#he gets all excited when reader touches him

[classyrbf]

CLASSMATE GOJO PT 4! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...continuation of the classmate!gojo series which you can find here

INFO...classmate!gojo x fem!reader, choking, spit kink, sex in a (semi) public setting, almost getting caught, groping, name calling, creampie, dumbfication, riding, video recording, oral (m!receiving), fingering, rough sex, squirting, praise, degradation, just pure filth, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

The tension between you and Gojo have been extremely high since that moment in the hallway. Every time you think about it, your head starts pounding in your chest and you can’t help but get wet. He was so demanding and cocky, obsessed with you the way you were with him. Every time you saw him in class and on campus, your eyes always locked and no words were spoken, but it was still like you can read every single one of his thoughts.

You’ve both held off on messaging each other, anticipating the day when he would finally break and just fuck you already. You’ve both been waiting long enough, especially you. For months you’ve been obsessed with him, touching yourself to him, trying to convince yourself that your pretty pink dildo was better than the real thing. But it’s been days and days since you’ve spoken a word, it was getting harder not to just pull him into an empty lecture room and fuck him right there.

You know good and well he’s been teasing you too. Wearing those compression shirts that show off his muscles, or posting shirtless pics of him in the gym on his social media, sweat dripping down the valley of his abs, not to mention the video of him doing push ups with the sound on, the sounds every so slightly reminding you of what he sounds like when he’s jerking off to you, trying his hardest not to cum too quickly. He knows what he’s doing to you, but you can play that game right back.

You pull up to class wearing the shortest skirt possible, showing off your legs, the fabric barely covering your ass. Your shirts are tight and slightly see through, allowing damn near everyone to see what you’re wearing underneath. The most shocking part is the fact you haven’t been dress coded, but after all it is a university, they couldn’t care less. Besides the fact, gojo always steals glances at you, his eye twitching when he sees how much skin you’re showing because if they’re anything like him, they’re thinking about hiking up that sorry excuse of a skirt and fucking you to tears.

Both of you knew just how to drive each other right to brink before breaking and that’s exactly what happened. Gojo snapped, something inside of him switched. He’s rewarded himself for having such restraint, but with each passing moment he can’t the tent that forms in his pants when he thinks about you. It’s perverted, it’s sickening, it’s exciting. That was all Gojo was when it came to you, that’s all he ever felt. And you were just like him if not worse. Messaging him from a secret account because you had such a huge crush, unable to hold back your perverted thoughts and tendencies, sending him nudes just to feel closer to him without actually confessing your true feelings. It makes him smile.

One look at you and no one would expect a girl like you to do such nasty things. It was like something out of a porno, truly. The quiet and shy girl is actually a huge slut! Gojo would bet some good money if he posted that to any sight there’d be flocks of people wanting to watch. God, has gojo been blessed? He asks himself that every time he looks at you, just like he’s doing now. Watching you stand in the empty lecture room after school. You have no idea he’s here, just a few feet behind you.

He slowly opens the door, stepping inside to see you’re still busy doing whatever on your phone. You’re too distracted to hear his footsteps behind you, getting so close he could breathe right on your neck. “Hey, pretty girl,” he speaks. You jump, nearly dropping your phone when you see the man with snow white hair standing before you. “What’re you up to, hm?” He snatches your phone without second thought, an evil little smile on his face when he looks at it.

“Gojo, give it back!” You go to snatch it, but his lanky arms and quick movements just put it out of your reach. “Give it!”

“Is this a recent picture you took? Oh, wow look at this one!” He chuckles, swiping through your photos. He actively scrolling through your nudes, and even though you’ve sent him plenty, it’s different when he’s looking at them while standing inches away. Embarrassing. “And why haven’t you been sending these to me? I could’ve used these, you know?” He hands you your phone back, cornering you between the desk.

“Well, you said you were gonna make me wait,” you trail off, shoving your phone in your bag.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I did say that, didn’t I? Sorry to keep you waiting, baby. But, if you really wanted it,” he leaned closer to your ear, “you could’ve just asked nicely,” he whispered. You breath hitched, a shiver sent down your spine, goosebumps littering your skin. “So, are you gonna ask nicely?” His fingertips trailed over the bare skin of your thighs, just shy of going under your skirt.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes searching his. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact your crush was asking you to ask him to fuck you. Never in a million years did you think you’d end up in this situation, yet here you are with your body pressed against his. You’re certain he could feel your heart beating against your chest right now.

“Come on, don’t make me beg.” He had a small pout on his face, a playful look in his eye. He enjoyed toying with you and you hated the fact that you enjoyed it. Your eyes kept flickering down to his lips, fighting the urge to break and kiss him right now. His fingers only went higher under your skirt, your body frozen in place when you felt him play with the lining of your panties, tugging at the fabric. You slightly jumped at the elastic snapping against your skin.

Underneath this facade, you were completely desperate, you’ve been desperate from the start, but you couldn’t let him have his way. It’s possible he can see right through you, reading every single one of your nasty thoughts, yet you were still open to taking your chances. You cleared your throat, sucking in a deep breath. “I really have to go, yeah? Studying and stuff.” You gripped your bag tighter, finding confidence to break away from his hold. Your shoulder brushed against his. Gojo cocked his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips because who did you think you were fooling? With a swift movement, he pulled you back, your bag dropping to the floor when you felt his hand wrap around your throat and his warm lips on yours.

It took you about a millisecond to fold for him, immediately returning the kiss. He pushed you against the table, deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The makeout was heated and messy, almost like he was impatient, hungry for you. You couldn’t even get a chance to breathe, having to pull away and catch your breath. He stared down at you, breathing heavily. Neither you spoke a word but somehow it felt like you were communicating. Just looking into his eyes, you could read him like an open book. He wasn’t going to wait for you to ask him, no, no, he was planning on fucking you either way, right here right now.

“You’ve been playing with my head for weeks, months even.” He gripped your throat tighter, his other hand ghosting up your thigh and to your panties. His fingers crossed over the cotton underwear, playing with your slit over the fabric. “You wanna get fucked so bad. Putting on this shy, innocent girl persona. Well good job cause you had me fucking fooled.” He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers dipping between your folds. “Oh,” he laughs, “you’re already wet. Thought you were just gonna leave here, go home and fuck yourself to pictures of me? Playing all the videos I sent you? All those voice notes?” He slowly plunged his fingers inside, a low hum emitting from his throat.

Your breath hitched, spreading your legs wider for him without even thinking. Your body was consumed with heat, your pussy throbbing and your mind filled with nothing but the filthiest thoughts that you’ve imagined of him. “I know you do the same too,” you spoke through your whimpers. “You’re just like me.” You smiled, a sick perverted smile. His fingers curled inside of you, slowly pumping them in out and out of your sopping cunt. Gojo stayed silent, narrowing his eyes at you. He hated how right you were, but he loved it as well. “You’re a pervert, Gojo Satoru,” you giggled. He was taken by surprise, feeling your hand rub against his raging bulge while you stared at him. “You wanna fuck me just as much as I wanna fuck you.” You bit down on your bottom lip.

“God, you’re fucking nasty.” With those words, his kisses your lips again, his fingers now moving at a faster pace than before. You moan into the kiss, feeling how his long and slender finger work against your walls, pressing against your g-spot skillfully. Your slick coated his fingers, your pussy squelching, growing wetter and wetter with each passing second. “You know…anyone could walk in right now and see you getting finger fucked. I bet that excites you even more, doesn’t it?” He whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your skin, your pussy clenching on his fingers.

“Y-your fingers feel so good—nnggh! Yes! Right there!” You squeal, brows furrowing in pleasure when he repeatedly works that one sweet spot. “Oh, fuck.” Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping. Your skin tingles, and you feel like you’re high off pleasure just from this simple moment. You can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like when you finally fuck him. Just thinking about makes you want to cum on the spot.

“You got me so fucking hard,” he grunts. “Fuck!” Gojo quickly removed his fingers from your pussy. He literally couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He felt like an wild animal, a primal urge to just pin you down and fuck you stupid. All this pent up tension, all those nights he wished he was fucking you instead of his hand, he finally gets his wish. He was as patient as he could be. “Come on, into the office. I don’t need anyone interrupting.” He practically dragged you into the professors office located on side part of the classroom. Thankfully it was unlocked or else he would have to just take you right there in the lecture room.

He slammed the door shut, locking it within seconds. “Get these fucking clothes off.” He helped you lift your shirt off, tugging your skirt and panties down. While he undressed, you hurriedly took your shoes off, tossing them with the rest of your clothes before helping him as well. Your hands found his belt buckle, fumbling with it before you slipped it off and unbuckled his pants. His cock sprung up as you slowly removed his boxers. It was prettier in person. You were already mesmerized. Thick and long with a pretty pink tip that was dripping precum. Not to mention his heavy balls waiting to be drained. “Come here, baby, let me see you. Get up here.” Gojo helped you up from your knees, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Look at these pretty tits, fuck yes.” His hand groped your tits, squeezing and grabbing at them.

He pressed wet kisses to your throat, his hand roaming all over your body as his kisses moved further and further down. His tongue licked at your skin, stopping when he got to your tits. “Don’t tease, Satoru!” You whined, pushing his head further down, earning a chuckle from him. He mumbled a quick apology before taking your perky nipple in his warm mouth, the feeling of his tongue making you sigh in satisfaction.

His blue eyes kept flickering up to look at you, enjoying the way you whimpered and looked so desperate. Could you blame him for staring? His free hand traveled down to your cunt, feeling how you were now almost dripping, your poor cunt was begging to be stretched me filled. His fingers plunged in, a high pitched moan echoed through the office. His fingers went deep, your jaw falling slack at how he dragged them along your walls, pumping them in and out of you. Your body shudders in his touch, pleasure consuming your mind and body.

Gojo let go of your nipple with a ‘pop’, his lips coated in a thin sheen of saliva, a devilish smile on his face. “Come over here.” He walked you over to the small couch, sitting down on it while you stood in front of him. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He pulled you down for a kiss, messy and heated. His hand came down harsh on your ass, a small laugh erupting from both of you between kisses. Gojo was surprised when you pulled away from him, kissing down his jaw and neck, taking your time with him. Your soft hands, and your manicured nails lightly scratched at his skin, trailed down his muscular abdomen. “Now you’re teasing me, huh?” His head fell back and he could his dick jump each time you got closer.

“Shush.” You hummed, batting your eyelashes at him while you copies his movements and kisses down his chest, your tongue licking a stripe between his abs. His breath hitched, watching you with low eyes, imagining how good your throat would feel around his cock. His chuckled when your hands caressed his thighs, knowing you were giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was working pretty fucking well too because his dick was throbbing so hard it was hurting. Here you were on your knees in front of him, smiling because you’ve imagined and practiced this moment so many times before. His dick sat pretty, pre cum running down his shaft. You wrapped your hand around it, pressing a little kiss to his tip.

“Fuck. You are a tease.” His hips squirmed in the seat below him, his hand gripping the leather. His other hand rested on the back of your head, sticking your tongue out and slapping it on there, earning a low growl from him. “Oh, baby—mmm.” His eyes fluttered shut but soon popped back open when you took him in your mouth, going deeper than he expected. “Ah! Ah! Your mouth feels so good. Look at me while you suck it.” You bobbed your head up and down, while your hand simultaneously jerked his cock, your wrist moving in circular motions. “Yeah, yeah, just like that—shitttt!” He tossed his head back on the couch, his chest moving up and down rapidly with each breath he took.

You lifted your head to take a breath, spitting on his cock, using it to jerk him off. Your head moved lower, taking his balls in your mouth, sucking and licking on them. His hips stuttered at the feeling. He won’t lie, he’s never had his balls sucked before but goddamn was this a good first time to do it. Watching you, he could tell you were enjoying this. You’ve wanted this longer than he has and just that simple thing turns him on. You’re fucking crazy, but he doesn’t care. He needs it. He needs you.

You moved back to his cock again, taking him further down your throat until you gagged. Tears pricked your eyes as you came up for a breath only to go back down and test your limits. You nearly took him all the way, nose almost pressed against his pelvis before having to come back up again. You suck in a breath, saliva tricking down the corners of your mouth. Gojo honestly had no words, he just stared at you in awe. You’re messy, nasty, and everything else he desires. Both of your hands wrapped around his cock now, pumping him, wanting to milk him or every lost drop and see what his pretty face looks like when he cums. “Toru, cum for me, please. I want it,” you begged, kissing his throbbing tip again.

The nickname alone was about to make him bust all over you. “Goddamn, baby. You’re a little fucking slut aren’t you? You want me to cum? Fucking work for it,” he panted, pushing your head back down on his cock. Your throat squeezed around him, his hips bucking up in your mouth. You sucked his dick like your life depended on it and Gojo swore he could feel his soul leaving his body. Your mouth, your hands, your spit, your eyes, your sheer determination, he was so close. “Nnngh, you’re gonna make me cum. Keep going, yes, your throat feels so good,” he moaned, pushing your head down further. “Work for it, baby, fucking work—ah! Fuck! I’m cumming! Ohhh.” You watched his eyes roll back, his hips stuttering and his abs flexing before you felt his hot sticky cum hit the back of your throat.

You swallowed every drop with a smile on your face, lifting your head. His cock was glistening in your spit and you were sure the makeup your had on previously was running down your face, but it was all worth it to see him cum like that. Gojo pulled you into his lap, pulling you in for a kiss, a lazy smile on his face and a fucked out look in his eyes. “You did such a good job, baby,” He said in between kisses. “But don’t think I’m done with you.” He pushed you down on the couch, a small yelp followed by an excited giggle leaving your lips. He got up from the couch, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Since you like to record yourself so much,” he looked towards you, “why not record something for both me and you to look back on?” He set the phone up on the desk. “Maybe even upload it, yeah? Shy girl is actually a secret slut.” He eyes you down like prey, his hand coming to wrap around your throat.

“Please, I need it. I need you to fuck me.” You blink up at him, spreading your legs for him. Gojo takes his cock, slapping it against your wet and swollen pussy, laughing at how much you react. You must really be needy for it right now. His heavy cock slaps against your neglected clit, running his tip up and down your slit, coating his cock with your slick. “Just put it in! Please! Make me cum, fuck me stupid. I need you.” You can’t take it anymore, your head is spinning and you feel dizzy. And just then, his cock pushes past your folds, and he smiles at the way your eyes light up, like switch had been flipped. “Yessss,” you squeal, eyes squeezing shut when he pushes his cock in further, the stretch felt so good.

Gojo pulled his hips back, allowing you to feel every inch of him sliding out before sliding back in just as slow, your breaths quickening. Your walls hugged him tightly, sucking him back in before he slowly pulled out again. You pouted, hands clinging to his biceps, nails digging in his skin because you couldn’t believe that this slow pace felt so good already. His hand gripped tighter on your throat, his eyes never leaving yours. “Open your mouth,” he whispered under his breath. You did so without question, sticking your tongue out before gojo let his spit drip into your mouth. “Good girl. Good fucking girl—nnngh!” He thrusted into you roughly, your body jolting upward. A small cry fell from your lips, his throbbing dick sitting inside you.

Without warning, Gojo began moving at an alarming pace, his hips snapping into yours, your nails digging into his skin harder, leaving marks. “Oh fuck!” You screamed. “Fuck! Fuck!” You were completely taken aback, his cock pumping in and out of you, fucking you like a wild animal. You cling onto him, trying to take the force of his thrusts without crying out.

“So damn wet,” he grunts, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. He relishes in your warmth and tightness, like it was a trance, pulling him in and never letting go. His hips tilted up just enough to graze against your g-spot, your eyes rolling back as you sat there and took every ruthless inch of his cock. Unintelligible mumbles and whimpers filled his ears, his heavy body pressing against yours in a way that made you feel so full of him. Your eyes were glazed over, completely drunk on his cock without a care in the world.

You’ve never been fucked like this, not even by yourself. The greediness in his thrusts, the filthiness of his words, the feeling of his cock, it was more than you imagined. That pink dildo of yours didn’t compare to this. Not even close. “Toru…I’m so closeeee,” you sobbed, not because you weren’t enjoying but because you were enjoying it too much. How was he already going to make you cum this quick? It messed with your head, it messed with your body. The familiar pressure began building, your lewd moans echoing in the small office. “I’m…I’m cummingggg—fuck! Oh my god!” You cried out, body shivering as your pussy gushed. You juices soaking your thighs and Gojo, an amused look on his face seeing your entire body lose control. He pulled out of you, more squirt dribbling from your drooling cunt.

“That’s it, make that pussy all messy for me. Give me every last drop.” He slapped his cock over your soaked lips, teasing your poor clit. It’s felt like your body was entirely sensitive, every little touch from him was enough to drive you crazy. “Atta fucking girl.” He reached down, rubbing your clit back and forth. With jolting hips, you tried to pull away from him, but he held you down in place. “I can tell you’re already addicted to my cock. You’re drooling for it,” he hummed, lolling his tongue out and licking the drool from the corner of your lips before kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you up onto his lap, lips still entwined. His hand gripped the plump flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly and spreading it, the tip of his cock poking at your entrance. You pulled away from him, looking over your shoulder at the camera to see it was still recording. You had completely forgotten about it, lost in your sex hazed mind. A harsh slap on your ass snapped you out of your thoughts, gojo biting down on his plump limp while his eyes scanned your body. You couldn’t take his teasing anymore, leaving you no other choice but to ride his cock. Slowly sinking down on it, swallowing up every inch, you watch as his eyes roll back, his grip on your ass tightening.

A small giggle lets out as you watch him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders while you slowly bounce up and down on it. “Your cock feels so good,” you moan, letting your ass slam all the way down before going back up. “I fucking love it.” Your hips move in a circular motions, Gojo letting out a pleasured sigh, lifting his head and looking down at where you two meet. He watches his cock disappear and reappear like it was some sort of magic trick. “You like how I ride you, Toru?” You smile down at him, caressing his face in your hand.

“Fuck yes, I do.” A broken moan leaves his throat, his brows knitting together when he feels your pussy juices leaking down his shaft and to his balls. You were the best things he’s ever fucking felt. He sucked in a breath of air, shocked when you began moving faster, riding his cock harder, your aggression showing. He smacked your ass again, helping your rock your hips back and forth the way he liked it. “Ride it, baby. It’s yours. It’s fucking yours. Use me—ahh, yes just like that!” His mouth fell open, breathy whimpers were all that were heard.

Plap, plap, plap.

