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forzalando · 5 months ago

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take my hand

another 3k celebration blurb! this time, best friends to lovers with lando for my dear friend lee @scuderiahoney 💛 i hope you all love this one, it's an apology for unrequited love!lando lol no heartbreak this time, folks!!! i'm being nice!!!! set at the 2024 spanish gp but definitely some inaccuracies with the post race timeline and also please pretend max fewtrell was there pairing: lando norris x fem best friend!reader word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a blurb wtf is wrong with me) summary: it can be so easy to fall in love with your best friend, and it can also be incredibly hard to imagine a world where they love you back. in this world, you're one of the lucky ones. tw: short but steamy makeout scene, mild cursing

Loving Lando Norris was so astonishingly easy. It came as naturally as breathing for you and has for over half of your life.

You met so many years ago but it still feels like yesterday that he reached out to you and said, “take my hand”, pulling you gently off the ground while the other children laughed at your clumsiness. He told you that they laughed at him too – he was short, shorter than you even at that age, and he struggled to read and write. You vowed that day to always pick each other up when you fell or faltered, always stand by each other’s side even when everyone else was laughing, and although it was a promise made between two children, neither of you had ever broken it.

Smiling at the memory, you were off in your own little world – thinking about the days when he would pick you “flowers” at recess (you didn’t have the heart to tell him they were weeds) and you would always share half of your cookie at lunch.

A voice pulled you from your trance, making you jump slightly at the sudden interruption.

“What are you thinking about? Or should I say who are you thinking about with that dopey smile on your face?”

You turned to face Max Fewtrell, a staple in both yours and Lando’s lives for just as long as you’d known each other.

“I was just thinking about where we’ll go for a celebratory dinner after the race. I’ve been craving gourmet pasta and a fruity cocktail.”

“Right, and my name is Willy Wonka. You don’t have to tell me the truth, it’s fine! Just thought I’d let you know he’s looking for you, he wants you in the garage for the race.”

Your heart swelled – even though Lando asked you to be there for every race you could attend, it never failed to make you giddy. You nodded your head at Max, he smirked back at you, and you walked as quickly as possible to the McLaren garage without calling attention to yourself.

As soon as you stepped into the garage, you ran straight into Oscar and the force almost knocked you to the floor.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he groaned. “Lando’s insufferable, asking where you are every five minutes.”

“Where is he? In his driver’s room?”

“Yeah, that’s where I last saw him headed,” Oscar yelled over his shoulder, walking towards his car. “Go work your magic on him!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked the familiar route to Lando’s driver’s room, your heart rate picking up a bit the closer you got to it. As soon as you were in front of the door, you knocked once and paused, then twice in quick succession, and once more after another brief pause – the secret knock you’d been using for years to let each other know you were there.

The door swung open almost immediately after your last knock and a frantic Lando yanked you inside. He flopped down on the couch behind him and covered his face with his hands – even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had a frown and furrowed brow.

“Thank god you’re here now, I’ve been going insane. I need you to tell me that I’m going to win this race – now that I’ve won once, it’s fucking brutal being so close yet so far. Canada was a nightmare and today I’m starting on pole. They’ll eat me alive if I don’t convert it into a win and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

You sat next to him and gently peeled his hands from his face, glassy green eyes, flushed cheeks, and, just as you predicted, a frown and furrowed brow.

“I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, Lando,” you started to say until he interrupted you with a groan, pushing your hands away.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, but what I can tell you is that no matter what, I’m proud of you. Max is proud of you. Your family is proud of you. Your fans are proud of you. So many people love you and see what you’re capable of – winning a race, not winning a race, it doesn’t define you. You’re the hardest worker I know, you’re kind, you are the most wonderful friend. I’ll celebrate you even if you come plum last pushing a burning, front wing-less car across the line and so will everyone else who knows and loves you.”

By the time you’d finished rambling, Lando’s shoulders had visibly relaxed and he was smiling. Not the goofy smile with his teeth on full display but a smile was a smile, you would take what you could get.

“Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t promise I won’t be pissed if I lose today but at least I feel better now, thanks to you.”

You punched his arm lightly, jokingly, and rolled your eyes. “We made a promise, didn’t we? I’ll always be there for you, always there to pick you up, even if your inability to see how wonderful you are makes me want to scream.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfect, you love me, I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, your days are miserable without me, tell me something I don’t know,” he jested, nudging your shoulder before standing and holding out his hand to help you up.

“In your dreams, Norris,” you scoffed. “Make sure that big head of yours still fits in your helmet before you get in the car.”

He laughed loudly as he led you out of his driver’s room, finally smiling the goofy smile you loved so dearly. The moment was short-lived – someone from his team called his name and he hugged you briefly before jogging towards them, yelling over his shoulder that he wanted you waiting for him in Parc Ferme after the race.

You shouted your agreement, hoping and praying he hadn’t noticed the rapid beating of your heart or how warm your cheeks were when he pulled you into that brief embrace. Although he had said it all to rile you up, you truly did think the world of him. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. In your eyes, he was as perfect as a person could be, and oh, did you love him. You loved him far more than a friend should and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep that to yourself.

As Lando pulled his car in front of the P2 sign, you felt the familiar burning of guilt running through your veins.

Maybe you should have told him he would win. Insisted on it, actually. You should have been adamant that he would rise to the occasion and to the top step of the podium once again.

He wouldn’t want to see you, you were quite sure of that, and despite your promise to be waiting for him with his team, you tried to sneak away unnoticed. You’d slowly made it far back enough to be swallowed by the sea of people until an arm blocked you from getting any further.

You looked up to see Lando’s race engineer with a disapproving look on his face and instantly felt like your father had just caught you trying to sneak out after curfew.

“He wants you here and he’s going to need you here,” Will shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, I wouldn’t promise him that he would win. I basically jinxed his whole race trying to keep him from being so hard on himself. What if he thinks I don’t believe in him?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Will snorted. “Now please get back up there quickly so you’re the first person he sees when he gets out of that car.”

With the help of Will, you were pushed gently back to the front just in time to see Lando haul himself out of his McLaren. His body language was obvious – disappointment, sorrow, embarrassment, and your heart ached as you listened to the roaring cheers from the Red Bull team as Max launched himself into their arms.

You knew Lando would be running every possible scenario through his mind – what if he had gotten a better start, what if he’d managed tires just a bit better, what if George hadn’t been able to sail through at the start and he hadn’t had to back off of fighting Max. All of those thoughts a natural, valid response, but if he voiced any of them out loud he’d get torn to pieces by both journalists and fans of other drivers.

When he peeled his balaclava from his face your stomach twisted and you silently begged him to look your way – for him to find a face in the crowd that was so unwaveringly proud of him through everything, but he kept his eyes trained anywhere but you or his team.

Finally, you saw his eyes flicker to you, and he walked briskly toward where you and the few members of his team were waiting. Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms and exhaled so deeply it felt as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of the race.

“You drove beautifully,” you whispered, combing your fingers through the sweat-dampened curls on his head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Lando’s arms immediately loosened around you and his head was turned away from you, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look you in the eye.

“We’ll talk later, I have to go do my interview,” he mumbled. “Wait for me in my driver’s room, okay?”

You nodded your head even though he was already walking away from you, shoulders slumped and jaw clenched. Honestly, you weren’t sure what hurt worse – the fact that you could physically see his disappointment or that he didn’t say he loved you back.

It felt like hours before you heard an all too familiar knock on the door to Lando’s room – the door gently swinging open to reveal the tired face and frame of your best friend. He must have showered in Oscar’s room before coming to find you – the smell of champagne nowhere to be found yet his curls stuck slightly to his forehead. The sight was endearing, and it took everything in you to not pull him into you and bury yourself against his chest.

“You didn’t have to knock, it’s your room,” you spoke softly, adjusting your position on the couch.

“Force of habit, I guess.” The corner of his lip turned up when he answered you – a good sign, a sign that maybe he wasn’t angry with you at all about your earlier conversation.

Although it was Lando who asked to talk, you couldn’t help yourself from blurting out an apology as soon as he took a seat next to you.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” you pleaded. “I should’ve said something different, I should’ve just said what you wanted me to say. I meant all of it, every word, but you asked me to reassure you in a specific way and I didn’t.”

Lando blinked a few times as he stared at you, his mouth falling open in shock? Amusement? You couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t appear to be mad.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“Well, yes,” you mumbled. “I probably jinxed your race.”

“Jinxed it? If anything, you’re the reason I finished second. I kept thinking about what you told me instead of focusing on how I screwed up – it kept my head in the race.”

“But, but,” you stammered, “you didn’t say you loved me back. In Parc Ferme, when you were hugging me. You always say it back, I thought you were furious with me.”

“Would I have walked over only to hug you if I was furious with you?”

You felt a little embarrassed at your panic – “I suppose not, you probably would’ve stayed as far away from me as possible.”

“Exactly, you silly muppet,” he teased, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t say it back because I realized that it means something different for both of us and I, believe it or not, got scared.”

Your eyes widened and you felt like you were going to be sick. He knew. You shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had figured it out – his pit crew, Will, Zak, Oscar, Oscar’s girlfriend the literal first time you met her, all of your friends and family, even drivers on different teams had made comments to you in passing over the years.

“Lando, I,” you tried to get ahead of it, ahead of the rejection and the awkwardness, but he cut you off with a raised hand and a pleading look.

“Please, just let me get this out or I never will,” he begged. “I think I’ve always known, or at least everyone around me has just always told me that it’s painfully obvious, but I didn’t fully realize it until earlier today. You care about me so much, more than anyone, and I’m almost positive I could be the lousiest driver, lawyer, engineer, teacher, architect, whatever, and you’d still always be proud of me. You’d be there for me regardless with a giant smile on your face, an “I love you”, and a hug that would heal any self-doubt or negative thoughts. You mean everything to me and I don’t know what I would do without you but – ”

You waited with bated breath, your leg bouncing uncontrollably and heart hammering in your chest. Waiting for the “but I don’t feel the same”, “but I see you as a friend”, for the inevitable heartbreak.

“But I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, even if it might ruin everything, but I have to believe it won’t because we can get through anything together. I love you, Y/N, more than anyone in this world, more than a friend, more than I ever thought it would be possible to love someone. I’m saying it back now, hoping that you feel the same because it’ll be incredibly awkward if you don’t, but that’s what I had to tell you first. I love you. I think I always have.”

It felt like the earth had stopped moving, time frozen and only you and Lando existed in this moment, only you existed in the entire universe. Your thoughts raced with what to say back – something romantic? Should you just jump into his arms and kiss him senseless like you’d dreamed about for years? Unfortunately, you landed on something far less eloquent.

“You what?” Your shout echoed in his driver’s room, if anyone was within a ten-foot radius they surely would have heard you.

“Well, I guess that’s not the worst reaction,” Lando pondered, looking away from you bashfully. “Nora Powell stomped on my foot when I told her I liked her. Do you remember that? I think it was Year 10?”

You did remember – it was quite a horrendous memory for you, actually, as that’s the year you realized you had a crush on your best friend.

“Oh, I was so jealous of her,” you blurted. “I cornered her at lunch the next day and told her she was the luckiest girl in the world and a certified idiot for turning you down.”

His head snapped back to look at you, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You smiled at Lando, tentatively cupping his cheek. “I suppose I’m the luckiest girl in the world now, to love and be loved by the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

“Oh no,” he insisted, “I promise you, I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you once gently, tentatively, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulled you into his lap and slid his hands to rest on your neck, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. In an instant, he was kissing you breathless, licking into your mouth as you whined and pressed yourself against him.

One roll of your hips had him panting, a hand leaving your face to slide under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire until he stopped and squeezed just under your breast. You were dizzy with desire and full of so much love for the man underneath you – he was intoxicating, you never wanted to stop kissing him, you never wanted to know the feeling of his hands not wandering your body.

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to disconnect his lips from yours even though it pained you to do so.

“I love you so much,” you muttered, a tear escaping from your eye. “I never thought – ”, you couldn’t even get the words out, choosing to bury your head into Lando’s neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“I know,” he whispered, lifting your head to kiss you senseless once again.

The two of you were so wrapped up in one another that neither of you heard a knock at the door or the turning of the knob. You did, however, hear the blood-curdling scream.

“Oh my god, my eyes,” Max groaned, slapping a hand over his face while he dramatically dry-heaved. “Get a room, you deviants!”

“Mate, we are literally in a room!” Lando shouted back, lifting you gently off his lap before he leapt to his feet and pushed Max backward. “We will see you back at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll be bleaching my eyes out when you get there. For the record, I’ve always wanted this to happen, but I never wanted to see it.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” you scolded. “Next time wait for a response before barging in somewhere.”

“Oh, believe me,” he stressed, “I’ll never be walking into any room you two are in ever again. Not even if there’s another fire and I’m the only one who can warn you to get out.”

“The dramatics are unnecessary but you do need to leave,” Lando insisted, pointing out the door.

“Yes, absolutely, but before I go, who confessed first?”

“Lando did,” you said proudly. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.” Lando winked back at you, which you took to be an agreement.

“Damn it, I owe Piastri, Sainz, and Verstappen $100 each,” Max groaned. “Like they need my money. See you two lovebirds later!”

He shut the door so quickly that neither you nor Lando had time to react to the fact that your friends had been betting on you. It took a few rounds of looking back and forth at each other and then the closed door before you burst into giggles and fell back into the couch, clinging onto each other. You laughed a bit too hard, your hands leaving Lando to clutch at your ribs. Almost instantly, you felt yourself sliding off your seat, your bum hitting the floor with a thud.

You looked up to see Lando with his arm outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face as he repeated the same words he said to you so many years ago.

“Take my hand.”

And just like you did that fateful day, you grabbed on, let him pull you up, and fell in love all over again.

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missnxthingg · 9 months ago

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I CAN'T LIE TO YOU ✮ LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x bestie!Reader (childhood best friends to lovers) summary: Lando Norris decides to surprise his best friend after being a long time away from home. What she didn't expect was that he had a big secret that he couldn't share with her words: 4.5K - warnings: swearing, suggestive content & not proof read author's notes: I'm back once again! Now you just know I'm a sucker for childhood besties to lovers. Also, I may have already started writing a part two for this one... let me know if you want it!

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The days in England have become more boring with time. Y/N was losing her mind over the repetitive routine that follows the life of a college student. Work, study, beer with close friends and bed. So when her mother invited her for a family dinner, she worried about how excited she got with the event. It wasn’t supposed to be anything special, just her parents and a few of their close friends gathered to catch up over nice food.

Coming home felt way too good. It’s a feeling most college students get when they go back to their hometown, leaving their crappy flat in university to be served with their parents pampering during their quick visit. Y/N was supposed to be back to her place in just a couple of days, but she felt satisfied to be in a different place than the four walls of her house. Not to mention that she was having a good laugh with everyone at the table.

Her mother always takes dinner parties to another level, serving the best food in her special crockery, saved for moments like this. So Y/N packed a nice new outfit; a cute long-sleeved dress that looked perfect with tights and heels. Not that the guests cared about how she was dressed, but it felt nice to look beautiful and all put together for once after months of hoodies and leggings.

As usual, her parents invited the Norris family, as they’ve been the best of friends for the longest time. Not only they lived next to each other for years back when she was younger, all of their kids were really close friends with Y/N. But the spotlight always goes to Lando, who is the same age as her, making them grow up attached to the hip.

They all grew up going to the same school, not to mention that she would always tag along in Lando and his brother’s karting sessions, having the best time watching them drive flawlessly on tracks. He always enjoyed the times when she’d steal her parents cameras so they could make some homemade videos of their time together. Or when they would sit back, watch their dads play golf every Saturday and share candies in the cart.

Y/N and Lando have been inseparable since the age of four, growing up side by side, going through everything together. She was so important to him that, when he joined Formula 1 and had to choose a number to race, he chose the age the two of them had become friends.

“The number four is for my best friend, Y/N. She was the one to suggest it, and the meaning behind it is very cute. Actually, I don’t want to tell you to not spoil anything, but I can only say that it’s very dear to my heart”, Lando said once in an interview during his second season in F1, making every single one of his fans curious about the meaning.

But it’s been a while since the infamous duo had been together. They supported each other from afar; Y/N sometimes joining him for race weekends and Lando coming back to see her on birthdays and weekends in London, while he visited the McLaren factory. But the last time they had been together was four months ago, during summer break, when he dragged her to join him for his crazy trips around the world. When racing and university was back on, they lost a little bit of touch; almost no calls and only a few texting breaks so they wouldn’t fall apart.

A lot happened in those four months. Lando had a new gorgeous girlfriend; a model who everyone had become obsessed with her TikTok videos for beauty tips. They had been seen together a few times around the world, her joining him for the races and a lot of make-outs behind DJ booths at parties. Y/N, on the other hand, was lacking in the dating department. But the friends she made over the past year made everything worthy. After years of pretty much having Lando as her only very close friend, she finally found new people to go out and have fun as a normal 20-year-old.

With that, Y/N and Lando’s friendship got weird. He had been avoiding her for a while, with the excuse of being too busy with racing, but actually not wanting to talk about his personal life with someone who knew him like the palm of her hand. Meanwhile, she was having a good time with her friends to be bothered by anything. But lately, life had become more boring and Y/N felt like having Lando back would bring some more fun into her life again, with all the epic parties and the good times they always managed to happen.

“Only one month left”, she thought, as winter break was approaching, meaning that Lando would finally be free to come home for the holidays.

She was pushed out of her thoughts by Adam Norris, who now seemed interest in Y/N’s life after a long catching up with her dad. “Tell us more about college! Are you having fun? Learning anything special?”, he asked with a kind smile.

“Oh, I’m graduating this spring, so it’s been… rough”, she chuckled. “But everything has been amazing, you know? The internship is so cool and the people are nice as well”.

“I just can’t believe it will all be over soon”, his wife, Cisca, responded. “It feels like it was just yesterday when you joined uni and Lando started his first season in F1. Time really flies, uhm?”

Every mention of his name made Y/N smile like a fool. But lately, it has been accompanied by a ting of pain on her chest. God, she missed him so much.

“What is it that you miss?”, Cisca asked, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. Shit, did she say that out loud?

“I said I missed your pie so much, Cis. You know I have always loved it growing up”, Y/N tried to cover it up by stuffing her mouth with the cheesy pie, trying to keep her thoughts of being spoken out loud. But something caught her by surprise.

“Yeah, mum’s pie is the best in the world, isn’t it?”, a male voice said from behind her, one that she hadn’t heard in person for a while. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, only to turn around and see Lando standing right behind her tugged into his signature comfortable hoodie, with a giant smile plastered on his face, and a bouquet in his hands. “Surprise!”

Y/N brought her hands up to her mouth, trying not to cry at the sight. She couldn’t believe what was standing in front of her. So she jumped out of her seat and jumped into his arms, not caring about anyone else in the room or the flowers being crumpled up in his hands. Lando buried his nose in her hair, taking in her scent, making him feel at ease for once

“What are you doing here?”, she leaned back, holding his face between her hands. His soft eyes looked down at her, his smile never faltering.

“I thought I could surprise my best girl”, he admitted, digging one of his hands into her hips, making her securely close to him. “I had a break before the end of the season, and it had been so long…”

“Shut up, you idiot. I just want to hug you”, she cut him mid-sentence, burying her face in his neck, making his smile even wider, if that was possible. Everyone on the table laughed at her reaction, but let them have their moment after months without seeing each other. It felt too good to be true.

“I missed you so much”, he whispered in her ear, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“I missed you too. Welcome home, Lan”, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, making it tinted red. Lando was so cute when he blushed. “You brought me flowers! How cute is this?”

She took the giant bouquet filled with red and pink roses out of his hands, bringing it close to her body. “It’s an apology for not being here as much as I should”, he said, making her heart so warm with the thoughtful gift.

“You being here is enough”, she pressed another kiss to his cheek and quickly pulled him for another hug. They just couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Alright, we all know you both really miss each other, but you can catch up after dinner. Food is getting cold and poor Lando must be starving”, her mother cut them off, making Y/N look back at the table, her face burning in embarrassment. He laughed at her behavior and pulled the chair next to her so they could sit together.

Through the whole dinner, Lando told all of his amazing stories traveling the world, leaving all the ‘best friends only’ parts for later, when he would be alone with Y/N. She felt so happy to finally have him by her side, making fun of her table manners, resting his hand on her knee and cracking any bad jokes just to see her roll her eyes. And even though he lived those many adventures, Lando knew life couldn’t get better than having his favourite person in the world back on his side.

“So, Lando, what finally brings you back home?”, Y/N’s father asked, making him shrug.

“You know, the championship could’ve been better and I feel really tired, you know?”, Lando searched for his best friend’s hand under the table, entwining their fingers once they met. Then he looked at her with an adoring smile on his face. “I just need some recharging. Thought I could use some home time before the last few races of the year”.

“You’re always welcomed to recharge in our house if you want to, Lando”, her mother said before the conversation was taken somewhere else once again.

While everyone else chatted, Y/N and Lando updated their phone gallery with new pictures of them. A lot of cute selfies and pictures of their homemade dinner which soon found their place on their Instagrams.

y/username

liked by landonorris and 3,419 others

y/username: always feels good to have my best friend back in the house

tagged: landonorris

landonorris Besties reunited LFG!

↪ y/username you’re such a bore

fanacc1 FINALLY SOME Y/N AND LANDO CONTENT

fanacc2 Wasn’t him dating a model?

↪fanacc3 He is, but Y/N is his childhood best friend

fanacc4 ugh, if i was his gf, i would be so jealous of them together

↪fanacc5 I bet his girlfriend actually hates them

fanacc6 Does this mean more Y/N around the paddock?

The dinner was coming to an end with the delicious sweet treats they prepared for dessert. At that point, Lando and Y/N were just existing at the conversation. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she found a comfortable spot to lean into him and keep sipping on her wine while they shared a slice of cake. But even though they were quiet, they surely weren’t tired. So as the rest of the adults continued with their chat, they took their glasses of wine to the backyard, just so they could have some alone time.

Lando chuckled when he saw what was still standing strong in her backyard. “You still have our old treehouse?”, he asked and she nodded excitedly. “Wow, it looks so much nicer than before”.

“It’s because I renovated it, you fool. Haven’t I told you?”, she asked, but Lando shook his head. “Oh my… you have to see this! Now it’s a grown up treehouse! Take a look”.

Y/N dragged him to the small construction and made him climb all the way up to the house. It changed a lot with the renovations. Their wall doodles from when they were little kids were preserved by a varnish coat on the wood. She also substituted the old toys for books and her collection of vinyls, making the place look extra cozy. There was even a table for afternoon tea and card games, a TV and a huge futon, with lots of cushions, so they could just lie down and spend the rest of the day hidden from the world.

“What a glow up!”, he joked. “I loved it. This is amazing”, Lando took a place next to the window, where the moonlight invaded the room. Y/N sat next to him and almost immediately pulled out her camera just to capture the moment. And just like old times, they had fun doing a tiny photoshoot together, only to be cut off by his mom, calling them from the ground.

“Are you coming, Lando?”, Cisca asked, making him look over to Y/N, who replied for him.

“I’m not letting him go anywhere, Cisca”, she joked, throwing her arms around Lando, making his mother laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your son”.

“Have fun you two”, they waved at her and sighed after finally being left alone for a proper catching up between best friends. Lando had a satisfied smile on his face and he felt so calm at that moment. He threw both of his arms around his best friend and hugged her tightly.

“Home, at last”, his cheek was pressed on the side of her face, making her giggle with the contact. “I want to know everything going on with you. Just blurt it all out. I owe you this”.

“Oh, nothing great happened”, she shrugged. “Nothing that you didn’t know already. The internship is nice, but it’s coming to an end soon and I’m not sure they’ll keep me with them. And college is almost finished, so that’s kind of bittersweet”.

“I thought you were excited to have a degree”, he said, making her sigh. “Are you not happy about graduating?”

“Of course I am. You more than anyone knows how important this is to me”, she answered. “And I made so many good friends and I’ve been having the best time with them. I know graduating will make us grow apart”.

“Endings aren’t always nice, uhm? But you have to look at the bright side of things”, he started. “You’re finally achieving something great and you managed to have a really good time along the way. Made friends and worked really hard to become the best professional out there. I’m so proud of you!”

Lando has always been her biggest supporter on pursuing her academic path. He remembers all the talks they had about her wanting to master in communications. While he didn’t get to finish school to up his game in racing, he was there for every step his best friend took until enrolling in university. So when they talk about it, he always has that beautiful proud smile on his face, to which Y/N loved seeing.

“Thank you”, she smiled shyly. “And what about you, Mr Worldwide? You’ve been everywhere these past months. How was it?”

“Oh, always amazing”, he beamed. “I got to see so many amazing places around the world. You would’ve loved all the clubs I went to. The DJ booths are amazing. Oh, and the golf courts… breathtaking”.

“Yeah, I saw all the pictures”, Y/N arched her brows and rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even bother on calling, telling me about your adventures”.

“Sorry, I lacked in that department”, he apologized. “Even though everything has been amazing, I’m so tired of this year. I could’ve done better on the track and the last few races have been exhausting. I knew that I needed to recharge before the last two races, so I came back to you”.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you home”, she ran her hand through his curls and smiled. Lando always saw Y/N as his home. She always brings him that sense of familiarity, and her absence in his travels around the world were taking a toll on him.

