her.

“So good—you’re so good—you’re so—fuck—fuck—cum—cumming—"

Her entire body seizes, tenses all at once, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t seen it countless times before, if you didn’t know to expect her to lose all control of her limbs, to not be able to do anything but stare at you, all teary eyed and feeling so, so good.

But you keep going, hips pumping, cock driving into her, keeping her steady, helping her climb to her peak, filling her tender, creaming cunt over and over again. You want to make this last, want to keep her like this, unable to think about anything but you, unable to think about anything that isn’t your cock.

“So fucking good for me, Yujin, so good, princess.”

“God, fuck—daddy!”

It’s the praise that pushes her over, unravels her, has her mouth frozen in the shape of your name, like the idea of you is the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. That, and her nails digging into your skin, adding to the tapestry she’s already engraved on your back.

And then the silence comes, and that’s the real killer.

Yujin’s always loud when she gets fucked, always desperate to tell you how good it feels, needy for you to know how good you are to her. But when she cums—when she loses herself on your cock—it’s like she relinquishes all ability to articulate, to make any sound other than a whine or a gasp.

You know what she wants to say—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—know what she wants to tell you—thank you, daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you—and it’s your responsibility to see her through it, to plunge your cock deep into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt, to have her rocking and creaming all over you, again and again and again.

And then she falls apart.

So beautifully, so perfectly.

But you’re not done yet.

Your thrusts come in thick and fast, making the whole stall shudder, making your vision swim. Yujin’s still reeling, snapped back into the land of the living by the force of your fucking.

She’s leaning forward, pressing her forehead to yours, able to form whole words again, whispering something that you can’t quite catch, something sweet and needy and demanding.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

It’s a trigger she’s been waiting to pull—the moment she says it, you let go.

There’s no holding back anymore, you’ve been fighting it for what feels like hours, trying to keep your shit together, but it’s no use. You’re going to cum, the only question is, where.

You can’t shake the image of her covered with you, painted all over her face, her chin, her neck, her chest, her perfect, perfect tits. You want it, want to see it realised, want to parade her out on that stage looking like a fuck doll—your fuck doll.

But not now, not today.

So instead, you bury yourself inside her, so, so deep. Yujin’s nodding, teasing “deeper, deeper, please,” begging you with her whole body, watching you with those eyes, half-lidded and glazed over, licking at her lips, bracing for you to fill her.

It’s your turn to shake, your turn to let go of that knot in your gut that’s been twisting ever since she dragged you into the bathroom, pushed you into the toilet stall and told you she needed this.

You throb, tighten, the base of your spine tingles, and that’s all the warning you get before you’re cumming, rushing Yujin’s greedy cunt with your hot, sticky load.

“Daddy, daddy—daddy—yes!”

It’s an addiction now, she needs your cum like she needs oxygen, and you need to fill her as if you’ll die if you go another day without pounding her cunt.

“So good, so fucking good inside me—all yours, all yours—"

It’s a thousand blissful little moments stacked on top of each other, her clenching, you throbbing, her grinning, you grimacing, but it all comes together in this heated space that leaves you both boneless, breathless catastrophes.

Yujin’s the first to come down, slumping against you, drooling down your chest, staining your shirt with a sheen of her saliva. Her legs go slack around you, finally letting go of your waist, still shaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm. You can feel your cum leaking from the corners of her cunt, oozing down the inside of her thighs, sliding past her knee, down to her ankles.

A finger under your chin to tilt your head to her, to kiss you. One of those quiet, intimate kisses that will have you spending the night trying to decode its meaning. But, for now, there’s just the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“Thank you, daddy,” Yujin says, so sweetly, so sincerely, and it’s like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Always.”

And slowly, carefully, you’re pulling out of her, even though she’s still clenching, still trying to keep you in. Your cock exits her with an audible slosh, and you need to brace yourself against the stall door, lean into it hard as you take in the sight of Yujin, sprawled on the toilet seat, well fucked and utterly ruined in all the best ways.

She reads your mind, “You really made a fucking mess of me.”

“I only claim fifty percent of that responsibility.”

Yujin pouts, makes sure you’re watching her, and dips her fingers into her defiled cunt. “This is all you, daddy.”

She drags out her digits, holding them up for you, your cum glistening on them like a prize. And then she’s slipping them between her lips, flicking out her tongue to catch a drop that dribbles down her wrist. She licks it all up, slow, savouring it, making sure you’re watching, making sure your eyes are glued to her as she devours the last traces of you from her hand.

That sound she makes, that little “Mmm” of satisfaction has you feeling heady, makes your cock twitch, eager to be back inside her, to fill her right back up so you can watch her do it all over again.

“Cumslut,” is the only word you have her for her, as she slides her fingers in deeper, tickling the back of her own throat like it's the most natural thing to do. Her cheeks hollow out, and after a long, dramatic suck, she pulls her fingers from her lips with a wet pop, all shiny and clean.

She corrects you. “Your cumslut.”

And then a switch is flipped, and she’s putting herself back together.

Yujin’s graceful, at odds with the confines of the cramped bathroom stall she’s just been fucked in. It amazes you every time, the way that she moves. All liquid and soft, as if she’s not really touching anything, as if she’s floating.

She licks droplets of cum off her lips, scoops the remainder up her legs, her thighs, and you’re just staring, gawking at her with something akin to awe, because she’s just so fucking beautiful, so utterly composed, so untouchable.

You help her, you try, help her tug down her shirt, pull up her panties, her shorts, help her slip back into the role of Yujin, the perfect idol, the star that can’t be tarnished by something as dirty as a quickie on top of a toilet seat.

She nods towards the stall door, and you let her past you, help hold her steady as you lead her to the bathroom mirror, give her a chance to assess the damage you've wrought on her. The smudged lipstick, the kiss bruises, the hair sticking to her neck—all evidence of you.

And yet, she smiles, looking back at you over her shoulder. Like she’s got it all under control, like you haven’t ruined her, not really. Not yet.

“Well, that’s something,” she says, her voice a little too breathless for the breeziness she’s aiming for.

But then she’s got her compact out, the tiny bag she's had hidden in her back pocket specifically for occasions like this. You stand back, giving her space to work her magic. Cheeks are patted for colour, lips glossed for plumpness, eyes relined with that dangerously smoky look that makes them pop.

“How do I look?” She turns, looking at you through the mirror, hand on her hip, posing.

“Like you’ve just been fucked in a toilet stall, honestly.”

That makes her laugh. “Good.”

She’s heading to the door, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her top, stopping along the way to give your forearm a quick squeeze.

There’s that look in her eyes again.

One you’ll be revisiting once the show’s over and the doors are closed.

“I’ll take off first,” she says, tying her pigtails back in place. “Wouldn’t want to make it too obvious.”

You catch her hand before she can get away, pulling her face close to you, wiping away a stray bit of cum still shining on her chin. “Good luck out there.”

And there’s that smile. That smile that’s going to make an audience of thousands fall in love with her. That’s going to make you fall in love with her, if you’re not careful. “Don’t need it,” she says, pressing her lips to yours, ruining her lip gloss all over again. “I got you, daddy.”

#kpop smut #yujin smut #ive smut #male reader

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