That sound was like heaven to Gojo. He couldn’t help but put on a lazy smile, focusing on how concentrated you were, how good you looked with sweat dripping between the valley of your tits while they were bouncing. “Mmmmph, fuck! Ohhh, I’m gonna cum again!” You cry out, bouncing harder and harder, so greedy to feel that immense amount of pleasure. It was like a drug. “Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out, clinging onto him once more, lifting your body as it shook, squirting all over his cock again, soaking the poor couch beneath you. “Oh my god!” You sob, trembling in his arms.

“Good fucking job, baby. Mmm, take your time.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, holding you in his arms until you stop shaking. Your mind was completely blank, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock again. “Aye, aye, slow down—ah! Shit!” You’re back to riding him like nothing ever happened, slamming your hips down as you chase another orgasm. “Goddamn, you’re a little slut for this dick, huh?” He chuckles, swatting your ass again. Without hesitation, you nod your head. “Squirt all over this dick again and show me just how much you want it.”

Both of you are moaning like bitches in heat, fucking each other like no tomorrow. Neither of you are worried about anything else right now. It’s just you and him in your own little world. “Shh, shh.” Out of nowhere Gojo quickly covers your mouth and stalls your movements. A confused look adorns your face, until you hear footsteps outside in the lecture room. Oh shit. Both of you had a wide eyed, panicked look on your face. Were you that in your head that you didn’t hear the person come in? “Keep going, just go slow, baby. Be quiet.” He silently laughs, pecking your lips.

It was crazy, but you did it anyway. With hips moving on their own, you rode him as slowly as you could, both of you watching the door to the office to make sure no tried to come in. The rustling of papers could be heard outside, an annoyed groan coming from whoever was out there. “Don’t worry, just keep going,” he whispered, running his hands down your waist, allowing to move a tiny bit faster. His tip rubbed up against your g-spot, a tiny moan escaping your lips. “Shhh, shhh, come here.” He slipped his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. “There you go. I know it feels good, baby, but we can’t get caught.”

The noises outside grew quieter until the footsteps grew closer to the office door. You and Gojo completely stopped, hearts beating rapidly against your chest. It felt like seconds turned into minutes before the footsteps began moving away, growing quieter and quieter until the door to the lecture room creaked open and then shut. “Holy shit!” You laughed. “Fuck, we almost got caught.”

“That was terrifying,” he laughed along with you. “I’m surprised they couldn’t smell the sex,” he joked. But you were also surprised too, cause you two have been going at so rough, you were sure the smell travelled beyond the small office. He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips moving against yours when he slipped his tongue into your mouth once more. His cock throbbed inside you, a reminder of what was happening before you two were rudely interrupted. His hips buck into you, catching you off guard. He props you up slightly, angling his cock just right to hit all your sweet spots.

“Ughh, yesss! It’s feels so fucking good!” You groan, baring your teeth, jaw clenching. His cock slips in and out, his balls slapping against your ass, and your pussy squelching along with it. It was evident he was close, his thrusts more sloppy and unplanned, grunting and moaning in your ear. “Shit! Shit! Yes! You’re gonna make me squirttt—ahhh!” You scream, your body convulsing your pussy clenching around his cock while your cover both of your in your juices for a third time. But Gojo doesn’t stop, he holds you down and forces you to take it this time, no matter how much you scream and cry. “It’s too much! Oh my god! It’s still going!” You pant, tears pricking your eyes. It feels so good but hurts at the same time. Your pussy was practically like a water fountain. How was he able to make you squirt so much?

“Take it! Fucking take it! I don’t care if you keep squirting on my cock,” he grunts, pushing every inch of his dick deep into you, his hips snapping at an unbelievable pace. “Oh, oh, I’m gonna cum! Get up!” He moans, still fucking into you to keep the tempo going.

“Cum inside me. Please, it’s what I’ve always wanted.” Just those words alone sent him over the edge, his hips press flush against yours, his head thrown back as throat groans fill your ears. His grip is bruising, his cock throbbing before you feel him spill his cum inside you, hot spurts coating your walls. He completely loses himself, hips stuttering, eyes in the back of his head. A small gasp emits from you, your first time feeling what’s like to be creampied, especially by Gojo Satoru. You lean down, pressing light kisses to his throat, smiling while doing so.

“Ah! Oh my god! I’m fucking lightheaded.” He gulps, lifting his head, trying to catch his breath. He locks onto you, staring at you and taking in every ounce of your beauty. With the smell of sex in the air, and your sweaty bodies pressed into one another, Gojo knows it can’t get any better than this. “Just stay there for a minute. I swear if you move, I might cum again,” he chuckles, tossing his arm over his head, still attempting to ground himself.

You peck his lips, lying on his chest. “Well, we need to leave soon before we actually get caught,” you say, trailing your fingertips over his skin. You look over your shoulder and once again forgot about his phone recording. “Oh, yeah,” you laugh.

“What?” He opens his eyes, looking in the direction you were. “Oh,” he laughs. “Shit, I forgot I did that.” He flashes a smile. “Let me get up.” He helps you off of him, sitting you down on the couch so his cum wouldn’t drip out of you. He reaches for his phone and ends the recording before walking over and grabbing both yours and his clothes off of the floor. “Damn, baby, you made a mess.” He looks at the floor below the couch, see a puddle of your juices.

“Sorry! There’s gotta be something in here to clean it, right?” You laugh, hoping that maybe the professor would have some paper towels or something in his office. He steps over to you, slipping your panties over your ankles first before helping you to your feet. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek.

He slips on his clothes while you slip on the rest of yours. “I don’t think he has anything in here to clean this up,” he says, looking through the drawers and cabinets. “Fuck it. Janitor will get it.” He shrugs.

“Toru! We can’t just leave that there!” You whine, pulling at his hand.

“It’s not like they’ll know who did. Look, don’t worry about it, okay?” He kisses you, pulling you close to him. “I swear,” he reassures. “Let’s just go back to my place and get cleaned up cause we definitely smell like sweat and sex.”

Both of you walk out of the office, trying to act as normal as possible. The university was still quiet, a straight getaway from this point, both of you running hand in hand out of the lecture room, giggling like two little kids. “I can’t believe we actually did that,” you say, still shocked. “But it was so exciting. Made the sex better.”

“I agree. Wondered what would’ve happened if we did get caught,” he pondered, glancing at you.

“Let’s not go that far.” You playfully push him.

“Just jokes, baby.” He kisses the top of your hand.

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[yelenasbraid]

JOE BURROW — the met

summary — he didn’t think she got invited. she tricked him and shows up anyway.

warnings — fem!olympian!reader, fluff, language, smut, barely proofread

note — not entirely happy with this but if i keep looking at it i’m gonna scrap it. so pls be nice :)

tags — @willowsnook @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @hannahjessica113 @hotburreaux @iosivb9 @softburrow @irishmanwhore @kazsbrckkers @sportyphile @ebsmind @joecoolburrow @wickedfun9 (comment/send an ask to be added!)

“WHAT?” HE WAS FURIOUS. His hands gripped the invitation, but he stared at her empty hands. His eyes were blown with disbelief, his heart pumping wildly in his chest; she didn’t get invited. His girlfriend, a gold medalist in the Olympics, didn’t get invited.

“Joe, it’s not the end of the world,” she tried to assure him, “it’s high fashion. It’s not really my thing,”

“Babe, I wanted you there with me. I don’t want to walk that carpet by myself,” he answered her, raking his free hand through his curls. The Met Gala, a prestigious gathering of the rich to show off different themes each year. People ate it up, and she always looked forward to seeing what her favorite celebrities wore.

But Joe was invited this time. The same Joe who didn’t do social gatherings.

“I saw Justin was going to be there,” she tried again, “and Jalen. You know them, especially JJ,”

“They’re not you, Y/N. I wanted you there,” he argued. Every social event he brought her. She grounded him and kept him sane. When the flashes of the cameras blinded him, when the shouts of reporters deafened him, all he wanted was her. He wanted her soft touch and her graceful reminders. He didn’t know if he could do it alone.

“I know, baby,” she sighed, cupping his face in her hands. She had her own little secret, one she cradled in her chest. She’d been invited, and she was definitely going, but she wanted to surprise Joe. This was the Met, his first ever, and she wanted it to be extra memorable.

“You’ll be watching, right?”

“Of course,” she chuckled, flicking her eyes over his face. His blue eyes were deep with his affection, his expression tranquil under the softness of her touch. She soothed his nerves, the anxiety of the attention he’d receive.

In that moment, she wanted to spill her guts. To let him in on the little secret she had. She could see the lines of his face, feel the indents of his anxiety on his skin. He was nervous, but at the same time, she knew he was excited.

“Good,” he sighed, “if my best girl can’t be there, I want her watching,”

“Why? You gonna blow me away?” she teased, earning a smirk from Joe.

“I think you’ll blow me away,” he winked, and she smacked his arm. He laughed, the sweetness of his laughter filling the room around them. He always found a way to insert a flirty innuendo into their conversations.

“Pervert,” she smirked, turning to walk from him. He stepped after her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back to him. He pressed his chest to her back, laughing as she giggled. His arms were strong, holding her in place as he rocked them.

“Only for you,” he hummed into her neck. Joe placed soft, gentle kisses to her skin, the softness of his touch making her shiver. She hummed, letting his hands roam up her chest, fondling with her breasts.

“Clearly,” she chuckled. His hand gently squeezed her breast, walking her back towards their bedroom. His curls tickled her skin, soft chuckles leaving her lips as he kept his hold on her.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” Joe murmured into her neck. His hand rested on her breast, his kisses persisting on her neck. Being invited to the Met was an honor, one that Joe was excited to be given. But being without his girl? It scared him even more.

He relied on her. She kept him grounded through the small things, like tracing his knuckles with her thumb or holding onto his bicep. The small, subtle gestures that helped him remain planted. The football field was one thing, the red carpet was another.

“I’ll be right there,” she hummed as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. He leaned his bodyweight against her, sighing deeply into her skin. She rested her arms on his, softly closing her eyes.

She would be right there. He just didn’t know it yet.

— The Met —

Cameras. Shouting. Flashes of light. It was overstimulating. Joe’s been in front of fans before, he’s done interviews, but this seemed like a whole different level. He held his confidence, even if he felt empty handed.

She wasn’t by his side.

“Joe! Take the glasses off!”

“Joe! Adjust your collar!”

“Joe! Over here!”

He felt his heart racing in his chest. He flexed his hand at his side, imagining her hand in his. He really needed her there.

Joe moved through the carpet, adjusting the sleeves of his suit coat. He felt every eye on him, the weight of their expectations and their assumptions. Joe swallowed, his eyes flicking across the row of reporters as he chose which ones to talk to.

He silently hoped one of them was her. But it never was.

“Joe Burrow,” Joe turned to see Justin, and for a moment his world brightened. Joe dapped him up, going in for a warm and comforting embrace with his friend.

“No Y/N?”

“Nah, she didn’t get invited,” Joe answered, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

“What?” JJ was shocked, “a gold medalist, world record holder, and the girlfriend of Joe Burrow didn’t get invited,”

“I dunno, man,” Joe shrugged, raking a hand through his hair, “these kinda things are picky,”

“Yeah, but still,” JJ huffed, leading them both further down the carpet, “she’s a badass. I’d hope to see her here,”

“What, so you can ogle at her?” Joe teased, even if there was a flare of possessiveness.

“No, so I can watch you go all doe-eyed on her,” JJ teased back. The two friends laughed, and Joe’s anxiety for a moment subsided. He still wished she was there, holding his shaking hand, but she was watching. He knew that.

Just as he breached the stairs, the buzz of the reporters kicked up again. He didn’t turn until he heard her name. He whipped his head around, his eyes falling on the woman who stepped onto the carpet. His jaw slacked, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He felt his cheeks warm, warmth pooling into his belly.

She was here and she looked stunning.

“Well well well,” Justin chuckled, clapping Joe on the shoulder, “looks like someone did get invited,”

Joe was speechless. He let his eyes take her in, the tailoring of her dress hugged her body perfectly, the unique design of her outfit accentuated her flare and her strength. She commanded the room, her presence shutting out those who ever doubted her.

She was a world record setter. An Olympian. She was to be respected.

She tried not to adjust her dress for the upteenth time. She hoped that her breasts wouldn’t pop out of the dress or her ankles would give out in her heels. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of millions.

She answered questions, polite smiles and attitudes thrown towards any reporters that ate it up. She had one goal; to see Joe.

She carefully stepped her way up the carpet, trying not to trip over the train of her dress. She wasn’t used to wearing such extravagance, but it was the Met Gala. It was expected.

Her eyes flicked up to meet Joe’s. His slack jaw and his fidgety hands made her heart swell. He looked good too, though she had some criticism. She wanted to see some more muscle out of that suit.

“Careful, Burrow,” she hummed as she walked up to him, “gonna catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that,”

He was absolutely mesmerized. She didn’t wear dresses like this. Seeing her there, the scent of her perfume wafting over his senses, it turned him into putty. He swallowed, offering her his arm.

“You’re gorgeous,” Joe hummed as she slipped her arm through his. Her hand curled to rest on his bicep, giving him that reassuring squeeze that he’d wanted from her, that he’d needed.

“Thank you,” she smiled, “you don’t look too bad yourself,”

“The suit could be fitted better,” he hummed, tugging at the edge with his free hand, “but I like the color. It’s comfortable too,”

“It is,” she agreed. They walked into the gala, the hum of people swarming them. She stuck to Joe as people came and spoke to them, as they met new people and saw old friends. Joe couldn’t stop staring at her. She had to have on body glitter on with how she sparkled under the dim lighting. Her presence was all-consuming, bringing him to his knees.

Fuck.

He swallowed, controlling his thoughts as they rambled around in his mind. His hand flexed, his heart racing. Her on the bathroom counter. Moans filling his ears. Nails scratching down his back.

“I’m starving,” her words broke his concentration. He looked down at her, watching as she flicked her eyes over the gala for food. She found one of the few snack tables, pulling Joe along.

“I think it’s just rich people food,” Joe hummed as he walked with her. She shot him a look, her eyes glistening in the dim light. Those damn eyes.

“Baby,” she chuckled, “we’re part of those rich people ya know,”

“True,” he chuckled, “doesn’t mean I like it though,”

She laughed, clicking her tongue as she looked over the foods. She found a piece of baklava, something that her family used to make, and she plucked it from the plate.

“Ever had this before?” she asked, biting into the sweet, flaky treat. She extended the other half of the treat to Joe.

“No, what is it?” he asked, taking the treat from her hands. He watched as her eyes sparkled, as she raised her thumb to her lips to suck off the sugar coating.

Fucking hell.

“Baklava. I think this is made with walnuts, though. My personal fav,” she shrugged. She wasn’t oblivious to how Joe looked at her, how his eyes widened and his pupils dilated. He was turned on, and she fought the urge to look and see just how turned on he was.

Joe took a bite, the sweet and sugary treat melting in his mouth. It was overly sweet, nearly making his eyes water. He’s never had it before, and he wasn’t sure he’d have it again.

“It’s not that bad,” she joked, giggling at him.

“It’s straight sugar, babe,” he coughed rather dramatically, “I can taste each individual particle of sugar,”

She just shook her head, rolling her eyes at him. She was glad she came; she watched him relax under her gaze and her touch was refreshing. She could tell he needed it, that he needed her.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. She let her eyes drag down his body, taking him in. His hair was in perfect, thick curls, his eyes sparkled in the dim light, matching the color of his suit. The necklace that he wore, the gold against the tan of his skin, it made her heart skip a beat.

“Now this,” she purred, looping a finger around his necklace, “this is a nice little accessory,”

Joe’s breath hitched. Her finger brushed against the triangle of exposed skin on his chest, twirling around the gold piece around his neck. He felt heat swell in his belly, his thighs aching with tension.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes fluttering, “you like it?”

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with clouds of desire. Her lips tugged into a smirk, her expression seductive.

“Oh do I,” she purred, running her hand down his chest.

“Babe,” He warned, his voice low and raspy with his growing desire. His pants grew tighter, the erection in his boxers straining against his outfit.

“Yeah?”

“Keep doing that and we’re gonna have to find a bathroom,” Joe leaned closer, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The ache down in his cock was nearly unbearable, especially as the images continued to flood his brain.

Her taste on his tongue. Her pussy wrapped around his cock. Her sweet, sweet moans.

He didn’t give her a chance to decide. His hand grabbed hers and he led her through the crowd. His heart pumped, his blood running hot as he walked with her. His mind was hazy, filled with only one thing.

Her touch. Her taste. Her smell. Her.

He pushed opened the bathroom door, the elegance of the room taking them in. Granite countertops illuminated by warm lights, gold inlaid doors and handles. It was beautiful.

He locked the door, his hands flipping to grip her hips. He pushed her against the counter, his lips hungrily slotting against hers.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he growled against her lips. Hunger intertwined them, passion glued them together. It was an ancient language, one that needed to be translated and understood. One they were fluent in.

“I wanted this,” she panted as Joe interrupted her with kisses to her lips. Her fingers dug through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He moaned, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers.

“You wanted this?” he repeated, his lips trailing down to her neck, “you wanted me all riled up?”

Joe’s hands hoisted her up onto the counter, her legs parting for him to stand between. His hands ran up her thighs, pushing under her dress. She could feel the beginnings of arousal slick her panties, the ache pulsing deep within her.

“Did you like your surprise?” she asked him, feeling his fingers hook under the fabric of her panties. His fingers were calloused over, years of football built into his skin. He tugged her panties off of her hips, letting them fall to the floor.

“Oh baby,” he murmured against her skin, “I’m gonna show you just how much I liked it,”

His desperation drove him, it strung together his limbs and held his head on straight. She was his drug, the constant high he needed. His fingers parted her folds, the skin slick with her arousal. Her pussy was hot, slippery with her musk. His fingers moved in and through them, his eyes darkening with lust. A gasp fell from her lips, her hands gripping the granite countertops.

“Fuck,”

“So wet for me,” he breathed against her neck. He didn’t take his time. He pressed into her clit, the sensitive bud throbbing under his touch. He pulsed his fingers, her body responding to the electricity with a shiver. She whimpered, her jaw slack with the sheer intensity of his touch.

“Joe,”

Joe pulled his fingers away, lifting them to his lips. He licked his fingers clean, the bitter musk of her arousal making him shiver. He wasn’t going to take his time. This bathroom counter would be the place where he’d make her scream.

The entire Met Gala would know whose she was.

He guided her off of the counter, his hands guiding her hips so she turned around. He looked at her through the mirror, his hands gliding up her thighs again. His anticipation grew, his desperate need to have her climbing.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, princess,” he mumbled in her ear, kissing her neck. Her eyes met his in the mirror, his blue eyes dark with lust. His hands hiked the skirt of her dress around her waist, revealing her bare ass to him.