Not to mention that hiding a big secret from his best friend also wasn’t doing him any good.

“But I’m not here to talk about me. I want to know everything about you”, he poked her side with his index finger and smirked. “Anyone special appeared in your life in the past few months?”

“Please”, she rolled her eyes. “The last time I had a proper hook up was during our summer trip to Bali with that guy on the club”.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad”, he giggled, but Y/N’s face was burning in embarrassment.

“I had a few dates in the past months, but fuck me, they were annoying”, Lando laughed at her statement. “One of them found out you’re my best friend and spent the entire time asking questions about you. And the only guy who was actually decent came in his pants when we were making out in his car. Didn’t even get to touch me”.

“Oh, poor you”, he giggled. “So no boy to be my new best friend? I mean, come on, we need more male energy in this friendship”.

“Sorry, Lan. No boyfriend this time”, she said. “You, on the other hand, started dating this gorgeous model and forgot to tell me about everything.”

And there she said it: the topic Lando had been avoiding the most throughout the whole night. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Y/N, because his big secret had been hiding right there. He knew he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, lie about anything to her. And he also knew that he really needed to vent about this secret with her as well.

Lando turned really quiet, and looked away, avoiding her eyes. “Don’t start now, Y/N. I mean, there’s not much to say, to be fair”, he mumbled.

“Come on, I want to know everything about the woman who stole my bestie’s heart”, she poked him, but Lando didn’t dare to look Y/N in the eyes. “I mean, everybody loves her and she seems sweet. Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together”.

“What do you mean? I’ve seen the Instagram pictures and the gossip pages posting videos of you two kissing in the club. I thought you were becoming a thing”.

“Y/N, don’t push it”, he asked, his voice bargaining on his throat.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together, I told you”, he sighed. “She’s a PR stunt. She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s been consuming me from the inside ever since we started this little thing”.

Lando finally looked her in the eyes and Y/N saw them brimming with tears. As an immediate response, she rested a hand on his arm and waited until he was ready to talk more. He leaned into her touch and the tears started to stream down his face. He’s never one to cry for anything, so the tears meant that it was so much more than he was letting show. Her heart broke at the sight of her best friend.

“Is this why you look more tired than usual?”, Y/N asked and he nodded, making the tears fall harder. “Oh, Lan… Come here”.

She pulled his head to rest on her chest and Lando wrapped his arms around her, needing some sort of comfort. He didn’t say much for a couple of minutes after, feeling his heart aching on his chest. He wanted to talk about everything with Y/N, because he knew she would understand him. He always feels vulnerable and safe enough to talk about anything with his best friend.

“Everything is so fucked up, Y/N”, Lando cried out. “God, I can’t take this fake relationship anymore. Do you know how disgusting it feels to pretend to be in love with someone you’re not? And to lie to everyone, hiding it from my parents. From you. I can’t stand it”

“I’m sure you have a good reason to be doing so”, she said, fingers running through his curls and making him sure that she was right there with him. Y/N felt his fingers clinging tighter onto her. “You’re just doing your job and that’s okay. This won’t last forever”.

“I feel so lonely, you know? I was doing so bad on the last few races and I missed home so much. I missed talking to my dad and hugging my mom. I missed making fun of my sisters and going for a drive with my brother. And I missed you so much. I wish I could just stay here for a long while”.

“Soon you’ll get to be here for as long as you want, baby”, Y/N pressed a kiss on top of his head and Lando sighed in comfort. It ached a little less with her there. “And we’ll get to spend so much time together. You can come over and we’ll have sleepovers. We can take the car, drive around and go clubbing until sunrise. Whatever you want”.

“God, it would be so easy if it was you”, he whispered, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. What did he mean with that? Just those single words made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. Truth is, while her heart ached for her best friend, she was relieved he’s not in love with someone else. Did he have feelings for her?

“You know, I looked over my so-called girlfriend one night while we were hanging out at the club and I wanted to shout to everyone that it was all an act. She’s like a solid reminder of how lonely I am all the damn time. It’s ridiculous”, he grunted.

“Come on, look at me”, Y/N pulled his face to look up and held his head between her hands. “Lan, you are never alone, okay? Even if you feel like you are, and even if I’m not there physically, you know that I’m always with you. I’m right here”, she rested a hand over his heart, making him smile through his tears. “I've been in your heart since the moment we met”.

“I…”, he started, but couldn’t get to say the rest. After all this time, Lando was afraid that the next move would ruin their friendship forever. But looking her in the eyes, comforting him through this rough time, he knew she felt the same. “I love you, Y/N”.

She was expecting anything. ‘I know’, maybe. That was so much bigger than what she imagined. Lando had said he loved her countless times over the years they’ve known each other; after all, they grew up together, almost like brother and sister. But this time, it was different. Y/N knew it, and Lando knew it too.

Y/N was too stunned to speak, so he continued with his confession. “I always have, you know? And I only hid everything from you because I can’t lie to you. And because I thought you’d never look at me the same way if you found out”.

“Lando, I…” she stopped mid-sentence, trying to catch some air. “Fuck, this is a lot. Just wait a second”.

They giggled together and he leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to not say anything right now. I just dropped a giant bomb on your lap. This wasn’t the way I wanted to confess to you, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore”.

“Are you saying this because you’re emotional? Because I swear to God, if you are, I’m gonna kill you for misleading me”, her eyes were brimming with tears and Lando whipped them away.

“I’m telling you the truth”, he assured. “I think I’ve loved you my entire life. With all the crazy things I’ve experienced in my life, you were the only constant. You’re home, Y/N”.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”, she asked and he took a deep breath.

“Because I was afraid of losing you. Scared this might ruin our friendship somehow”, he admitted. “You’re the most precious thing in my life. Do you know how scary it is to fall in love with your best friend when you’re just a kid? And then grow up, and those feelings never go away, just getting stronger every day. I just didn’t want to lose you”.

“You weren’t going to lose me, Lan”, her eyes softened at his confession and now he was the one wiping her tears. Y/N brought him back for a hug and even though he didn’t have an answer, deep down he knew she felt the same.

“I’ve loved you since we were four. There’s a reason why I always carry this number with me”, Lando confessed. “God, look what you do to me. I never cry”.

“You only cry for the important things”, she reminded. “That’s why I love you, Lando. I’ve been in love with you for my entire life too, idiot”.

His eyes widened as he looked up to her, who had a smirk plastered on her face. “Can I kiss you?”, Lando asked, but before she could properly shake her head in agreement, he crashed his lips into hers. He needed to be home, and Y/N has always been home for him. It was the most intense kiss they ever had, like years of lingering had finally paid off for both of them.

Lando pulled her closer with a hand on the back of her head. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, smiling into his lips. Then, as if it wasn't enough, he pulled her to sit on lap, making them closer somehow. She slowed down the pace, making the kiss needier and more delicious. Lando even let out a satisfied throaty moan, his heart speeding on his chest. Her touches made him feral, knowing that after years of pinning, he finally had his dream girl.

“Thank you for this”, he whispered against her lips, a wide and satisfied smile on his face. “Thank you for all the years, all the times you've been here for me, to tell me everything is going to be alright.”

“Always, Lan”, she played with the hairs on his nape. “I love you so much”.

“I love you too. So much”, he left one more peck on her lips before hugging her again. “I don't know what I'd do without you”.

“Yeah, me too”.

The story of how they fell in love with each other was long, but beautiful. Lando and Y/N sat in that tree house all night and shared all of those stories with each other. And for a second, he really believed everything was going to work out. After all, if he had Y/N, Lando would be just fine.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

⤿ add yourself to the taglist!

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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

Text

Pollinated

Day 11 → Sex Pollen 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

“You’ve got a stack waiting for you.” Alan leans on the edge of your desk, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He’s holding a bundle of envelopes, some thick with scribbled messages, some thin and printed with clean, crisp fonts.

Your PR officer’s eyebrows raise in mock exasperation as he shakes them at you. “How do you even have time to race with all these fans wanting a piece of you?”

You grin, setting down your coffee and wiping your hands on your pants. “That’s the problem of being so popular, Alan. It’s a curse, really.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a real burden. Everyone loving you.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

He drops the stack in front of you with a soft thud. “Take your time. I’ll be back in a bit.” His tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of something more serious underneath, like he’s reminding you there’s more work to be done after this.

You roll your eyes as he walks off. You love this part of your day — the letters, the drawings, the fan art from kids who see something in you that makes them believe they can be here too. They’re always so personal, full of energy, like they’re rooting for you from their living rooms or school desks.

You flick through the pile, reading the familiar opening lines. Dear Y/N, you’re such an inspiration or I love watching you race! Your heart lifts as you come across a brightly colored drawing from a girl named Chloe, of you standing on a podium, arms raised in victory. It makes you smile so wide your cheeks hurt a little. You can practically hear the little girl’s voice, excitedly telling her parents, “That’s gonna be me one day.”

“This is what it’s about,” you mutter under your breath, running your fingers over the crayon marks.

More letters. More words of encouragement. A scribbled note from a group of university students who drove twelve hours just to see you race last season. A letter from an older woman who says she’s been watching F1 since her husband introduced her to it in the ‘70s and how proud she is to see a woman making waves. You pause at that one, your chest swelling. You’ll have to write her back.

You reach for the next envelope, a bit plainer than the others. No stickers, no hand-drawn doodles in the margins. It’s simple, just your name written on the front in neat black ink. Your gut tugs slightly, but you brush it off. Not every fan is an artist.

You open it, pulling out a card with a printed picture of a car on the front. Your car. You smile, flipping it open to read the message inside.

But your smile fades as you start to read.

You don’t belong here.

The words are bold, black, and stark against the white paper. They stand out like a punch to the gut, each line colder and more hateful than the last. The handwriting is meticulous, like whoever wrote it wanted to be sure you’d understand every word.

Women like you are ruining the sport.

Your throat tightens. Your fingers grip the edges of the card a little harder than before, the edges bending under the pressure.

Go back to doing what you’re good at: nothing.

You try to swallow, but it feels like there’s a knot lodged in your throat. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this. Hell, it’s not even the worst thing anyone’s said. But right now, it’s too sharp, too specific, too venomous.

You reach up to close the card, your hand trembling slightly. But before you can fully shut it, something catches your eye — a tiny puff of fine yellow powder shoots from the fold, drifting into the air in front of you.

“What the-” You blink, confused for a split second.

Then, it hits.

A burning sensation spreads through your throat and nose. Your skin tingles, a wave of heat rushing over your face. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling fire. Panic spikes as your vision blurs.

“Alan!” The name barely makes it past your lips before you feel your legs give way beneath you.

“Alan!” You try again, but it comes out weaker this time. Your limbs feel heavy, your chest tight, and the room starts to spin in slow, nauseating circles.

Footsteps pound across the floor. Alan’s voice sounds far away, muffled, like he’s underwater. You catch a glimpse of him sprinting toward you, his face pale, eyes wide. “Y/N?”

Your body jerks uncontrollably, a violent shudder running through you. The room twists, everything turning hazy as you hit the floor hard, your fingers twitching against the cool tile.

“What the hell — Y/N!” Alan’s panic is sharp now, cutting through the fog. You can barely see him through the haze clouding your vision, but you feel him grab your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“Stay with me. Just stay with me, okay?” His voice cracks, fear bleeding through the edges.

Your entire body seizes again, every muscle clamping down painfully. A sharp cry escapes your throat as the convulsions take over, uncontrollable now.

“Help! Somebody, help!” Alan’s voice is frantic, desperate, echoing through the room as the world starts to fade. His hands are on your face now, trying to keep you conscious. You feel his fingers trembling against your skin, hear the panic rising in his voice as he keeps shouting for help.

But you’re slipping, sinking deeper into the darkness as the convulsions wrack your body. You can’t speak. You can’t move.

Alan’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

***

The world returns slowly, like surfacing from a deep dive. There’s a ringing in your ears, muffled voices blending into the constant hum of machinery. Your body feels like it’s on fire — each nerve sizzling under your skin, radiating heat. You try to move, but it’s as if you’re bound by weights. The sheets beneath you cling to your body, too warm, too tight, too much.

Someone’s talking nearby, but it’s distant, warped. You can’t make out the words yet. Everything feels heavy — your eyelids, your chest, even your breathing. Your mouth is dry, your tongue like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

Slowly, the fog begins to clear, and you catch fragments of conversation.

“… highly illegal substance …” A voice, crisp and professional, filters through. The doctor. “… extreme toxicity … very few cases on record …”

You try to focus, but the burning sensation inside you only intensifies. It’s everywhere — your limbs, your core, your mind. Like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You manage a groan, the sound barely escaping your lips.

“She’s waking up,” someone says, closer now. Alan? It sounds like him, but there’s a hitch in his usually confident voice. Panic.

Your eyelids flutter open, and the room comes into blurry focus. Harsh fluorescent lights. Sterile white walls. The sterile smell of antiseptic clogs your senses, a sharp contrast to the heat still coursing through you. You blink slowly, your vision sharpening enough to see Alan standing by your bedside, pale and jittery, his hand running through his hair in nervous strokes.

Across from him is the doctor, his white coat stiff and immaculate. He’s holding a clipboard, and his face is a mask of concern. When he speaks, it feels like each word takes a lifetime to process.

“… the substance she was exposed to … it’s not just any powder,” the doctor is saying, his voice measured but grim. “It’s a synthetic pollen derivative, known as Lust Dust on the black market.”

Lust Dust. The words sink into you, but you don’t recognize them. Your throat feels too tight to ask for clarification. Alan, however, doesn’t hesitate.

“What does that mean? What the hell is that?” Alan’s voice is raw, frayed at the edges.

The doctor sighs, flipping through the notes on his clipboard before answering. “It’s an extremely illegal bio-weapon, developed underground. It was used in several isolated attacks a few years ago, mostly in war zones. The symptoms … well, they’re brutal.”

You don’t like the sound of this. Brutal. Illegal. Bio-weapon. The words swirl around in your head, each one setting off alarm bells, but you can barely move enough to react. You just lie there, heat pulsing through you, your body screaming in agony.

“The pollen attacks the body’s nervous system,” the doctor continues, his tone clinical. “It acts as a stimulant, targeting primal instincts, heightening … certain responses. The most dangerous part is that, if untreated, the body will burn out within hours.”

“Burn out?” Alan echoes, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What does that mean? You mean … she’ll die?”

“Yes,” the doctor replies, his tone darkening. “In most cases, without intervention, the victim’s body will shut down. It’s a highly sexualized toxin. The only way to counteract the effects is through physical release.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. The words hover in the air, sinking into the room with a weight you can almost feel. Your heart races, your mind struggling to comprehend what’s being said. Physical release? The burning sensation in your body intensifies, like it’s reacting to the very idea of what the doctor’s suggesting.

Alan’s face pales further, his hand gripping the back of his neck in horror. “Wait, are you — are you saying she has to-”

“Sex,” the doctor says bluntly, not sugar-coating anything. “Yes. If she doesn’t have sex soon, she will die. The sooner, the better, to mitigate the damage the pollen’s already caused.”

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin, despite the unbearable heat raging inside you. The fire in your veins is consuming everything, twisting the doctor’s words into cruel irony. This can’t be happening. Not this.

“I … I …“ Alan stammers, clearly at a loss, his eyes flicking to you, desperate and terrified. “There’s got to be another way. Medicine? A procedure? Something?”

The doctor shakes his head. “There’s no antidote. The only option is the one I’ve given you.”

You want to scream. You want to cry. But you can’t do anything except lie there, burning from the inside out, unable to stop the panic surging through you as the realization sinks in.

Alan takes a shaky breath. “What … what do we do now?”

The doctor straightens, his voice calm but commanding. “The most important thing is finding someone who’s willing to … assist.”

Alan’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can say anything, the door bursts open and several members of your team file into the room — engineers, mechanics, staff. Their faces are tight with concern, and they crowd into the small space, murmuring amongst themselves.

“What happened?” Someone asks, their voice tense.

Alan quickly explains, his voice shaking as he goes over the details. The pollen. The bio-weapon. The need for “intervention.” Every word makes your heart pound harder, and you can feel the collective shock ripple through the room as the reality of the situation sets in.

“She needs someone,” Alan says, his voice thick with emotion. “She needs someone to …”

He can’t even finish the sentence.

The room falls into stunned silence. You can hear the soft hum of the machines around you, the ragged breathing of the people in the room. It feels like time has stopped, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone.

Then, the whispers start.

“I’ll do it,” someone mutters.

“No, I will,” another voice pipes up. You recognize it as one of the engineers, his voice shaky but sincere.

“I mean, she’s our driver, right? We have to help.”

More voices chime in, each one offering, each one willing. The panic in the room turns to a frantic eagerness, as though everyone suddenly realizes what’s at stake. You can barely comprehend it — the idea that your team, your colleagues, are discussing this as though it’s just another task, something to be done to save your life.

Your mind is spinning, your body trembling with the heat still coursing through you. You want to shout at them, tell them to stop, that this isn’t how things should be. But you can’t move, can’t speak. All you can do is listen as the conversation grows more chaotic, more desperate.

Then, the door opens again, and a new voice cuts through the noise.

“Everyone out.”

It’s Max.

The room falls silent instantly, every head turning toward him. He stands in the doorway, his face hard and set, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity you’ve never seen before. He looks around the room, his gaze sharp, taking in the faces of your teammates, the panic, the confusion.

“I said out,” Max repeats, his voice calm but firm.

No one moves at first, too shocked to respond. But then one by one, they start to file out, murmuring to each other in hushed tones as they leave the room. You hear Alan hesitate for a moment, but even he doesn’t argue. The door shuts softly behind them, leaving you alone with Max.

You’re too weak to turn your head, but you can hear him walk closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He doesn’t speak right away, and the silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the soft beeping of the machines monitoring your condition.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Max’s voice fills the room. “It’s going to be me.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“No one else is touching you,” he says, his tone low, steady. “I’m your teammate. I’m the one who’s going to help you. Not them.”

You can’t see his face, but you can hear the resolve in his voice, the determination. He’s not offering. He’s deciding. There’s no question, no hesitation. It’s going to be him, and no one else.

And as the burning inside you flares again, you realize that part of you is grateful.

***

The air between you and Max is thick with tension, the kind that crackles in the silence, heavy with unspoken words. You lie there, your body still ablaze, the fire under your skin pulsing in waves, but something about his presence — steady, resolute — grounds you, if only just. You can’t move, can barely speak, but your mind races, half-paralyzed with the agony of the pollen and half with the strange anticipation of what’s to come.

Max stands beside the bed, his face framed by the fluorescent lights above, casting shadows that sharpen his features. He doesn’t look afraid, though you can tell there’s something behind his eyes — something that trembles just beneath the surface. His gaze locks onto yours, and it feels like he’s looking past the pain, past the situation, to something deeper.

“This isn’t how I imagined …“ His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, as though the words aren’t meant to be heard by anyone but you. He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours, tentative at first, like he’s asking permission for what’s about to happen.

You want to respond, to say something, but your throat is too tight, too raw, the burning heat still tearing through you. You manage the faintest of nods, your hand twitching against his, and that’s all he needs.

Max leans over, his face close to yours now, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand trails gently down your arm, his touch soft, careful. “I’m here, okay?” He murmurs, his voice low, soothing. “We’ll get through this.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in that same quiet, tender voice, he adds, “Schatje … you’re so strong.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, and despite everything — despite the fire tearing you apart from the inside out — it brings a strange, aching warmth to your chest. Max has never called you that before. The intimacy of it catches you off guard, though you don’t have the strength to dwell on it for long.

His hands move lower now, brushing across your skin with reverence, as though you might break under his touch. You shiver, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You don’t deserve this,” Max whispers, his forehead nearly touching yours. His voice cracks ever so slightly, betraying the calm façade he’s trying to maintain. “I’ve … I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he admits softly, his words a confession, raw and vulnerable. “But not like this. Never like this.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the feel of his hands on your body, the way he’s handling you with such care, as though he’s afraid of hurting you. And somehow, through the pain, you manage to relax just enough to let him in. Just enough to let him take some of the weight from you.

He presses his lips to your temple, a soft, lingering kiss, and you can feel the tremble in his breath. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the burning inside you dims, replaced by something else. Something warm, and tender, and utterly consuming. Max moves with purpose now, his touch becoming more sure, more confident, but never losing that careful tenderness. He’s cooing to you, whispering soft praises in Dutch, his voice like a balm against the fire raging inside you.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Max admits again, his words spilling out like he can’t hold them back any longer. “For so long. I just … I didn’t know how to tell you.”

His hands continue their journey, and despite the circumstances, despite the fire still licking at your insides, your body responds. Every touch feels magnified, every brush of his skin against yours sending a jolt of something deeper through you, something primal and desperate and… needed.

“You’re so strong,” he says again, his voice reverent, almost in awe. “So perfect. I don’t know how you do it.”

Your body trembles beneath him, not just from the fire that’s still coursing through you, but from the way he’s touching you, the way his words wrap around you like a soft embrace. It’s intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, the vulnerability of the moment stripping away any pretense, any barriers you might have once had.

“I’m here, liefje,” Max whispers, his lips brushing against your ear now. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

You don’t know how he manages it, how he makes something so painful feel like this, but he does. His hands are everywhere, soothing the burn, coaxing your body to relax, to give in to what you need. And with every touch, every whispered endearment, the fire inside you dims, just a little, just enough to let you breathe.

“I wish it was different,” Max murmurs, his voice thick with emotion now. “I wish this was … just us. Not because of this. Not because of …“ His words trail off, but you understand. You understand perfectly.

He presses his forehead against yours again, his breathing ragged, his body tense with the effort of keeping himself composed. “But I’ll do whatever it takes,” he says, his voice fierce with determination. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Your body reacts to him instinctively now, every nerve ending lighting up in response to his touch, the fire inside you blazing hotter but in a way that feels … different. Less painful. More like an ache, a deep, desperate need that only he can fill.

“Max …“ you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse, barely audible. It’s the first word you’ve spoken since waking up, and it feels like a release, like a crack in the wall you’ve built around yourself. He hears it, though, and his gaze softens, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “I’ve always got you.”

His movements quicken, and you can feel yourself spiraling, the fire inside you building to a crescendo, but this time it’s not just pain. It’s something more, something overwhelming and all-consuming. You can feel him with you, guiding you, coaxing you toward the edge.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers again, his voice breathless now, his own control slipping. “I’ve wanted you for so long …“

His words send you tumbling over the edge, your body convulsing in a wave of pleasure so intense it nearly takes your breath away. The fire beneath your skin peaks, then suddenly, blessedly, begins to recede. It’s like the flames are being extinguished, one by one, leaving only warmth in their wake.

And Max is there, holding you through it, his arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breathing is ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself together, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t move.

As the last of the fire dies down, as your body finally begins to relax, you hear him whisper, so softly you almost miss it.

“I love you.”

The words slip out before he can stop them, unguarded and raw, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The room, the pain, the circumstances that brought you here — it all disappears, leaving only the two of you, tangled together, vulnerable and exposed.

You’re too weak to respond, too exhausted from everything that’s just happened, but Max doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your hair, your forehead, anywhere he can reach.

“I love you,” he whispers again, like he’s afraid you didn’t hear him the first time. “I’ve always loved you.”

His confession hangs in the air, delicate and fragile, but it feels right. Like it’s been waiting to be said all along.

As the fire beneath your skin finally dies out completely, as your body settles into a state of calm for the first time in hours, you let yourself fall into the safety of his arms, his warmth the only thing keeping the remnants of the fire at bay.

Max doesn’t let go. Not for a long time. And you don’t want him to.

***

Max holds you close, his body pressed against yours, his breath still coming in shallow bursts as the two of you lie in a tangled heap on the bed. The burning fire that had been searing through your body has finally been extinguished, leaving only a lingering warmth that feels manageable now.

But even though the pain is gone, even though your body has found relief, there’s still something… unfinished. A strange, restless feeling that hums beneath your skin, an ache that begs for more.

Max is quiet beside you, his hand brushing gently through your hair as he watches your face, his expression soft but intent, like he’s still worried, still waiting for some sign that you’re okay. But you can see it in his eyes — he knows. He knows it’s not over yet.

You shift beneath him, the subtle movement sending a ripple of sensation through you, and your breath hitches involuntarily. The fire is gone, but that need, that craving — it’s still there, simmering just below the surface. It’s not the urgent, desperate heat of the pollen, but it’s undeniable.

Max’s gaze sharpens, reading the subtle cues in your body. His hand stills in your hair, and you feel him shift beside you, his body tensing slightly as he watches you, waiting for you to say something, to ask for what you need.

You don’t have to.

“Oh liefje,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You still need more, don’t you?”

Your throat tightens, and you nod, unable to form the words. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes — understanding, maybe, or something deeper. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He already knows.

Max’s hand trails down your body, his touch feather-light, and it sends a shiver through you, your body responding to him instantly. He presses a kiss to your temple, then to your jaw, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “I’m here,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “Whatever you need.”

His lips travel lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, and you arch into him, your body aching for more. He moves slowly, deliberately, savoring each touch, each kiss, as if he’s committing every inch of you to memory.

You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips when he moves lower still, his mouth brushing against your collarbone. He’s taking his time, drawing this out, making sure every second is filled with pleasure, with tenderness. There’s no urgency now, no frantic need to cure the fire. This is something else — something deliberate, something intimate.

Max’s hands slide down your sides, his thumbs brushing lightly over your ribs as he lowers himself down the bed. His mouth follows the path his hands have carved, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and teasing, as he moves lower, kissing across your stomach with slow, deliberate care.

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, each touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your fingers tangle in the sheets, gripping them tightly as you fight to keep your composure, but Max makes it impossible. His lips are everywhere, soft and warm and completely unrelenting.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I don’t think you even realize …”

His words send a thrill through you, and your breath catches as his hands slide lower, his fingers brushing the curve of your hips. He presses a kiss to your navel, and you feel the heat pooling deep inside you, the need building again, stronger this time, more insistent.

“Max …” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you. He always hears you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers back, his voice soft, reassuring. “Just relax.”

You try, but it’s impossible with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s kissing you, like every part of you deserves his undivided attention. He’s worshiping you with every movement, and it’s almost too much to bear.

Max’s hands slide up your thighs, and your breath stutters as he spreads your legs wider, his eyes dark with want as he looks up at you. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he presses a kiss just below the dip of your waist, teasing you, making you wait.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Do you know that?”

You can’t respond, can’t do anything but arch into him, desperate for more. He knows exactly what you need, and he’s giving it to you slowly, carefully, savoring every moment.

Max’s hands grasp your thighs, and he pulls them apart slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something in his gaze — something raw, something vulnerable. He’s giving himself to you completely, just as much as you’re giving yourself to him.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there, and your entire body shudders in response. Every nerve is on fire again, but this time it’s not the cruel burn of the pollen.

This is different. This is Max.

He pauses for a moment, his lips hovering just above where you need him most, and he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath.

You can’t form the words. All you can do is nod, your body trembling beneath him.

Max smiles, a small, almost shy smile, and then he lowers his head, his mouth finally, blessedly, on you. The sensation is immediate, intense, and you cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets as he works you with a precision that only he seems to know. His tongue moves slowly at first, teasing you, drawing out your pleasure, but it doesn’t take long for him to find the rhythm that makes your entire body sing.

He’s relentless, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, driving you higher and higher until you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter inside you until you’re sure you’re going to break.

“Max!” You gasp, your body arching off the bed. “Please …”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes faster, his tongue working you with an intensity that leaves you trembling. You’re so close, so impossibly close, and he knows it.

“That’s it,” he whispers against you, his voice thick with need. “Let go, schatje. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one last flick of his tongue, you’re gone, tumbling over the edge into a wave of pleasure so intense it almost hurts. Your entire body convulses, your vision going white as you fall apart beneath him, your fingers gripping the sheets so tightly they burn.

Max doesn’t let up, his mouth still on you, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you’re nothing but a trembling, panting mess. When he finally pulls away, you’re left gasping for breath, your body slick with sweat, your heart racing in your chest.

He crawls back up the bed, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he goes, his hands soothing over your trembling limbs. When he finally reaches your face, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing your hair back from your face.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soft, reassuring. “You’re okay.”

You can barely nod, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release. Max pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as you come down from the high. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours.

For a moment, everything is still. Quiet. Perfect.

And then, just as your breathing begins to slow, the door creaks open.

The doctor walks in, clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable as he takes in the sight of you and Max — sweaty, tangled together, your bodies still humming with the afterglow. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances at his clipboard, then back at you.

“Well,” he says after a moment, his tone entirely too clinical for the situation. “It appears the cure has been administered.”

Max stiffens beside you, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice — or care. He simply jots down a few notes on his clipboard, his pen scratching loudly in the silence.

“Residual effects of heightened libido may persist,” the doctor adds, almost as an afterthought. He glances up from his notes, his gaze flicking between you and Max, then nods, satisfied. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

And with that, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you and Max in stunned silence.

Max lets out a breath, a low, incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Did he seriously just …”

You nod, still too dazed to form a coherent response.

Max shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “Well, I guess we’re not done yet.”

And with the way your body still hums with need, you know he’s right.

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satanghulu · 2 months ago

Text

pact marks pt 3

✦ CAST: satan, asmo, beel, belphie ✦ SUMMARY: brothers�� reaction to you hiding your pact marks ✦ WARNING: urm the twins’ part got slightly angsty, mentions of lesson 16! ✦ WC: 2.7K

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

══════════════════

Satan

Satan hates that the mark is gone but tries to play it cool to get back into your good books.

The sound of the door slamming made Satan snap his head up, watching as you stomped your way in somehow avoiding all the books strewn on the floor, even in your anger-induced haze.

“Well, seems like someone’s having a great day,” He sounded bemused, slotting a bookmark into the page of his current read. He could feel the flicker of wrath calling out to him as the rim of your eyes flashed green.

You planted your hands on your hip and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The furrow between your brows told him that you were angry but it didn’t take a genius to figure that part out. But at this juncture, he couldn’t tell if it was directed towards him or yourself.

“Tell you what, my dear?” A bewildered Satan sat up straight, inching his thighs open as you forcefully made a space for yourself. The intensity of your gaze only made him more confused as you huffed again in exasperation.

“That pact marks could be hidden!” You whisper-screamed as you peered at his expression, frowning when you didn’t see the hint of realisation you wanted. Instead, you let out a loud groan, bringing a hand up to pinch the tip of his ear as your form of punishment.

“Ow--Hands off!” Satan smacks your hand, rubbing at his ears woefully. He watches as you lean past him to pick up his novel with a contemplative look as if you wanted to throw the book at the wall.

He pauses, waiting for your next move. With a disgruntled air, you slid the book further away on his bed as you took its place beside him. Satan continues to examine your expression thoughtfully, the gears turning in his head as he slowly shifts his head up. A strand of blond hair falls from where it was tucked behind his ears, and you resist the urge to move it out of the way.

‘Wait. Come again?’ His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he finally processed your words.

“Solomon taught you.” He said, his words sounding more like a statement rather than a question, to which you replied snappily with who else?. He turned to appraise your appearance to which you held his stare, unphased.

Damnit, he was hoping that you wouldn’t have found out about it just yet.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” You narrowed your eyes, bottom lip jutting out in frustration as you wagged a finger at him accusingly.

He couldn’t bear to see your angry expression towards him any longer. Satan grabs your finger gently, bringing it to his lips as he lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Can’t a demon want to see his mark on you?” For added dramatics, he flutters his lashes while giving your finger another kiss. Immediately, your face flushed red as you tried to jerk your hand out of his grip.

Satan holds onto you tighter. His touch travels up your arm to grab you by the shoulder, pulling you into his space. “Dislike it?” He murmurs into your ear, noting that it has turned red. You timidly shake your head, resolutely not uttering a word.

Although he finds it a shame that he couldn’t see your expression.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it…” You said with a small voice, face buried in Satan’s shoulder. You were unwilling to show him your face, slightly annoyed that he had won over your anger so easily.

“Well,” Satan pulls you back to give you a sullen stare. “It’s not like I made any pacts before and magic tends to affect everyone differently.”

(It was the half-truth, kinda. But pact marks are always able to be hidden, no matter the person. But he wasn’t going to tell you that.)

You gave him a long look, searching his face for any tells of a lie.

“Fine. I’ll take it as you didn’t know this time.” You relaxed your posture, slinking into his hug. “But, next time--“

“There will be no next time, love.”

(There absolutely will be.)

══════════════════

Asmo

Asmo would be the most understanding, second to Beel. This would largely be because he already has a pact with Solomon. Also, he understands that sometimes the marks could ruin the aesthetic of a particular outfit but still? He just thinks you look so pretty with it.

The feeling of cold fingers on your back trailing up your back gives you a fright, as you turn to smack the perpetrator. Thankfully, your reflexes were fast enough to stop the stack of paper from flying at his face.

“Babe!” Asmo whines, giving you a hurt stare. “What would you do if you hurt this perfect face?” He brings an elegant finger up to the side of his face, showing off his porcelain skin as the light hits at the right angle.

You flicked his nose.

“Do you need me now?” You questioned, gesturing at your pile of paperwork in front of you. Mammon had dumped all of the bills on you before fleeing in the direction of RAD, as Levi chases behind him right after.

You assume that he wouldn’t be back in the house for the night at least, to evade Levi’s scrutiny. Thus, you had started sorting the bills to at least, lessen his workload so that Lucifer wouldn’t whoop both of your asses. (Despite Mammon being your caretaker.)

A manicured hand taps on your thigh, demanding your attention.

“Pay attention to me.” The Avatar of Lust is stunning as always, a pout plastered on his face as he grouses cutely. You chuckle and shove the paperwork aside, Mammon be damned. He could do his own paperwork and you had a much cuter distraction right in front of you.

“Yes, honey?” You match his tone, locking your fingers with his as he continues to tap on your thigh incessantly like a peacock flaunting its feathers. “I wanna see my pact mark.” A glint in his eye shines, a bright smile playing on his lips.

You sigh.

“So that’s why you were touching my back.” He nods at your statement, a perfect eyebrow arched as if to ask you what’s wrong with it.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you turn and lift your shirt slightly to give Asmo a better view. You try not to flinch as his cold fingers sweep past the area where the mark was supposed to be.

A hum comes from behind you. Asmo tugs your shirt down, giving you a tap on your back to indicate he is done with his little inspection.

“Satisfied?” You asked as you arranged your shirt properly.

“Maybe if you go au naturel, I’ll be able to have a better look.” This time, Asmo’s lips curled into a grin as his head tilted to the right suggestively. You let out a chuckle, patting his shoulder. “Next time, buddy.”

A thought crosses your mind as you stop in your motion.

“You’re not…unhappy?” Asmo cocks his head to give you a contemplative look, not saying anything. A flutter of motion catches your eye as he suddenly leans in to press a kiss on your cheek, leaving a trail of delicate sweetness in his wake.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ as he stood up, patting your head. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” A graceful hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you up, beckoning you to follow him.

“Come on, it’s self-care day today!” He cheered, lifting your arm up above your head and bumping your hip hard with his.

You grinned. Typical Asmo.

══════════════════

Beel

Beel would definitely be the most understanding. He gets your reasoning if you want to cover it up. Though, he is still a demon. He will have this nagging feeling that something is wrong but he’s not sure why.

“Beel?” You padded softly into the kitchen, yawning as you rubbed your eyes. The kitchen’s lights were turned low but the refrigerator’s door was wide open, the dim light still hurting your cornea.

Only the sound of crunching answers you as the demon was too transfixed with the leftovers from dinner. You had made human-world food today, feeling homesick and craving for a pick-me-up. As always, Beel had made his stance known about the food. But, he must have really liked it. (At least much more than you had presumed.) The fridge was completely devoid of your cooking, the usual snacks he ate for supper untouched.

You had also made much more than the usual portions because you intended to bring it to RAD to let everyone try it. Well, you should have known. Though, you really had made extras of extras…

“Oh.” Beel waved his hand at you, finally noticing your presence. He hurriedly swallowed whatever was in his mouth and beamed at you happily. “You’re still up?”

You nodded, finally remembering what you had initially come here to do. “Water.” Your voice was scratchy as Beel sent you a thumbs-up before continuing to consume his supper.

You squeezed past him to grab your glass and the water pitcher. After quenching your thirst, your eyelids no longer felt heavy and instead, you now felt wide awake. Still holding your glass of water, you headed to where Beel was sitting and hopped on top of the counter beside him.

“Want some?” He offered his spoon to you, motioning for you to take a bite. You shake your head, telling him that you have already finished your night routine. Both of you sit in silence, the sound of Beel’s chewing fading into white noise.

The steady cacophony of Beel’s chewing slows your thoughts and just as you were about to doze off--

“Hey.”

You startle awake, sleepy eyes searching for the source of the voice. “Oh, were you about to sleep?” Beel looks apologetic, large hand flying up to move your head to lean on his shoulder. In a daze, you grabbed his hand instead as you tried to blink the sleep away.

“It’s fine. Is there something you need?” You yawned, letting go of Beel’s hand in favour of covering your mouth. He shakes his head solemnly. Yet his face was pinched, as if something was bothering him.

You wondered if he had gotten into an argument with Belphie. However, you recall they were just fine during dinner, and knowing Beel, he would be more upset if so. He also couldn’t have possibly gotten into any tiffs with the brothers seeing as you didn’t hear a single peep from them.

“Are you worried about something?” You asked softly, hand placed over his to give him some reassurance.

He shakes his head.

You had an inkling the matter was plaguing him was involving you. But the only change so far was the pact marks. Oh, the pact marks.

“Is it the pact marks?”

Beel stiffens up as if he was caught doing something wrong. You continue to wait patiently, rubbing your thumb in a circle over his.

“Kind of.” He admits, avoiding your gaze. “It’s just that… You cooking human-world food and then hiding the pact marks. It feels like you’re…” He looks away, unable to continue.

“I’m leaving?” You finished his sentence, lifting three fingers to grasp his chin carefully.

He nods, sighing. “I know you won’t and it’s irrational.” He turns to look at you with a strong gaze, lower lip trembling slightly. “Can we stay here for a while?”

You lean into his touch, Beel instinctively wrapping his arms around you.

“Of course.”

══════════════════

Belphie

Opposite of his twin. He hates that the mark is gone yet he wouldn’t be able to say anything much seeing as the mark manifested around your neck, reminiscent of the time he gave you a tight hug.

Belphegor’s been avoiding you lately.

It’s impossible not to notice the sudden distance he puts between both of you. This doesn’t mean to say he goes out of his way to make you feel unwelcome; rather he goes out of his way to be polite to you.

At breakfast, he sits two seats away from you. He passes you the cutleries when you ask, hands never touching you. He scampers off to class with Satan as soon as he is done. It’s Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth; when has he ever been known to be punctual?

Yet for all his aloofness, he comes into your dreams every night. He watches you – he sits at the edge of your vision, chin on his palm as his tail swishes calmly behind him. But you wake up in your own bed with your heart thrumming with confusion and affection, all the same. Sometimes, it feels as if he observes you in reality too.

It was frustrating.

You don’t want to force the youngest out of his comfort zone to talk about his feelings but it was starting to get ridiculous. He’s thousands of years older than you and he can’t even bear to talk about his own feelings?

You huffed.

You’ve made up your mind to talk to him but he’s as slippery as an eel when determined. When Belphegor wants to hide, no one should be able to find him. Well, except for one person.

“Where is he?” You dug out a burger from your backpack – you had stopped by Hell’s Kitchen after an unsuccessful search in RAD. Beel pauses around his mouthful of food, scrutinising the outstretched offering in your hand.

“Rooftop.” He glances hesitantly at your expression. “Please take care of him.” You nod, shoving the burger into the pile of food beside him. You pretend not to take notice of the underlying meaning in his words.

You climb the stairs to the twins’ room, footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the house. The rightmost window was wide open, the cold breeze making you shiver in your pajamas. You stick your head out of the window, noticing there is no path up. Belphegor must have flown up in his demon form. Was he that desperate to avoid you?

Quietly, you muttered a levitation spell; sending vibrations through the air as you swayed unsteadily.

Imagination. Imagination. Imagination.

Slowly, the spell stabilised and a sense of pride twinged in your heart. You gently landed on the roof, spotting the tell-tale sight of Belphegor’s cowprint from the back. The wind nipped at your nose as you walked over, a chill running through you.

Both of you sit in silence.

“The Pool of The Abyss is out tonight.” He lifts a finger to point at the sky, gaze trained upwards. Humoring him, you turn to look at the night sky – the stars glittering in the endless abyss, a stunning sight that takes your breath away each time.

“Are you going to continue pretending?”

His breath hitches as he stays quiet. The silence stretches uncomfortably long, your hands falling to your side as you bite your tongue to let him think. His tail lashes back and forth, catching your attention.

“I’m sorry.” He bites out.

You shift closer, finally seeing your chance of reconciliation. “What are you apologising for?” Your nightwear flutters in the wind and Belphegor gestures for you to lean into him.

“Everything.” He sighs wearily. “The-” You rub soothing circles on his left thigh, as his tail curls around your middle to provide warmth. “The incident and just. Everything.”

“It’s--“

“Don’t say it’s okay.” He cuts you off, frowning as the tail tightens just a little. “It’s not. You know that.”

You nod.

“I got reminded of it when I saw the mark was gone.” He pauses again, moving to place his head on your shoulder, seemingly to avoid your stare. “I just wonder how much of a better life you would have if you never came to the Devildom.”

You bring your hand up to touch your neck – your skin doesn’t feel any different to the touch with or without the pact marks. Closing your eyes, the magic buzzes in the air as you undo the spell hiding your pact marks. Belphegor craned his neck to watch the movement, face twisted as though the mark sullied your skin.

Belphegor takes a deep breath as he reaches out to touch you.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ the path to forgiveness isnt always linear! Satan - on your temple Asmo - tramp stamp Beel - below your navel belphie - front of neck…………where he strangled u lol On a side note, the lnd men has been populating my fyp too much. I believe asmo smells like peaches (thank u bee for the idea), it suits his colour scheme so much. (ALSO, if you know how prada candy smells like, yeah i associate that with him) I also wholly contemplated making reader summon belphie when he was hiding from them just for shits and giggles. also this isn’t my fav but it’s been marinating in my drafts for weeks so imma js post it LOLZ

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Note

ooooh a fic where reader and Tom reacts to the tiktok edits of them pls✨

Internet Boyfriend || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

A/n: I LOVE THIS HAHAHHAHA also yes, I did add the links to the tiktok edits 😋

Warnings: none :)

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

“First of all, congratulations on satisfying this fan of the original series,” The women points to herself, “Thats what we like to hear,” You smile, “Like this film is epic! But uh we need to all about something really really serious first,” You nod, anticipating the questioning.

“Y/n,” You eyebrows shoot up as you tilt your head, “Do you think Tom is ready,” You and Tom look at each other, “to become the internet’s boyfriend? Cause I don’t think he realises what’s about to happen,” Tom looks taken aback as he looks at you.

“I’ve been saying this for so long too!” You meet Tom’s gaze, “I did not expect that question,” He shakes his head lightly laughing. “Beyond the internet boyfriend, it’s just he gives such a beautiful performance in this film and after our first premiere in Berlin, I grabbed his face in the car on the way back to the hotel and I just bawled my eyes out to him, remember that?” You look to him, a smile on your face.

“Yep,” He chuckles, looking down, “Because as an actor and his girlfriend I was just so proud to witness the rise of Tom Blyth in movie making, it’s such a beautiful thing and there’s no one more deserving out there, truly.” You say in appreciation as you and Tom lock eyes.

He puts his hand on his heart, “Thank you,” He says, truly moved by what you said, “That’s so sweet of you,” You lean your head against his shoulder and his arm wraps around your shoulder. “You’re welcome,” You say to him, looking up as you place a light kiss on his jawline.

“Both your performance is honestly just spectacular, I love the two of you, I wish I was there in person to witness it,” She jokes as you all laugh along with her. “Another thing I wanted to ask, specifically aimed to you Tom,” He looks at the women expectantly.

“The girls on tiktok are loving it already, are you ready,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “Oh God,” As you already start laughing knowing where she was going with this question, “Are you ready for the Snow thirst edits? How do you feel about them,” It’s silent for a few seconds as Tom looks at the floor, a smile on his face.

“It’s begun babe,” You squeeze his arm. “Uh- I’m not on tiktok and I try to stay off online, as much as possible, uhm which is difficult these days- but I don’t see them often until people send them to me- So stop sending them” Tom looks at the camera as you throw your head back, losing it already as you laugh.

“As someone who has tiktok and thoroughly enjoy the edits of the movie, I do send them to Tom-“ “You send them all the time! It’s embarrassinga” You both intertwine hands and laugh out loud. “I don’t really send you the thirst trap ones, mostly just the ones about how blue your eyes are and how great of an actor you are,”

“Well speaking of it, we actually have a few thirst traps of you Tom, lined up for you to react to,” Tom drops his head as you start giggling, “Oh my god,” “Here we go,” You say in as you watch a crew member past you an IPad.

“Oh dear god, this video is going to turn into a try not to cringe challenge video with y/n and Tom reacting to Coryo” You sigh as you watch the first tiktok which is of Tom as Snow. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNC4EmV8/

You immediately smile knowing you have already seen this tiktok. The interviewer starts laughing as you both watch Tom’s reaction to it. “I must say, It’s very good,” Tom admits, “This tiktok has 5.4 million views, and everyone is saying that this is the Coriolanus snow edit,” She says as you click on the comment section and read through the comments.

“I agree that is the Coriolanus snow edit aswell,” You chuckle. “Okay next one,” You say as Tom groans beside you, already very much embarrassed. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNCVJCRX/

Your jaw immediately starts to drop upon hearing the audio. Tom covers his eyes as you and the interviewer laugh. “I love the beginning!” You say in between laughs, “Wait what was the beginning?” Tom asks, “Did you not watch it?”

“I covered my eyes the second I heard my voice,” He admits with a silly grin on his face as you shake your head and rewatch it. “Oh, I see,” He rubs his chin as you watch the next one. “Oh I’ve seen this one!” Tom says as you both rewatch it. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNCVkrxh/

“I’ve always told Tom that everyone obsesses when he says Snow lands on top,” “Yes! The fans go crazy!” The woman laughs along as Tom looks uncomfortable. “Tom say it,” You nudge him as he gives you the ‘don’t make me do it’ look as you give him your puppy eyes, “fine,” He huffs.

He clears his throat as a joke before staring into the camera, “Snow lands on top,” He says in an insanely attractive voice as you fake faint. “Watch them edit this too,” You point out, “Please no,” He covers his face in embarrassment as you pat his back, silently laughing.

“This one, is one my favs actually,” The woman says as she shows you and Tom the tiktok. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNC4wS5J/ You both crack up at the ending as actual tears started forming in Tom’s eyes. “Oh my god he’s crying,” You slap his thigh as you lean over in your chair from laughter.

After a good 5 minutes the two of you calm down. “For the next one, Y/n you can just go ahead and search up Tom Blyth on TikTok and pick whatever tiktok you want him to react to,” Your eyes lit up at the offer and you hurriedly take the iPad from Tom’s lap and type his name. Tom leans over to look at the iPad as you hide it from him, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he knows all too well.

You take your time as your scroll before one catches your eye. You watch it and your jaw immediately drops open. “What is it?” Tom says impatiently as your eyes flicker from Tom to the woman. “I don’t know if I can even show this,” You cover your mouth.

“Babe, I don’t think you want to see this,” You continue while Tom becomes impatient and curious. “Just show me!” You give a look to the interviewer as you show him the tiktok. Almost immediately, Tom turns it off and gets up from the screen as you stifle a laugh, watching him as he walks behind the camera, his hands on his hips.

“What did I just watch,” He says as you full on start to laugh to the point where you were on the ground laughing and had a stitch. “I should have stayed curious” Tom runs a hand down his face as he sighs and sits back down on the chair, laughing at you on the floor dying from laughter.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, sweetheart,” He playfully rolls his eyes as he offers his hand and helps you up. “My eye makeup is most definitely ruined,” You say in between laughs as Tom grabs your face and wipes away the smudged mascara.

“Oh my god! I’m sorry I didn’t even show you the tiktok!” You realise as the woman doing the interview snickers. “We probably looked mentally insane,” You fan your face. The TikTok was of Coryo kissing your character in tbosas and the next clip was of Billy kissing Dulcinea which also happened to be played by you and the writing on the TikTok said “This man kisses like he is starved, like she is the oxygen he needs to breathe,”

Tom was beyond embarrassed as he recalled both moments when he was kissing you on screen. “This may be abit of TMI but ladies, he’s always been like that,” You cover the left side of your mouth as you whisper it to the camera before winking.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x actress!reader

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acupoftaewithsomesuga · 2 months ago

Text

"𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏" • 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈

summary• wooyoung and you have been in arranged marriage for almost 3 years. You are tired of the constant lack of physical affection and you start to slowly lose yourself. Who knew that this one misunderstanding would shift your relationship with Wooyoung.

warnings• ANGST, enemies to lovers, alluding to suicide, signs of depression, arguing, mentioning of harming others, mention of mental disorders, manipulation, mental breakdowns, SMUT, pet names (baby, dear, love, sweetheart, husband, wife), teasing, penetration, unprotected sex, clit play, squirting, rough sex, passionate sex, aftercare.

videos/audios to view before reading

w/c• 13.2k

a/n• this one took me forever to do but it is finally here! I want to thank @itsnotmydejavu and @rems-writing for giving me the strength to continue writing this one. I was genuinely going to scrap the whole thing but here it is to share with everyone! Next up Seonghwa to finish the OT8 saga!

taglist• @rems-writing @st4rhwa @sugarnspice630 @joongiesmoon @no1likevie @woohwababes @hongjoongswife1 @blackb3ll @staytiny23 @ccalyse

network• @othersideoutlawsnetwork

•masterlist•

After working on some paperwork for the business you decided to go see Wooyoung in his office. Wooyoung was a very established businessman known for working mainly in stocks. But what people didn’t know was that he was also smuggling drugs into the country. You were a businesswoman who worked with your father's established wood company. You have known Wooyoung from a young age but he was always standoffish. You were closer to his brother Hongjoong and connected more with him growing up. So you were really surprised when your parents and their parents decided that Wooyoung and you would be getting married. He didn’t have much of a reaction, he just nodded and bowed. You objected with no hesitation and got into a heated argument with your parents. But they weren’t letting up on their decision and neither were Wooyoung’s parents.