His hands roamed her skin, squeezing the muscle of her ass. He moved his hands down, parting her legs for him. He looked at her in the mirror, her cleavage in perfect view. If he had the time, he’d make sure to taste every single crevice of her body.

But he didn’t have the time.

Joe undid his slacks, yanking them down along with his boxers. His veiny, thick cock sprung free, red and sensitive with his arousal. His body ached, his heart slammed wildly against his chest. He was so driven by his animalistic need that he didn’t care they were in a public bathroom. He didn’t care if they were caught.

With one hand, Joe held her chin up, making her look at him. With the other, he guided his cock against her velvety folds. His eyes fluttered, her slick coating the hardness of his cock, his lips hovering above her ear. His soft grunts filled her head, the burn of his cock filtering through her folds making her body jerk.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Joe growled in her ear, “so desperate, so mine,”

Without warning, he pushed himself into her. She gasped, arching her back against his chest. Her velvety walls molded around him, taking him in full. The burn was sweet, it electrified every nerve that wired her body together. His hand slid from her chin, cupping around her throat. His hand was warm, firm with his grasp. He didn’t restrict her breathing, but the way he held her made her eyes roll.

Joe’s hips slammed against hers, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the bathroom. His brow was creased with his pleasure, with how her walls clenched around his cock. He held himself up as he thrusted himself in and out of her, the sweetness of the friction making him whimper.

“Needed you all day,” he murmured in her ear, his hand still around her throat. Joe slammed into her, the burn from his thrusts making her moan. Her body jerked with each thrust, her eyes watering from the intensity. She could feel the heat of his cock kiss her cervix, every thrust making her whimper.

“Joe,” she whimpered, her hands holding his hips. It felt so good, so painfully good, she thought she was seeing stars.

“That’s right baby,” he kissed below her ear, “say my name,”

“God,” she moaned, his hips snapping against hers relentlessly, “Joe, fuck,”

She consumed him. Her sounds, how her pussy wrapped so beautifully around his cock, the way her eyes looked in the mirror. His eyes were dark, nearly black with lust as he watched her in the mirror. Her head thrown back, her breasts threatening to tear free from her dress with every thrust. The muscles in her arms bulged, her shoulders tensed as she held onto him.

She was a greek goddess worthy of his worship.

“Look at yourself,” Joe growled. He watched as her eyes peeled open, her lips parted with her whimpers and moans.

“So beautiful,” he growled, feeling the rubber band coil in his gut. She clenched around him, her whimpers becoming erotic as she neared the edge herself. She felt her muscles give, her face contorting with the orgasm that stung the edges of her nerves.

“Joe-”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hips snapping against hers. His lips hovered over her neck, his hands both holding her hips as he pounded into her. She tensed, her orgasm rolling over her in a wave. She felt her orgasm slide down her legs, hot and sticky. She moaned, her muscles shaking as she came, the heat and sweetness of her release making her head spin.

“Fuck,” Joe whimpered as he came inside of her, keeping his body pressed against hers. Hot spurts of cum shot from his cock, coating her walls. His hands held on to her hips, digging into her muscular and soft skin. He panted, sweat clinging to his skin as he slowly pulled himself out of her.

The mirror was fogged, their silhouettes the only things noticeable in the mirror. Joe’s hands caressed her sides, his lips pressing soft kisses against her neck. He could feel her heartbeat in every kiss, could hear the unevenness of her breaths.

“That felt amazing,” she breathed. Her body was warm, the edges of her nerves thoroughly frayed. Joe’s hands guided her back around to face him, resting his forehead against hers. His thighs shook, his heart slamming against his chest.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he hummed. His mind was consumed with her, his craving for her satisfied. Joe recognized the risk they both took, but it was worth it. Seeing her blissed out was worth it.

“Thank you,” she hummed, looping her shuddering arms around his neck. They let the silence sit, the calm after the passion. The bathroom was hot, humid with their sex and their love.

Joe cupped her face, slotting his lips warmly against hers. She hummed into the kiss, her body slowly recovering from the burn of her pleasure. His lips slowly smoothed over her nerves, letting her come down from the blinding lights of her orgasm.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away. She smiled at him, her eyes finding his. His cheeks were flushed, his curls askew, and his pupils were blown with affection. She was the object of his desire, his idol, the one he worshiped.

“I love you, too,” she hummed. She took a deep breath, letting her hands fall to his hips. She didn’t know how they’d go back out to that party after that. She kissed him again, quicker and softer, a smile painting her lips.

“Think we can look like nothing happened?” she asked, pulling away from him. She didn’t know if his curls would be able to recover, or if her legs would cooperate.

“I think so,” he exhaled, tugging on his trousers again, “we can always blame it on nerves or something,”

“That’s not gonna work for my wobbly legs, babe,” she admitted, sliding her panties back onto her hips.

“I can make ‘em a lot more wobbly for you,” he winked. He intended to make do on that promise, but not in the gala. He’d risked enough by having her in the bathroom.

“Later, cowboy,” she smirked, readjusting her breasts in her dress, “we do have to make our appearances, ya know. Plus there’s an after party to get through,”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, opening the door for you, “it means I gotta wait longer to have you,”

“I think that time can hold you over,” she kissed his cheek. They walked back in, hand in hand. They entered back into the gala, pretending like they didn’t just ravish each other. She forgot about the mess she made on the bathroom floor; hopefully someone would blame it on a broken water faucet.

[baby-yongbok]

Could you pleaseeeee keep doing ASD based stuff? 🥹 Maybe a fluff where Fem!reader receives something she has a hyper fixation for from chan and he stands and admires here as she stims and lightly jumps in circles 🙏🏻❤️

A little something

Bang Chan x Autistic!reader

⤷ Fluff ⤷ WC - 0.6k ⤷ a/n - this took me forever but let's pretend it didn't... I'm sorry. It's hard for me to write ASD stuff despite being on the spectrum myself but I finally did it. I used my own special interest for this & this is based off of my experience with autism and not to meant to reflect how every person with ASD may operate. I hope that you enjoy! ♡ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You found Chan by the window, sleeves shoved up, wrestling with something in his hands — a tangled mess of clear plastic and suction cups. He muttered under his breath, so focused he didn't notice you come in until you leaned your shoulder against the doorframe with a small, curious hum.

He glanced up, sheepish, and immediately tried to hide the mess behind his back. Which was pointless, because a second later a suction cup popped loose and fell to the floor with a sad little thunk.

You blinked at him, heart already starting to race the way it did when you could feel something good was about to happen. Chan smiled — a real one, the kind that crinkled his eyes, the kind he didn’t use for anyone else.

"I, uh..." He toed the suction cup across the floor with the side of his sock. "Had an idea. For you. For, y'know, spring and stuff."

He crouched down to pick it up, grumbling to himself, before straightening up and holding the whole thing out toward you. Finally letting you see it properly.

A bird feeder.

Clear plastic, simple design, with little perches and trays. Small enough to stick directly onto the glass of your bedroom window.

“So you can see them whenever you want,” he said, voice soft, almost shy. “You shouldn’t have to go looking for them.”

For a second, you just stared. Not because you didn’t get it — no, you got it too much. The thought behind it hit you straight in the chest, so much louder than any words could’ve been. 

Your hands twitched before you could even think. You squeezed them into fists, You rocked on your heels in what slowly progressed into a small bounce, and then you burst — your hands fluttered up, half-formed movements in the air, your feet carried you in excited circles as you tried to get the fuzzy feeling out. A high, shaky noise slipped out of your throat, this bright, raw little laugh you couldn't even contain.

And Chan... God, Chan just looked so stupidly proud. Like he'd just handed you the entire sun.

You didn’t know what to do first — say thank you? set it up? hug him? cry a little because someone thought of you like this?

You did a messy mix of all of it — Chan set the feeder down carefully to catch you when you fling your arms around his waist, laughing and half-crying into his hoodie.

"I love it," you mumbled against him, voice muffled. "I love you." 

He chuckled low against the top of your head, squeezing you so tightly it felt like he was trying to put all the unspoken things into his arms instead.

"Let's stick it up now," he said, pulling back just enough to wipe your cheek with his thumb, grinning like you personally kept the stars lit.

The two of you ended up perched on the windowsill, crammed side by side, sticking the feeder to the glass with too much excitement and not nearly enough coordination. Your hands kept fluttering every time you touched the feeder — tap, tap, tap — a little dance of your fingers against the window, almost like you were coaxing the birds to come faster.

Chan caught you doing it once, and instead of saying anything, he just bumped his knee against yours, soft and understanding.

It didn’t even take an hour. A tiny, brave sparrow fluttered down, landing on one of the perches like it had been waiting for the invitation. You gasped so sharply you clapped your hands over your mouth, then started bouncing where you sat, fists clenching and unclenching in wild, giddy excitement.

Chan watched the bird for maybe two seconds — then he turned to watch you instead. Like he couldn’t imagine a view better than the way you lit up.

And honestly, maybe he was right.

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[harringtonfeels]

teach (part ii of touch)

3.9k | New relationship (friends to lovers) | Shy, inexperienced Reader | Smut with undertones of fluff

Notes: This is a continuation of my one shot touch. You don't have to read touch first, but I do think it's more fun that way.

Reader just wants to blow Steve, if he'll just let her already.

Dating Steve is so natural it's like breathing. It's never awkward the way new relationships tend to be. There are none of those growing pains like you've experienced in past relationships. And if you should say so yourself, you make a pretty good team. You segue easily from holding hands at the diner, to making fun of each other over stupid stuff, to abandoning the movie on the TV screen to make out on your couch.

A big part of it is how thoughtful you both are, and how intimately you already know each other. Steve always double-checks your boundaries, always makes sure you know you can tell him if there's something bothering you, or if you've changed your mind. He's so gentle with you, sometimes so gentle you feel the need to remind him that it's okay to be a little assertive.

Steve is a lot of things. Your goofy best friend, a charming boyfriend, and an enthusiastic lover. He's never selfish, and he's certainly never cruel. Sometimes, you have to focus really hard to remind yourself of that. Especially in moments like these. Because, if you didn't know better, you'd say he's driving you crazy on purpose.

You lean up into a sitting position, your tee shirt falling back down and covering your abdomen. "Steve," you all but whine, reaching out for him. He's shirtless, and his skin is damp with sweat, but you don't mind.

"What?" he laughs. He cups your cheek with his hand as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips, then your nose.

Rolling your eyes, you press your free hand to his chest and push him back, firmly but carefully. His lips are too distracting - you'll have to keep him off of you if you want to accomplish anything.

"Why won't you let me?" You've been learning recently how to do the girlfriend thing with a little more… finesse. That includes pouting - at least, when there's something you want. And you're also learning that Steve is a little bit of a sucker for some puppy dog eyes.

"Let you what?" He sounds distracted, and maybe a bit amused, while diving in for another kiss.

Your hand moves swiftly and with purpose down his chest, dropping straight to the button of his Levi's and tugging him in closer. You're still new to this - much newer to it than Steve is. But that doesn't mean you aren't sure of yourself, and it certainly doesn't mean you don't know what you want.

However, while you're angling for something new, he appears to be on a bit of a mission himself.

"Don't worry about that, honey." His tone is chipper, and then his mouth is on yours, and his hands are on your thighs, and your brain is empty.

Steve is a very generous boyfriend, in more ways than one. For your first time, he makes sure everything's just right. The music, the mood, the venue - even the lighting.

He's more prepared than you've ever seen him before. He's bought a pack of condoms to keep in your nightstand, and a bottle of lube as well. You're not exactly old-fashioned, but it's nice that you didn't have to look the lady in the pharmacy checkout line in the eye while buying it yourself.

He makes you cum on his fingers and his mouth first, reddened lips glistening with your slick, and if you were excited to have sex before, now you're aching for it. He never has a hard time getting you interested, but you weren't expecting to feel so satisfied before you've even gotten started.

When he asks if you're ready, you are - absolutely. You palm him through his briefs and moan into his mouth at the feel of him, hard and heavy in your hand.

"Oh, honey," he groans, easing you back down into the pillows, and you can't help but whine a little as he slides his briefs down, freeing his cock.

It's not the first time you've ever seen a penis, but it's the first time you've ever seen Steve's, and with him, everything feels like the first time. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, the shaft hard and ready, tip flushed a dark pink.

"Steve," you sigh, and he kisses you firmly, lovingly, cradling the back of your neck with his big hand.

He rolls the condom on with practiced ease, and then his free hand descends on you, rubbing slick circles around your swollen clit. You know there's something you wanted to ask for, but when your hips buck against his hand, still sensitive from your orgasm, you can't remember what you wanted until he swipes the head of his cock through your folds. You feel him twitch against you, and it's intoxicating, the thought that you drive him as crazy as he does you, that you can feel how hard he's working to exercise some restraint. How hard he's trying to make this perfect.

Your grip on his bicep tightens, and by then, you're so worked up, you're not about to ask him to stop just so you can blow him.

The line between emotional intimacy and sexual intimacy becomes blurrier over time. It's only been three weeks since he touched you the first time, but he's gotten really good at making you feel comfortable. You're also becoming more confident asking for what you need, slowly but surely.

Sometimes you don't know how to say what you mean without it sounding overly crass, and if you can't look him in the eye when you make certain requests, or if your cheeks burn with mild embarrassment - well, it's not like you can help it. But each time, he's so encouraging, helps you through it and never makes you feel ashamed to express yourself. As a matter of fact, you're starting to get the idea that he gets a little bit of a thrill from prompting you to be more direct, hearing you say things you never, ever would have said to him before you were dating.

You're getting a lot of practice asking him to modify his technique, or suggesting a new position. You're also getting better at communicating nonverbally, reading his body language and refining your own. For years, you've felt like you could read Steve like the back of your hand, and it felt like there was nothing left to learn. Oh, how wrong you were. There are so many things to want or need now that were never on the table before, and a million more questions to ask, so sometimes you can't imply the things you want to with your hands or your mouth, with a sigh or a moan. And it's moments like that where Steve seems to have the most fun.

The cheesy slasher flick Steve brought home from Family Video is frozen on the screen of his TV, and you're straddling his lap. Your camisole is abandoned on the floor, and a half-empty popcorn bucket and a couple of wine glasses are strewn across the coffee table. Steve's hand is tangled in your hair, his mouth parted with a sigh as you kiss him, nipping and sucking gently at the junction of his jaw and his neck.

"Oh, honey," he groans, other hand gripping your hip, pulling you a little more firmly against him.

The moan that spills from your lips would be embarrassing with anyone else, but the hard press of his erection between your thighs, separated only by a few layers of clothing, has you feeling so needy it's hard to care about much else. You fist the front of his shirt in your hand and yank him closer, kissing him so clumsily your teeth knock against his. Your hands graze the familiar landscape of his lower stomach, desperately working your way under his shirt, and then to the waistband of his jeans.

Breathlessly, you ask, "Can I?"

Steve's hips rut against yours, and his hand leaves your hair, cupping your cheek. He pulls back just enough to lean his forehead against yours, and his eyes are dark with desire. "Can you what?"

You hesitate, mouth feeling a little dry. How are you supposed to ask this without sounding like a frat boy? Steve has gone down on you like ten times now. Why is it so hard to work up the nerve to just tell him what you want when it comes to this?

Maybe it's because all the girls you went to school with talked about blowjobs like they were inconvenient - or worse, an obligation. Maybe you're afraid it'll make you look like a nymphomaniac if you admit you actually want to. Maybe it's because all the pressure is on you to perform properly, whereas with sex, you're working together. Or maybe it's just because you really, really want it to be good for him.

A couple beats pass, and you tell yourself it's just Steve. Why would it bother Steve for you to act like you want him? Finally, you sit back on your heels and bite your lip, fingers poised at the button of his jeans, and you ask, "Can I suck your dick?"

The first time you offered, he seemed to have gotten the memo, but he'd dismissed your request. The second time, you'd been too wrapped up in how good you felt to get the words out. You're not sure what you're expecting when you finally ask again. Part of you irrationally wonders if maybe that's something he doesn't like, or if he specifically doesn't want you to do it.

He hesitates, and you brace yourself for rejection as you take in the uncertainty in his eyes. Instead, he asks, "Are you sure you want to? You don't have to."

Brow furrowing, you say, "Why would I ask if I didn't want to?"

The way he's looking at you, it's like he's trying to decipher what's going on in your head. You haven't seen him so unsure in years, if ever. After a pause that lingers just slightly too long, he replies. "I just don't want you to think you have to do that to make me happy. I wouldn't be upset if you didn't."

You're starting to put it together what this is about. "Steve, I know you don't want me to feel obligated, but I want to. I want to make you feel good. I think about it a lot, actually."

He shifts his hips underneath you, and you gasp quietly at the sensation, the zipper of his jeans rubbing against you through your shorts. His lips tug upward at the corner. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you kiss him slowly, like you mean it. Your hands shake slightly as you begin undoing the button of his jeans.

He lifts you slightly where you perch on his knees as he raises his hips, allowing you to help him shimmy off his jeans. His hand finds your breast through your bra, and you arch slightly into his touch. "Have you done this before?"

You shake your head, a tinge of self-consciousness blooming in your belly. You're determined not to let that stop you. Eyes meeting his, eyelashes fluttering slightly, you murmur, "Can you teach me?"

Licking his lips, he nods and leans back in, pressing a kiss to your lips. Your gaze drops to the briefs still clinging to his hips, and your breath stutters at the sight of the thick outline of him pressing through the cotton. "I've got you, honey," he says, clearly mistaking your interest for intimidation. You smile at the softness of his voice. Sometimes, you still can't believe Steve is yours, that you have the privilege of having your first sexual relationship with someone who cares so deeply for you, who always puts you first.

You climb off of him and settle between his legs, shag carpet pressing into your knees. It's not exactly comfortable, and Steve must anticipate that, because he hands you one of the pillows beside him on the couch and helps you position it between your knees and the floor. Your heart is racing now; you can feel it throbbing in your pulse point.

"You'll let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable, yeah?" he asks, and his tone is serious and soft as he strokes your hair with one hand.

When you nod, he takes your hands in his gently and pulls them to his lap. You lean forward a little, hands settling on the tops of his thighs. Thinking back on how Steve touches you when he's trying to help get you in the mood, you rub his legs lightly, across the tops of his thighs, along the more sensitive skin on the insides of each of his legs. You try to acquaint yourself with every inch of his exposed skin before moving forward, and it might feel a little silly if you couldn't feel him getting more and more relaxed under your touch.

On a whim, you close your eyes and lower your head to press a chaste kiss to the inside of his knee, and you look up at him, hooking your fingers into the band of his boxers.

He inhales sharply, lips parting slightly, and he lifts his hips again, allowing you to remove his boxers. Once they're down to his ankles with his jeans, you slide both garments all the way off his body and dump them in a heap beside you. His cock is hard and flushed, nearly brushing his stomach, and while you're nervous, you can't help but sigh a little at the sight of it. You've spent weeks daydreaming about this, and you don't know why. You don't know why you've wanted this so badly, just that you do, and now you're finally here, and you don't even know where to start.

As if reading your thoughts, Steve takes one of your hands in his and guides it to his shaft, curling your fingers and palm ever so gently around the base of it. Your fingers almost wrap all the way around him, and you feel yourself growing wetter at the sight. You're not sure if his size is average, or if he's a little on the bigger side, but you know you think he looks really good, and you know he feels really good, too. The weight of him in your hand feels natural.

You start to move your hand over him, and he hisses, then closes his hand over yours, stilling your hand. "Not so firm." His voice is low and gentle, not chastising you but guiding you instead.

Cheeks burning, you loosen your grip a little and look up at him for confirmation.

"There you go," he hums. "It's sensitive, so you have to be gentle, especially since your hand is dry." You think back on the times you've tried to masturbate when you weren't wet enough yet, and that makes sense. "Try again."

You cock your head slightly to the side and watch as he lets go of your hand, and you slowly move your fist up and down his shaft. He twitches in your hand, growing a harder from your touch, and it makes you feel something like pride. Your motion is straight up and down, which feels a little uncomfortable with the position of your elbow and wrist, so you loosen your wrist and watch his eyes as you stroke him rhythmically, tugging him slightly to the side.

He groans and leans his head back against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. "That's it, baby." His breath stutters, and he asks, "Doesn't that feel a better for your wrist?"

You hum your agreement and focus on maintaining your rhythm, leaning in a little closer. "Is it okay if I…?"

You're sure he'll make you say it out loud, but he doesn't, just nods, locking his eyes with yours. "Go ahead, honey, whenever you're ready."

After another few beats, you use your free hand to steady yourself, pressing it to his thigh and leaning your full weight into the cushion beneath your knees. Hesitantly, you lick a stripe up from the bottom of the head to the very tip, and he tenses, fingers finding the back of your head again. He's gentle, not pushing you closer but offering reassurance.

Feeling a little more confident, you take the head of him into your mouth. You read your friends' issues of Cosmo when you were younger, so you've retained some information on various blowjob techniques, but you're not sure if they're any good. When you wrap your lips around him, you attempt to hollow your cheeks and bob your head slightly, straining to look up at his face.

The hardest part seems to be the multitasking. You're still trying to work his shaft with your hand as you suck on the head, and when you try too hard to look at his face, too, you can feel your mouth filling with saliva. You try to swallow around him but struggle a bit, so you pull your mouth off of him with a pop and then swallow.

"Is that okay?" you ask, voice small, leaning back just a little to see him better.

His lips are red from biting them, and he nods, voice hoarse when he says, "Yeah, baby, you're doing so good."

Once you feel ready, you lean back in and wrap your lips around him again, and he inhales sharply when your back teeth graze the head. You pull away quickly. "I'm so sorry," you say quickly, mortified. You don't know much, but you do know you probably weren't supposed to do that.

"It's okay, it's okay," he insists. "Just gotta be careful with the teeth. You'll get it."

You frown a little and look at the head of him again, steeling yourself. When you take him into your mouth again, you take extra care to suck in your cheeks and open wide enough to keep from touching him with your teeth. After a few moments of practicing with the head, you swirl your tongue around the tip, and his hips stutter. You feel rather than see him grip the edge of the cushion, and his brow furrows.

"Oh, honey," he groans. "That feels so good."

After a few moments of licking different patterns on the tip, noting the reactions they draw from him, you begin bobbing your head a little further down, taking more and more of him with each movement. Soon, your lips are connecting with your hand, where you're stroking his shaft, and you focus on trying to get low enough that your fist only covers the base.

The first time he touches the back of your throat, you gag and pull away abruptly. Steve laughs lightly while you catch your breath, and he strokes your cheek, smiling sympathetically. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you."

"It's okay," you reply, sounding a little strangled.

While you're looking up at him, you realize he's not looking at you like someone who just choked on his cock, or even like someone who's blowing him at all. Steve looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world.

Like he's in love with you.

"You don't have to take it all," he says encouragingly. "It's hard to do if you have a sensitive gag reflex."

"No, I'm doing it."

He laughs at your stubborn attitude, watching as you wrap your hand around him again. His eyes crinkle in the corners, and your heart swells with fondness.

"If you insist, baby, just don't hurt yourself. If you can't, you can still use your hand to cover the rest. Try to focus on breathing slow and deep through your nose. That should help."

You nod and roll your shoulders and neck, preparing to get back in the saddle. When you take him into your mouth again, you do like he said, and you focus more on your breathing than on fisting his cock with your hand. You'd like to do it all, but you remind yourself that you're just learning and maybe it's better to start with the basics and then do the extra stuff.

This time, when he nudges the back of your throat, you feel the urge to gag, but you stop yourself just in time, gripping his thigh with your hand.

"Oh my god," he groans, hand weaving into the hair at the nape of your neck. "That's it, baby. Keep going."

Before long, your nose is pressing into his pubic bone, and you're taking all of him in your mouth, all the way to the base. Your jaw is sore, but you don't care, because he's making such pretty sounds. When it becomes too much to handle, you pull back to just the tip and swirl your tongue around him, and his hips jerk forward at the sensation. He murmurs sweet nothings, tells you how well you're doing, how good you feel. And when you work your way back to taking him to the hilt, he whimpers.

Pressing your thighs together to alleviate the ache, you begin bobbing your head with more fervor. You're not sure you've ever been so wet in your life, and you want him so badly it feels like you might die. You want to make him cum with your mouth, but you want him inside you, too, and you're overwhelmed by a resounding chorus of need need need inside your mind.

"Baby, babe," he babbles, and when you meet his eyes, he looks like overtaken by pleasure. You can feel the desperation behind his gaze. "I'm - I'm so close."

You moan around his cock, squeezing your thighs together again. You're absolutely soaked. He's never sounded so good as he does right now, and then he says your name like it's both a plea and a prayer.

You can't take it anymore. You pick up the pace, and it hurts - oh, God, your jaw aches - but you don't care.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns, and you've never heard some sound so feverish. "Baby, I'm—Please. Need to feel you."

Your head swims with desire. You've never heard Steve beg before. How are you supposed to cope with that?

You pull off of him, panting, eyes watering with exertion, and Steve hauls you to your feet, looking to you for permission to remove your shorts. When he unzips them, they drop to your ankles, and you step out of them easily. He pulls you onto his lap, and you're on his mouth just as quickly, kissing him breathless.

His cock nudges against your underwear, and you sigh, rolling your hips against his.

"Can I—" He licks his lips, and when you look into his eyes, you can see he's feeling just as self-conscious as you did earlier. Butterflies explode in your stomach, and you take his face in your hands. You don't know what he's asking, and you wait for him to try again. Finally, he chokes out, "I wanna show you how much I love you - please."

You don't need to hear anymore. You don't know exactly what he wants, but you don't think you need to. There are a lot of things left for Steve to teach you, but trust isn't one of them. You know Steve will take care of you, will be gentle where he needs to be. So you kiss him softly, nod against his forehead. And when he stands, panting, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to bed.

[fallingcoups]

Tiniest Little kick🍼

♡ Seungcheol x reader

♡ word count : 579

♡ part 1

It was a quiet evening in the apartment Seungcheol and you had made your little space. You were 30 weeks pregnant now, and the baby was starting to make their presence known more.

Seungcheol, ever the curious and VERY excited soon to be dad, had been waiting eagerly to feel the baby's kick for weeks now. Every time you would laugh, his eyes would light up. He will lean in close, his hand touching over your belly gently, as if it might just take one more second to feel that magical movement.

"You think she's sleeping again?" Seungcheol asked, glancing at your stomach with that same hopeful expression he always had.

"She never sleeps," you replied, "She's too busy doing some gymnastics in here."

Seungcheol chuckled, “I want to feel her move. I’ve been patient enough. I’m sure she'll be a little more cooperative this time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You're acting like she's gonna come out and give you a hi-5 or fist bump. She'll kick when she want to."

Seungcheol's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "What if I sweet talk our baby girl?" he teased, leaning forward to place his hand gently on your belly. "Hey baby, can you give daddy a kick? please?" he asked, his voice soft trying to coax his baby girl out with his sweet voice.

You couldn't help but laugh at how serious he looked, "She don’t respond to bribery, you know."

Seungcheol puffed out his cheeks dramatically, like he had just failed some big mission. "I was sure I had her on my side."

"Maybe if you sang a lullaby she will move" you said.

"A lullaby?"

"Yupp I just think she----"

Before you could speak any further, you felt a soft kick on your side. You froze for a second, eyes wide with surprise.

"Wait! wait! wait! She moved!" you exclaimed.

Seungcheol's eyes lit up immediately, and he quickly shifted to face you more directly. "What!?? You’re not kidding???" He placed his hand gently on your belly and you could see the absolute excitement in his eyes.

"Yes! I just felt something,"

For a second, it was quiet, just the two of you holding your breath, waiting. Then it happened. The tiniest little kick against your side, followed by another one. Seungcheol's face broke into the most genuine smile you’d ever seen.

"OH MY GOSH!" He gasped, his hand pressing more firmly but gentle against your belly. "I felt it! Oh my gosh, I really felt it!"

You chuckled at his excitement. "Told you she will kick when she's were ready."

Seungcheol was practically glowing with happiness, his fingers gently rubbing over the spot where he had felt the little movements. "I just felt our baby move. This is insane."

You reached out his hand, squeezing it softly. "You did, and it's only going to get more exciting..."

Seungcheol looked at you with so much love and affection. "I can't wait to meet and finally hold her in my arms." he said softly.

As the evening went on, you both settled into a peaceful quiet, the feeling of your baby moving under Seungcheol's hand creating a bond that felt deeper than words. In that moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the three of you. Him, you, and your little one.

And even though the road ahead would be filled with challenges, you both knew it was moments like this that made it all worth it.

Feedbacks

English is not my first language, sorry if my grammar is incorrect.🍒

[acosmicbee]

Dangerous Man

500 Follower Celebration - Day 5

(Castle In The Sky inspired! Is it obvious I love Studio Ghibli or what? TWS: Reader gets drugged, brief vomiting towards the end)

Working in the mines was hard, labor intensive work. Luckily, you weren't actually a miner, but you spent a lot of time keeping everything else up and running and helping wherever you were needed. It was a great way to pick up random skills.

It was the end of another long day. You had already waved your boss out, knowing he had a daughter to get home to who hadn't seen her dad all day. You had been the last one to leave, only half paying attention as you walked along the forest, heading towards town.

It was strange, completely random. You thought you were hallucinating for a when you saw a something stumble out of the woods in front of you. It was a girl, who then promptly collapsed, leaving you to rush to catch her before she hit the ground..

You were an orphan, your mother died in childbirth and your father had disappeared on an adventure when you were 8. Despite that, you were never alone. The townspeople looked after you and you always had enough to get by, they made sure you learned to never abandon a person in need if you could help. Because of this, you didn't hesitate to bring the girl home. You lay the girl down in your father's old room, making sure she was tucked in and safe before heading to bed yourself. Hopefully when she woke up she'd be able to answer your questions.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You yawned as you cooked breakfast, never truly used to waking up so early in the morning. The food was nothing fancy, just some eggs with a bit of sausage you had left over. You made two plates, one for yourself and one for the mysterious floating girl. You gently knocked on the door before entering, seeing her awake and sitting up.

"You're awake. I was worried after whatever it was that happened last night you might be out for longer." You handed her the plate.

"What happened? And where am I? Who are you?" She carefully took the plate but didn't touch anything. You sighed.

"I'm Y/N. You're currently in the town of Shipp's Ravine, a small mining town no ones ever heard of out by the coast in the middle of nowhere." You introduced lightly. It wasn't wrong, hardly anyone who wasn't from here or somewhere close by had ever heard of this place. "As for what happened, you kinda just stumbled out of the woods."

"I'm... Poppy. I come from... far away. The airship stopped to refuel and... I ran for it." Poppy answered, talking slow as she tried to remember what happened.

"An airship? We don't get much airship traffic around here. You must have walked really far, the nearest airship dock isn't for three towns over, and it's military run." You said. Poppy grimaced.

"The military can't help me." She eventually answered. "Not with why I ran."

"Why? Did you do something? Are you a criminal?" She shook her head before taking another small bite. That made you pout a little. Secretly harboring a criminal would've brought some much needed excitement to your life and she seemed nice enough.

"This man he kidnapped me. He's working with the military, or at least he has connections with them. I know he's probably using every contact he has to try and find me." She said. You perked back up, your interest and excitement piqued.

"Well if you're trying to hide, Shipp's Ravine is the perfect place. Trust me, very few people even know this place exists! You'll be safe here."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You hummed as you skipped down the path, waving hello and greeting everyone you passed. You were heading out to buy some more food for dinner having taken a day off to talk to Poppy.

You were halfway to the market when you spotted him. A man with long blond hair in a clean white suit. Next to him were two armed guards. You cursed under your breath as you picked your way through the crowd, trying your best not to stand out.

Of course it didn't work as you were tapped on the shoulder. You turned around with a bright smile, tilting your head in mock curiosity at the outsiders trying to talk to you. "Excuse me, have you seen a young girl? Maybe around your age-?"

"Yeah! There's Lisa, Diana, Gianna, Lily, Winona..." You started to list off all the names of village girls you could think of who fit the description. The man shook his head.

"Her name is Poppy. She has fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Face covered in freckles." You shook your head.

"Nope! The only girls who fit that description would be Mrs. June's daughters but they're both under 7. Anything else I can do for you?" The man shook his head.

"No thank you. Good day."

"You too sir!" You answered, extra cheerily before continuing your shopping. You couldn't leave empty handed without drawing suspicion as to why.

The second you were done, and out of view of the main square, you booked it. You ran up the path, basket clutched in your hand. Poppy jumped when you slammed open the door, shutting it quickly behind you as you drew the curtains shut.

"The man who kidnapped you, does he have long blond hair? Gray eyes?" You asked, the second you dead bolted the door. Poppy froze.

"He's- he's here?" She whispered.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I have an idea. I have a friend who works at the rail station. I'll get us tickets somewhere in countryside, somewhere even more rural and out of the way. But until then stay here. Avoid the windows and don't answer the door. If you're okay with it, I can cut your hair shorter so you pass as a boy."

Poppy agreed to let you cut her hair so you'd made sure to wash it out nicely before you started. You'd been cutting your own hair for a while, so you made it look as nice as possible. She didn't seem to mind too much and you even caught her smiling at herself in the mirror later.

"It's nice not having to worry about brushing it for hours and hours." She eventually told you. "I wish I had cut it sooner. Maybe you could get a new job as a hair dresser."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day you left was the day you heard that the military had been getting warrants to search the villager's houses for Poppy. You'd already been dropping hints about taking a vacation so it wouldn't come as a surprise if you left for a little.

You ran around your house, gathering only the most important things. You burned Poppy's dress, shoving her into some clothing you'd bought that was clearly meant for a boy. Once you had those all packed away you handed one of the clothing bags to Poppy.

"It'll help you blend in if we're both carrying stuff. Until we're safely on the train I'll call you Pierre, okay?" She nodded, pulling down her cap more as you walked to the station. The train station was empty and you were able to get a private room for a discounted price for the two of you, all paid in cash. The energy was tense until the train had pulled out of the station.

It was a long trip, one that would stretch through the night and into the next day. You and Poppy entertained yourselves with card games and books and other random things until it had gotten dark out. You went to bed feeling safe, drifting off easily to the gentle rocking of the train.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was late -- or was it early? -- when you heard the door to your cabin open. In your half asleep state, curled beneath one of your mother's quilted blankets that you'd brought, you assumed it was Poppy. Maybe she needed air or to go to the bathroom.

You could vaguely make out a silhouette of someone with long hair. Convinced it was Poppy you rolled back over, but the door never closed and the lantern light in the hallway made it difficult to fall back asleep. You yawned, finally deciding to get up and see what she needed when your blood ran cold.

Poppy didn't have long hair anymore because you had cut it. Poppy couldn't be standing in the doorway because you had seen her asleep on the other bench when you opened your eyes.

T h a t   w a s n ' t   P o p p y.

A sudden pinch at the base of your neck made you whine in pain. You rolled over, trying to stand, only for your legs to give out. You never hit the floor, silently being laid back down as you tried to force your body to work.

The man, the same one from the marketplace, shushed you gently as he watched you try to fight the drug. Your eyesight was blurring, your brain turning to mush and you couldn't move. You passed out right as he turned to Poppy, still blissfully asleep across from you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up to a faint humming noise. Your stomach turned unpleasantly and you felt feverish and nauseous. Where you were laying was comfortable though. You were warm and it was soft. You wondered what had woken you up when you finally registered someone shaking you.

Opening your eyes to the dark room you saw Poppy, face covered in tears. She hugged you the second you awoke, crying into your chest. Looking around and letting your eyes adjust to the darkness you realized why. This wasn't your home, nor was it the train car. It looked like the fancy rooms advertised for rich people on airships.

"Poppy?" You whispered weakly. She held you tighter, still silently crying. You looked around noting anything that could be important. It was a large room with two beds, one of which you were laying on. There was a small heater in the middle of the room as well as a table and chairs. Your bags were placed on the table, including your mother's quilts which were neatly folded.

There was a small window in the room, barred from the outside, not that it would do anything seeing as the only view out the window was clouds and the night sky. You looked towards the door, ignoring the way your head spun. It must be a side affect of whatever he'd drugged you with, this lethargy and pseudo-sickness.

"It's locked. Everything is." Poppy whispered to you. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Both of you turned at the sound of voices in the hallway outside the locked door. There was the sound of a key before the lock finally clicked open. It was the man, holding a small oil lamp. He was no longer in the white suit but in some kind of lounge wear, possibly some kind of rich person pajamas you'd never even heard of.

"You're both awake. I'm glad the drugs finally wore off, I was getting a bit worried. Then again, they were military grade sedatives." He smiled calmly, almost like he was trying to be comforting. He was dangerous, no amount of smiling would change that.

"Where are we? What did you do?" You asked. You cursed your voice for not only betraying your fear but also your compromised state.

"Y/N L/N, the beloved orphan of Shipp's Ravine. I asked around about you after our little interaction at the market. The townspeople really love you there, it's a shame you won't be going back. As for lying to me, we can discuss the repercussions of that later."

"Let them go! They never did anything to you! This has always been about me, you don't need to drag them into this as well!" Poppy yelled. The man just chuckled, approaching the both of you.