Wooyoung didn’t react to anything that was happening on the day of the wedding. He had a straight face throughout the whole thing and didn’t say a word to you except “I do.” On your honeymoon, you cried yourself to sleep because he didn’t touch you or even try to talk to you about anything meaningful. You felt so helpless at this point. That was 2 years ago and now you and Wooyoung are coming up to your third year of being married. Your relationship has grown but not as much as you would like. You both talk but it’s never how you want it to be. He talks about business and asks you how you are doing but that is about it. Conversations are kept to a minimum and you were at your limit with this. You figured you would try to win him over just so you weren’t losing your mind.

You knock on Wooyoung’s door and you can just hear the annoyance in his voice. “What is it?” He said irritated. You opened the door and saw him at his desk looking at the stack of paperwork on his table. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything,” you smiled but his expression didn’t waver one bit. “I don’t need anything from you. I need to focus on this deal. Don’t you have something to do? Like manage your father's business?” he said in a flat tone, still looking at the papers. “I have finished everything I needed to do. I just wanted to see how my husband is doing,” you say causing him to raise an eyebrow, his expression unyielding. “You're my wife, not my assistant. I don't require checking in on. I'm fine.” There is silence in the room before he speaks again. “Don't you have a hobby or something to occupy your time?” You stare at him, your smile fading at his words. “Yes, but as your wife I should make sure you are doing fine. And I do have a hobby, it's currently drying at the moment,” You explained referring to your painting.

Silence fills the room again before he speaks. “Painting, huh? I didn't know you were interested in that. It's a hobby, not a career. You don't need to waste your time on it.” You could feel the blood rushing through your veins as he belittles your passion. “You asked if I had a hobby and I told you my hobby. You want me to leave you alone and waste time on my hobby. But when I tell you my hobby you tell me it’s a waste of time and I should stop doing it. You don’t make sense at all sometimes. If you hate me then just say that.” Your voice echoed through the room causing Wooyoung to look up from his paper, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “Oh, spare me the drama. I don't hate you, I'm just trying to focus on my work. And I didn't say your hobby was a waste of time, I said it's not a career. There's a difference.” You could feel yourself boiling at his response. “Whatever Wooyoung. I’ll just go back to being your uncaring wife since that is what you want me to be. Ever since our parents arranged this marriage you haven’t even looked at me with loving eyes.”

His expression darkens, his voice cold “That's enough. You know as well as I do that our marriage was a business arrangement, not a love match. Don't pretend to be hurt or offended. You're getting everything you wanted out of this deal, just like I am.” You roll your eyes and close the door to his office. He returns to his work, but his focus is now scattered. He can't shake off the feeling that he's lost control of the situation and that nagging sense of guilt is starting to creep up on him.

You place your hands over your eyes, trying not to cry as you walk back to the painting studio. “I just want to be touched lovingly. I don’t care about the money. I fucking hate my parents,” you say to yourself as you enter the studio and close the door behind you. You sit in the studio and cry for up to an hour. Your heart was shattered and you felt like no one cared about my feelings. The idea of not having a husband who loves you made you hold yourself tight and sob. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to love you fully along with your future children.

He enters the painting studio, his footsteps quiet on the floor. He sees you sitting there, tears streaming down your face, and for a moment, his mask falters. He looks almost human. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, and approaches you slowly. Wooyoung stands before you, his gaze fixed on your tear-stained face. He tries to reach out to you, his hand hovering above her shoulder, but hesitates.“You're…” For a moment, he looks like he's about to say something, but the words die on his lips. You just sat there folding your face, not wanting to hear anything he had to say. “Just leave me alone,” you cry out crunching your body closer to yourself. His eyes narrow, a flash of annoyance crossing his face, but he checks himself. He takes a deep breath, his expression smoothing out into its usual mask of calm control. He turns to leave but pauses at the door, his voice low and detached. “We have a meeting with the investors tomorrow.”

You whence at his words, holding yourself close. His gaze lingers on her for a moment, his eyes flicking over your soaked shirt before he turns away, his strides long and purposeful as he exits the room, leaving you alone with your tears. You get up, close the door to the studio, and take out your paint brushing. You start to paint on a new canvas with your emotions, painting a story of your heartbreak. He stands outside the studio door, his ear pressed against the wood, listening to the sounds of brushstrokes and muffled sobs. His eyes close, his jaw tightening as he absorbs the emotions that seep through the door. For a moment, he remains still, the only sound of his quiet breathing.

You continue covering your canvas with red and black. Painting your emotions onto this canvas. Red with black smudges representing your heart turning cold and helpless. He opens the door, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the canvas and the turmoil that surrounds him. His gaze fixes on the vibrant red and black hues, his expression unreadable, yet his eyes seem to hold a quiet intensity as if he's trying to decipher the code of her emotions.

You painted a base for a heart being held by a hand, crushing it with force causing it to bleed black. The black paint dripped off of the canvas and onto the wooden easel. Your hands were messy from the aggressive painting, your hands shaking. You take a deep breath and try to calm myself down, letting your remaining tears drip off your face.

For a moment, he's frozen, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. He takes a step closer, his shoes silent on the floor, his eyes never leaving the canvas. His voice is low and even, yet laced with an undercurrent of intensity, "Tell me, what is this?" He gestures to the painting, his hand hovering above the crushed heart.

“It’s art you’re supposed to interpret it yourself,” you say in a flat tone, your tears stilling. You start to grip your paintbrush forcefully, your body filled with rage. His eyes flicker to the side of your face, "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Art is not just about interpretation, it's about understanding the soul of the creator. And I want to understand yours." His words were supposed to be endearing but in the moment it just pissed you off. “My heart is extremely fragile. Love represents red and hopelessness represents black,” you expressed weakening your grasp on your paintbrush to calm yourself down. His gaze lingers on the black paint. He takes another step closer, his proximity making the air feel thick and heavy, "And what do you hope for, when love is crushed and hopelessness reigns?" He asks causing your eyes to swell up again. “I hope to die, that’s what I hope. I’d rather not be here anymore than my heart be crushed by hopelessness,” you utter, the grasp on your paintbrush tightening again.

His expression remains unreadable, but his voice takes on a hint of softness, a gentle probing, "And what is it about this world that makes you want to escape it so desperately?" He pauses, looking at you with an emotionless gaze. “My lack of love and touch. The lack of loving conversations. Not having someone hold me and adore me. That’s why I want to escape.” He pauses before speaking, "You crave human connection, but are surrounded by emptiness. It's a feeling I'm familiar with," he says, his voice low and filled with regret. “Then why do you force me to go through it alone?” you snap turning around and looking up at him. Your eyes were red and puffy from all the crying. Red and black paint was smugged on your cheek from you wiping away your tears. His eyes widen fractionally at the accusation, but he doesn't back down, "I'm not forcing you to go through anything alone, you're choosing to be here, to surround yourself with the very things that hurt you," he argues back, his stance dominating the space between you.

“You don’t understand. No matter how much I surround myself with people I still lack physical touch and love.” He looks down at you, his presence looming over you. You see his jaw clench before he speaks, "Perhaps that's because you're looking for the wrong kind of touch, the wrong kind of love. You're so focused on what you're missing, you've forgotten how to appreciate what's right in front of you,” he says his expression getting more irritated.

“Again you don’t understand and you don’t listen. The point is I need you to love me. I am losing my mind. I sleep in bed with you every night with our backs turned to eachother. When I wake up you are gone. I don’t get morning hugs or even night kisses. It would be one thing if you didn’t want to be affectionate with me but I’d at least want you to talk to me like I’m your wife.” More tears escape your eyes, the paint making visible streams down your face. His expression remains unreadable, but his voice takes on a slightly softer tone, though it's still laced with a hint of detachment, "I do talk to you, y/n. I provide for you, protect you, and give you everything you need. What more do you want from me?" You look at him for a second and try to search for the words to say. “I just told you what I wanted Wooyoung. For you to hold me and be intimate with me.”

He takes another step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he speaks in a low, measured tone, "Intimacy is a weakness, y/n. It's a vulnerability that can be exploited. I've worked too hard to build my empire to let emotions get in the way.” Your face drops and you look at the ground. You sigh to yourself in defeat. He tilts his head slightly, studying you for a moment before continuing, his voice softer, "Why are you so hung up on this, y/n? I've given you everything you could ever need. Why does it matter if we-,” You instantly cut him off with your words and express your feelings. “I want a traditional husband. I want to be loved by my husband. Don’t you want the same from your wife?” Your eyes swelled with tears again as you looked up at him. You looked so hopeless as you looked at him, your eyes emanating a mixture of fear.

His expression falters for a brief moment, a flash of something deeper beneath the surface, before he masks it with his usual arrogance, "Love is a fleeting thing, y/n. It's a myth perpetuated by the weak-minded. I don't want love from you.” Your heart drops and his words stab into you like a knife. Your rage gets the best of you and you start to talk out of hatred. “And see that’s your problem now. You are going to die alone and miserable. But me I won’t dragged into your coldness. I will find someone that truly loves me.” You get up from your stool, the scrap running across the ground and echoing through the room. You glare at him before walking out of the studio.

He watches you go, a flicker of something like regret crossing his face before he shakes his head and turns to the window, his expression once again cold and unreadable. He mutters to himself, "Love is a fool's game." Your emotions were on a high and you felt like you weren't being heard properly. How could someone like Wooyoung be so cold and reserved for you but when he is around other people he smiles? What about you did he resent you so much?

You get to the room and get clothes out for bed. You walk into the bathroom and turn on the bathtub. You light some candles and turn off the lights, letting all the candles engulf the room.

He enters the bedroom and hears the sound of the running water coming from the bathroom. The soft glow of the candles drew him in. For a moment, he stands in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the peaceful scene before him.

Without knowing he was standing in the doorway you undo your robe and let it drop to the ground, your naked body being exposed to the air. You climb into the tub letting the hot water radiate against your skin. You breathe out as you feel your body being covered with hot water. For a moment, he's frozen, his usual composure slipping. His chest rises and falls with a slow, deliberate breath, and his fingers tighten into fists at his sides. You start to wash your body gently, humming to yourself. You throw your leg in the air and wash it thoroughly.

His eyes follow the movement of your leg, his gaze lingering on the curve of your thigh and the gentle motion of your hands as you wash. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he struggles to maintain his stoic demeanor.

After you clean yourself you decide to destress even more. You move your hand down to your core, rubbing your fingers against your folds. His eyes widen slightly as he watches you, his gaze riveted on the intimate act. His breath hitches, a low, almost imperceptible sound escaping his lips. He takes a step forward, his body seemingly drawn to the scene unfolding before him despite his better judgment.

You rub your fingers against your clit and start to moan softly, the waters around your arm splashing. He can't tear his eyes away, transfixed by the sight of your fingers dancing over your most sensitive flesh. The soft moans that spill from your lips send a jolt of something primal through him, his body responding with a surge of heat that he can't suppress.

“Hmm please, I’ve been a good girl,” you moan, continuing to rub circles against your clit. His control snaps as he hears your talk. With a few quick steps, he's at the edge of the bathtub, his icy façade shattering as he takes in the sight of you pleasuring yourself. His hand shoots out, gripping your wrist and gently guiding your hand away from your core.

Your eyes widen as you see Wooyoung looking at you his hand tight around your wrist. You were in complete shock as you made eye contact with him. His gaze holds yours, the intensity of his stare rendering you breathless. For a moment, the only sound is the soft lapping of the water against the tub. His voice was low as he spoke. "You shouldn't be doing that."

You scoff, “I can’t please myself in peace now? You won’t do it so I have to force myself to.” His eyes narrow, a hint of anger flashing beneath the surface. His grip on your wrist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer. "You think I won't do it?" His voice is low and menacing. “Not in the way that I’d want you to, no.” You express holding the same intensity that he was towards you. He takes a deep breath as his grip on your wrist tightens further. His other hand reaches up, cupping your chin and tilting your head back. "What way is that?"

“With love and passion. You only see me now for lust.” You hiss before pushing his hand away forcefully. His eyes flash with anger, his jaw clenched in a tight line. For a moment, it seems like he's about to lash out, but then his expression smooths, his mask of control slipping back into place. "Love and passion are weaknesses, sweetheart. I prefer to keep things transactional."

You roll your eyes at his childish response. “And I’d like to keep things traditional,” you scoff trying to pull your hand away from his grasp. His grip on your wrist doesn't relinquish, his fingers digging deeper into your skin as he pulls you back to him. "You want traditional?" He sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "You want romance and fairy tales? I'm a businessman, not a prince charming.” Seeing him like this broke your heart. “You made that one obvious,” you said looking into his eyes in pain. For a fleeting moment, something in his eyes flickers, a glimmer of uncertainty or perhaps even empathy, but it's quickly snuffed out by his usual cold calculation. "You're not hurt, you're just disappointed,” he said in reaction to your hurt comment. “Just leave so I can fuck myself in peace.” His grip on your wrist tightens for a moment before he releases you with a dismissive shrug. "I'll leave you to your devices." He says, his voice clipped and cold, before turning on his heel and striding away, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

The sound of the door opening and closing breaks the silence, signaling Wooyoungs's departure. The room feels empty and still, the only sound being your ragged breathing. As the minutes tick by, the tension and anger seem to seep out of your body, leaving behind a hollow, exhausted feeling. You breathe and exhale, trying to calm yourself down. You sit in silence for a minute to try to keep yourself together. You lay back in the tub and try to forget everything that just happened between you and Wooyoung. You felt like your life was coming apart and you didn’t know how to cope with it. You sat into the stillness of the room remembering that this will soon pass and you will find someone to love you since Wooyoung made it apparent that he wanted to keep your relationship transactional.

You start to hum to yourself as a distraction. The humming is a weak attempt to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind, but it's a start. As you lay back in the bathtub, the warm water envelops you, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. “I should get out in a minute.” you sigh to yourself. The water continues to swirl around you as you lay motionless, the remnants of anger and hurt slowly fading. The exhaustion, however, stays, weighing heavy on your limbs. The minutes tick by, each one bringing you closer to the decision of getting out of the tub.

You get out of the tub and start to dry your body off. As you dry off, the cool air of the bathroom hits your skin. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for a moment, you're taken aback by the reflection staring back. Your eyes look tired, your skin paler than usual, and your expression drawn. “I need to get it together. I have to find someone to love me. I can’t dwindle away like this.” you said before pulling the robe over your body and walking to the bedroom to change into your night clothes.

You slip into a comfortable pair of pajamas, the soft fabric a gentle solace against your fragile emotions. As you make your way to the bed, your gaze falls upon the scattering of papers and notes on your side table, reminders of the meeting with the investors, and the looming deadline for the investment deal.

“Why was I forced to live like this.” you sigh spreading your body on top of the bed, letting the sheets press against your warm skin. Your phone, abandoned on the bedside table, suddenly buzzes with an incoming message. The screen illuminates, casting an eerie glow on your face. The words "Ever, we need to talk. -H" flash before your eyes, piercing through the haze of your despair. You hesitantly reach for the phone, your fingers hovering over the screen as if unsure of what secrets it might hold. The message from Hongjoong seems to weigh heavier with each passing moment, his words echoing in your mind like an unspoken challenge. The phone rings twice before Hongjoong's resonant voice answers, his tone is husky from what sounds like a late night or lingering exhaustion. "y/n, I've been trying to reach you all day. We need to discuss the Kang account. There are complications."

“What happened,” you ask bluntly, your voice uninterested in the situation. Hongjoong's pause is palpable, the silence between you a heavy, unspoken understanding. "The Kangs are getting cold feet. They're threatening to pull out of the deal if we don't meet their revised demands. I need you to charm them, y/n.” You exhale and roll your eyes, irritation lingering in your voice, “How would I do that?” Hongjoong's voice drops lower, the weight of his words seemingly pulling at your very consciousness. "You've always had a way with people, y/n. You know what they want before they even realize it themselves. Use that to your advantage. And mine." You could hear the desperation in his voice and you started to feel empathetic towards your brother-in-law.

“Okay, I will see what I can do,” you said in a flat tone, your finger hovering over the end call button. Hongjoong's tone lightens imperceptibly, a low, smooth chuckle rumbling through the phone. "I knew I could count on you, y/n. You always were the one with the silver tongue. Just remember, I'm counting on you to get this deal back on track.” “Yup I got it,” you said before hanging up and squeezing the phone out of irritation. The line goes dead, and for a moment, you're left lying there, the phone still clutched in your hand, the weight of Hongjoong's expectations settling in like a shroud. You can almost feel his eyes on you, even from afar, watching, waiting.

You place your phone back down on the nightstand and engulf yourself in the sheets. As you lay there, trying to escape the suffocating feeling of Hongjoong's demands, your mind begins to wander back to the conversation, replaying his words like a mantra. "Use that to your advantage. And mine."

“What a fucking pig, why doesn't he get his brother to do it. Why am I always trying to please others? Leave it to me to take care of two men who don't even provide for me emotionally. What a fucking joke.” you scoff to yourself before exhaling deeply. “Everything is going to be fine. All I have to do is get this deal done and we can relax for a moment. Tomorrow is another day, meaning another day to start over again.” You reassure yourself about this whole situation and sit for a minute to calm your lingering frustrations from the day. You let your eyes fall shut, drifting off to bed.

Your dreams that night are plagued with images of Hongjoong, his piercing gaze and unyielding presence haunting your sleep. You see Wooyoung in your dreams repeating everything he said to you during your arguments. You toss in bed all night your head riddled with the two brothers.

You wake up the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose, if not a slightly bitter taste in your mouth. You'll do what he asks, but not out of loyalty, only for yourself and your cut of the deal. You get up and look at the way you look in the vanity. You force a smile on your face just to make sure you remember how to. “He doesn't love you y/n. Just keep being you. Don’t change for him and don't shed any more tears.” You make this promise to yourself realizing that Wooyoung will never break his habits and he will forever be distant with you.

You get dressed and put on your designer black dress. You do your makeup and put on jewelry. You put on your heels and walk to the living room. At this time you assert yourself with confidence. This was an important deal and you had to make sure that you were on top of performing today. As you stride into the living room, you're met with the sight of Wooyoung, already seated on the couch, sipping on a cup of black coffee. He's dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, his eyes fixed on you as you enter.

You invert your gaze from Wooyoung to the teapot lying on the coffee table. You grab a glass and pour yourself some tea. You put a cube of sugar in it and started to drink. Wooyoung's eyes narrow slightly as you avoid direct eye contact, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of your neck. His lips compress into a thin line, his expression unreadable. "So, are you prepared to discuss the terms of our agreement with the Kangs?" You put the cup down and cross your legs before speaking, “I’m always ready.” Your voice is disinterested in having a conversation with him. Wooyoung's gaze flicks to your crossed legs, a fleeting interest sparking in his eyes before he returns to a neutral expression. He sets his cup down, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Very well. I've reviewed the proposal, and I'm willing to make some concessions.” You take another sip of your tea before making a dry response. “Hmm, that’s good. Mr. Kang would like that.”

Wooyoung's eyes flash with a hint of annoyance, but he quickly masks it with a calculating calmness. "Yes, I'm sure he would. However, I think we can both agree that Mr. Kang's interests are not the primary concern here." “Very true but he is the one taking the deal at the end of the day,” you snap back wanting him to simply shut up. Wooyoung's lips curl into a subtle, condescending smile. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Mr. Kang may think he's calling the shots, but I'm the one holding the reins. And I always get what I want, one way or another." I look at Wooyoung in response to his childish comments.

“Do you think Hongjoong would be pleased with how you’re talking? You know the deal Wooyoung. We sell this deal to Mr. Kang and we get our cut,” you say to get Wooyoung to know his place and to remind him that his older brother is the one calling the shots. Wooyoung's smile widens, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Hongjoong? Ha! He's too busy playing nice with the investors to care about the details. And as for the deal, I'm not worried about getting our cut.” You exhale softly before drinking my tea. You didn’t want to argue with Wooyoung anymore because you knew if he was doing this on his own he would find a way to fuck up the whole deal.

“When they get here remember that we are a loving married couple. We don’t want the Kangs suspecting us,” you say causing Wooyoung's gaze to drift to you, his expression softening ever so slightly as he raises an eyebrow. "Oh, don't worry, darling," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll make sure to put on a show for the Kangs.”

You roll your eyes and pour yourself some more tea. Wooyoung chuckles, a low, throaty sound, as he watches you roll your eyes. He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers together in a gesture of mock seriousness. "After all, we're a loving married couple, living a life of perfect domestic bliss.” “So that means don’t be a dickhead.” you say sarcastically before getting up and looking out of the window. Wooyoung laughs, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, I'll try to contain myself, sweetheart," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I wouldn't want to spoil the illusion of our perfect marriage." You look out the window for a while just thinking about the act that you have to put up before you decide to respond to him. You move from the window and walk behind Wooyoung, hovering over him as you speak. “Well, we should get into character.” Wooyoung was more into the contract than he was into you, a typical sight you were used to.

You changed your personality from Wooyoungs arranged wife to his loving and caring soulmate. “Good morning darling,” you cooed before rubbing your hands against his chest. You could feel his body tense up from the sudden feeling of you caressing his chest softly. You slowly pull away from his and walk in front of him. “So nice to see you awake.” you express before grabbing his chin with my fingers and pulling him closer to your lips. You press a passionate kiss on his lips before pulling away and looking down at him. Wooyoung's eyes flicker with surprise at the sudden change in your demeanor, but he quickly recovers, a charming smile spreading across his face. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a deeper kiss, his lips expertly mimicking passion and affection.

“That’s good enough,” you say the smile on your face fading into a neutral expression. You pull back and move back to your spot on the couch, taking a sip of your tea to get the taste of him out of your mouth. Wooyoung's arms fall from your waist, his expression carefully neutral as you return to your seat. He watches you for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the paper in his hand, adjusting his tie with an air of cool indifference. "Took you long enough," he snickered. “We are just pretending.” you expressed reminding Wooyoung that it was all an act. Wooyoung's gaze meets yours, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Of course, darling," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I forgot we're just pretending to be in love. How convenient." He pauses, his expression turned icy once more. You could tell Wooyoung’s own morals were starting to slip. Just yesterday he was preaching to you how love was pointless but now he suddenly forgets that the love that you give to him is all pretend. You start to scoff to yourself realizing that Wooyoung isn’t as strong as he thinks he is.

You take a sip of your tea and your eyes wander his body, looking at Wooyoung up and down. You notice the visible tent in his pants and you couldn’t help but piss him off. “You need to control that before the Kangs get here.” His eyes narrow, his face flushing with a subtle hint of embarrassment. He quickly regains his composure, his mask of confidence slipping back into place. "It's none of your concern," he says, his voice low and even. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself and roll your eyes knowing that he was flustered by simple one kiss. Wooyoung's eyes flash with annoyance, his jaw clenched in irritation. "What's so funny?" he asks, his tone dripping with disdain. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to subtly adjust himself without drawing attention to the obvious signs of his arousal.

“The only thing funny in this situation is how hard you are from me kissing you. We are described as an overly affectionate couple, so you can’t just get hard like you aren’t used to us kissing.” His eyes flashed with anger and embarrassment at your comment. "Shut up," he says, his voice low and menacing. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but his arousal remains evident. "You think you're clever, don't you?" You pause and smile to yourself as you feel Wooyoung’s facade fading at your command. You quickly changed your demeanor from cold to warm. You turned and looked at Wooyoung, a precious smile painted on your face,

“I do my love.” Wooyoung's expression softens, his eyes warming up as he gazes at you. He clears his throat, attempting to maintain a semblance of dignity despite his still-obvious arousal. "Ah, dear," he says, his voice slightly wavering, "you're not helping the situation." You look at him as if he is a lost puppy before speaking. “Well my love, you better fix it soon before they get here. Imagine their first impression of Mr. Kang is his boner poking out of his trousers.” You chuckle softly seeing a peak of his softer side come out because of his embarrassment.

Wooyoung's face turns bright red as he glances down at his crotch, his embarrassment and frustration palpable. He hastily adjusts himself, trying to hide the evidence of his arousal. "Dammit, y/n," he mutters under his breath, "you're not making this any easier for me."

“I’m not doing anything, your mind is just filled with dirty thoughts and you need to get rid of them.” Your response struck a nerve with him causing him to become defensive. "My mind is not filled with dirty thoughts," he protests, though his voice lacks conviction. He straightens his tie, his motions stiff and awkward. “I'm a respected businessman, not some hormone-driven teenager.”

“Wooyoung I just kissed you, you are hard as a rock right now. Last night you watched me play with myself in the bathtub. You aren’t a saint.” His face reddening further as he struggles to maintain his composure. "That's not the point," he snaps back, trying to ignore the fact that you were right. You could see him struggling in the moment so you decided to make him struggle even more. “Oh my beloved husband, then what is the point?” He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I-I don't know what you're trying to do, but it won't work," He stutters before looking back at the contract.