"My sweet, naïve, little Poppy. You trust so easily and you're lucky this time it turned out well for you. Imagine if you'd been found by some creep instead of some poor child playing adult who wanted nothing but companionship in return." He said, and you didn't even have the strength to be offended at his description of you.

"As for them not doing anything to me, they lied to me. Albeit, they did so to protect you, which is just so precious. It made he change my mind on what should happen to them. Rest assured, they will be cared for, just as you will be cared for. You'll finally have the sibling you always dreamed of."

"Just because you kidnapped us together doesn't make us siblings! This isn't some heartfelt family reunion!" The man smiled and tilted his head.

"Oh, but wouldn't it? I happen to have a letter from the commander of the royal military, which makes it more than just simple law. Would you like me to read it to you?" He held it out of reach when Poppy tried to snatch it from him, a satisfied smirk on his face. "It says, 'Seeing as Y/N L/N and Poppy Demonium lack legal guardians as both parents are either deceased or missing, I, General Kingston Grant hereby give all legal guardianship to one Caspian LaRue.'"

Those words proved to be the final straw for your stomach as you hunched over, gagging as you threw up on the floor beside you before slumping over onto Poppy.

"Oh dear. I suppose I should've guessed that such a large dose would've been too much for your body to handle." He murmured. You could only cry as you closed your eyes, trying to stabilize yourself.

You didn't even know when he'd called in cleaning staff, but they were already there when you opened your eyes again, leaving quickly once it had been dealt with. Poppy cradled your body close, protectively glaring at Caspian when he approached the bed and sat down beside you.

"You'll feel better in the morning. We can have a real talk then. Good night Y/N." He brushed some of your sweat stuck hair off your forehead before turning to Poppy. "Good night, Poppy. Sleep well."

He turned to leave, grabbing his oil lamp from where he'd set it, when a small smile crossed his face as he stood in the doorway. "Poppy, short hair suits you. Even if you did cut it for a silly reason." With that, the door closed and locked behind him and the two of you were left alone in the dark to ponder your new lives.

[stzrgirl4norris]

𔓘 TIP OF MY TONGUE

summary: maybe if the stars never aligned on the dark italian skies, Lando Norris could live his life by calling you a friend and you wouldn't have to face the consequences of a well-premeditated mistake.

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader

Warnings: there is a smut scene with some mild dirty talk and praising, but it's nothing crazy. The rest is just pure angst and agony. Enjoy :)

Word Count: 9.3k

🌷🧺:･🌷🧺:･🌷🧺:･🌷🧺:･

October, 2025

“Alright, team, let’s get it on!”

The loud sound of clapping brought Lando back to the real world, all the white noise shutting off and, suddenly, he was too aware of his surroundings. No more tunnel vision, no more blurriness around his eyes. His pupils scanned the place, an involuntary reaction, he didn’t mean to leave your gaze hanging.

You have been staring, analyzing every outline on his skin, looking for signs. Signs that you got it all wrong, signs that your ego has been catching up to you and, most importantly, signs that Lando Norris did not have feelings. Unsuccessful conquest. The British driver was clueless that you were conscious of the butterflies in his stomach. You have been now ever since that drunken night in Emilia Romagna. For you, a mistake. For Lando, however, a rush of adrenaline so high not even a race win could compare.

You stood up from your chair, feeling your skin burning from the impact of his stare. There was a feeling in the pit of your gut, one which you were trying so hard to mold into tenderness and love, but it was heavy and all too acid. And it got worse when he was closer, like at that moment.

“Zak is optimistic.” 

There was no sort of excitement in his tone, he just wanted to make conversation. To talk. To get you talking.

You chuckled in response.

“You should be too! It’s Singapore, your favorite.”

You gave him a sympathetic smile, touching his bicep with your shoulder. A simple movement that made both of your hearts pump too much blood. You couldn’t act cold towards him, you had no reason to. There was no proof, the thoughts of Lando Norris having feelings for you were, for now, just conspiracy theories you created throughout your sleepless nights. It wasn’t fair for you to treat him with stoicism, after all, you were teammates and, above all, friends.

“Eh- I don’t know.”

“Come on, now, Lan… Don’t say you’re intimidated.”

“I’m not.” His voice was a focal point now that the room was empty. You didn’t even notice all the crew left. “But you’re good. I’ll give you that.”

McLaren winning the Constructor’s championship wasn’t a future thing anymore, it was just reality, every other team had already accepted their faith, for them, it was all about that second place. All of this because their two brilliant drivers were just dominating the field, much like Red Bull in the 2023 season. However, there was no Max Verstappen on the McLaren Formula 1 Team. It was just you and Lando Norris. Separated by a miserable 12 points. 

Norris was ahead, he was the favorite, he was the first driver, you were aware, the team made it clear before the season had even started. At the beginning, you were helping him and just doing your job. “Papaya Rules” they said. You kept it at P3… P2… Managed to win a race when he accidentally hit the wall in Bahrain. But you were always on the podium, next to him, every single weekend. Even when you were not racing, you were together. Like twins. You liked Lando, you liked him a lot. And sometimes you were certain that your feelings for him crossed the friendship line, or else he wouldn’t occupy every corner of your mind like he did. 

The thing is, it wasn’t hard to ignore those feelings and shove them in the back of your throat when it was all unrequited. When you were just creating scenarios before you fell asleep. You curling up his hair for photoshoots, kissing the scar on his nose, making him breakfast in bed. It was all perfect while it was far away from reality. Until that night in Italy…

🌷🧺:･🌷🧺:･

July, 2025

It wasn’t a race weekend, you were there for fun, exploring the culture. Both of you were single, tired of being lonely. None of you planned on actually ending up together. As a matter of fact, the plan was simple: you found yourself an Italian guy while Lando had fun with whatever Italian girl he wanted, maybe it would turn into a “Eat, Pray, Love” kind of situation. Emilia Romagna wasn’t exactly the personification of love, but the city was not a stranger to attractive individuals. You had your fun. So did Lando. 

On the last night of the trip, the two of you decided to have a night alone in a new wave club. Lando hated the 80’s new wave dark punk vibe, but he knew you loved it, and what is a friendship without sacrifices? If you made an effort to leave the hotel room just so he could fuck whoever he had in his arms that night, he could handle listening to Depeche Mode for a few hours.

The British driver, however, didn’t count with the fact that gin and tonic, neon green light, “Enjoy the Silence” and you were a fatal combination. He sat at the bar and spent all his night watching you. His eyes lingering through your skin, following as your hips matched the beat. It was hypnotizing, magnetic, his eyes were glued. Fuck those Italian girls, they couldn’t compare. Lando never denied to himself that you were attractive, beautiful, and if you weren’t his teammate he would’ve thrown the first cheap pickup line that he could think of when he met you. But that night, underneath fluorescent lights, body reflecting and dripping in sweat, he couldn’t give a damn about the rules of the sport.

And to be fair… Neither did you.

Hearing Lando moan another name was torture and pleasure. Sometimes you would touch yourself on the room next door to the filthy sounds he was making on the other side with whoever. It was pathetic, but it made you feel dirty and hot, and it was so intimate. Sometimes, you could swear he knew what you were doing and was putting on a show just for you. Lando knew. He was smart, you’ve been teammates for years now, he could read you like his favorite movie script. So, it was time for you to return the favor, for you to put on a show… Just for him.

The watching was unbearable. The tightness in his jeans was getting harder to control. Your eyes met his and you could see the mist of dirty thoughts flying around him like the smoke of cigarettes. You left with him that night, holding his arm like a shield. It was one of the most pleasurable nights of your life.

Lando shut the hotel room with all too much force. The two of you were giggling, thanking God the taxist didn’t speak english, because the profanities leaving your tongues were the epitome of unbiblical. 

“Do you want me?” he knew the answer to his question, but there was nothing like hearing you say it.

“I want you so much, Lan.”

“How bad?”

It was getting hard to answer with the wetness of his kisses down your neck and the roughness from his fingers applying pressure on your waist like you would vanish if he let go.

“So bad… Want you so bad…” 

Your voice was getting fused with moans, a sort of whining that was echoing on Lando’s mind like a prayer. He lied you down on the white sheets of his bed, the softness of the fabric matching perfectly with how your skin felt.

“Yeah?” He moaned, voice high. “So bad you touched yourself while hearing me fuck those girls?”

You giggled, biting down your lip. You looked at him through your eyelashes, trying to fake innocence, but there was too much naughtiness painted on your iris. Innocence was long gone. In fact, it wasn’t even there.

“Yes..”

“Yeah?” He mimicked you, but there is no denying there was a mocking tone hidden behind his simple choice of wording.

Lando took off his white t-shirt before sliding your tank top over your head. He was met with the sight of your sunburnt skin, tan lines in the form of your bikini, no bra. His mouth watered. He visited too many museums during that trip and none of those paintings compared to the art form that was you, half naked in front of him. Those racing suits for sure did not do you enough justice.

“Yeah, baby? You thought about me touching you?” You nodded, feeling intoxicated by the sweetness in his voice. “Poor girl. You could’ve just asked.”

He touched the rem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs, slowly, letting the fabric do its job of teasing you. He noticed how the shivers left textured dots on your skin and you noticed how he was feeling like a god at that moment. As you analyzed the outline of his figure, you found in Lando the expression you only saw once when you experienced your high school crush taking your virginity. The infatuation, the excitement of getting something you longed for months. It was not just sex for your teammate and you became aware of that. Suddenly, all the fake scenarios and hypothesis you created were too close, dangling in front of you like the silver chain on his neck.

Lando purposefully left you in your underwear, butter yellow lace, contrasting the olive tan you cultivated. 

“I’m gonna give you what you crave, sweet girl.”

He placed a kiss underneath your belly button, followed by a lick. You lifted your  hips, your body begging for more of him, more touch. Your heart was beating too fast. The sensations were physically consuming you, to the point every thought of “this is wrong” vanished from your mind.

“Now, be still for me.”

“No, Lan, please, just fuck me.” You pleaded in desperation. “No teasing. Need you inside of me, now.”

The need for him was too painful to bare. Normally, you liked a guy to take his time with you. Your job was already marked with speed, no need for sex to be this way, it was the one area of your life you liked to take it slow. But not that night. Because the wanting for him was too intense, too overwhelming, you never felt that way, you needed immediacy. 

As a response for your supplicances, Lando laughed, in a condescending way. It just fed up his ego more. 

“I didn’t even ask you to beg and you’re already doing it. You’re so well behaved. Who trained you like this?”

He stood up to remove his jeans and his boxers all in one movement. You licked your lips watching him, questioning how could such a perfect human being occupy this filthy, disgraceful world. He looked like a god, it was only fair that he felt like one, and that night you wanted to make sure you helped him with that.

“This is all for you.”

You chose your words carefully, making sure you said everything he wanted to hear. The power and control he exercised was fake, shallow, superficial, because deep down you were the one pulling the strings, taking advantage of his feelings. Both of you were aware of it, but you just pretended that it wasn’t real.

Lando gave you a smile out of a fairytale before leaning down to place a slow sensual kiss on your lips, tongues intertwined. He felt his stomach turning in a knot and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to think of something else quickly before the pleasure was too unbearable and ruined all the fun.

He reached out to the nightstand on the right side with a single arm stretch and opened the drawer, pulling out the piece of plastic and ripping it off with his teeth. The act was automatic, you could tell he did it without thinking, like he’d done many times before.

He was hard and practically drooling over you. His fingers traced a light trail on the inside of your thigh, only the tip of his fingerprints, before he pulled your panties to the side. Lando inhaled deeply.

“Christ, you’re wet.” His tone was theatrical, much surprise present in his voice, like he couldn’t believe you wanted him so much. 

“Lando, how about less talking and more fucking?” You demanded, voice dripping in delirium. 

“Hey.” He called out, assertive, rough. “Behave, I wouldn’t want to have to punish you now.”

Your eyes darkened and you saw that motherfucker smirking like he just ripped a dark confession off of your chest.

Lando leaned down and you felt his hips pressed against yours, feeling the fullness that made you complete and whole. His movements weren’t abrupt or aggressive, it was careful, well-thought, like a man who knew how to properly fuck. He felt too profound and sensual. However, keeping the slow pace was torturing for both of you, Lando felt a stinging pain disguised as flood that was surrounding him. 

“Oh my fucking god. Yes, baby. Ugh, you feel so fucking good.” 

His growling was loud and shameless, for a second you felt sorry if anyone was passing through the hallway, but that passed quite quickly as you closed your eyes, throwing your head back. 

“Please, Lan, I need more.” You whined, lifting your hips to add some rhythm.

“Yeah, baby? Uh-huh?” He buried his head on your shoulders while his hand pressed your hips down. You felt him tapping his left hand on the lower part of your stomach and heard a snarky little chuckle in your ear. “Hey, take a look at that, baby, I can feel me in your belly.”

You opened your eyes and dared to look down, watching as his hands rubbed the soft skin below your belly button. You moaned, the vision was too perverted and sinful, something out of a porn movie. God, if Lando wasn’t insufferable before this, he sure as hell was about to become.

“Please.” It was sort of pathetic how every other word just vanished from your vocabulary. As someone who managed to finish college while being a Formula 1 driver, your brain was foggy, you felt uneducated and stupid, in the filthiest way possible.

“Please what, love?”

“Go faster.”

Lando was torn between two scenarios that terrified and excited him at the same time. His primal instincts wanted to go faster, indeed, mindlessly, shamelessly pound into you like this was his last night on earth - it might as well be. However, the rational side of his brain that was intoxicated by how good you felt and how infatuated he was, told him to take things slowly, to savour every second, because he didn’t want the moment to end soon.

In an unthinkable move, he held you firmly and rolled both of your bodies until you were sitting on top of him. The motion stopped. You were confused because this was certainly not what you asked for.

“What the hell?”

“You wanted to dictate the pace so badly, go ahead.” He rested both of his hands behind his back and looked at you. Watched. Like you were nothing but his personal fucktoy. 

“Lan, come on…” This is not what I meant. You didn’t add this part, but your eyes made your thoughts very clear.

“No, Y/N, do it. Ride me. You’re such a good driver, this shouldn’t be a problem to you.”

You moaned, this time in frustration.

You rocked your hips in controlled swirls, trying anything to create friction, to release the scorched pain on your venter. You did, in fact, tried to go fast, but the burning feeling on your thighs was catching up and in that particular moment, being on top was not how you wanted him. You wanted him to possess you, to use whatever need for control he had.

Lando smirked in satisfaction, because he saw you were struggling to give yourself what you so desperately wanted. It was written on the contortions of your facial expressions, and the wrinkles around your eyes whenever you shut them tightly.

“For someone who wanted to go faster, you’re doing a shitty job.”

If you weren’t so horny, you probably would have slapped him.

“Why don’t you show me how it’s supposed to be done, then?”

The British driver sighed. He had enough of this game.

This time around, the rolling of the bodies was rough and vulgar. You had no time to readjust your body on the mattress before Lando started to thrust inside of you in a ferocious way. The sloppy sounds echoing throughout the room were degenerate, immoral, filthy. It was too much, you couldn’t think.

“Oh, oh my god.” You heard his voice in midst of the moaning chaos that the room had become.

You dig your nails deep in his back, trying to hold on to something and as a bonus bring him even closer - if it was any possible.

“Yes, yes, yes.” The chanting leaving your lips matched the rhythm of his pounding.

“You take me so well, you’re such a good girl.” You rolled your eyes back, closing them. The sensations were overwhelming, animalistic. “Taking my cock like a fucking slut.”

He was supposed to keep going with whatever degrading phrase he started, but there was no way he could finish that sentence because the words were getting mixed in his mind. Lucky for both of you, the degradation was enough to ignite the familiar feeling of your orgasm in your belly.

“Fuck, Lan, I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

Lando took his right hand and found a way to brush your clit with his middle finger, in circular motions. Jesus, that man would be the end of you.

Your orgasm hit you in an all-consuming wave of satisfaction. You didn’t need to announce it, the way you clenched around his cock made it well-known. Alongside the pretty whimpers leaving your lips underneath your erratic breathing.

“That’s it, baby, fucking cum on my cock like a dirty little whore.” 

The torturous thing is that, even after you came, Lando didn’t stop or slowed down. He kept his pace.

“Lan… It’s too much… I can’t-”

You squirmed, lifting your hips, trying to get off, but it was all an automatic reaction from the overbearing amount of pleasure and dopamine in your brain. You didn’t want to leave. That could be the way you died and it would be a happy ending.

“Yes, you can, you were begging for it, now fucking take it.”

He only slowed down when he came, right with you, for your second orgasm. There were tears running down your eyes that were completely drained. 

Lando didn’t leave inside you immediately after he was done. He let his body fall while his head was buried on the curve of your neck. He was taken by the realization that he never wanted that to end, to stop. But, most importantly, he never felt this way with anybody else. He knew he had some sort of feelings for you, but he thought it was just a stupid crush linked to the fact that you were a pretty girl around him almost 7 days a week every week. However, in that moment, with you wrapped around him, he was certain it was something deeper.

Lando rolled to the left side of the bed and stared at the ceiling, suddenly watching all his skeletons dance around the chandelier. 

“Are you good? Do you need water?”

He dared to look to the side and wished he didn’t, because the sight of you, naked, hair messy, skin flushed, lips swollen, all fucked out, was one he wanted to frame and hang on his bedroom wall.

You looked back at him, staring at his green eyes that were the lighting up as the flush of adrenaline vanished.

“I would actually love a hot bath and a grilled cheese.”

He laughed, finding some weak strength left to sit down on the bed.

“Make the call and I’ll turn on the bath water.”

He placed a kiss upon your shoulder before standing up and it burned your skin. The clarification was hitting you, what you did. It’s not that you regret it, but you weren’t sure if you wanted things to change. And that type of feeling you felt that night, wasn’t one to just ignore.

🌷🧺:･🌷🧺:･

After you came home from summer break and the races restarted for the other half of the season, you imagined two possible scenarios regarding your situation with Lando. He could: 1. act cold towards you and you towards him and just keep everything professional, but friendship would be completely destroyed like a car set on fire; 2. pretend like nothing happened and everything would just stay the same. You hoped for the second one. 

However, in a matter of Lando Norris, if there were two options to be chosen from, he would create a third one and roll with it.

Lando didn’t ignore you, in fact, you noticed he was even more present. He would suggest driving you up to meetings, flying together, training at the same hour and gym. He would text you memes and tik toks and eventually send you songs from his playlist. You were surprised by his conduct, specially since he used to have a reputation of shutting down every girl he hooked up with, you’ve seen it happen more than once. But, somehow, he was treating you differently.

It started out with those little things, the texts, the quality time. You didn’t mind it, it was pleasant, but you couldn’t deny to yourself that you were confused. After confronting your therapist about it, she suggested that maybe Lando wanted something more, you brushed it off, that was nonsense, that therapist was shit and she knew nothing about you or Lando Norris. Something more? Dating wasn’t a part of your vocabulary, you were always a casual girl. Casual hookups, situationships, friends with benefits, one night stands. That 's it. You loved your single life, you were in your early twenties, at the peak of your career, this was a time to live life at its fullest. At least that’s what you told yourself, instead of facing the truth that there were some deep attachment issues rooted in your core. Another thing your therapist told you. This one, however, as much as you hated to admit, she was right about.

In the same light, things weren’t so different for Norris. In your career as his teammate you’ve seen him with only one serious girlfriend and after their breakup, Lando adopted the “being single and enjoying life” mentality, or what he liked to call “The Y/N mentality.” You weren’t proud, per say, but if there was no harm to anyone, then you were both free to do whatever you wanted with your body.

Nevertheless, you started to notice more. This time, not little things, big, big things. The type of shit that made your stomach drop. Lando’s performance started to decrease. It wasn’t a drastic change, not like he went from winning races to P10 all of the sudden, but he started to miss out on a couple of poles and his race wins started to become merely third or second places. The one ahead of him? You.

At first, you thought it was all you, afterall, the car was the fastest and you were as talented as him. Maybe summer break did you good and you were relaxed enough to place yourself ahead of your teammate. Until the qualifying in Baku. McLaren sent Lando first for his flying lap in Q3, which resulted in an impressive time of 1:41.686, already at ten minutes. You did your lap after him, P4. There was still enough time to try again. Lando went back to the pit, the engineers thought he didn’t even need to try again as no one was even coming close to that time. That was until minute 4 when you hit an impressive 1:41.365. P1. Holy shit. With the clock ticking, for sure Lando would go again, seeing that he would try to get back what you took. But he didn’t. No action from the British Driver, who passively waited for quali to end, happily watching you take another pole.

During the race? You lead all through and through. Your race engineer sounded calm, guiding you and reassuring the gap between you and Lando was over 4 seconds. Then, safety car on track and all your advantage went to trash. You felt nervous looking at Lando in your rear view mirrors, mentally preparing to defend yourself from your teammate, who you’ve never seen being hungrier for a Championship victory. Nonetheless, when the safety car ended and you pushed, you noticed no fight at all. Nothing. As a matter of fact, the gap between you increased. And you won the race, easily, not even breaking a sweat.

You seemed to be the only one who noticed that. No reporters asked him any questions about not putting up a fight. Zak didn’t see a problem and neither Andrea. Lando, also, didn’t look or sounded frustrated. You couldn’t let it pass, though, there was something about your intuition that was flashing with neon lights. In a brief confrontation, Lando’s response was simple “who do you doubt yourself so much? I didn’t help you, you are just brilliant like that.”

You accepted the compliment, but your mind wasn’t put on ease.

Now, in Singapure, you knew you were faced with challenges. It was your least favorite race, particularly because it was so demanding physically. You always found yourself passing out or throwing up after the end, which is why you never got a result higher than P5. It was a weakness, one you already briefed the team about. Of course, that wasn’t going to stop you from pushing and giving it your all, specially since you had an actual chance of winning the championship, and that was what mattered the most to you.

The team was expected for the tension between you and Lando to rise. Not just the team, but every fan of the sport. There were already speculations about the falling out of the golden duo. Hell, even you were expecting Lando to treat you like shit after being so close to take from him all his dreams. But everyone was caught by surprise to see how genuinely Lando was happy for you. During media day he even said “if I’m fighting for a championship, I wouldn’t choose anyone else other than Y/N to battle it with.” It was sweet and the media loved it. They noticed the growth in Lando’s character. He stopped being an anxious boy and perpetuated such a confidence in his abilities that he was nonchalant about his teammate potentially winning his championship.

Then again, in qualifying, just like a copy and paste from Baku, you were P1 and Lando P2. After the session was done, after all the interviews and conferences, you were quick to rush into his driver’s room. Because after that shit show, the words from your therapist replayed in your mind like a religious chant. That woman needed a raise, she was good,

Lando was sitting there, shirtless, racing suit dropped to his hips, hair wet from all the sweat of the unbearing humidity. He looked surprised by your appearance, but that didn’t stop him from giving you the biggest smile. One that made you feel, not butterflies, but a whole zoo with only hungry lions.

“Oh, hey, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

The innocence in his voice made you wanted to punch something, maybe him, if given the chance.

“We need to talk.”

Those words always meant trouble. No matter how nonchalant Lando acted, how unbothered and uncared, he knew he was in trouble. Especially after seeing your face, eyes dark, cheeks red, not a smile in sight of your lips. Your body expression wasn’t tranquilizing him either, arms crossed, chest rising rapidly.

“Why does it feel like I’m in trouble?” He tried adding a bit of humor, a pathetic attempt of releasing tension.

“Why the hell are you letting me win?”

No sugarcoating, straight to the point. The question was simple, direct, there was no defleating. Lando knew you were expecting an honest answer, and you were stubborn, this was something you would push until you got him to say what you wanted to hear. 

“I’m not.”

It wasn’t particularly what he wanted to say, nor the truth.

Lando was letting you win. Because the way your face lighted up when you were standing in the podium, hearing your national anthem and singing it proudly, popping champagne and spraying it around, brought him so genuine happiness that the feeling of winning a championship could not compare. After talking to his therapist, Lando came to the obvious conclusion that he was madly, indescribably, head over heels for you, and with that he realized that all he wanted was to see you happy, even if that meant you won the championship in his place. It was poetic in a sense, at least to Lando, that love could turn someone into such a selfless person. He now knew what all the philosophers and songwriters were talking about.

“Lan, come on.” You took a deep breath and kneeled in front of him, so that you could properly look into his eyes. “It’s me. It’s you and me. There is something going on, I know it.”

Lando was taken back by how close you were and it took him a battle with himself to hold and not touch you in any way. God, you were smart, your ability of being aware about your surroundings was truly impressive. Because he was good at hiding, so good that actually no one else noticed. But to you, it was so obvious.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

‘I want the truth.”

Is it better to speak or to die? Lando remembered he heard that in some film and brought up to his therapist last week. He wanted you to know about his feelings, but like anyone in love, the fear of rejection was locking him up wrapped in chains. 

He could either tell you the truth right now, open up and deal with whatever consequence came from that, or he could just lie. But he was never faced with this decision before. Because, after you, he realized he was never in love before, not even with his last girlfriend, it never felt like this. So, if he was met with an unknown situationship, what was the right thing to do? Was there even a wrong thing? Is there any wrong way to approach the matters of the heart?

Lando looked down, to his hands that were anxiously attached together, unable to face you. That act alone told you everything you needed to know.

“I am letting you win.”

The partial confession wasn’t enough to decompress his chest or satisfy your doubts.

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes. This was torture. Because you knew exactly why, but you were torturing him by making him say it. In your head, it wasn’t torture, but as much as you didn’t want to face the truth, you needed.

“It’s not like it’s that much of a work. We’re still tied in points and you are a phenomenal driver. It’s not like you’re a rookie and I’m just letting you win races in tracks you’ve never driven before.”

“Why, Lando?”

You interrupted his rambling with more authority in your voice.

“You know exactly why.”

He whispered like his confession was going to blow up the world. But he said it so softly you felt a knot in your throat. It broke your heart. 

The feelings inside you were too much, too contrasting, too confusing. You liked him, that was a known fact, you didn’t even bother to lie to yourself about that. But love? That selfless love he was feeling? It was so complicated. He was your teammate, “feelings” were not only a personal matter anymore, both of your careers were at stake. It was forbidden, a rule, drivers should not get involved with other drivers. It never happened before, but you knew the consequences would be a disaster. Press, sponsors leaving, the team breaking down and someone was getting fired. Between the golden boy who had been with McLaren for his whole career and helped the team build that current rocketship and the only female driver who was not as fast as he was, it wasn’t difficult to guess who would be dropped.

Add all of that to your anxiety attachment issues. The thought of being in a relationship, no matter with who, made you want to throw up on the streets. It was the vulnerability, the real intimacy that came with sharing a routine and a life with someone. It wasn’t because you loved your single life, or wanted to have sex with strangers, or had no feelings for Norris, it was the fact that you were terrified of being in love. So much that the times you felt it, you couldn’t tell, because you lied to yourself so many times it became a reality.

Your walls were built skyscraper high and of hard metal, and Lando Norris was quickly destroying them, with not much force.

“Lan…” You prefaced it softly, searching for the right words, if there were any. “This is so complicated.”

It wasn’t quite the response he was expecting. 

“Do you love me back?”

You looked into his eyes for what seemed like eternity, memorizing every line in his iris, and he did the same.

“I adore you.”

“But do you love me?”

Lando wasn’t angry, or agitated. He was asking you with so much calmness, because it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like his feelings would simply disappear because they weren’t reciprocated. And, also, deep down, he could tell you felt the same, but couldn’t admit to yourself.

“I don’t know.” You were honest. That was the most honest answer you could give him. Because you knew, but you didn’t know exactly what.

He smiled, with pity.

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You didn’t answer him, giving the opportunity for his speech to come. “I think that in that night, in Italy, we both caught ourselves in the middle of something that made us realize how dumb we were for not being able to tell, that after all these years together, we are desperately in love with each other. And I think that scared us and we tried our best to pretend it was nothing. But I think, I decided to just accept things for how they are and stop lying to myself and connect with how I’m feeling, while you are stuck in the route of fear, not being able to digest.”

You felt your eyes getting foggy and your throat was on fire. Without even realizing, your hands were on his knees, his palm covering your fists, with the most gentle pressure.

“And I don’t know why you are so scared of letting go and giving yourself. You have always been this way. I know love is a scaring fucking feeling, fuck, for the first nights I couldn’t sleep, I lost my whole appetite for weeks. But you can’t live life without experiencing love to its full potential, Y/N. You are depriving yourself. We could be so beautiful together.”

The words hit you like a crash wave. The tears were uncontrollable, you realized the salty taste hitting your tongue became more constant every time Lando opened and closed his mouth.

Who knew Lando Norris could be so… wise? Well thought? You expected words like this from a cheap philosopher, maybe, but certainly not from the light eyes sitting in front of you. He deserved something from you, because it was true. Every saying, every sentence, he was reading you and deciphering your feelings, something you couldn’t do it yourself. But it was so painful, agonizing, visceral. He was spilling your guts and if you could, you’d cut your organs open for him, but you didn’t know what you wanted or how to say it.

You felt his thumb brush a few tears from your cheeks. Lando was sympathetic. He didn’t know why you thought you were so unworthy of having a loving partner, of being intimate, maybe it was some trauma you never got to work on, or maybe it was a part of your nature, some fucked up dark trait inhereted by birth. Whichever one, it didn’t matter. He would love you regardless.

“I’m sorry. I went too far.”

He didn’t mean to push you like this, but the words blurted out of his chest without going through the wires on his brain first.

“This isn’t easy for me. I’ve never- Not like this. You matter to me. A lot.” Your lips trembled as you spoke, surprised you were even capable of making any sense. “It hurts me, just how much I ache for you...”

“I feel there is a but coming.” 

The way your expression softened in laceration made Lando get hit with a wave of nausea. He was feeling guilty. He said too much, pushed too far, crossed a line. Is it better to speak or to die? Well, guess speaking feels like dying so what difference does it make?

“I can’t-” You sighed. “You’re right, about what you said, everything. But I don’t feel comfortable to say what you want to hear.”

“You can’t say you’re in love with me?”

“And it’s not because I don’t feel it. It’s the opposite. It’s precisely because I feel it so much.” You heard him whisper your name softly under his breath. “I don’t know why I can’t give myself.”

The rawness in your honesty was something unexplainable by the poets and the sociologists. You loved him, to the point of not being able to define if you loved him. To the point where you wanted to deny and hide, because the vulnerability was too crystalline and open. Your blood was flooding the room alongside your tears, and by this point, Lando’s tears too.

“You don’t need to be scared. We can go slowly.”

“Lando, this would ruin everything. The whole team. Your career, my career. It’s not easy. I am not ready.”

Lando knew you were right and if love was a selfless act, he was supposed to let you go, if you were meant to each other, you would eventually find your way back. But that was lies the romantics and literature stigmatized. It was spiritualism to comfort the soul. Sometimes if you do nothing, if you just wait passively, you will lose your soulmate. Maybe there was such thing as the right place and right time.

“What if I quit?” The proposition was so absurd that you laughed shamelessly, stopping completely once you realized he was dead serious. “I’m being serious. What if I leave? You could keep your career, we could be together.”

“Lando, don’t insult me like this.” You got angry for a moment. It was shocking to you that he was just willing to throw his whole life away, because of you. “What about your dreams? Passions? Your career? You’re at your peak!”

“I only want you!”

You shook your head from side to side, standing up, pacing anxiously around the tiny room. For a good portion of minutes you forgot where you were, that there was a world going on outside that space.

“You can’t throw everything away because of somebody else. I wouldn’t let you do it.”

He stood up too, walking towards you. There was pain hidden underneath his skin but he moved with confidence, because he needed to reassure you that there would always be safe whenever he was around.

“And you can’t hide from love forever. It’s biting you, right here and right now.” 

Touché.

“Do you think you can wait ‘til the season is over? Until the whole chaos is through? Then I can have some time to… Digest… Maybe talk to my therapist.”

Lando chuckled.

“You don’t even need to ask, I would wait as long as you needed, as long as you eventually came to me.”

You nodded. The wetness in your eyes thanking him for being understandable. Maybe you needed his therapist’s number, she did some magic there.

“Also… Promise me you’re not going to throw races and let me win?”

“Only if you stop looking beautiful holding trophies.”

You narrowed your eyebrows. “I’m serious, Lando.”

“Fine. Not going to let you win. I’ll play fair.”

If that’s what you wanted, then he would give it to you. If you made ten thousand more demands, he would break himself to make them come to life.

You stood there, contemplating if you were going to kiss him, or if he was going to kiss you. Surely it was a wrong idea, it would just make things messier. But he was so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. Lando wanted to touch you like he needed air to breath, but he couldn’t cross that line. A kiss was too much.

“See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll get to you by lap 1.”

Lando watched as you closed the door behind you, then sobbed like a little kid who lost his blanket.

🌷🧺:･🌷🧺:･

January, 2026

The sun felt like a kiss on your skin. It was warm, peaceful. The sand that usually irritated you by getting under your nails was, currently, a reminder of how good it feels to get a break.

Usually, on January, you would always go to a ski trip somewhere in a cold country, most of the times in Switzerland, but this time you figured it was time for a change. You didn’t want coldness or to wear three layers of clothing, you wanted the smell of sunscreen, vodka with lime and bikini tan lines. Which is why there was nowhere else for you to be than fabulous Rio de Janeiro. Far away from all the driving drama.

You went by yourself, only notifying your parents in case of some emergency. You called it a spiritual journey, rather than “a break”. This wasn’t your therapist suggestion, although she thought it was a good idea for you to get your head clear. Little did she know you weren’t exactly healing, you were just avoiding.

See, when faced with danger, animals have two main primal instincts, fight or flight. And if you knew something about yourself was that you were, by no means, a fighter. 

The season was over. Lando kept his promise and gracefully won the Driver’s Championship that year. Throughout the road, he didn’t mention his feelings again, he didn’t act strange, both of you kept the same. At least in public. By the time you were alone there was nothing that could keep the anxiety out of the room. Every time Abu Dhabi got closer, you remembered how you gave him a deadline. You gave yourself a deadline. To be fair, you thought you would have had figured out things by now, but in an old fashion way, you just shoved your feelings away and focused too much on your job.

Which is why after attending the FIA Awards you vanished. From everything, to everyone. You got a new phone that only your mom knew the number so that you could enjoy your whole month in peace. Needless to say it didn’t work. Because there was no fucking peace when Lando Norris was living in your mind like a rooted tree.

You wrote him a thousand letters, each one with half of the page blank because you couldn’t find the right words. He was never going to see them, so it shouldn’t be hard, but you were blocked by a giant iceberg. It was frustrating. Also, for countless nights you lost sleep thinking about how you failed him, wronged him, broke his heart in ten thousand pieces. You went to the airport twice to change your plane tickets’ date, but gave up when you looked at the attendant’s face.

Enough was enough and you needed to do something about this mess of a situation that was no one’s fault but yours. He deserved better than this. You were going to try. If he didn’t leave your mind you singular minute, surely that meant something. Plus, your therapist was really helpful, really insightful, which gave you hope that you could give it a real try this time. If Lando really loved you - which he did - he would have the patience.

You picked up your flip flops from the sand and headed back to your hotel, just across the streets of Copacabana. You lost count of how many times you were approached by starry eyed brazilians that were crazy about you. Walking to the elevator, you closed your eyes before leaning back to the mirror, waiting for the door to shut, which it did right after someone walked in. Not even half a second later, you felt it… That indistinguishable scent of bergamot, leather and ginger. Holy fucking shit.

“What the-”

The body standing in front of you materialized at the same time the voice did. You thought you were going to throw up.

Lando thought the same, because after all this time, there you were.

On his side of things, Lando liked to think that he was a gentleman who waited patiently, without forcing any type of situation that could, potentially, cause a fallout. But after having spent the holidays with his family, the magic and energy of Christmas made him so desperately miss you. Still he waited and burned all by himself. By January 5th he had gone mad, stopped eating, stopped hanging out. His friends had to drag him out of his apartment. Max brought him food everyday and stood there watching him eat, or else he wouldn’t. Lando was broken.

On a random cold January night he called you, the phone rang an exact amount of thirteen times before getting to voicemail. And he called an extra twenty. To his relief, or torture agonizing pain, the other drivers couldn’t reach to you either. He was relieved because he wasn’t the only one being purposefully ignored. But what if something happened to you? Something bad? Something he couldn’t bear to think about without wanting to die. In a desperate attempt to get some news, he called your dad, who, by the graces of the universe, picked up. The weight off his shoulders disappeared so abruptly it almost felt like levitating.

Lando didn’t see you going to a foreign country on vacation completely alone as some attempt of running away, he thought you were chasing healing. He didn’t know where you were but he just hoped you were okay.

After that, with help of dear Max, he started to regain some of his sparkle. You wouldn’t disappear, you would come back when you were ready. That was the mantra Lando repeated to himself over and over again when staring at the dark Monaco skies. 