“My love I’m not doing anything I’m just practicing for when they come,” you say softly before smirking at him with amusement. You can see the anger emanating from Wooyoung as he looks you in the eyes. "So you think you can just play me like a fool?" He sets down the paperwork on the coffee table, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you can use your charms to manipulate me, to get what you want?" You could sense that Wooyoung’s anger was getting the best of him. He didn’t like being controlled so this whole situation fueled his rage even more. The idea of you manipulating him and you being in control made him feel inferior to you. This caused his reactions to be radioactive and his emotions to be erratic and almost seem bipolar.

“I’m practicing on you so I can get what we want from the Kangs. All we need is for them to take the deal that’s it. Then we can go back to being ourselves.” You said, your expression is a bit more serious. You were trying to reassure Wooyoung of why you were doing the things that you were doing to him. But in reality, you wanted to see a glimpse of the softer side you never got to experience. Wooyoung's expression subsides, his anger giving way to a calculating curiosity. "I see," he pauses before speaking again. "You're using me as a test subject, to refine your skills before the real negotiation. And what makes you think this will work?" A sly smirk danced across your lips. “It always works. Why do you think Hongjoong speaks so highly of me?” you allude before taking a sip of your tea. His gaze lingers on the smirk, "Hongjoong," he repeats, his tone neutral, but laced with a hint of warning. "You think you're that good, huh?” You rolled your eyes knowing that Wooyoung didn’t know half. He didn’t know that before you were both in an arranged marriage you had eyes on Hongjoong. You had Hongjoong around your finger until both of your parents decided to arrange the both of you together.

“Trust me darling I know I am.” You scoff followed by a chuckle. Wooyoung’s expression remains impassive, but his eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Save it for the Kangs, sweetheart," he says, his voice dry. "I'm not impressed." He glances at his watch, his gaze lingering on the time. “That’s because you know my secret.” Wooyoung's eyes narrow, his interest piqued despite himself. "And what secret would that be?" he asks, his voice low and even, but with a hint of curiosity lurking beneath the surface.

You get up once again and hover yourself over him again. “That I can change my character swiftly to get whatever I want,” you whisper in his ear. “Just like how you got hard from me acting as your loving wife that fucks you right,” you said trailing my hands down his chest. Wooyoung's eyes flash with anger, but his body betrays him, his chest rising and falling with a sudden intake of breath. He tries to maintain his composure. "You think your little manipulative games are going to work on me?"

“Absolutely my love” you whisper, followed by kissing him on his neck. Wooyoung's eyes drift closed, his jaw clenched as he struggles to resist the sensations coursing through his body. His hands, however, involuntarily flex, as if craving to grasp and hold onto you. “Darling if this deal is successful with the Kangs I’ll let you take me,” you whispered your lips touching his ear. His breathing grows heavier, his control wavering as his gaze snaps back to yours. For a moment, his eyes burn with a fierce intensity, and his voice drops to a low, husky tone. "You're pushing it, sweetheart." You ignore his threat and continue to tease him further. “Just imagine how desperate I sound as you ram into me.” You then proceed to moan in his ear, “Mmmm Wooyoung,” you playfully moaned before giggling.

Wooyoung’s face darkens, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and desire. His hands shoot out and grasp your arms. He pulls you infront of him and tails his hands down to your hips as he pulls you onto his lap. "You want to play dirty, huh?" His voice is low and menacing, his breathing hot against your ear. You chuckle as he sits you on his lap. “Absolutely.”

"Then let's be nasty," he whispers, trailing his fingers along your jaw to turn your face towards his. He then leaned in to claim your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands roam freely over your body as he whispers wicked things in your ear. "Fuck, you're gorgeous." You smirk against the kiss mischievously “Just how you like it, my love.”

"You're a fucking danger," he mutters, his lips quirking into a smirk as he pulls back to look at you. "But I fucking love it." You chuckle getting off his lap and moving your way back to your side of the couch. His gaze follows your every move as you saunter back to your seat. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate slowness. "Tease." You take another sip of your tea before saying, “Trust me I know how to do that the best baby,” His gaze never leaves yours, his eyes flashing with a hint of warning as he raises an eyebrow. "Don't think you've gotten out of this that easily, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and silky, a promise of retribution lurking beneath the surface. You chuckle in amusement. He was so easy to turn on even when we were just “pretending”.

Wooyoung seems to gleam with a knowing intensity as if he's aware of the game you're playing and is more than willing to play along. He leans back on the couch, steepling his fingers together as he regards you with an air of quiet confidence.

The doorbell rings and you both get up and walk to the door. “Remember we are a loving husband and wife.” Wooyoung shoots you a dry look, but a hint of a smirk plays on his lips as he takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture of affection. He opens the door, his smile widening into a charming, effortless grin as he greets whoever is on the other side.

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Kang please come in.” you give a pleasant smile before moving to the side. Wooyoung's grip on your hand tightens slightly as he steps aside, allowing the Kangs to enter. He nods cordially, his smile never faltering, as he ushers them into the living room. "Please, make yourselves at home. Can I offer you something to drink?" The Kangs say they would simply want water and this signals Wooyoung to go to the kitchen. “It’s such a nice day outside. Amazing weather for golf. Me and my husband were just discussing that not long before you both came in.” you smiled flashing your charm. Wooyoung returns with a tray holding four glasses of water, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he hands them out with a courteous smile. "Ah, yes, the weather is perfect for golf, isn't it? We were thinking of squeezing in a round later this week.”

You smile at Wooyoung, grab the glasses from the tray and place them down on the coffee table. Wooyoung's gaze lingers on you for a moment, appreciating the grace with which you handle the glasses. He sets the tray down on the nearby sideboard, his eyes twinkling as he turns back to the conversation. "You both play golf?" Mr. Kang nods and goes on a tangent about how he goes frequently. He talks about how he loves going early in the morning and you and Wooyoung listen intensively, smiling and nodding. Mrs. Kang makes a joke about his obsession causing everyone to laugh. “Trust me my husband is the same way.” You chuckle.

Wooyoung's laughter is a low, smooth sound, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he joins in the amusement. He inclines his head towards you, his gaze warm with shared understanding, before turning back to the Kangs. “I heard that you both will be going on vacation soon isn’t that exciting? A month's vacation is a treat.” You smile looking at them. Mr. Kang nods and talks about the planned trip to the Virgin Islands and how he wants to treat his wife to something special. “Oooh a romantic I see.” you giggle flashing Mrs. Kang a smile. Mr. Kang smiles back and kisses his wife on the cheek.

“I just know you both will have an amazing time. Should we go over the business deal?” You smile reaching out of your briefcase to pull out a contract. Wooyoung's attention snaps back to you, his eyes locking onto the contract in your hand. His expression transforms the geniality of moments before giving way to a sharp, calculating intensity. He nods curtly, his voice taking on a clipped tone. "Yes, let's get down to business.” You go over the paperwork with the Kangs for a good 2 hours. There was a lot of negotiation involved but it seemed like they were pleased with the offer. “Okay then it’s settled, just sign here for me.” Mr. and Mrs. Kang signed the contract and everyone got up and shook each other's hand. Everyone continued to make small talk and laugh just before they left. You and Wooyoung waved as they left and Wooyoung shut the door. As the door closes behind the Kangs, Wooyoung's demeanor shifts once again, his expression becoming more relaxed, though still guarded. He turns to face you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveys you. "Well done," he says, his tone firm. "You handled that meeting like a pro.”

“Of course I did. I told you I was good at charming people. We needed the deal so I had to do what was best. I’m just happy that the Kangs took the bait.” I said exhaling my body relaxing.

Wooyoung's gaze lingers on you for a moment, his eyes seem to be searching for something beneath the surface. Then, he nods, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yes, charming people is indeed one of your talents." You chuckle at his comment and pick up the cups off the table. “Yeah, I had you pretty worked up earlier.” Wooyoung's expression remains impassive, but a hint of dry humor creeps into his voice. "Worked up? I was merely intrigued by your audacity." He glances at the cups in your hand, his attention snapping back to the task at hand. “Right.” you chuckle gathering up the glasses and taking them to the kitchen. Wooyoung follows you to the kitchen, his footsteps quiet on the floor. He leans against the counter, watching you with an air of casual interest as you put the cups in the dishwasher. "So, what do you think the Kangs will do next?"

“Well first go on their vacation then continue with their regular business,” you say closing the dishwasher. “What are you doing the rest of the day?” Wooyoung's eyes narrow slightly, his gaze turning introspective. "I have a meeting with a potential investor later today. And then, I have some personal matters to attend to." You look down at your watch before saying, “Got it, well I will be here working on my work once you get busy. Is there anything you would like to do for the time being?” Wooyoung's gaze flicks to your watch, then back to your face, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Actually, I think I'll join you in the living room. I have some documents to review, and your company is tolerable." You roll your eyes at his sly comment.

“Okay sounds good,” You say before getting out a charcuterie board and a glass of wine. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow as he leans against the counter beside you, his eyes fixed on the charcuterie board and wine. "You're trying to impress me, aren't you?" His tone is laced with dry humor, but a hint of curiosity creeps into his voice. “Absolutely not, I’m trying to enjoy myself after a job well done. I know you are a whisky guy, not a wine man.” you chuckle pouring yourself a glass.

Wooyoung's expression remains unreadable, but a faint glint of approval sparks in his eyes. "You're learning. Most people wouldn't dare assume my preferences, let alone correct themselves." “I’m your wife, even though we don’t spend that much time together I know what you like.” You say before grabbing the board and wine and making your way to the living room. Wooyoung follows you, his long strides eating up the distance as he hovers behind you. "I suppose that's true," he says, his voice low and measured. "Though I've often wondered if our arrangement is more convenient for you than I previously thought."

“Convenient how?” you chuckle placing the wine and board on the coffee table. Wooyoung's gaze narrows, his eyes piercing as he regards you. "Don't play coy, darling. Our marriage is a mutually beneficial arrangement, isn't it? I receive the respectability of being married to someone of your standing, and you gain access to my resources and influence."

“This is true,” you say before walking down the long hallway to your shared bedroom to change into something comfortable. You strip away your dress leaving only your panties and bra on and wrap your body in my silk-green robe. You could feel Wooyoung’s eyes tracking your movements from the doorway. You turn to look at him, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to follow me. You could have just stayed in the living room. Unless you need something.” you teased undoing the strap on your robe and flashing your body to him, your lace set looking at him. Wooyoung's gaze doesn't waver, his eyes locked onto the tantalizing glimpse of your body. A slight raise of his eyebrow is the only indication of his interest, but his voice remains smooth and controlled. "I think I do need something, darling. Your attention, perhaps?"

“How could I give you my attention my darling husband?” you say sarcastically closing your robe and leaving the room. Wooyoung's eyes narrow, a faint spark of amusement dancing in their depths. He strides after you, his legs easily keeping pace with yours. "You know exactly how my dear wife. You're not as innocent as you're pretending to be." You chuckle, loving this game of him following me around like you're his prey. “How would you know? You never dabbled in peeking at my arousal. You have no idea if I’m innocent or not.” Wooyoung's smile grows, a calculated glint in his eye as he corners you in the hallway. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my love. I've been watching you, studying you. I know exactly when to make my move, and exactly how to get what I want."

“Mmm, I’m sorry my dear” you smirk wrapping your fingers around his tie and pulling him closer to you, your lips lining up with his ear. “I hate to break it to you but I won’t easily crumble under your touch. No matter how much I want you to fuck me you will have to chase me,” you say before letting go of his tie and walking back to the living room. Wooyoung's eyes flash with a mix of surprise and intrigue, his pupils dilating slightly as he processes your bold move. "Is that a challenge, my love?"

“In ways yes. It’s more of a challenge for you and not for me. I have self-control. You on the other hand do not. See how long you can last before you pounce on me.” you tease, sitting down on the couch, drinking my wine. Wooyoung's gaze lingers on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your lips as you smile. He takes a step closer, his movements deliberate and calculated, his voice low and husky. "I'll have you know, I've built my empire on self-control.” You put a piece of meat and cheese into your mouth, looking up at him. “Is that right?” you chuckle. He takes another step closer, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow. "Yes, that's right," he says, his voice dripping with confidence.

You take a piece of meat and cheese and get up from the couch. You walk over to Wooyoung and guide it to his mouth. “We will see how much self-control you have my dear husband.” Wooyoung's eyes flash with surprise, his gaze fixed on the offering. For a moment, he seems to hesitate, his mouth opening slightly as if to accept the snack. Then, his expression darkens, and he reaches out to grasp your wrist, his grip like a vice. “What is it, my love? You can’t eat from my fingers?” you chuckle looking up at him. Wooyoung's grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he glares down at you. His eyes flash with fury, and for a moment, it seems as if he might lose control. "I am not your plaything," he growls, his voice barely controlled.

“If you say so my love.” you smile removing your wrist from his grasp and eating the snack. “I just wanted to please you that’s all,” you say caressing his arm with your hand before you sit back on the couch. Wooyoung's gaze follows your every move, his eyes burning with intensity. For a moment, he seems to be collecting himself, his expression a mask of calmness. "You think you can manipulate me with such childish games?" You roll your eyes and look down. “Tell your dick that,” you say referring to the visible tent in his pants. You then take a sip of your wine. Wooyoung's face darkens, his eyes flashing with anger. He takes a step closer to you, his voice low and menacing. "You think you're clever, don't you?" he sneers, his eyes fixed on yours. "But you're just playing with fire, darling.” You scoff, “From the looks of it baby, you are the one playing with fire. You’re the one all worked up and hot.” You say eating a grape and laying back on the couch.

Wooyoung's eyes narrow, his jaw clenched in frustration. He takes another step closer, his presence looming over you as he speaks. "You're pushing your luck, sweetheart. You think you can tease me like this and get away with it?" “Absolutely because you have self-control. remember?” you grab another grape and eat it. He reaches out, his hand grasping the armrest of the couch beside you, his fingers digging into the leather as he leans in closer. "Self-control is a myth when it comes to you, darling." You giggle at his words finally seeing that he has broken his cold facade. You place your hand on his cheek and caress it softly. “Are you losing control, my love?” Wooyoung's eyes flutter closed, his breathing quickening as he succumbs to your touch. He presses his cheek into your hand, his skin warm against your palm. For a moment, his guard drops, and his mask of control slips, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability beneath. "Maybe."

You look at him softly seeing his demeanor change. “Then come here, baby,” you breathe before pulling him closer by his tie and placing a kiss on his lips. Wooyoung's eyes snap open, his lips parting in surprise as you pull him in for a kiss. “You look so good today Wooyoung,” you said between the kiss. For a moment, he's frozen, his body tense with anticipation. Then he yields, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. Wooyoung's hands wrap around your waist, pulling you off the couch and into his arms as he deepens the kiss. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you in place as he devours your lips. The air around you seems to be charged with electricity, your desire and passion coursing through every nerve in your body. You pull away for a moment and look at his face, seeing the need in his expression. “Don’t you have some paperwork to do my love?” You tease him watching the frustration sweep across his face. He exhales heavily, his chest heaving with restrained passion. "Paperwork?" he repeats, his voice low and rough, heavy with disappointment. "You think I care about paperwork right now?"

“That’s what I like to hear baby.” You then press my lips back onto his. Wooyoung's scowl disappears, replaced by pleasure as he claims your lips once more. He devours you, his tongue tangling with yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. His hands slide up your back, pulling you even closer, his body molding against yours. “Fuck...” you gasp against the kiss as you reach down to his suit jacket and start to unbutton it, causing his breath to hitch. His hands suddenly grip onto your wrist and squeeze tightly as if he was trying to hold back. He breaks the kiss, a low moan escaping his lips as he watches your fingers work on his buttons. "You're forcing my hand, love,"

You remove his jacket and breath in his ear, “To be honest darling, I couldn’t give a fuck.” you say before pressing your lips back together. Wooyoung's eyes roll back, his body shuddering against yours. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in with fierce possessiveness. His lips devour yours, his tongue stroking yours with a slow, deliberate intensity.

You start to unbutton his button-down as you kiss passionately. “Ever since I saw you shirtless at our honeymoon I have wanted you since. I can’t believe you didn’t fuck me that night. You're such a tease.” you said against his lips. He moans, his lips faltering for a moment as he pulls back, his eyes blazing with intensity. "You think I didn't want to?"

“Why didn’t you? I was waiting. I touched myself that night because of you.” You pulled his button down completely off, running your hands down his chest to his stomach. Wooyoung's face darkens, his jaw clenched in restraint. His hands slide up your back, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer. "I was trying to be a gentleman," he growls, his voice low. “It was our honeymoon, we were married at that point. I wanted you to ruin me,” you say before starting to unbuckle his pants. He hisses, his body tensing as he tries to maintain control. "You have no idea how hard it was for me to restrain myself that night," he breathed trying to keep it together.

“Well, baby you can make up for it right now.” You say unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them. You then unravel my robe and expose my lace underwear set to him. Wooyoung's gaze devours your body, his eyes lingering on the lace underwear before snapping back to yours. You pull him in closer and whisper. “Where do you want me? In the living room? In the bedroom?” You pause and smirk against his ear. “In your office?” His chest heaves with a ragged breath as he struggles to maintain his composure. "My office," *he demands, his voice barely above a whisper.

You chuckle before getting up and grabbing his hand, guiding him to his office in just your lingerie. Wooyoung's eyes never leave yours as he follows you, his grip on your hand tightening. He slams the door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the room. He spins you around, his hands grasping your waist as he pushes you against the desk. You moan wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Wooyoung's lips crash down on yours, his kiss fierce and demanding. His hands roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before grasping your thighs and lifting you onto the desk. "I've wanted this for so long," he confesses between the kiss. “So have I,” you say before reaching behind your back and unhooking your bra, tossing it across the room. Wooyoung's eyes widen as your bra flies across the room, his gaze immediately snapping back to your now-exposed breasts. He takes a step closer, his breathing heavy, as he cups your boobs in his hands. His thumbs tease your nipples, sending a chill to your core.

“Fuck,” you breathe before reaching down and rubbing your hand along his still-clothe shaft. Wooyoung groans as he thrusts into your palm, his hips moving on their own accord. "You have no idea how many nights I've jerked off to thoughts of this," he confesses, his eyes burning into yours. “Then I plan to make it more than you ever imagined.” You pull down his pants slightly and rub him through his boxers. “So thick.” you breathe, pressing a kiss on his lips. Wooyoung's hips buck into your hand, a low moan escaping his lips as you rub him through his boxers. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Get rid of these," *he commands, nodding towards your panties.

You reached for your panties and slid them off, a trail of my juices connecting from your panties to your core. Wooyoung's eyes flicker down to the glistening wet trail leading from your discarded panties to your slick core causing his pupils to dilate. "Spread your legs," he orders, his voice low and commanding. You spread your legs and look him into his eyes. Wooyoung's gaze lingers on your exposed core for a moment, his breath hitching as he drinks at the sight of you. With a swift movement, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down, freeing his member. His dick slaps against your thigh and your eyes grow wide at his size. Wooyoung's lips curl into a smug smirk as he notices your reaction to the size of his dick. He grips his shaft, giving it a few slow, deliberate strokes. "You're going to take all of me," he promises, his voice dripping with confidence. "Every inch."

You look at him and your demeanor turns from confident to sheepish. You take a deep breath and nod your head letting him know that you agree to take him. Wooyoung's smirk grows wider at your submissive nod, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He steps closer, his tip brushing against your soaked folds. "Good girl," he purrs, his voice low and approving. "Now, spread your legs wider for me." You do as you are told and spread your legs, looking at him as you do so. Wooyoung's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your spread thighs, your pussy glistening with arousal. He positions the head of his cock at your entrance.. "Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with desire. You look at him shyly and bite your lip in anticipation. Wooyoung's nostrils flare as he notices your nervous gesture. With one slow, careful thrust, he begins to push himself inside you, his hard length stretching you wide. "You're so tight," he murmurs, his voice filled with approval. You couldn’t help but roll my eyes back, your walls clenching around him, your walls near your cervix finally being touched.

Wooyoung's gaze locks onto your face, his eyes intense as he watches you react to him thrusting inside you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before pulling almost out, only the head of his cock remaining inside you. You feel your walls clench around nothing making your heart race in desperation. Wooyoung's lips quirk at the corners as he sees your desperate need. Taking pity on you, he pushes back inside, filling you once more. This time, he sets a rhythm, thrusting in and out of you with deep, powerful strokes. "Breathe, baby," he insists as he watches you hold your breath. “Holy fuck,” you moan trying to keep your composure. "Keep moaning for me," he demands watching you come undone in front of him.

“Wooyoung, augh-” you moan out gibberish your mind completely spiraling with each thrust. You lay your back flat on the desk not being able to hold yourself up anymore. Your body feels weak as you focus all of your energy on clenching around him. Wooyoung's eyes flash with excitement as he sees you surrender to his touch. He leans forward, "Give in, baby. Give into me," he whispers, his words pulling you over the edge. “I- aaaugh,” you moan in desperation gripping his arm and clawing slightly. Wooyoung's grip on your hips tightens as he senses your impending orgasm. He thrusts harder, faster, his cock pounding into you recklessly. "You look so sexy like this baby," he growls, his voice laced with urgency, his pleasure building with each passing second.

“Fuck-” you breathe as he goes faster, you trail your fingers down to your clit and start to rub. Your walls twitch as you get closer. Wooyoung watches you with intense focus, his climax rapidly approaching as he feels your walls begin to flutter around his cock. He reaches down, capturing your hand in his and forcing it away from your clit, his voice a low, dominant command. "No, baby. I'll decide when you come," You whimper looking up at him with pleading eyes, “Please-” Wooyoung's gaze is unwavering as he pins you beneath him, his thumb finding your clit and applying firm pressure. His hips ram into you, his cock driving deeper with each stroke. "When I say so, baby. Not a moment before,"

“Shit shit shit shit shit-” you moan trying your best to hold back from exploding around him. Wooyoung's eyes darken with lust as he sees how close you are. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I can feel you teetering, baby. Hold on just a bit longer." You reach for his head, gripping his hair tightly as you feel your walls quiver around him. Wooyoung's head jerks back slightly as you grasp his hair, his eyes flashing with a spark of pleasure. He hisses, his cock surging forward in response to your tightening walls. "Good girl," he breathes. "Now, come for me."

“Mmmmm Wooyoung!” you yell as you feel the knot in your core pop. You feel myself squirt all over his dick and stomach causing it to trail down onto his desk. Wooyoung's eyes roll back as he feels your pussy clench and pulse around him, your juices soaking his cock and belly. With a guttural groan, he buries himself into your soaked core and lets go, his orgasm washing over him in intense waves. "FUCK!" He drops down and nuzzles his face into the crock of your neck. Wooyoung's arms wrap around you, holding you close as your orgasm continues. His own breathing is heavy and labored, his muscles tense with aftershocks. You continue to shake involuntarily, holding onto him for support. "Easy now," he murmurs gently, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispers soothing words.

“Mmmm holy shit.” you gasp, trying to calm yourself down from your intense orgasm. "Did you enjoy that?" Wooyoung asks, his voice still shaky from exertion. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead before slowly pulling out of you, his softened cock slipping free with a wet, slick sound. “Yes… a lot,” you said shyly as his cum starts to leak out of your core. A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of Wooyoung's lips as he sees the result of his hard work. "Good girl," he praises, causing your cheeks to flush a light shade of red. He then reached down to gently wipe away the excess with his fingers before sucking them clean. "I'll take care of you now." Your eyes then open wide as you see him lick up a combination of my juices and his cum off his fingers. Wooyoung's gaze locks onto yours, his eyes burning with a sensual intensity as he savors the taste. A hint of amusement plays on his lips as if he knows exactly how his actions are affecting you. "Mm, you taste amazing," he whispers.

Your pussy twitches at his words causing more of his cum to leak out of your core. Wooyoung's eyes darken with renewed interest at the sight of his release dripping from your still-sensitive core. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick the trail of his cum from your inner thigh to your glistening pussy lips. "Delicious," he murmurs approvingly. You whimper and bite your lip in desperation. “Can we please… go another round?” Hearing your desperate plea, Wooyoung's eyes glint with desire. He moves between your legs, his cock twitching as he teases your entrance. "You want more, hm?" he teases, slowly pushing inside you. "Y-yes.” you moan, looking into his eyes and biting your lip.

Wooyoung's expression softens slightly at your eager response. He grips your hips possessively as he thrusts the rest of the way in, his thick length stretching you once again. "Wrap your legs around me, baby," he instructs gently, his voice belaying the dominance of his actions. “Fuck-” you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him deeper inside you. "I'm going to take you nice and slow this time, so I can watch you fall apart." His fingers dig into your soft skin, holding you close as he begins to move. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, each one causing you to moan in pleasure as he fills you completely. "That's right," he moans as you both look each other in the eyes. “Oh my god, that feels so good baby,” you moan rubbing your hand against his forearm. He leans down, his forehead pressed against yours as he continues his slow, deep thrusts. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs against your lips. "You like feeling me inside you, stretching you, claiming you?"