Some random week Max announced he was going to Rio with Pietra for some wedding on her family. Lando couldn’t tell why that information got stuck in his head so much, he thought about it the whole day, brooding that fact like a chewy gum. Which is why, on Wednesday night, he asked if he could go with them. Not to the wedding, he couldn’t handle a wedding, not right now, but just to Brazil, enjoy the sun, the music, the culture and the food. Of course, his best friend wouldn’t deny him that.

Call it fate, destiny, lifeline, whatever the hell the esoterics and religious named it, but it was real. Both you and Lando were now the proof. Your eyes were as wide as two globes and Lando blinked so much his vision was blurry, a few eyelashes fell on his cornea.

You were confused, extremely. How the hell did he know you were there? Did your mom tell him? Did he see it on twitter? Did he follow you there? Because surely the fans who recognized you posted the photos somewhere. In Lando’s defense, he didn’t see the posts, he was on a social media detox after his crashout post holidays. He genuinely didn’t know where you were.

“What are you doing here?” Before Lando could answer, the elevator door opened. It was your floor. “Follow me.”

He walked behind you in total madness, entering your room without thinking much.

“This is-”

“How? Why are you here?”

You interrupted him, staring deep in his eyes. You noticed how his body language was soft and the lines on his face were tender. He was smiling, like a dumb idiot, because he was so incredibly happy to see you there. Healthy, tanned, smelling like sunscreen, just like Emilia Romagna.

“Max and P are here with me. Someone from her family is getting married.”

“Did you know I was here?”

“No.”

He looked so starstruck that you had no other choice but to believe him.

You licked your lips and nodded, once again facing a situation with Lando that you were not ready to. Maybe this was the universe slapping you on your face and screaming “get a grip, bitch, life doesn’t work the way you want it, you can’t control some things.”

“How are you?”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth you wanted to jump off of the balcony. Really? How are you? Is this the best you can do?

Lando contemplated on if he was going to be honest or lie. He opted for the second choice, telling you how he was actually doing would just completely ruin the already ruined mood.

“I’m fine. Being a World Champion really brought me some peace of mind.”

You didn’t believe a single word. Being a World Champion was his main goal and purpose in life, you knew that, and he seemed fulfilled in a way actors do when they win an Oscar. But standing right in front of you, Lando, underneath all that curly hair and flushed cheeks, looked pale as if he almost got into a car accident seconds before.

“I bet it did…” The silence was killing you, making you hold on to anything, desperately. “Do you wanna sit?”

You pointed out to the small sofa in the room. Lando just followed your lead, sitting a cushion distance from you.

“How are you? You look well.” 

Well, you wouldn’t exactly put it that you were wll. But definitely better.

“I am doing better than I was I can tell you that much.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

You stared at your hands, fingers nervously intertwining. Lando noticed the not-so-subtle act and found it adorable how nervous you were, because he was feeling the exact same. He knew that you were dying inside, which is why he decided to take an upfront.

“Look, Y/N, you don’t gotta say anything if you don’t want to. I know you said you wanted to talk after the season was over. But you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“You sound like a prince when you talk like that.”

That wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. That was actually meant to stay inside your head, just for you, maybe you would write it down on a journal. However, it just slipped, without your consent, loud and clear enough for Lando to hear it and blush, not being able to contain a smile.

He laughed nervously, for the first time looking at the floor, taking his eyes off of you.

“I’m sorry.”

You chuckled, hiding your face with your right palm.

“Well, don’t apologize, I sure didn’t mind hearing that.”

Both of you tittered. It helped with the energy of the room, because, even though it was still filled with anxiety and unspoken clouds, there was a little pink light radiating from both your souls. Like when twin flames ignite.

“You know, I wrote you, at least, fifteen letters.”

Lando turned his face, watching you watch him with concentration and determination in your eyes.

“But you never sent them?”

“Never found words that were good enough.”

“There’s no such thing as good enough.” In a bold move, the boy slid from his place to the one next to you, breaking the distance. “I don’t need poetry, that doesn’t interest me. All you gotta do is be honest, most importantly to yourself.”

You nodded, agreeing because he was, once again, right.

“I’m sorry, words were never my thing.”

“You’re telling me? I failed english lit in high school.”

Both of you giggled. You always thanked the gods for Lando Norris’ sense of humor and charisma, because you feared the world would just be a dark place without him.

“Well, but I think I can give you something and let it talk for itself.”

There was no hesitance, but you were definitely nervous when your hands met the back of his neck and pulled him towards you, lips locked like they were meant for each other. Lando wasn’t expecting a kiss with so much passion. It wasn’t a kiss charged with sexual tension, in fact, there was none, it was very raw. Confessional. Your way of saying I love you.

When his mind caught up to the moment, his hands cupped the back of your head, tongues dancing together. A kiss that started with intensity grew to be delicate, soft as if you were both fragile pieces of art hanging in the Louvre.

Only when you were out of air in your lungs was when you pulled back, feeling all the anxiety rushing back to your bones like it never left. There was no going back now, it was done. You showed him how you felt. The ball was on his court.

“I hope this is enough for you.”

Lando felt sympathetic about your worries. He coudn’t help but smile and scrunch his nose.

“Well, I was expecting a keychain saying I love Rio or something, but I’ll take the kiss.”

You playfully threw the small sofa cushion towards him, feeling a lot lighter by his reaction. 

“You’re an idiot, Lando Norris.” Before he could open his mouth, you continued “Don’t say you’re an idiot who loves me or I’ll get up and leave.”

“I’m offended you think I’m that cheesy.” He put his hand on his chest, faking an expression. But yeah, he was definitely going to say that.

“On a serious note now. If we are going to do this, I need us to go very slow. Baby steps.”

Lando grabbed your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. The gesture made your heart flush. Your heart. Not your stomach this time around.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing. If you ever feel we are moving too quickly and you’re uncomfortable, don’t be scared of letting me know. I’m always going to be patient.”

“I have no doubts about that.”

They remained in silence. But unlike previously, it was the good kind of silence - the type that anticipated something big. Like one before your favorite track of an album starts to play. Lando smiled, with a new meaning. It hit you that your name was going to sound differently now coming from his mouth.

He touched her lips again and they were waltzing, slow but right steps.

The kiss was tender, like the whole world slowed down just to match your rhythm.  An instant that was suspended in time, full of unspoken promises. You felt that your out of sync heart was trying to match his.

It was happening, it was real and it was true. You weren’t hiding from love. You weren’t running away. The world kept spinning and you would follow Lando Norris anywhere he went, even in secret, even in quiet. Slowly creating proof of heaven, together.

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part xi

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons and/or events

series: part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | ...

bonus: one, two, three

June 2-3, 2025

[Excerpt: True or False with Babolat Ambassador Y/N L/N] True or False – you’ve never won Wimbledon or the US Open

True, for now! Trying to change it this year. I did get to the final of Wimbledon two years ago, so hoping I can at least get there again.

True or False – Your favourite tv series is Abbott Elementary

Oooh, favourite tv series ever? I don’t know about that, that’s really difficult. But I do love it as one of my favourite tv series that’s currently on tv for sure. Especially because it's funny and low-stakes, but also still very real and touching.

True or False – Every tennis player also is an avid watcher of tennis

Definitely false. There’s a pretty clear divide between those of us who watch tennis for entertainment, and those of us who cannot stand it – because you can’t escape your need to analyse every single millisecond of a match. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which category I belong to.

True or False – you had a small background part in the movie Challengers

Ha, I wish!

True or False – Using the right, fresh balls makes all the difference in a championship match.

That’s actually true. The more you’ve used them and hit them over the course of a match, even in as much as 20 minutes the balls degrade. And so does the quality. It means you have to adjust your hitting style constantly, and that takes a lot of effort. It also depends on the surface a bit. Clay is a lot more physical than hard court, for example.

True or False – If you hadn’t become a tennis player, you would have wanted to be a location scout for movies.

How do you guys know that? Yeah, I just think it’d be such a cool and creative job. You’d get to travel a lot, which I get to do now as well – but you’d actually get to spend time exploring the place with a purpose in mind. I don’t know, I think capturing what the world looks like is so beautiful. Sometimes we forget just how beautiful it is, and just how precious our environment is.

True or False – your celebrity crush is Sebastian Stan

True. Has been since I first watched him in Once Upon A Time.

True or False – Your favourite racket is a Babolat Aero.

Hmmm trick question! I actually have my own modified version as of this year. It’s now available for people to pre-order – the Babolat Aero Pro L/N. I’m so excited to bring the racket that I’m using this tour to stores. It’s been a very rigorous process of designing and developing this racket to suit me the best, and give me the most feel and spin control as possible.

True or False – Your dream holiday destination is Japan.

True again. This year I actually got to spend my birthday there. It was absolutely wonderful, and also a complete surprise that my best friend had organised for me. I don't think anyone's ever given me such a thoughtful gift. I thought I was being dropped off at the airport, and instead we drove straight to Niigata for Sakura. I'm pretty sure I'll never forget just how breathtaking it was to be surrounded by so much beauty, and to share that with such special people who mean the world to me.

June 4-5, 2025

[Excerpt Max Fewtrell Twitch Stream, June 5th, 2025]

"Yeah, he is in Paris right now. What a life he leads, huh? Terrible. No, as much as I loved the Australian Open - I won't be going to the tennis this time. I'll be back to support Lando during his next race though. We do have our own lives, I know it might not look like it, but we do."

“Am I following the tournament? Yes I am, though I must say the atmosphere in a stadium is hard to replicate through a screen. It's such an intense sport. Really rooting for Y/N L/N of course.”

“If I have a favourite for the men? Ohh I can't really say. Let's first see who gets into the final, because it does take a while with tennis.”

“What else is coming from Quadrant? Quite a lot actually. It’s been very exciting, we’ve been working hard behind the scenes for a while. So just have to be patient for a little while longer chat, but I promise you it’ll be well worth the wait.”

June 6-8, 2025

A/N: omg so much has happened irl between previous chapter and this one, podium wins, the MET, there's a new pope, and i now have a new laptop woohoo. Next up in WSIIL: get in, we're going shopping with an increasingly unraveling y/n and loverboy lando :) :)

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012 @sadiemack9

[monstersholygrail]

what if umm 👉👈 shape shifting dragon bf x masc!reader but the dragon is really huge and really worried about accidentally hurting his tiny human boyfriend but the boyfriend tells him it's ok I can take it I swear I'm tough and he tries to ride the dragon while he's so big but is clearly having a really hard time taking it all so the the dragon shifts down juuust enough without telling him and he's like "oh wow good job!!" or something I guess idk

Taking on the Dragon

Dragon Shifter x Male!reader— marking, anal, stretching, multiple orgasms

Ever since you found out that your boyfriend of a few months could actually shape shift into a ginormous dragon, you’ve been utterly fascinated and intrigued by the prospect of seeing him in all his dragon glory.

More importantly, you’ve been even more interested in fucking him in his dragon form. Your bf already had a thick cock in his shifter form, but imagining how massive he’d be as a fully shifted dragon made your cock throb in your pants.

Who knew your bf would awaken the monster fucker in you?

The only problem was getting your boyfriend to actually show you his dragon form. You spend weeks after first finding out trying to convince him to show you. But it’s like he knew. The second he’d transform you wouldn’t be able to help yourself but to pounce on him take him that instant.

It was infuriating how well your bf knew you. Though that means he also should’ve known that this was not something you were about to give up on. Every chance you get you bug him about it. Pestering him and practically begging him to show. And he knows how much you hate to beg, the brat in you usually refusing.

That is how much you wanted him. All of him. And eventually your Dragon bf comes to see just how much it meant to you.

So he arranges the whole night, knowing you’ll have to recover after. On hand he has the biggest amount of lube you’ve ever seen. Your Dragon bf clearly over-preparing in his nervousness. You know he doesn’t want to hurt you and the fact warms your heart. But you want this, need this. Just thinking about it has pre dribbling from your slit and making a mess of your briefs.

Eventually you can’t take his endless pacing as he checks and re-checks everything in his warm comfortable den. So you walk over to him and place a gentle hand on his muscular arm. Even without the dragon form your bf was a big man. Excitment curls in your belly imagining how much bigger he’ll get.

“Calm down, babe. It’s ok, I can take it,” you say with the utmost confidence.

Still, your dragon bf doesn’t look too sure. A smirk plays on your lips as you cup the nape of your bf’s neck and bring him down in a slow tender. Neither of you daring to back away until you’re both soft and pliant in each other’s arms.

“I’m like… super tough. So I can totally take dragon dick. And next time I’d definitely be able to take some dragon ass.”

Your bf chuckles lowly, making you shiver against him. He mirrors your smirk as he starts slowly backing you into the pile of furs he calls a bed.

“That’s pretty confident of you, eh? Who said anything about next time?”

But your dragon bf pushes you down into the furs and for the first time during the whole night you can see just how excited and turned on your bf is. His eyes never leave your face but yours travel over his form as skin fades to scales and he grows taller and taller in size, all signs of his human features shift into that of a dragon.

You gape up at him, marveling at the sheer size of his form. When before, his den he brought you to appeared huge, you can now see your bf nearly reaches the top of the cave. And when you look down, down, down, you gape again. This time at the sheer size of his cock.

“Not so cocky now, baby?” He purrs, leaning close till his snout is only inches from your face.

“Not yet.”

Your bf chuckles at your confidence despite his nervousness. He takes you in his claws and brings you up to rest on his underbelly. His touch is careful like he’s afraid to break you if he holds too hard. And honestly you feel so small and breakable in his arms, you almost want him to squeeze you and tease you with his strength.

But he’s all focused on you, your dragons bfs hard cock twitches, his tip leaking just from having your body on his. Yet he never tries to rush as he slowly stretches your ass on his fingers. Gently taking it one digit at a time as you lay on his belly.

Your moans echo through the den, your hold on your bf tightening as your bf finger fucks your ass so tenderly. Your heart flutters and your cock leaks, already overwhelmed by being more and more filled. You can’t wait to try his cock.

When ready he lifts your body with ease. He hasn’t even pushed into you yet and you already feel like his little fuck doll. Both of you gasp as he starts to push in, his girth forcing all the air from your lungs to make way for his cock.

The stretch is so delicious and you already start shaking after only a couple inches. But your dragon boyfriend remains careful, slowly thrusting inch by inch, waiting for your ass to open up to him like a flower.

“I-is it all the way in yet?” You whimper, your body sagging against your bf like his length has sucked up all your energy.

Your bf looks down, biting his lip in worry. He’s sure you can’t take much more but you want it so badly. So as smoothly as he can, your bf slams up the rest of his length into at the same time he shifts a little back back into a human, making his dragon size a bit smaller and allowing you to take his full dick.

He smooths his claws over your back, shushing you gently as he waits patiently for you to adjust.

“Mhm. What a good boy f’me, taking my cock like a champ. You’re gonna make such a pretty little cum dump,” he coos in your ear as he pulls his length almost all the way out before slamming it back in.

For the rest of the night he brings you to orgasm after orgasm, making a bigger mess of his underbelly and your ass each time you both cum. And with each new release he shifts a little closer to his dragon form, continuing to stretch you to his size till you’re totally fucked out and a wreck. Your insides successfully destroyed by his monster cock as you finally made it all fit.

[tinylilacbun]

vampire!toddler! sister reader getting jealous of the attention that stefan and damon give elena. they remind her that she’s always their #1 girl

Uncontrollable Jealousy

Pairings: brother!damon salvatore x toddler!vampire!sister!reader x brother!stefan salvatore

Warnings: some angst, jealousy, comfort at the end, mentions of Katherine (that girl needs a tw), reader hurts elena by accident, mentions of blood, word count: 1,4k

A/N: AHH FIRST FIC IS HERE SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS!!

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Ever since you, Stefan, and Damon later on, came back to Mystic Falls, things changed a lot. The dramas became more and dangerous each time but it's always about her.

Elena, who unmistakably looks like Kathrine but is - beside being human, not an ounce like her personality wise, that's what your brothers say at least every damn day.

It's always about Elena and you're getting tired of it, everything starts and ends with her, it's getting on your nerves bad.

Since you're a vampire and a toddler on top of that is controlling your heightened emotions even harder to do, all the bad ones making themselves prominent with each day the attention of your brothers turns from to her the second her name is mentioned.

Anger, sadness, and jealousy, those three emotions that can make situations end badly with a vampire who can't control herself without help.

Today you wake up in a rather good mood, jumping around on your big canopy bed for a bit before speeding downstairs when you're able to hear that Stefan and Damon are already up.

"Aren't we a bit energetic today?" Damon remarks, drinking some blood from a glass as you jump up and down beside him, grabbing onto his shirt with one hand as the other makes grabby hand motions for the glass.

"Gimmeeeee." You whine, the hunger gnawing at you since you smelled it after entering the living room.

"Ah, what's the magic word?" He teases, holding the glass just out of your reach.

"Want now." You huff, your grip tightening so much you almost rip the fabric of his shirt.

"Whoa, remember your strength little monster, those clothes are expensive." He chides you, putting down the glass and then grabs a sippy cup, holding it out to you. "There, now quit the whining."

You giggle, quickly grabbing the sippy and make yourself comfortable on one of the armchairs, drinking almost eagerly.

As you sedate your hunger your ears pick up the sound of footsteps right outside the front door and speed to open it before one of your brothers can get the chance.

Your once happy expression changes when you see that it's Elena, a small frown appearing on your face as you walk off without greeting her, leaving the door open to let her inside.

To distract yourself you go back to the living room, grabbing a few paper sheets and crayons to color a little bit at the coffee table, knowing that your fate is sealed for the day.

"I thought we're gonna meet at school." Stefan says, approaching her and giving her a kiss as a greeting, immediately noticing something is off. "What happened?"

"I gotta talk with you and Damon." She just says and he nods.

"Y/n, time to go upstairs for a bit." Damon tells you, tilting his head when you don't move from your position at the coffee table, whistling at you. "Hey, I mean now."

"No. You go." You answer defiantly.

They look at each other confused as it's not usual for you to be like this and Elena of course tries to solve the situation, as always, crouches down beside you, sweet talking in that aggravating voice that you can't hear anymore.

"We just wanna talk for a second. You can come back downstairs the second we're done, okay?" She promises, making the mistake of touching your back in an attempt to soothe you which does the complete opposite.

Without thinking - and forgetting your own strength, you push her away from you, sending her body flying a few feet away, not injuring her but definitely knocking the wind from her lungs.

Your brothers, as expected, rush to aid her. Stefan looks her over while Damon turns to you, a stern expression now on his face. "You better go to your room before I drag you there."

You crumble the sheet you just finished to color, standing up from the ground to throw it at his chest. "I hate you both!" You scream, speeding off to your room.

The door to your room slams shut with so much force it almost breaks, throwing yourself onto your bed you quickly hide under the puffy covers, the tears already flowing.