“Yes, oh god yes,” you breathe, looking into his eyes. He leans in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as he increases the pace of his thrusts. His tongue tangles with yours, the movement mirroring the deep, claiming strokes of his cock inside you. You run your hand along his back gently clawing as he thrust into you. Wooyoung groans into the kiss, his body tensing as your nails dig into his skin. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks down at you with a fierce, possessive gaze. "Mine," he growls, his hips snapping forward in a harder, more demanding thrust. “Yours,” you breathed looking at him with half-lidded eyes. His face flashes with satisfaction at your surrender, and he thrust deeper, his cock stroking a spot that makes you spiral. "Always mine," he repeats, his voice low and menacing, as if daring anyone to try and take you from him, "Forever."

“Forever” you repeat, your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure. Wooyoung's thrusts become erratic as the promise of forever sends him spiraling toward release. His cock swells inside you, and he groans deeply as he empties himself, filling you with his seed. "Forever," he repeats again and again, like a mantra. You start to rub his back as he comes down from his high. “Together forever,” you whispered in his ear. Wooyoung shivers at your whispered words, his body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. He turns his head, nuzzling his face into your neck as he wraps his arms around you protectively. "Always," he agrees, his voice rough with emotion. "Together, always." A tear starts to fall from your face knowing that Wooyoung finally sees me as his wife..

Wooyoung feels the tear come down on his cheek and he removes himself from your neck to look at you. His eyes soften as he notices the tear, and his gaze follows it as it rolls down your cheek. He gently wipes it away with his thumb, his touch tender. "My wife," he whispers, his voice filled with a deep affection, "my love." You pout as more tears start to stream down your cheeks, “I’m sorry I don’t mean to cry.” Wooyoung shakes his head, a small smile gracing his lips. "Don’t apologize," he murmurs, kissing your forehead softly. "Your tears are precious to me." His thumb continues to gently stroke your cheek as he holds you close, offering comfort and reassurance. You press your head closer to his hand, wanting his touch to be closer to you.

Wooyoung's smile widens, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he gazes at you with warmth. He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle, tender kiss. "You are precious to me," he whispers. "You’re all I’ve ever wanted Wooyoung” you respond, caressing his shoulder. Wooyoung's eyes flutter closed, and he takes a deep breath as if savoring the words. His fingers tighten around you, pulling you closer as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. "And you, my love," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m so happy right now,” you smile. Wooyoung's face relaxes, and he exhales a contented sigh, his body melting into yours as he lets go of all reserve. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you close as he nuzzles his head deeper into the curve of your neck. "I am happy too."

“I- I love you Wooyoung.” you express another tear falling down your face. Wooyoung's eyes snap open, and he lifts his head to gaze at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. His face is etched with vulnerability, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you too," he says, his words dripping with sincerity.

You giggle and move his hair out of his face. “We should get cleaned up. We made a huge mess on your desk.” Wooyoung's gaze lingers on yours, his eyes softening with affection before he nods and stands up, pulling you with him. He looks down at the mess on his desk and lets out a low chuckle. "I suppose we did," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. He carries you to the bathroom, turns on the shower, and you both get in together. As the warm water cascades down on you, Wooyoung wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he gently washes away the remnants of the passionate encounter. His hands move with a tender touch, his fingers tracing the curves of your body as he cleans you. "You know," he says suddenly. “Hmm?” you ask opening your eyes. Wooyoung's eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intimate as he continues. "I think I'm falling for you." He pauses, his chest rising with a deep breath as he searches your face for a reaction. "Hard."

“Now you see how I feel my love.” you giggle turning around and pressing your head against his chest. Wooyoung's arms tighten around you, holding you close as he rests his head on top of yours, inhaling deeply. He lets out a soft sigh, his body relaxing into the embrace as he whispers "My love," He kisses the top of your head, his lips gentle and adoring. Wooyoung's lips curve into a soft smile as he speaks, his voice filled with a warmth that's rarely seen. "I never thought I'd find someone like you. You're different. You make me feel" He pauses, his words trailing off as he searches for the right phrase. His gaze drifts downward, his eyes locking onto yours as he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "Human." He says the word as if it's a revelation, a subtle tremble in his hand as he strokes your hair.

Your eyes soften as you look at him with adoration. “Of course baby.” You get on your tippy toes and lay a soft kiss on his lips. Wooyoung's eyes flutter closed as your lips touch his, a soft sigh escaping him as he savors the gentle kiss. He deepens the kiss, his lips moving slowly and sweetly against yours, his arms tightening around you to pull you closer. “You’re my special human,” you cooed between the kiss. Wooyoung chuckles, his lips still moving against yours as he responds. "You're my everything," he whispers, his words muffled by the kiss.

“No, you’re my everything.” you giggle and smile into the kiss. Wooyoung's smile mirrors yours, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tender motion. "I think we can agree on that," he says, smiling warmly. You giggle and press your forehead on top of his, looking into his eyes. Wooyoung's gaze holds yours, his eyes darkening with emotion as he searches for words to express the depth of his feelings. "You're the only one who's ever seen me, truly seen me," he whispers, his voice trembling with vulnerability. “Oh Wooyoung.” you coo, rubbing his body to soothe his emotions.

Wooyoung's eyes flutter closed, his face tilting into the gentle touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he relaxes into your embrace. "You're my safe haven," he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the words are being torn from the depths of his soul. “You’re mine as well baby.” you express continuing to rub him. Wooyoung's arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, "I don't deserve you."

“Trust me baby you deserve me. The most stubborn individuals always need their small adoring fairy.” You kiss his cheek and rub his head. A soft, husky laugh escapes Wooyoung's lips as he nuzzles his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around you. "You're the only one who can tame me, little fairy," he whispers, his voice laced with affection and gratitude. You giggle, “And now I have a stubborn man that I have to take care of. But I don’t mind at all.” Wooyoung's eyes sparkle with amusement, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulls back to gaze at you, his face soft and affectionate. "You're stuck with me, little one,"

“I know, forever.” you chuckle, pressing a kiss on his lips. Wooyoung's lips curve upwards, meeting yours in a gentle, tender kiss, as if savoring the promise of forever. "Forever," he whispers, his voice filled with conviction, his eyes locking onto yours, shining with a deep, abiding love.

#ateez #atiny #kpop #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez angst

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months ago

Note

Love both your Cannibal + Reader series and your Benjicot Blackwood fics, and had an idea for combining them. Someone insults or threatens Reader and Benji goes absolutely feral, like full on Bloody Ben. And Cannibal’s just like ‘okay, so maybe this one isn’t that bad.’

This is probably my longest piece ever to date, so be warned that this will take a bit to get through.

It wasn’t necessarily easy to travel anywhere in the seven kingdoms when you rode a dragon like Cannibal, everyone could see you from miles away due to how big he was that even from a far off distance he was still quite easy to spot. So when you and Cannibal landed in the Riverlands for a moment of rest, you were quickly spotted by three young lads who were sword training in the clearing, the lord of house Blackwood Benjicot Blackwood and Oscar and Kermit Tully.

While scared stiff at first and a lengthy discussion in regards of your reasoning for being in the Riverlands, Oscar, Kermit and Benjicot were more then okay with you staying for a few days whilst Cannibal rested up, with Benjicot even going as far as to offer up Raventree Hall as your temporary accommodation until then.

‘I couldn’t lord Blackwood, that’s far too-‘

‘I insist.’ He said as Cannibal looked at him suspiciously, for the dragon had seen that same look upon the young lords face copied on countless others during your trip across Westeros, you had yet again gained the attention another lord unwillingly; much to cannibal’s dismay as the behemoth huffed smoke from his nose in some form of a indignant snort.

This was going to be a long few days for Cannibal, that was for certain.

And a long few days it was as for the next couple of days you and Benjicot had grown quite close to each other during this time, always being seen together no matter where you went as the young lord showed you everything Raventree had; from the shooting ranges, stables, library and more but your favourite place would have to be the Weirwood and it seemed that Benjicot felt the same as he would always accompany you there, arm in arm as though you were a couple of betrotheds, a thought that had became more and more louder the more time you spent with the sweet and somewhat awkward Blackwood lord.

You even got the pleasure of meeting his aunt, Alysanne Blackwood, someone you thought wouldn’t like you but her eyes pretty much light up upon seeing you both as a smile spreads across her face. ‘It is nice to finally meet you, rider of the infamous Cannibal, my nephew here has spoken quite a bit about you as of recently.’ she said as she looks over at Benjicot, who now had a face as bright and red as the ripest cherries.

‘He has?’ You asked as you too now looked at Benji as he refused to meet your eyes, aware of the fact that Cannibal’s head was poking out to look at him dangerously. Benjicot knew of dragons and their bond with their riders was unlike any other but Benjicot was certain that Cannibal was beyond overprotective of you, making him skeptical of anyone and everyone who showed you the slightest bit of interest.

‘Oh he has and in such vivid detail too.’ Alysanne replied as she smirked at the halfhearted glare her nephew gave her. He had always been too easily read when it came to his poorly concealed feelings for you during your time at Raventree, seeing as she often caught him staring at you with wonder while you looked elsewhere. There was an added softness in Benjicot that was only reserved for you and you alone, and that alone made Alysanne want to get to know you better, to understand what her nephew saw in you to be so captivated in such a short span of time.

‘I believe that’s enough from you dear Aunt.’ Benjicot said as he tried to softly ease you into following him back to the Weirwood, somewhere where he wouldn’t be teased for something he had admitted to in private. Why he ever thought that his aunt would ever choose to keep quiet about this over teasing him -and in front of you no less- he’ll never know but what he did know was that he was on borrowed time before you and Cannibal leave Raventree, leave him and the Riverlands for good. So if he wanted to say anything to you before then, he had to act fast but there was one issue; cannibal.

Cannibal didn’t like anyone from what you’ve told him of the countless stories of your journey across Westeros in search of a peaceful place for you and your dragon both, a place far away from the grasp of the war to come, and so far Cannibal hated every last lord and lady that you had met as he found them unworthy of you and your trust.

‘Cannibal doesn’t believe either side of this war is worth saving? And you’re just going to trust his judgment like that?’ Benjicot asked, curious as to how you hadn’t picked a side unlike him, whose mind was made up almost within immediate effect.

‘I am common born Benji,’ you reminded him, ‘and as far as am aware we are the ones who suffer the most during turbulent times liked these, so why should I be forced to choose a side when all they really want is a wild card to call upon when they’re at a disadvantage.’ You looked over at Cannibal and sighed. ‘All they want is control over him and I’m the key, but if they found a way to do so without me, they’d kill me in an instant.’

Benjicot bristled, anger bubbling in his veins as he then said. ‘I wouldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let them so much as lay a hand on you, I swear it.’ He promised and he truly meant it but much like your dragon, you’ve grown to become distrusting of any word that left a lord or ladies mouth, for they always told the sweetest of lies that you don’t realise until it was far too late.

You smiled bittersweetly at him as you reached over to hold his hand, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. ‘I want to believe you Benji, truly I do, but I just can’t.’ You confessed to him as you stood up with Benjicot following suit. ‘Far too many people have used similar words but haven’t been true to them even in the slightest. I know you’re a honourable man, but I’ve learnt to never give out my trust to those until they’ve earned it.’ You added as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting him to know that he still has some reign over your heart as you took a step back from him, leaving him to realise that this was you saying goodbye; he had ran out of time sooner then he had expected.

‘I’m sorry lord Blackwood, but my time at Raventree hall has come to an end and I thank you for your hospitality but it is time that me and Cannibal leave.’ You were just as sad to leave Benjicot for you finally felt something for someone else that you haven’t experienced in a while, you had fallen for him and that had frightened you and so you’d rather leave and let him find someone else to hold in his heart, despite how painful that would be to witness but you didn’t want to be less astray; not ever again.

And then without another word, you left Benjicot standing under the Weirwood tree, unsure of whether this was actually happening and that he was watching his happiness walk away without him putting up the slightest bit of a fight. He may not fall in love but he knew that when he did he loved hard, and he doesn’t believe that he’ll ever love someone as hard he did you, even if he didn’t say it but Benjicot was certain you knew but were afraid to say it.

Benji knew that he couldn’t keep you here with him in Raventree and while he wanted that to be reality, he knew that reality could be often disappointing and that it would be better to let you and cannibal leave as planned, but he was better off calling himself a coward for the rest of his life if he didn’t at least let you know how he felt. So without a second thought Benjicot bolted down the way you went in hopes of catching up to you in time, pushing himself to go as fast as he could towards the clearing where you first met, all the while his mind raced with all the words he wished to say when he had the chance.

Unfortunately for him it seemed as though the Brackens had gotten to you and Cannibal first, which didn’t help but make him mad, as he saw that cannibal was more then ready to set the Riverlands aflame while you stood in front of him in a protective manner despite the swords being pointed at you.

You were protecting Cannibal at the expense of yourself for you believed that he held more value than you did, whereas Benjicot thought that you were just as valuable as your dragon companion.

‘Bracken!’ Benjicot shouted, causing everyone to look at him as he drew his sword, a crazed look in his eye.

‘Benji?’ You whispered as you watched him take a stand in front of you, shielding you from the very people who had been threatening you into giving up Cannibal, all the while looking like a man possessed by anger and a need for bloodshed.

‘Blackwood.’ The man with brunette hair spat as he trained his sword at Benjicot’s throat, forgetting you and cannibal almost immediately. ‘This business has nothing to do with so.’ Benji scoffed as he took a step forward, allowing for the tip of his rivals blade to be but a hairs breath from piercing his skin. ‘This is Blackwood land.’ he sneered, caring about nothing else but keeping you safe from harm. ‘So of fucking course this is my business, considering that it looks to me that you were about to harm them and their dragon.’

You couldn’t help but watch on helplessly as the tension grew heavy the longer this tense stand off continued between rivalling houses, you could tell through your bond that Cannibal was curious, calm even as he wanted to see who spills the others blood first; the Bracken boy with the brunette hair or Benjicot.

Cannibal do something, anything. You said telepathically to your dragon.

He’s fighting for your honour little one and it would be a dishonour if I were to intervene. Cannibal responded.

You groan you only want to watch the bloodbath and eat who’s leftover. You replied disgruntled.

While that may be a reason but watch young Blackwood closely my dear, for his next move may surprise you as well as I. Cannibal said as you head his words and watched as the Bracken try to attack Benji first, only for Benji to intercept the attack with one of his own that sent the man you now knew as Aeron staggering backwards, all the while Benjicot ran his tongue over his teeth as he smiled chaotically.

It was something that shouldn’t have elicit a reaction out of you but the sight of this side of Benjicot definitely had its..effect over you as you tried to stop the heat from spreading across your cheeks.

. ‘Is that half assed attempt all you got?’ He scoffed, ‘I’m not in surprised, you Brackens fight like a bunch of pussies.’ He continue to goads Aeron, who only scowls and tries to attack Benjicot again but fails as the young Blackwood lord side stepped him before bringing the pommel of his sword down on the Brackens back, causing him to fall pathetically to the ground as his sword fell out of his reach.

‘What’s so important about this bitch and their overgrown reptile that makes you pick up the sword Blackwood.’ Aeron spat as he struggled to get back up. His words seemed to have angered Benji more as he was quick to grab Aeron by the cloak he wore, and then threw him one handedly so that he was forced to look up at Benji, just as he puts his foot on his chest and leans in close with his sword pointed at Aeron’s neck and nicking the skin there.

‘They mean more to me than you’ll ever understand.’ Benjicot said lowly. ‘Their life is worth your more than everyone in house Bracken combined, and I don’t take lightly to when they’re being threatened by the likes of craven little cunts like you.’ He finished before lifting his foot up and brining it down on Aeron’s head, knocking him out completely before looking at you with the soft expression that you were most familiar with, dropping his sword and holding your face between his calloused hands.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked but you were paying more attention to what Cannibal said.

He’s not so bad, little one. The behemoth tells you with pride. Quite the fighter with an insatiable lust for bloodshed, he’s a worthy suitor for your hand.

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, smiling as you held your hands over his own, ‘I’m fine, we both are thanks to you.’ You add and Benjicot smiles as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your forehead without a second thought before resting his head there afterwards, closing his eyes as he sighed in relief. ‘Good. I’m glad.’ He whispered.

‘Benji?’ You asked softly.

‘Yeah?’ He replied, wanting to stay in this moment for a little while longer.

‘I trust you.’ You tell him wholeheartedly, causing him open his eyes to look at you.

‘Really?’ He asks, hoping that this wasn’t a dream.

‘Yes Benji, I trust you-‘ before you could finish those words, Benji had already leaned in for a kiss, which you quickly melted into as you reciprocated his feelings by returning his passion with your own, lips weaving against one another and hot tongues pressing against hot tongues messily.

Everything was perfect until you heard Cannibal speak inside you head.

Little one if you wanted to fuck him, you need only ask for me to leave for a while.

Needless to say cannibal ruined the mood.

‘Cockblocker.’ Benjicot muttered as cannibal huffed smoke at him.

Carful little bird, I can still eat you.

#hotd imagines #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon x reader #benjicot blackwood #bloody ben x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #Benjicot Blackwood imagine #Benjicot Blackwood imagines #ben blackwood x reader #bloody Ben

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pitchsidestories · 1 month ago

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taste II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1018

a/n: dear readers, this short, a little silly but cute oneshot was inspired by this request here, happy reading. 🫶🏻 🐈‍⬛

Autumn has finally arrived in Barcelona. Leaves painted in red, orange and yellow started to fall from the trees for one last dance. Baghera was entranced by what nature did and watched everything from her favourite spot in the living room close to the window.

Every year you both were falling in love with that season of the year, as it might be an ending to a summer you fully lived, but also the beginning of something fresh and new.

The champion’s league was about to start and games under the lights were always something special, alone the thought of it filled you with giddy excitement.

“Girls, I invited Esmee for dinner. That’s alright, right?”, you asked your girlfriends who were already in the kitchen.

“Yes, of course, kjaerste.”, Ingrid nodded friendly, standing in front of the stove. While Mapi was launching around in one of the chairs in a sitting position which screamed gay, and parents would judge because of bad posture.

“She was so sad that her parents left again. I thought she could use the distraction.”, you continued. The sad face of the young player was still fresh in your memory.

As a foreign player yourself you knew that being separated from your family for such long periods of time was hard especially when the nights got colder and the daylight shorter.

When you first came to Barcelona at Esmee’s age you were glad that Mapi and Ingrid welcomed you into their home with open arms, the appartement you began to share with them turning into a home away from home soon.

“That’s very sweet of you.”, the Norwegian commented, her forehead covered in frowning lines, looking concentrated at the recipe ahead of her.

“What’s for dinner?”, Mapi questioned smirking.

“I’ve something delicious planned.”, Ingrid announced delighted.

The Spaniard and you took a curious glance at the cookbook before exclaiming, faces formed to disgusted grimaces. “Pumpkin soup?!”

“Why do I have two children, one who has no patience and the other has the taste bud of a toddler?”, the dark-haired women groaned in response.

“Excuse me?”, you replied, pretending to be offended.

“I said what I said.”, Ingrid declared who tried her best to suppress a smile.

“Can’t you make some chicken nuggies?”, you asked your girlfriend, giving her puppy-eyes which you hoped would warm her Scandinavian heart. Often this worked out perfectly fine.

“Please, please, please.”, Mapi supported your suggestion loudly.

“Girls, seriously?”, Ingrid sighed, the defender and you knew from her sigh alone that you both had won in the question of what’s going to be for dinner.

A knocking on the door interrupted the discussion. You opened the door for Esmee and led her into the kitchen.

“Hi everyone. Ingrid, what are you cooking? Can I help you?”, the young player asked politely, peeking over the shoulder of the tall Norwegian.

“I’m making pum-…“, she started, one last attempt to get someone on her side.

“We’re having chickie nuggies!”, Mapi and you announced simultaneously.

Finally, Ingrid gave in: “Yes, we’re having chicken nuggets…“

“Thanks, love.“, you thanked her, beaming.

A small smile appeared on her face as she nudged your side: “You’re lucky I love you two so much.“

“We love you too, amor.“, Mapi replied, kissing Ingrids right cheek while you got on your tiptoes to kiss her left.

Esmee cleared her throat, making sure you hadn’t forgotten that you had a visitor.

Blushing, Ingrid pushed the two of you away and got to work.

You grinned at Esmee: “Hope you like nuggets, Esmee.“

She nodded happily, looking a bit relieved that it wasn’t pumpkin soup: “I do.“

“Then sit down while Ingrid shows us her cooking skills.“, you joked.

Ingrid rolled her eyes next to you. Of the three of you, she was definitely the best cook so making chicken nuggets was beneath her actual cooking skills.

Still, she managed to present you with a batch of perfectly crispy nuggets, a homemade dipping sauce and a bowl of fresh salad. You were all athletes after all.

“This is…“; Esmee said between two mouthfuls of salad.

“Delicious as always.“, Mapi completed the sentence for her, gleefully biting into a nugget.

Ingrid smiled across the table, seemingly happy that you all enjoyed her food: “Thank you, girls.“

“You’re the best cook.“, you agreed with the others.

“I’ll try the pumpkin soup another time though.“, the Norwegian warned you jokingly.

“I promise we’ll try it then.“, you assured her. It was only fair that she would get her pumpkin soup.

“Appreciate it.“

The food was quickly gone, leaving the table cluttered with empty dishes.

Mapi leaned back in her chair with a yawn: “Now time for a nap.“

“Thanks for the dinner, girls.“, Esmee said after she made sure that Ingrid didn’t want any help washing dishes.

“No worries, you’re always welcome here.“, you assured the young player and pulled her into a quick hug before she left.

You smiled to yourself as you closed the door behind her, you loved providing a safe space for the young players, making sure they had everything they needed even if it was just dinner.

“Y/n, Ingrid, hurry up!”, you heard Mapi call from the living room.

Ingrid left the kitchen, rolling her eyes: “That kid has no patience.“

“You still love it.“, you laughed as the two of you entered the living room where Mapi laid sprawled out on the sofa.

“Come into my arms, my loves.“, she laughed, making space for both of you on each side.

You didn’t even think twice as you launched yourself onto the sofa: “Coming!”

“All here.“, Ingrid smiled as she took the other side of the sofa.

Mapi sighed with content, wrapping one arm around each of you: “That’s how I like it.“

“Sandwiched on the sofa? We know.“, you teased her.

Ingrid chuckled lightly, reaching over Mapi and intertwined her fingers with yours: “Me too. With my two favourite children.“

With her eyes already closed, Mapi mumbled something unintelligible, already snoozing.

You cuddled closer into her side.

There was nothing better to do on your free day.

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attapullman · 11 months ago

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If Only the Neighbors Knew | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings + Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ only folks, swearing, unprotected pinv, oral (f!receiving), self-indulgent as per usual, too many italics. Oh, I am blushing and humbled at all the love that Neighbor!Bob has received! It's exactly a month later and now he's back and making us collectively drop our panties again, as well as all the other women in the neighborhood! But don't worry, he's only got eyes for you ;) Happy Holidays, my dears, thanks for reading!

meet Robert From Next Door here

He’s setting up refreshments in the dining room. The perfect viewpoint to where you perch on his slate gray sectional, making small talk with the neighborhood. Knees primly crossed under your skirt, smile wide as you laugh about the neighbor kids’ shenanigans. And all he can think about was when you walked in, the soft flush in your cheeks when you said, “Hi, Robert,” and gave him the lightest peck on the cheek, as if you did it all the time. As if it didn’t make him weak in the knees.

The only perk of hosting the HOA meeting is that you’re in his home. The fact other people are also here? Not ideal. It’s been a month since he had you straddled on his lap, sweetly moaning into his mouth, and frankly he wants to send everyone home so he can try the same thing on his couch.

But he offered to host because it’s the neighborly thing to do. Swung by the market on the way home from base and grabbed crackers and cheese, mixed nuts, and too many bottles of wine because once someone brings up the length of grass everyone turns to drinking.

He’s replenishing the plastic cups and water jug when he catches your eye. The small quirk of your smile, a silently flirty hi, has him flustered. Time to start this godforsaken meeting so he’s closer to getting you alone.

“So, Lieutenant Floyd, what’s new with you?” Mrs. Jacobs has already helped herself to enough wine by the time he joins the neighborhood in his sitting room. She’s flanked by her cronies - minions in matching sweater sets - and all instantly turn their attention on him. While not someone who normally turns heads, the day Robert Floyd bought his little bungalow with the creaky porch he was instantly the talk of the street. A young single Naval officer? The women could barely believe their luck. They were all married, but shameless flirting had never been out of question.

He takes a slow sip of his iced tea, biding time. On the other side of the room, he can feel your amused smile. The rumor mill would churn violently if anyone found out what was going on with you two. So you had been sneaking around the last few weeks. A few stolen afternoons kissing on the couch, errand trips turned into steaming up his truck’s windows. It’s been the best month of his life.

The WSO is spared answering when the president of the homeowner’s association clears her throat to start the meeting, shushing her grumbling husband. The collection of husbands sat at the back with their beers, arms crossed, giggling like schoolgirls at their comrade’s chiding. Normally Robert sat with them, but felt bold and came to sit near you on the sectional, one large decorative pillow acting as a barrier.

As expected, the meeting is trivially boring. While he tries to focus on repair costs and chimney safety, all he can think about is your hand only inches away. If he only shifted a few inches - only a few, it would be subtle - he could run the tips of his fingers along the back of your soft hands, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb soothingly along your wrist. And if he was that close, he might as well dip his face into the crook of your neck, where the scent of your perfume was strongest and most delicious. While he was there, it would be so easy to press a k-

“Anyone have any questions about this?” He’s abruptly distracted from his daydream by several neighbors raising their hand, disgruntled by potential disruptions to their homes.

You catch his eye, eyebrows raised, curious on his thoughts about filter replacement. Or if he's as bored as you are. But he simply gives you a dazed, shy smile, his eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips.

The meeting adjourns - thank god - and neighbors create their cliques to download. It feels safe to start your own conversation (the first the two of you have spoken since you pressed a kiss to his cheek) and you turn to him eagerly. Just as you’re about to compliment his selection of cheese, a manicured hand reaches past you and touches Robert’s bicep.

Mrs. Jacobs and company have returned. “Lieutenant, before I head out I wanted to thank you again for taking care of my lawn last week. Such a big help.”

The tips of his ears blush pink, the tone of his neighbor’s voice a tad too suggestive for a simple chore. Mr. Jacobs was nearing his sixties and spent most of these meetings complaining about an old sports injury. It seemed the least the young WSO could do was offer landscaping help after all that rain last week. His mower was already out and he’d mown the Jacobs’ lawn without a second thought.

It had helped you had been outside planting bulbs. He liked the eye candy in your slightly too tight jeans.

The women continue to praise him and his generous ways. His cheeks on fire as Mrs. Connelly gushed about how great it was to have a big, strong Navy man in the neighborhood. As much as he wants to look at you, the embarrassment flooding his system has his eyes glued to the hardwood.

“You know,” Mrs. Branaugh began, exchanging an excited glance with her friends, “the city hall fundraiser next month is a little short on volunteers for our auction. Any chance any other lieutenants would be available?” Her eyes shamelessly rake down his chest, practically salivating at the idea of fighter pilots parading around in suits.

You feel the licks of jealousy itch at your palms.

He sputters out words, unsure if they’re agreement or excuses. Robert’s suffocating on his embarrassment. Mrs. Connelly and Mrs. Jacobs delight in his blush. The latter gushes, “I’d be happy to pay any of them to mow my lawn this summer.” She turns to her friends and winks. “Shirtless, of course!”

You nearly spit out your drink. The host of the evening looks moments from passing out. Your middle aged neighbors are cackling, lost in their tipsy fantasies. It’s time for everyone to go home.

Thankfully most of the men are ready to leave the gossip fest and return to their abodes. Gathering up their wives and thanking Lt. Floyd for his hospitality, the neighborhood departs the tidy bungalow, calls of, “Come over for dinner sometime!” thrown over their shoulders.

Amongst those leaving is you, slipping on your winter jacket and adjusting a thick scarf for the short walk. Barely recovered from his neighbors’ lascivious comments, he’s sad to see you go. Wishes you would straggle behind and pretend to help clean up, only to ignore the dishes and catch up in the biblical way. He can practically feel your soft skin in his hands. But you give him that sweet smile of yours and follow Mr. Sampson out the door, the promise of another time.

He’s never hosting these meetings again.

After much coaxing from her husband, the last of his neighbors finally leave and he’s alone in his bungalow again. Finally. The cheerful oxford blue walls, the hand-me-down dining chairs, the framed photo of his squadron above the mantle. Being permanently stationed has its perks.

He makes quick work of cleaning, bringing the remnants of his makeshift cheeseboard to the kitchen before wiping down the dining table and straightening the couch cushions. The multitude of empty wine bottles are taken out to the recycling before turning off the porch light, ready to retire for the night. He’s getting a glass of water when a sound pricks his ear.

The faintest knock. So quiet he would miss it had he been anywhere else in the house. Instantly on the defense, tall, broad frame coming to its full height, he’s prepared for the worst as he approaches the back door that leads to his small yard.

Another timid knock.

The biggest, warmest smile takes over his face as he opens the door and sees his visitor. There you stand, cheeks pink with cold and your lip trapped between your teeth. You sneak.

Robert quickly invites you inside, enveloping you with his warm body once you’ve toed off your boots. The hug has tension escaping every muscle, finally back in each other’s arms as it should be. The secrecy, while necessary, is the worst.

“Did you forget something?” His deep voice mumbles into your hair. You push back to look at his face, but his hands are steadfast on your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. In the month of shared kisses and lighthearted flirting, he’s never had you alone in his house.

Resigned to resting your cheek against his shoulder, you reply, “Didn’t want anyone suspicious if I stayed behind.”

“Ah, so you did the ol’ double back?" You nod. "And you’re sure no one saw you?” His mischievous smile shows he’s all jokes, but in the back of his mind he’s curious if any of his neighbors saw you in the minute gap between your backyards. The same trek he’s been making for weeks after all the lights on the street are out.

You shake your head against his soft crewneck. It’s been three days since you’ve felt his warmth and you’re melting. The faint smell of sage and citrus - and a tinge of jet fuel - flooding your senses and you’re so glad you risked sneaking over.

Watching him host the HOA meeting with his little refreshment table? So hot.

While you both want to sit down over a cup of cocoa and catch up on how silly your neighbors are, something else is on your minds. It’s been lying dormant for weeks now, awaiting the moment to rear its head. And in the dim lighting of Robert’s house, on a quiet winter Friday night, the moment is just right.

The first kiss is intended to be innocent, lightly brushing his lips against yours to remind you of his affection. Enjoying the plush softness of your glossy lips. But when the softest of moans leaves you, desperation hits.

He needs you.

The two of you have been playing it safe - you are neighbors after all - but as mere mortals there are needs to be met. The softness of your skin. The broadness of his shoulders. The tension that has been building and building since he watched you dunk that tea bag and knew it was now or never.

You tear away from his face, as painful as it is, to rasp against his jaw. “Robert, your house is so nice. Can you show me your bedroom?”

Squeals of delight bounce off the hallway walls as he all but drags you to the other side of the house. His fingertips dig into your hips, a little too eager, his glasses slipping down his nose as he steals kisses. As he showers you in affection, you appreciate his home out of the corner of your eye. The small collection of black-and-white snapshots from different naval bases he’s worked on. A pencil holder that looks handmade. Your heart lurches for this man whose heart is too big for this bungalow.

Feet slow at a doorway, his hands steadying you against the frame. As you look up into his sky blue eyes, nerves shoot down both your spines. The delicious thought pops into your head that you’re finally going to see him naked and you feel lightheaded.

He can’t let himself think about your body or he will pass out.

His bedroom fits him. Lamps cast a cheery glow onto the mahogany dresser where he keeps a majority of the US Navy paraphernalia he’s been collecting since he was a child - little figurines and framed airshow stills. A large wingback chair sits cozily in the corner, laden with a flannel he had debated wearing; you’re glad he stuck with the buttery soft crewneck you can’t help running your palms over. And the main event, against the far wall, looking as inviting and luxurious as anything, is Robert’s king size bed. He prides himself on the curved wood headboard he spent a summer working on.

Tentatively, he takes your hand and invites you over the threshold. Your eyes rake over everything to find any red flags (none found - it’s okay he has a lot of plane figurines and not a lot of houseplants - he’s gone half the year, those plants are gonna die) before you let your fingers brush over the blue gray of his heavy plush comforter. Similar to his living room walls.

“You must like blue.”

Cerulean eyes sparkle. His fingers tangle in the cobalt cashmere of your sweater. “I really like blue.”

This time, your lips brush his. The softest sweep before letting yourself lean into him, greedily running your tongue across his thin lips, begging for entrance. His cheeks the softest mauve as he opens his mouth to groan his pleasure. Despite your new surroundings, it feels like home when your tiny pink tongue finds itself nestled against his.

A bolt of heat travels down your spine and your hands fist in his crewneck, torn between enjoying the soft fabric and wanting it off. While your hands are desperate and needy, running up and down his torso in indecision, he’s so soft and gentle with you. Fingers tracing the delicate slope of your jaw, a warm hand on your hip teasing the skin above your skirt. Sweet noises blown directly into your mouth as he savors your taste.

The past month has built this up. That year of tension? Absolutely nothing compared to the burning heat across your skin every time you see him now. You know how he tastes, how he smells, how he whines when you lick the spot behind his ear. The itch consuming your body needs to be scratched, needs to be tamed. You need him.

He seems to be on the same wavelength as you feel his hands lead your hips toward the bed, legs awkwardly backing up until they hit crisp bedding. The man keeps a tidy bed. You’re hopelessly more attracted to him.

Tenderly Robert lowers the two of you to the bed, your back relaxing against the blanket as your hair frames your face. The tips of his fingers trace your cheek as he appreciates how beautiful you are. Embarrassed by the attention, you pout until he brings his lips to yours again, loving the way his entire body encloses around you, keeping you safe.

Your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his hips, arms sliding down his torso. His cheeks heating as he catches onto you, his own hips rolling into yours. The low noises escaping your throat as he grinds against your bare thigh, turning him on even more. Your chest pressed against his, the swell of your breasts as your back arches - it’s heaven. If it weren’t for your grounding presence stroking a hand through his hair he would think Phoenix crashed the jet that afternoon.

Finally too impatient to wait any longer, you tug on the hem of Robert’s crewneck, silently begging for it to go. He sits up - awkward to do when his pelvis is glued against yours - and pinches the neck of it, shrugging it off his solid frame. Knocks his glasses askew a bit. When he turns back to you, white hot desire slaps you in the face. This six foot pilot, shirtless, with smoldering blue eyes behind fogged glasses and mussed hair? There are no words.

Who would have thought peppermint tea would lead to all this?

You lose yourself in his kisses again, running your hands along the smooth expanse of skin now available. Your hips desperately rutting against his for more friction, a pool of arousal settles in your underwear with how fucking good he looks covered in your affection. Your lips find his neck and suck, the sounds emitting from him indecent. His hands settle at the hem of your skirt, brushing the skin of your thighs as he worries the fabric, contemplating his next move.

“Please.” It’s quiet, but your plea nearly echos in the room. His eyes meet yours. “Please touch me.”

There’s no going back anymore. Reluctantly pulling away from your body, he lowers himself to his shins, large hands smoothing over your thighs. As he rubs soft circles into your muscles, the hem of your skirt shifts higher. His heart thuds at the sight of your gorgeous, soft thighs, completely on display for him. Tentatively he presses a kiss to your inner knee. When you don’t shy away, he pecks another slightly higher. His nose skims the thin skin and you whimper. It’s music to his ears.

Your skirt is nearly around your waist, delicate panties in view. Robert’s heart violently slams in his chest and his erection throbs, begging to be freed from his jeans. He can’t help but focus on the spot that conceals your center, your arousal wet and dark.

His lips kiss your inner thigh again, just inches from where you desperately want to feel them. “May I?”

You’re frantically nodding, your fingers crashing into his as you work in tandem to get the offending little piece of lace off. As they come down, his kisses trail up, teasing the skin to elicit tiny whimpers. Hot breath skims your pelvis and it’s torture. He delicately places your knees on his broad shoulders, warm skin on warm skin.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, desperate to see his face, his pretty blue eyes smile at you as he finally, finally licks one broad stripe up your folds.

Your brain effectively short circuits.

Like a broken dam, once he’s had a taste there is no going back. Hot, thick swipes over your wetness, desperate to soak up your sweet arousal. Unintentionally his nose crashes into your clit, his messy tongue work bringing him deeper and deeper within you. Above him, you’re singing his praises, mouth open wantonly. “Right there! Right there!”

The hours he’s spent wondering what you taste like, if you’re even sweeter than your kisses, have paid off. He’s addicted. Wrapping his arms around your gorgeous thighs, obscene sounds squelching from his lewd tongue, he brings a thumb to your clit to draw deliciously tight circles. The way your back arches has him panting.

It’s hard to tell whether it’s the tingle in your toes or the fiery knot in your stomach that grows faster. The way his tongue flicks over that ring of muscle has your head spinning. His lips capture a fold and suck, moaning at how sweet you are for him.

“Taste so good, baby. Knew you would, my sweet girl.”

Your head falls back when a finger prods at your opening, slipping through your silky wetness. If his tongue was good, his fingers are a gift. A thick digit that reaches deep, finding that spongey spot that makes your stomach curl. It works its way back and forth, bringing moans to your lips and entrancing him as he watches you take him so easily. He can barely help himself when he slips in a second, salivating over how effortlessly you stretch for him.

“That’s my girl, so good.”

Two fingers deep and a hot mouth on your clit, the world is careening around you. All sense of direction lost, too hot in your sweater, hips desperately following his lips and fingers. Your hand shoves in his hair, holding him there because it feels so good. He thrusts deeper, stretching his fingers within your tight walls. The pressure against your cervix and clit make your head pound. And then suddenly…

“R-Rob-by!” You wail into the bedroom, voice lost amongst the hot air and salacious sounds coming from between your legs. Thighs tightening around his cheeks, knees buckling as you bring your legs to your torso, curling into yourself as your orgasm blindsides you. Your brain dizzy with pleasure and relief as he keeps working his tongue within you, one hand stroking your stomach soothingly as the other disappears over the edge of the bed.

Time disappears as you lazily ride his tongue until the oversensitivity kicks in. As your hips squirm away, he presses one last kiss to your clit before dragging himself up to stand. Despite only having two brain cells left after your orgasm, you’re instantly wet again watching how he grinds his palm against the thick bulge in his jeans.

“That feel good?” Your eyes droop happily as you nod, a little sheepish. “You are so gorgeous, so good for me. I’m a lucky man.”

As you sit up on boneless limbs, he swoops down to press a kiss on your sweet lips. The tangy linger of your taste coats his mouth. By itself it’s sexy, but then you see the wet smudges and fog of his glasses, askew on his nose from where he pressed so hard into your cunt, and a deep groan escapes as you attach yourself to him again.

Reaching down, your fingers are desperately working the button of his jeans - the need to feel every part of him against you so dire - but he’s stilling your hands, kissing along your neck. A little flushed at how close he is to cumming at the thought of your hands on him.

His lips brush your ear. “Want to enjoy your mouth any other time, but I really need to be inside you. Please.”

You’re both openly moaning out your insatiable hunger as you fall back and scoot toward the pillows, sitting up on your knees to unzip your skirt and discard it and your sweater. His hand dips beneath his jeans as he soaks up your skin, the way your bra just barely covers your nipples. He makes no show of pushing down his jeans, pulling them from around his ankles along with his socks. His mind is carnally focused on getting you completely naked as he tugs the front of his boxer briefs down to relieve the pressure on his cock.

The two fingers suddenly make sense. Robert is a big guy - not quite as big as the rest of his squadron, but naturally takes up space with his broad shoulders and large hands - and you feel silly for not connecting the dots. His cock is thick, veiny and red tipped, balls bulging with cum. You gulp down a thick breath knowing he’s about to cram every inch of it into you. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

Since the moment Robert stood on your stoop and introduced himself, the magnet between you has fought harder and harder to bring you together. Pulling by invisible strings, bidding their time, until they finally snapped and you gave into your desires, hands rushing all over while taking time to learn the curve of each other’s bodies. Finding the freckles on his shoulders. Exploring the dip of your back. And as you lay beneath your next door neighbor, breaths heavy and nervous and excited, you allow the magnets to snap together fully as he slowly thrusts his hips until they mesh into yours.

He’s deliciously thick, stretching every part of you as he pants heavily into your neck. Kisses sooth your skin while your nails mark his. In the low light of the room, he gazes at you, so enamored with the way you look taking him. The obscene wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, slow and steady so he can savor the way you squeeze him. Your whimpered noises spurring him on.

You bring a hand to his cheek, using every ounce of will to focus on his sweet face. “This is…this is even better than I imagined.”

He couldn’t agree more. Paired with the dreamily debauched smile on your face, his hips piston faster, arms squeezing tighter as you moan wildly. Bodies vibrating with pleasure, your legs wrap around his thighs for the leverage to meet his thrusts. He grunts as hands tangle in his hair, pulling lightly. The eye contact is intense, unable to look away as you both feel the build up. God, his eyes are the perfect shade of blue.

Your fingers slip to your clit, ready to propel you to the finish, when his thumb knocks you away. His circles are tight and rough as he gazes at you with desire-dark eyes. “It’s okay, let me help you.”

Your kind and overly helpful neighbor. Who lends you his lawn mower and hangs up Christmas lights. Who always compliments your coffee. Who times his thrust with a harsh push to your clit and has you immediately careening off the cliff, seeing bursts of light as your second orgasm of the night envelopes you.

His mouth attaches to yours, tongue lapping up your taste, as you moan through your aftershocks. His cock is still deep, stroking that spongey wall as he works you through and chases his own pleasure. You’re still so tight around him and he’s ready to cum. Making sure his lips don’t leave yours, he draws back and thrusts deeply, watching the way your body surges with his strength. Once, twice, and your eyes roll back as he lets go, filling you with his spend so you have everything he can give.

A streetlamp flicks on through the window. You’re only just catching your breath when Robert slips from the bed. A tap turns, there’s some rustling, and he returns with a soft cloth to help you clean up. Too tired to speak, the two of you just exchange sweet smiles as he once again comes to your aid.

The bed dips and he’s back against your body, cocooned in his dreamy coverlet, clean-shaven face pressing kisses against yours. His cheeks the lightest pink as he lowly whispers, “Hi.”

You can’t help the wide grin that overtakes your features. “Hi.”

No other words are needed to express the satiated happiness bursting through your hearts and every pore. His arms wrap around your bare shoulders tighter. A full year of pining for you, of making any excuse to help out to be in your presence…so worth it for the way his whole body feels whole when you’re around.

Sleepy eyes flutter up at him, trying so hard to stay awake and enjoy this time together. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger on the light layer of sweat his deep thrusts caused. If only his squadron could see him now, his sweet little neighbor half-asleep after a night with him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mutters into your hairline as he pulls the blanket around your shoulders. You barely hear him as you begin to dream about a sandy-haired man who brought you the sun, the moon, and the stars.

When the first streams of morning light begin pouring in - because someone was a little too busy doing the deed to close the curtain - two sets of eyes pop open. You’re facing each other, foreheads rested upon the same pillow, eyes half-slits as you adjust to the light. Robert radiates heat, and you curl even closer into him. His lips turn in a satisfied smile as you burrow into his chest.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the two of you continue chatting in low voices. Legs tangled under the sheets, Robert’s head propped up as he listens to your story about accidentally setting your old kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes. His deep laugh crinkles his eyes, pausing to press the lightest kiss to the corner of your pouting mouth.

You’re just starting to lean into the kisses - hard not to when he looks so kissable - when a grumbly gurgle sounds out from below the covers. Both of your eyes shoot toward your abdomen, a hungry monster in the midst.

“You hungry?” His eyes are so impossibly sweet. You nod slightly, embarrassed at your crass stomach. But he’s already giving you a kind smile and helping you out of the bed, finding a pair of sweatpants and a weathered soft hoodie to keep you warm.

In plaid pajama pants, your neighbor guides you to his kitchen, with the cheery maple cabinets and old-fashioned diner clock, and settles you onto the bench seat in the breakfast nook. “Coffee? Tea…peppermint tea?”

It should actually be illegal how good he looks when he winks at you with that little smirk shirtless.

“Coffee is fine,” you reply, your cheeks hot. He busies himself with coffee and contemplates what he has to constitute for breakfast, and you busy yourself with the day before’s paper. He’s started the sudoku, but abandoned it when his sister called.

Vaguely familiar with the puzzle game, you look at the little scribbled numbers in the boxes to see where he’s left off. Either the mind-blowing sex or lack of caffeine has gotten to you, because you haven’t a clue where to start from.

A steaming mug is placed before you before an arm wraps around your shoulders, looking over your progress. “Yeah, I was stumped too.”

He walks you through his thought process, thick, long fingers tracing over the paper as he points out what should fill out each box. Your eyes stray to him over and over, enjoying how passionate he is about his daily activity. Watching him blush and tilt your head back to the puzzle every time he notices you staring.

You’ve finally gotten a few boxes sorted out when you remember your coffee. Placing a thankful kiss to his cheek, you take a small sip.

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but this is the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your expression is neutral, trying to keep the disgusted look off your face (unsuccessfully) and he bursts out laughing. Pushing the mug as far as possible from you, missing the delicious imported coffee in your own kitchen, you gladly accept the kiss he presses to your cheek as an apology for the worst thing you have ever consumed.

“How about you are in charge of drinks from now on and I’ll be in charge of food?”

You eye him wearily. “If that’s how you make coffee, I’m scared to see what your cooking skills are like.”

He promises you that his mom requests his lasagna recipe every time he’s back home, and that he’s fairly capable of putting pre-made things in the oven. Good enough for you. Leaning in and molding your mouth to his, the two of you share enough kisses that his bad coffee grows cold.

Turning your attention back to the sudoku puzzle, eager to finish, Robert tightens his grip on your waist. Appreciates the way you look in his clothes after spending the night in his bed. The excited look in your eyes as you solve another box. God, you look so good in his life.

He muses privately that you should just sell your house. He has no plans to ever let you go.

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atskiruma · 2 years ago

Text

his attempts at courting you

expl: he finds himself thinking about you more often, wanting to seek you out consistently, and giving you numerous gifts every day to see you smile

a/n: it has come to my attention that the last ff i wrote, (snow day) was not very well depicted for all readers to enjoy, i want to apologize for that and promise that i will get better at trying to make sure everyone is able to read it and enjoy it, my writings are targeted for all | unfortunately, i can not edit it right now seeing as there's a poll going on, but once that poll is finished i will change my wording in the ff

ask me anything masterlist

second person writing no pronouns used

Zhongli often felt himself thinking about you more often while he was working around the parlor. Even seeking out your name in conversations and listening more attentively when someone was speaking about you. It didn't confuse him though, he was aware of his interest in you.

You opened up the warmth in his heart and welcomed him kindly every time you two saw each other. It made him happy to see you happy, and this was evident when flowers were delivered directly to your door one sunny afternoon.

"These are for you," The mail lady said before turning around and walking away to do more deliveries. You didn't even get to ask who they were from before she was gone. Staring down at the bouquet of tiger lilies in front of you, you could only assume that the bright orange and black colors could depict a certain someone's hair color.

It was a nice piece on your kitchen counter and went well with the other decorations spiraling around your house. That was, until the next morning, you were greeted again with another gift. A bright orange vase to compliment the tiger lilies you received the other day. It was funny, why was he going out of his way to send you such nice gifts?

You finally managed to confront him when you saw Childe and Zhongli sitting together on the seats of an outside cafe. Walking over and waving to the both of them. They greeted you back, and small talk was given for only a couple minutes.

"I actually came over here to thank Zhongli," This caught his attention, and he turned to look up at you, "I really loved the flowers you sent and the vase goes really well with them too!" You said while smiling.

He nodded back at you, seemingly collecting himself extremely quickly at the fact you figured out so quick who it was. "I'm glad you liked them," He said.

"I came to give you this in return," You said," "I know it's probably not as extravagant as the ones you gave me, but I like it." Handing over the small gift box, he opened it and smiled softly at the item. It was a small keychain, nothing special, and it was decorated with a lovely orange seem.

That same keychain would be hung up right next to his bedframe, along with variant letters you sent him on the table accompanying it.

Diluc was someone who took courting another person seriously. He found it tradition since his father had spoken so much of it when Diluc was younger. He always wanted to treat the one he loved with respect and be as much of a gentleman as possible.

This was why you were taking a stroll with him through his grapevines on a sunny afternoon. He offered for you to come down to the Winery a couple days ago and you had just gotten around to accepting his offer. His hand rested on your back as he took you through multiple different paths and explained everything. As you strolled, he talked about things concerning the vine, his profits, the seasons they needed to be planted, etc.

You smiled at him, knowing it was something he took dear to his heart, and listened very attentively to what he was saying. In reality, Diluc was really hoping that all he was talking about didn't bore you in any way.

Then, the next couple of hours were spent sitting in his large dining room, eating food made by the cooks in his home. It was nice, and you were very happy that he wanted to spend this much time with you. Diluc even found himself watching you eat here and there, asking you if the food was good or if you needed anything else in the time being.

After everything was over, and the night sky shined over the two of you as you stood outside his doors, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your hand. Telling you how much of a pleasure it was to have you here, and how he wished you could stay longer.

Diluc even offered to walk you home, tediously not taking no for an answer, he reached down to take your hand and hold it the whole walk home.

Alhaitham was very closed off when he first met you, he was closed off with anyone in general. He found it strange that you always seemed to be there when he was thinking about you, and when his eyes would try and search a room in the akademiya for you.

He realized that something had to be done about this, so, he did what any other raging nerd would do, and researched about it.

You also found it odd when you'd see him looking at you from across the library, or holding the door open for you whenever you'd walking behind him. Alhaitham always seemed like the guy who only cared about his own, yet he was so evident in helping you out here and there.

Helping you when you'd be confused about a book, rewording your essays to make them better. Alhaitham seemed to want to assist you with almost everything. This was no different than today.

You found yourself back at the library looking down at a long-written parchment on the forest rangers' activities. Trying to figure out how you could make this work in the essay you were conducting on Sumeru's forest.

This was when you heard the chair scrap right next to you, and looked up from where you had originally been focused. Alhaitham took his seat next to you, slightly taking up more space than necessary with his manspreading.

"Do you need help with that? It looks like a longer report than usual for you."

"Longer than usual?" You shot back, "Are you saying that I'm not capable of reading this?" His eyes widened a bit and he instantly tried to retort his original statement. "No, no, I thought- Well- You know you usually read shorter reports in order to get more details. I didn't think you'd take something this large to account."

His confession made you smile, and you leaned in closer, "How'd you know how I like my reports?" At the response with your cheeky grin, a blush formed on his cheeks before he looked away.

"Scholars are supposed to be attentive, it's natural to know a few things you prefer in order to work best with you."

The response he sent back your way caused you to roll your eyes and turn back to what you were originally doing. "To answer your question, no, I do not need help, but thank you for offering."

That didn't seem to make him budge, because he kept sitting there watching you copy down and write words from the book.

"You misspelled climate."

The sound of a book colliding with his head echoed throughout the library.

Ayato enjoyed your company, a lot, so much that he seeks you out anytime he and his sister go down to festivals or strolls through the city. He always wanted to start up a conversation with you, and if anyone else walked by anytime he'd be down there, Ayato would be right next to you listening with a smile at whatever you said.

Ayaka loved you too and found it amusing that her brother was so interested in you. She often found herself trying to spark up conversations with you, asking if her older brother proposed yet in a joking manner.

You laughed it off, Ayato was nice but you were sure he had other rich and important people to concern his love life with. He was just a very nice man to talk with here and there, and you didn't seem to notice that you were one of the few he'd actually seek out.

That was, until, every time he saw you, he came with some form of jewelry or expensive item to give you. Asking you how your day was, what you were doing, and if you wanted to come to spend some time up at the estate with him.

"What about Ayaka?" You said with a tilt of your head in confusion. He smiled back and said, "I'm sure she'd rather stay down here and explore more of the shops.

Ayaka would have loved to come along, but before she could even turn around, the two of you were already heading back up to the estate.

He catered to you, made sure you were comfortable, and even asked if you'd like anything from his personal chefs. It was a bit much to handle, seeing as you weren't used to living so luxurious, but he was very nice about it all and understood.

The catering didn't stop after that day either, more and more people began to wonder why the Kamisato siblings were spending so much more time outside their palace. Ayaka once mentioned that you loved a certain color, and the next day Ayato was handing you a box with that color, and a necklace with the pearl containing that color too.

He even found himself marching over to you when he saw someone speaking to you in a more flirtatious matter. Moving next to you and asking if everything was alright while his hand wrapped around your own.

#ayato imagines #diluc imagines #alhaitham imagines #zhongli imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader

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celuere · 3 months ago

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Random SFW Arlecchino x wife!reader hcs that have been floating in my head for the past weeks now

cw: fluff. There is so. much. fluff.

I‘m so serious when I tell you that this woman changed my brain chemistry.

She lets the kids braid her hair when she feels like it, for example whenever she is doing things like reading reports, doing paperwork etc.

Will ALWAYS. And I mean ALWAYS find an excuse to pop into your office/laboratory during work

„I wanted to hand you over some reports, dear“

„…Arle, we have subordinates for that.“

„…Cant a husband do her wife a favor nowadays?“

You just have to throw her a look for her to know whatever is going on in your head. You want to go out to dinner tonight? Just make eye contact with her for longer than three seconds and she is already making a reservation at your favorite restaurant.

Now if you happen to go out for dinner, she��ll make sure to buy you a brand new dress/suit (whatever you prefer) along with some quite expensive jewelry, which of course she wants to wear at said restaurant

An absolute GONER for you. And I mean that with all my heart. She thinks you’re beautiful no matter what and lets you know it on any given occasion. You‘re changing in front of her? Gods above, she CANNOT keep her eyes off of your beautiful body, even if she wanted to. You got a new haircut? You don’t even have to tell her and she already showers you in compliments. You tried out a new clothing style? She‘d marry you all over again, even if you wore a trashbag instead of your wedding dress.

Speaking of wedding, i dont think arle would be the type of person for a big ceremony at all. It was just you. her. the pastor. and of course some of the more older children present when you vowed to each other to stay by the others side until death does you part.

She always wakes up at exactly 5:30am, something that got drilled into her from „Mother“. I think she is the type of person to completely skip breakfast, only sipping on a cup of her favorite tea while reading through whatever reports were due for today. Leaving the house at exactly 6:00am, but not before kissing you awake and placing a cup of your own favorite drink on your nightstand (she is actually your personal alarm clock)

The first time you tried to sneak some more seasoning into her food besides salt and pepper she straight up gagged. Gagged. Save to say, that you never messed with her meals ever again.

You‘re quite literally the only person who gets to pull off ANY shit with her and be alive the next morning. Burst into her office during important negotiations? Oh, what a great opportunity to mention in front of everyone that you‘re her wife. Kicking her leg underneath the table at a Fatui Meeting because you want her attention? You won’t get as much as a glare from her.

Also arguing with her would be so???? Rare??? And even then, I would hardly call it argue since Arle pretty much never looses her cool, the worst you might be getting is a sharp, cold comment from her but yet she can’t stay mad at you for longer than a few hours. But again, discussions with her would always be collected and objective imo

Do NOT take a walk through the city with her ass unless you want her to buy you literally everything you‘re eyeing for longer than 5 seconds. It‘s impossible for her to just keep her purse inside her jacket if she notices you looking that one necklace up and down for more than two times.

Literally cannot get sick is immune to most poisons because the Balemoon Bloodfire in her veins casually kills everything off that doesn’t belong into her blood circulation

Has a deathgrip on you in her sleep, it’s not even intentional but there is NO way of getting out of her embrace without waking her up

Is on the other hand a rather light sleeper, which is actually essential to her at times, you never know who might wanna take revenge on her etc., also R.I.P. to any teenager trying to sneak out past bedtime. You‘re getting caught. But waking up anytime you have to make a run for the toilet or get a glass of water in the middle of the night is rather hard on her.

Hates physical touch until it’s from you, especially when you’ve known each other since childhood. It actually calms her raging mind, so receiving a hug and a kiss from you after a long and dreadful day is the equivalent of asking her to marry you again.

Now dare I speak about Papa!Arlecchino. Your shared daughter taking a liking into insects, just like her dad so the two of them end up taking long walks through whatever forest is the nearest. Arlecchino educating her little girl on every animal they come across and OWNENNSKRLALENWN I AM SO NOT OKAY I LOVE HER SM.

I‘m gonna make a whole series out of Papa!Arlecchino JUST WATCH ME. anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk, I could talk about her and my oc 24/7😭

#genshin impact #albadrabbles #genshin x reader #arlecchino hc #arlecchino #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x reader #genshin women #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers #arlechinno genshin #genshin arlecchino #YURI #ineedthiswomansobadimsobbing

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yesihaveaobsession · 5 months ago

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Date Me?

Alastor x female reader

Summary: The old timer aka Alastor attempts to ask the reader (you) out Infront of everyone at the hotel.

A/N- Enjoy Ya'll!! :) I would be scared to date him. BUT like he said it'll be interesting SOOO why not?!

You sat at the hotel’s bar, striking up a conversation with Husk, totally oblivious to the red eyes locked on you. Alastor. His eyes had been on you ever since you stepped into the hotel, and he’d been wanting to ask you out since then. However, he’d hidden himself in his room or the radio tower because he had no idea how to ask you out properly.

Being a charmer himself, you’d think he would know how, but he was still quite literally living in the past. It was hard for him to figure it out without asking for help or using wretched technology. He could ask Rosie or Charlie, but they would make such a big deal about it, and frankly, it would ruin his reputation.

So, he sat in his armchair in the lobby, taking a sip from his ‘oh deer’ mug and adjusting his position, fixing his newspaper to make it seem like he was reading it while catching glances of you laughing with Husk.

Alastor could not be apart of the party! So he put his newspaper on the side table next to his mug and made his way over to you. Butterflies filled his stomach; he was going to do it. Alastor fixed his suit and bow tie, cleared his throat, and leaned on the bartop next to you. The conversation ended as you smiled at him.

"Ah, my dear... a moment of your time, please!"

You gave him a small nod, tilting your head. "Sure, Alastor, what’s up?" You were just so sweet and understanding that he couldn’t fathom how you ended up in hell in the first place.

"I have been pondering the concept of... companionship, you see," he leaned in closer to you, still smiling and winked. "And I find myself in need of a consort, a partner in crime, if you will."

Charlie leaned in closer to Vaggie, blocking her mouth to not be rude, and whispered, "Is he really doing what I think he’s doing?" Vaggie's expression was laced with shock. Out of everyone to confess, Alastor was the last on her list. Charlie practically had hearts in her eyes as she watched the interaction. "Yep, this is happening."

Angel, who perked up from the couch, smirked and snorted. "This oughta be good."

Alastor felt like leaning on the bartop wasn’t him, so he straightened back up. "In my time, we had a more... refined approach to such matters. So, if you would be so kind as to indulge this old soul, I would be honored if you would consider becoming... my girlfriend."

You were more confused than anything. Alastor, the Radio Demon, asking you to be his girlfriend? You must be dreaming. You blinked and were surprised. "Your girlfriend?"

Alastor nodded vigorously, his smile never faltering. "Indeed! We could embark on all sorts of delightful mischief together! Picture it: you and I, ruling the airwaves, spreading chaos and charm throughout Hell!" Husk watched the scene unfold in front of him and muttered into his drink, "This is too rich."

Charlie was clinging to Vaggie but was finally pushed off. She then jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "Oh, Alastor, that’s actually kind of sweet, in your own twisted way!"

Angel Dust rose from the couch, let out a laugh, and slapped his knee. "Oh man, he really went for the whole package deal!"

You considered his offer; he had also treated you nicely when you first arrived. "Alright, Alastor, I'll give it a shot. But only if you promise to keep things interesting."

He bowed deeply, causing you to let out a giggle, and he locked eyes with you. "My dear, with me, 'interesting' is guaranteed." He then straightened up, and you smiled at him, taking his claw in your hand. "Well, Radio Demon, looks like you got yourself a girlfriend." You thought his attempt to ask you out was adorable, and when you agreed, you saw the way his eyes lit up; it warmed your heart.

He beamed, "Excellent! Let the chaos commence!"

#alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #i have an obsession

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deliciousangelfestival · 19 days ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 17

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Suicide character.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Author Note: After this, you will hate Steve more.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Historic Victory! Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Elected with Record-Breaking Votes."

You stood among the crowd in awe, feeling the gravity of the moment as Bucky stepped up first to take his oath. His right hand rested on the Bible, and his voice was steady, resonating across the packed hall and through the media broadcasted nationwide.

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

He glanced at you briefly, pride mingling with disbelief in his eyes as he finished, “I pledge to faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter, so help me God.”

It was almost surreal, watching Bucky stand here, on the cusp of history. You could hardly believe it. He had done it; he was now the Vice President of the United States.

Then came Steve’s turn. He took his oath with an unwavering focus, his voice rich with conviction:

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, do solemnly swear to faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

As Steve finished his oath, the crowd erupted into applause. He stepped forward, eyes fierce with resolve, and gave his inaugural speech. "Today, we embark on a new journey,” he began, his words confident and calculated. “I promise to carve out every rotten part to make this country stronger and more flourishing than ever.” The crowd cheered wildly, the energy of the historic day surging through the masses.

Standing close to Bucky, you leaned toward him and whispered, “I hate him.”

He gave a small, amused smirk, clearing his throat as he pulled you closer, his arm draping protectively over your shoulder. “Stay calm, dear,” he whispered back. “We don’t want your bitter expression captured for posterity.” He pressed his hand gently against your back as you both moved through the crowd.

Across the room, Peggy watched the two of you, noting the way Bucky’s hand never left yours, even when he greeted others. The warmth and easy familiarity between you were evident to all. Peggy, however, stood isolated beside Steve, even as every camera focused on them as the new First Couple. She was now the First Lady, yet she felt utterly invisible.

Because in Steve's eyes, he only looked for Hazel. She remembered the disappointment on his face when he learned that the woman and the little boy were not joining him for the inauguration.

Then Caroline Barnes and her husband Julius approached her, their expressions triumphant. Caroline, with a rare, large smile, was the first to speak. “Congratulations, Peggy,” she said, her tone sweet yet cold.

She’d been Peggy’s confidante for years—long before the politics, the campaigns, and all the layers of public life that followed. They shared memories that went back to the days when they were just two young women navigating life and love, laughing over coffee and late-night conversations.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline’s rare smile as she looked at you next, her eyes flashing with satisfaction. The silent message was clear: you had fulfilled your promise, standing beside her son as the Vice President’s wife.

Bucky, noticing her cold glare toward you, leaned in and murmured, “Seems like you’ve won her over.”

Just then, Natasha, a familiar figure in her sleek Secret Service uniform, approached you both. Her tone was clipped and professional. “The President would like to see you,” she said, giving you a pointed look.

You felt Bucky tense slightly beside you. As you moved to follow Natasha, Bucky instinctively stepped forward too.

“Alone,” Natasha added, her gaze shifting to Bucky.

You exchanged a confused look with him, both of you uncertain as to why you were being called without him. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. With one last glance, you followed Natasha toward the Oval Office.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Oval Office was imposing, vast and elegant. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room, yet the weight of history and power was palpable in every corner. The walls were lined with portraits of past leaders, and every polished surface seemed to reflect Steve’s ascendant status. He stood before the massive, iconic desk, hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of unyielding authority. In this space, he looked like a man who could command nations—a conqueror with the world at his feet.

As you entered, Steve turned, offering you a polished smile that held no warmth. “I imagine you’re wondering why I wanted you here alone,” he said, voice smooth yet laced with an edge that left no room for misinterpretation.

Your thoughts were racing. Being in this room with him—Steve Rogers, the man who had climbed to the highest seat of power while leaving a wake of destruction in his path—felt surreal. You could feel the walls closing in, every inch of the Oval Office amplifying the cold reality of his ambition.

Steve raised a single finger, his tone shifting to one of playful scorn. "Not once did you congratulate me." He let the silence hang, watching you. "I know why. You blame me for your friend’s death.”

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as his accusation hit you. “So you admit it?” you shot back, unable to mask the tremor of anger in your voice.

He scoffed, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Admit it? That man almost sabotaged the campaign. He betrayed you, and when he paid the price, I’m the one you despise? Most people would thank me.”

The words stung, each syllable a twist of the knife. He continued, almost mockingly, his voice lowering as he leaned slightly forward. “Are you sure you’re up for this fight?” His gaze sharpened, piercing. “Find a better reason to hate me.”

Every word he spoke grated against you, each line deliberately crafted to sting. But you swallowed, forcing yourself to keep your expression steady, refusing to let him see the turmoil swirling inside.

He shook his head, dismissing your anger with a faint chuckle, then leaned back against the desk. “What’s your plan, then? After you bring me down—let’s say you even succeed—what’s next? Do you want Nate to grow up with a criminal for a father?”

Your mind raced, the walls of the Oval Office seeming to close in even further as his words lingered in the air. Steve's gaze was fixed on you, measuring, calculating your silence. And then, as if sensing your hesitation, he gave a triumphant smile, his voice like velvet but colder. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

He turned his back, leaving you standing there, stunned. 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Four Months Later

You sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the TV as Steve’s face filled the screen. Every channel was the same, broadcasting praise for him, with pundits and newscasters barely containing their admiration. It was unsettling. The media, usually fierce in their critiques, seemed almost reverent. You clenched your jaw, your annoyance simmering under the polished surface of his televised speeches and the careful flattery of his supporters.

From behind you, Bucky spoke up, his tone casual yet knowing. “That’s why people like him,” he said, coming closer. “He never once said he’d make this country fair or just. But he’s proving himself, little by little.”

You looked up, catching his serious expression. He continued, “Steve knew that every leader who vows fairness and justice ends up being despised as soon as they’re in power. They turn into exactly what they swore they’d destroy.”

You couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “So… can we abdicate him?”

Bucky laughed softly. “Abdicate Steve?” He smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Honey, that’s a little extreme, even for you.”

“Steve’s ascension was legitimate. He fits the role, and from what the surveys say, voter turnout was historic.” He paused, meeting your gaze with a measured seriousness. “Overthrowing him would shatter public trust—not just in him, but in the entire government.”

“Would it, though?” you asked, challenging him with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky sighed, crossing over to sit beside you. He rested his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t focus on Steve alone—consider what my position means now too. I’m still seen as ‘the new kid,’ the one who made it here because of him. Plenty of people are watching, eager to see me stumble.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the determination there, but also the caution. Bucky knew the stakes, perhaps even more than you. You could feel the weight he carried, the delicate balancing act of supporting Steve while laying the groundwork for his own ambitions.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer, his voice low and resolute. “People may believe in me, but if we move too fast, we’ll lose them. And I won’t let that happen. I know you believe I could make a good president—and I plan to get there. But…” He paused, looking into your eyes, “we have to be patient.”

You remembered the priest’s words: ‘Believe in God’s timing.’ Patience, the one thing you struggled with most in a situation like this. But you trusted Bucky. You could feel his strength, his restraint, his understanding of the game they were all playing.

Bucky’s gaze softened, but his words were firm. “To succeed, I have to publicly support Steve, at least for now. In politics, loyalty and trust are everything. We need them on our side.”

As you processed his words, a chilling realization sank in. Steve’s mocking question echoed in your mind: “Are you sure you’re a match for me?” He was right—his plans were meticulous, every move calculated for safety. And Bucky was right too. This was a game of patience, timing, and subtlety.

But the question remained: Who would be powerful enough to finally bring Steve down?

🌸🌸🌸🌸

At the White House, Peggy approached the front entrance, only to be stopped by two Secret Service agents, their expressions impassive.

“I'm here to see my husband,” she said, her voice firm, though a tremor betrayed her unease.

One of the agents cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You don’t have clearance to enter.”

She blinked, the words sinking in like a slap. “Excuse me? This is my husband's residence. I have every right to be here.”

The agent’s face remained unreadable. “I understand, but orders are orders. Mr. Rogers specified… no access.”

Humiliated, Peggy took a step back, heat rising to her cheeks as a cold realization struck her: Steve was truly keeping his word. She was being kept out of his life, and now, out of his home. She turned, bitterness flooding her chest, and started down the steps, fighting to keep her composure.

As she walked toward her car, laughter drifted from the garden. Curiosity sparked, and she moved toward a nearby window, peeking inside. There, in the garden, was Steve, laughing as he played with Nate, while Hazel sat on a bench, watching them, her smile soft and warm.

The scene twisted like a knife in Peggy’s heart. They look like a family.

She clenched her fists, forcing down a surge of fury and grief. In a voice barely more than a whisper, she asked the guard at her side, “How often do they come here?”

“Every weekend, ma’am,” the guard replied softly.

Her voice cracked as she stammered, “D-Do they… stay the night?”

The guard’s silence was enough, but he finally nodded, “Yes.”

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. She stays here? She sleeps in the White House? Peggy had never once been allowed to spend the night here, but Hazel—Hazel could? The injustice stung in a way that words couldn’t capture.

On her drive back, the scenes replayed over and over, thoughts like poison seeping into her mind. She remembered a press conference where Steve had passionately pledged to support local manufacturing, calling out Hazel as a shining example.

“Like one designer, Hazel Barnes,” he had said, the admiration in his voice unmistakable. “She’s the kind of woman who understands her privilege and uses it to lift others up. Her business is 100% local, supporting homegrown talent. If we had more people like her, this country would thrive.”

The memory burned, the admiration in his tone a raw wound. Not once had he praised her. Not when he was in the military, not when he became governor, not when he ran for Senate, and certainly not now, when he was president. Hazel was now his example, his ideal, the woman he chose to highlight.

By the time she finally reached home, it was close to midnight. She entered the house in a daze, weary from her own broken heart. Yet despite the pain, she clung to her duties, driven to exhaustion by a schedule that seemed never-ending. As she set her bag down, her assistant approached her, offering a warm, sympathetic smile.

“The twins had a good day today,” her assistant said softly. “They finished their study sessions and met with the psychiatrist. They’re making great progress."

Peggy’s tired eyes softened at the news. “Thank you. That’s… that’s wonderful.” She gave a slight nod, the smallest glimmer of peace settling in her chest.

Quietly, she made her way to the twins’ room and opened the door to find them still awake, caught in the glow of a handheld game console.

“Hi, Mom,” one of them greeted her, quickly hiding the console behind his back. Both boys looked at her with guilty smiles, expecting a reprimand.

But instead of scolding them, she stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on each of their foreheads before wrapping her arms around them in a rare, tender hug.

“Mom?” they asked, voices laced with concern as they took in her weary expression.

She managed a small, tired smile. “I’m just… tired. That’s all.”

One of the boys squeezed her hand. “Take a hot bath, Mom. We’ll make you some milk with honey.”

The gesture nearly brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, boys,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Thank you so much.”

They left, shooting her worried looks over their shoulders as they went downstairs to prepare her drink. Peggy moved into her room, slipping off her heels and sitting at her vanity, removing her makeup with slow, methodical movements, as though going through the motions might somehow soothe her mind.

A knock came at her door, and she turned to see the twins standing there with a warm mug in hand, faces bright with concern. She mustered a smile, taking the milk from them. “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “It’s delicious.”

The twins lingered, watching her carefully, but after a moment, they seemed reassured. She looked the same as always—tired, maybe a little worn—but still their mother. With quiet “goodnights,” they slipped away to their room, leaving her alone in the silence of her own thoughts.

Peggy finished the drink, placing the empty mug down with trembling hands. She reached into her desk drawer, fingers brushing over an object she hadn’t touched in months. She pulled it out slowly, staring down at it for a long, heavy moment before standing and making her way to the bathroom.

She undressed and stepped into the hot bath, letting the warmth soak her weary body. But as the heat wrapped around her, it couldn’t reach the coldness embedded in her heart. She leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind swirling with everything she had once hoped for Steve, all the faith she'd placed in him.

He was supposed to be different. She’d thought that becoming president would have brought out wisdom and fairness in him, but instead, he clung to his principles, more ruthless than ever. Memories of the admiration in his voice when he praised Hazel flooded her thoughts, a contrast so sharp it was almost cruel. Steve had never looked at her that way, never spoken her name with that warmth, that pride.

For a moment, her mind drifted to Bucky and you, the loyalty he had shown you, unwavering, year after year. In the past five years, through everything, he had remained faithful, and you had accepted him fully, supporting him in ways Peggy could hardly fathom. She had never known that kind of love with Steve.

She looked down at her wrist, fingers tightening around the object from her desk. Her phone lay beside her, and she typed a short message before putting it aside. She traced the edge of the object against her wrist, whispering, “I’ll set you free.” Her voice was barely audible, fragile against the silence.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

At 2 a.m., Steve was pulled from sleep by the sound of his bedroom door opening. He sat up, irritation flashing in his eyes, ready to reprimand whoever had dared disturb him. But then he saw Natasha standing there, her face pale, eyes wide with urgency.

“Mr. President… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice tight, “but this is very urgent.”

A chill crept through him as her words seemed to hang in the air. He got out of bed and followed her, feeling as though he was moving through a thick fog.

Moments later, Steve found himself staring down at Peggy in the bathtub, her body pale and lifeless, the water around her a deep, dark red. His knees buckled, and he collapsed beside her, reaching for her, his arms wrapping around her as if he could somehow bring her back.

“Peggy…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He tightened his hold on her, feeling the unbearable weight of the silence that filled the room.

The twins, William and Charles, stood just outside, tears streaming down their faces, unable to fully grasp the scene before them. They looked at their mother, broken and cold, the life drained from her, and their father, on his knees, clutching her like a lifeline.

Natasha cleared her throat, eyes averted as she whispered, “Mr. President… we should make an announcement.”

Steve’s head snapped up, his eyes sharp and commanding. “Stop.” The firmness in his voice was absolute, leaving no room for argument.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Tell the public that the First Lady has collapsed from exhaustion,” Steve said coldly. “She was tireless, supporting me without a moment’s rest. Now… she’s taking time to recover.”

The twins’ eyes widened, shock and betrayal mingling with their grief.

“Dad?!” William’s voice cracked, staring at his father in disbelief.

“It would be disastrous for this country to know that the First Lady took her own life,” Steve continued, his tone as unyielding as steel. “It would tarnish her memory. She’d be seen as unstable, weak. This is for her legacy, for the image she worked so hard to uphold.”

The twins shook their heads, voices choked with pain. “No. Mother isn’t like that. She’s not some unstable woman.”

Steve knelt beside them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, his voice soft but unyielding. “Boys, trust me. This is for the best. We want people to remember your mother’s dedication, her strength. Not… this.”

He pulled them into an embrace, eyes glistening as he held them close, as if his grip alone could silence their pain. Over their shoulders, his gaze drifted back to Peggy’s lifeless form, his expression unreadable. For a split second, a small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he thought, Her sacrifice won’t be forgotten.

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