You try not to listen to how they take care of Elena, knowing it will only make you more upset as you keep remembering how much you are pushed to the side lately.

There were times where it was just you and your brothers against the world, you miss that, miss them and how everything used to be after they moved on from their heartbreaks over Kathrine, and now it started all over again.

You hear them approach your room before the door even opens, curling up even more under the safety of your blanket, your arms tightening around the teddy bear you have been carrying around since 1864.

You sniffle as you feel two weights sit down on each side of your bed but don't make a move to come out of your hiding place.

"Y/n, would you look at us please?" Stefan asks, his tone not showing any type of anger nor frustration. "We just want to talk."

"Jus' us?" You question with a slight crack in your voice.

"Elena is downstairs if that's what you're worried about." Damon says, already figuring that it has to be something about her that had you acting out so suddenly as everything seemed okay before she arrived.

Hesitantly you sit up on the mattress, slowly pulling the blanket down to reveal your tear strained face, hiccuping a few times as you rub your nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

There's silence for a moment but you can't keep your frustration inside anymore, the feelings too big for a vampire toddler to control. "S'not fair! S'always jus' her! I hate her! She- She took you away jus' wike Kathrine!" You blurt out during sobs, coughing from working yourself up.

They look at each other with surprise at your outburst, your anger and jealousy a result of your insecurity to lose your brothers to yet another girl that has them wrapped around her finger without even really trying.

"That's what this is about? You're scared Elena does the same Kathrine did before we turned into vampires?" Stefan clarifies and you nod, rubbing at your eyes as you keep crying.

Back in 1864 Katherine compelled you to distance yourself from your brothers so she can have her fun with them in peace without a clingy toddler interrupting all the time, and even after her presumed death your brothers only talked about her, making you feel lonely.

Damon sighs, taking the opportunity to lift you onto his lap, using his finger to brush your hair away that sticks to your wet cheeks.

"Now, we both know that Elena isn't even close like Kathrine at all. She's a lot nicer than Katherine, isn't she?" Damon asks, seeing the way you kinda slump your shoulders, knowing that he's right.

Elena was nothing but sweet to you and you let your frustration out on her simply because of your past experience with someone who looks exactly like her even though it's not her fault in the slightest.

"Mhm." You agree, fiddling with your daylight bracelet in shame. "She gots me cwayons once..." You mumble, thinking about how she introduced you to coloring books, your eyes bright with wonder at the idea of coloring out an almost finished picture and how hard it is to draw in line sometimes. "Didn' mean to hurts her..."

"I know you didn't, little monster." He pinches your nose, wiping any remaining tears from your face. "You'll always be our favorite, even if you think otherwise, and we'll keep reminding you of that."

"How about you go and apologize to her. I'm sure she'll understand." Stefan suggests, standing up as Damon does the same after setting you down on the ground.

You nod, hugging Damon's leg before rushing to do the same to Stefan, a giggle finally being heard from you again as you skip downstairs.

"You know this is partly our fault, right?" Stefan says quietly to Damon as they follow you.

"Yep, we're the worst." He agrees, unfolding the drawing that you threw at him and holds it out to his brother to show your bit messily drawn figures that resemble you three before being turned into vampires. "We shouldn't forget that even though she's over 150 years old, she's still the same toddler that clings and looks up to us the same way she did when we were still humans."

They both stop walking when they see Elena giving you a comforting hug, obviously forgiving you and accepting your honest apology.

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han river lullaby chapter seven | myg

Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance

Chapter warnings: Blonde Yoongi being a menace in a flash back you have been warned, mild sexual content NSFW.

Word count: 9.7 approximately

Authors notes: I am sorry in advance for the long chapter but yoongi being a menace to society and MCs heart just possessed me I’m also trying something new with how I’m formatting these chapters as i get more used to tumblr so please feel free to let me know what you think about it in the comments and ill adjust the past chapters to be the same flashbacks will be in italics and let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments!

The morning of your departure for Daegu dawned clear and bright, but your stomach was a knotted mess of nerves.

While Han buzzed with uncontainable excitement, darting around the apartment like a tiny tornado, you were fighting the urge to unpack everything you’d just packed. Twice.

“Is that Appa?” Han asked for what had to be the tenth time, standing on tiptoes to peer out through the slats of the blinds as another car passed by.

“Not yet, bub,” you said gently, watching as Han spun on his heel and wheeled his little red Lightning McQueen suitcase in a quick circle before parking it by the front door again like a little guard.

You’d dressed him in a soft cotton hoodie, jeans and his favorite black sneakers, his curls neatly combed for all of three seconds before his fingers had ruffled them again. His cheeks were already flushed with excitement.

The sound of tires on gravel made Han jump, eyes wide as he whipped around to look at you. “That’s him! Right?!”

You didn’t have time to answer before he was yanking open the door and bounding onto the front step, his whole face lighting up.

“Appa!” he yelled, the word high and bright in the morning air. “I packed all by myself!”

Yoongi stepped out of the car wearing a bomber jacket over a white shirt with jeans and a black beanie, his smile blooming the second he saw Han. He walked up the path as Han rushed to meet him, crouching down with open arms.

“You did?” Yoongi said, glancing at the tiny suitcase with dramatic curiosity.

Han nodded enthusiastically, puffing out his chest. “I even remembered my toothbrush.”

Yoongi laughed, eyes flicking up to you as you hovered in the doorway. You offered a small smile, but your hands were tight on your own suitcase handle.

As Yoongi stood and hoisted Han’s bag into the trunk, he called over his shoulder, teasing, “What about Eomma? Is she ready?”

“Barely,” you muttered, dragging your suitcase toward the car. You’d redone your eyeliner twice and still felt like a mess. Your heart had been pounding since you’d woken up, and the closer you got to leaving, the worse it got. It wasn’t the drive. It wasn’t even seeing Yoongi’s childhood home again.

It was everything else—the unspoken weight of history, the unknown reception, the what-ifs.

Once Han was strapped into his car seat, happily flipping through a picture book, Yoongi rounded the car and came to stand beside you. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his voice pitched low so only you could hear.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “You look like you’re about to shit your pants.”

Your eyes flew open wide as a startled laugh burst from you. “Oh my God,” you groaned, swatting his arm. “You have such a way with words.”

Yoongi grinned unrepentantly. “What can I say? Poetry is in my blood.”

He was quiet for a moment, then his smile softened. His fingers brushed briefly, casually, against your elbow—an anchor more than a touch.

“Seriously,” he said, voice gentle now. “It’ll be okay.”

You searched his eyes. There wasn’t a trace of uncertainty in them. No teasing, no tension. Just quiet, steady confidence. That easy calm that always made him feel unshakable, even when you were both falling apart.

The knot in your chest loosened just a little.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Yoongi opened the passenger door for you with a flourish, and you rolled your eyes as you slid in. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered.

“I know,” he replied as he closed the door. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

From the back seat, Han leaned forward as far as his seatbelt would let him. “Are we going now?”

Yoongi climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to glance at him through the mirror. “Sure are, are you ready?”

“Yay!!” Han squealed, kicking his feet happily.

As the car pulled away from the curb, you looked out the window and tried to quiet the rapid thrum of nerves still fluttering in your chest.

You weren’t sure what the next few days would bring. But as Yoongi’s fingers reached over and brushed lightly against yours on the center console—just once, just enough to let you know he was there—you found yourself thinking he was right, it would be okay.

The four-hour drive to Daegu was filled with bursts of laughter, the hum of Hans playlist on repeat, and a steady stream of questions from the back seat—most of which began with “Appa, what’s…”

Yoongi fielded each one patiently, one hand on the steering wheel, the other occasionally tapping to the beat of the music or reaching out to adjust the mirror so he could better see Han’s face.

At one point, during a lull between songs and snacks, Han leaned forward as far as his car seat would allow, wide-eyed and curious.

“Appa, what’s Halmeoni like?”

Yoongi’s mouth quirked into a fond smile as he glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. “She’s kind,” he said, his voice warming with memory. “She likes to pretend she’s strict, but she always sneaks me extra food whenever I visit. Even when I say I’m not hungry.”

Han gasped like this was the greatest revelation in the world. “Extra food?”

Yoongi nodded solemnly, clearly playing along. “The best kind. Kimchi jjigae, galbi, japchae—she’s a really good cook.”

From the passenger seat, you smiled to yourself. The tension that had wound itself tightly around your chest that morning had started to loosen, bit by bit. Maybe it was the rhythm of the road, or the way Han’s joy smoothed the edges of your nerves. Or maybe it was Yoongi—unfazed, present, and so effortlessly at ease in this moment.

“What about Harabeoji?” Han asked, his voice softer now.

Yoongi hummed. “He’s quieter. A little gruff. But he’s funny when he wants to be. He tells great stories—long ones, the kind that make you laugh till your cheeks hurt.”

Han nodded slowly, absorbing every word. Then, after a pause, he asked, “Do you think they’ll… like me?”

Your heart clenched at the uncertainty in his voice, the way it wavered just enough to show the vulnerability he rarely let peek through. Before you could turn to reassure him, Yoongi answered without hesitation.

“They’re going to love you, Han,” he said, glancing at his son through the mirror, his tone calm and sure. “You’re their grandson. Their grandbaby boy.”

Han beamed, tension melting from his face as quickly as it had come. “Okay,” he said, satisfied, and launched into another round of questions about the rest of the family: aunts, cousins, dogs.

You watched them as they talked—Yoongi answering every question, no matter how bizarre or specific, with a kind of quiet affection that pulled at something deep in your chest. It had always been one of his strongest qualities: the way he made people feel heard. Known.

This trip wasn’t just about Han meeting Yoongi’s parents. Maybe it was the start of something else. A slow reckoning. A quiet invitation to return, not just to Daegu, but to something you hadn’t let yourself believe in for a long time—a future. A family. This family.

For the first time since Yoongi had asked you to come, you found yourself believing, just a little, that everything might actually be okay.

——————————————————————————————————

Pulling into the once familiar neighborhood felt like stepping back into a photograph—warm with memory and slightly blurred with time. The houses were close-knit, tucked into quiet streets lined with trees just beginning to bud. Yoongi’s childhood home stood nestled at the end of the block, modest but lovingly kept, with a front gate you remembered creaking on its hinges from years ago and the same potted plants his mother had always tended with care.

You barely had time to take it in before Yoongi turned off the engine and opened his door. He was in motion instantly, efficient and focused—unbuckling Han, lifting him out of the car with ease, and smoothing down his tousled hair as he set him on the ground.

“Alright, buddy,” he murmured, crouching beside him. “Remember, Halmeoni and Harabeoji are really excited to meet you. Don’t worry, they’re gonna love you.”

But Han didn’t move. His small fingers wrapped tightly around the fabric of Yoongi’s jeans, eyes wide as he stared up at the front door like it was something both magical and terrifying.

You stepped out more slowly, nerves crawling back up your spine as the door creaked open.

Yoongi’s parents stood there, framed in the doorway. His mother’s eyes lit up the moment she saw her son and grandson, her face breaking into a smile so warm it nearly melted you. His father stood beside her, more reserved, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—but there was no mistaking the curiosity in his gaze.

You paused, instinctively hanging back, letting Yoongi take the lead. This was his moment—with Han, with the parents he hadn’t seen in far too long.

Yoongi straightened and gently guided Han forward, one hand resting protectively on his back.

“Eomma, Appa,” he said, his voice calm but grounded with meaning. “This is Han.”

For a second, silence stretched between them. Then his mother let out a soft, delighted laugh and stepped forward, crouching down to Han’s eye level.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, eyes glimmering. “Just like his appa.”

You blinked, momentarily confused—until she added, “When Yoongi was little, he did the same thing. Always hiding behind his father, or clinging to me like a little koala when we had visitors.”

Yoongi scoffed and looked away, cheeks faintly pink. “Eomma… hajima.”

But it worked. Han peeked out from behind his father’s leg, cautiously studying the woman in front of him.

“You look just like your appa,” she said gently, “but I bet you have your eomma’s heart.”

And with that, something unspooled. Han let go of Yoongi’s leg, inching forward, the suspicion in his eyes giving way to wonder.

“Really?” he asked, tilting his head.

She nodded. “Really.”

She extended her hand, and after a small pause, Han reached for it. His tiny fingers curled into hers, and her face lit up as though she’d just been handed the entire world.

“Come say hello, dear,” she called over her shoulder.

Yoongi’s father finally stepped forward. His steps were slower, measured. He crouched slightly, meeting Han’s gaze.

“I see your arms healed well, Han,” he said, voice deep and gentle.

Han blinked, then nodded. “Yes. I did my exercises.”

His grandfather offered the faintest smile. “Good. Strong boy.”

Han turned instinctively toward Yoongi, who gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

Yoongi’s mother stood, brushing a hand across her cheek as she looked between her son and grandson like she could hardly believe it was real.

Then her gaze flicked to you.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” she said, her expression unreadable—gentle, but cautious.

Your heart jumped in your throat. You forced a smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”

There was a beat of silence. Not cold, just… suspended. And then she nodded once and stepped aside.

“Come in, all of you. You must be tired.”

As you stepped into the house—crossing a threshold that held so much memory—you released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This wasn’t just about introductions.

It was about all of you—testing the waters, feeling the shape of something unspoken, trying to see if it could be rebuilt. Not perfectly. Not exactly the same, but stronger this time.

After lunch, the house had quieted. You tucked Han in for a nap in Yoongi’s old room, the blanket pulled gently up to his chest. His breaths had evened out, lashes soft against his cheeks, and his tiny hand clutched the frayed ear of his stuffed bunny. You ran your fingers lightly through his hair, the way he liked, and felt the familiar warmth swell in your chest.

The room smelled faintly of cedar and mint. You glanced around, the nostalgia settling into your bones. The walls were still lined with posters—mostly basketball players Yoongi admired, one or two of old hip-hop legends—and a cracked sticker of the Daegu Samsung Thunders still clung to the corner of the closet door. On the shelf above the desk sat a neat row of trophies: a silver one for a piano recital, a gold one for a middle school writing competition, a small but proud bronze for reading the most books in his class one year.

You smiled, the memory surfacing like it had only just happened.

“Wait, wait, this one? For reading?” you teased eyebrow raised, an affectionate smile tugging at your lips , pointing at the smallest trophy.

Yoongi had scowled, pulling it out of your reach. “Yeah, and I earned it, thank you very much.”

You’d laughed, leaning against the doorframe of his room. “You nerd.”

“Says the woman who voluntarily did two extra classes at med school, to qualify for even more school in a foreign country.” he’d shot back, rolling his eyes, but grinning all the same.

The sound of Han’s soft breathing pulled you back to the present.

“Sleep well, baby,” you whispered, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

As you closed the door behind you, the comfort of the moment gave way to nerves. You hadn’t seen Yoongi’s mother in so long. You didn’t know what she thought of you anymore—especially after everything. She’d welcomed Han like he belonged, but you weren’t sure that same warmth extended to you.

You didn’t get far before nearly running into her in the hallway.

“Y/N,” she said calmly, her tone unreadable.

You straightened instinctively. “Oh—sorry, I was just—”

She studied you, her expression steady, neither cold nor fully warm. There was something in her eyes—searching, weighing.

“I understand the courage it took for you to come here,” she said.

You blinked, caught off guard. You hadn’t expected… grace.

“I—” You swallowed. “I didn’t come to stir anything up. I just… Han deserves to know this side of his family. And Yoongi…said”

She raised a hand gently, stopping your ramble. “I know my son,” she said softly. “I know how deeply he feels—even when he doesn’t show it. When you left each other, it broke something in him.”

A small familiar wave of guilt rose up and settled in your chest like stone.

“I never meant to hurt him,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Least of all like that.”

She nodded slowly, like she’d been waiting to hear you say that. “I believe you.”

The simplicity of it hit you harder than you expected.

“And knowing him,” she continued, voice softer now. “If he asked you here, if he let you back in—even a little—it means he still sees something worth holding on to.” She paused. “Do you?”

The question made you still. You didn’t have to think about it. Of course you did.

But before you could say it aloud, a familiar voice called from the other room.

“Eomma, where’s Y/N?”

Yoongi.

She gave you a look that said she already knew the answer anyway and stepped aside. “Go on.”

You nodded and made your way toward the stairs, her words still echoing in your head.

Do you?

Yes. You did. With your whole heart.

You found Yoongi at the bottom of the stairs, looking up as you approached. His eyes softened when they landed on you, like the sight of you anchored him.

“Han’s asleep,” you said quietly.

He nodded and reached for your hand without hesitation. “Come outside for a minute.”

You followed him through the back door into the yard. The air was cool, dusk painting everything in soft lavender and amber tones. The yard wasn’t big, but it had character—patches of worn grass, a crooked stepping stone path, and the wooden swing swaying gently in the breeze. You could almost imagine a younger Yoongi sitting on it, earbuds in, head down, dreaming of lyrics he didn’t yet know would change his life.

“I used to sit there for hours,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Just listening to music. Writing. Trying to figure out how to get out of here without losing myself.”

You squeezed his hand. “You didn’t lose yourself.”

Yoongi gave a small smile. “Some days I wonder if I almost did.”

A moment of quiet stretched between you, filled only by the rustle of wind through the trees and the distant bark of a neighbor’s dog.

Then he turned to you more fully, his hand still warm in yours. “Thank you. For coming here. I know it’s… not easy.”

You let out a breath, huffing a small laugh. “I’m absolutely terrified of your mom, I won’t lie?”

That earned a full chuckle from him. “She likes you more than you think.”

You raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“She used the good cups when she made coffee earlier. That’s her version of rolling out a red carpet.”

You laughed, the tension easing from your shoulders.

Then, his expression shifted, softening. He reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “I’ve been thinking… a lot. About this. About us.”

Your breath caught, the air suddenly thick between you.

“I really want to try again,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “If you do. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t matter when Han leaves with you. I’m tired of pretending I don’t still love you.”

Your chest tightened.

He exhaled shakily. “I know we can’t erase what happened. And I know we’ve both changed. But I don’t want to keep living like it’s too late.”

Your hand found his, cradling it against your face. Your voice came out thick, trembling with everything you hadn’t let yourself feel for so long.

“I want to try too,” you whispered. “I never stopped wanting to, never stopped loving you”

A breath passed between you both—like the moment before a wave crashes—and then he leaned in. Forehead to forehead, his nose brushing yours, breath mingling.

“Good,” he whispered.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow—tender—filled with all the things you hadn’t said and the ones you couldn’t bear to lose. His fingers slipped into your hair as his lips moved over yours, steady and reverent. You kissed him back with your whole heart, your hands gripping the front of his jacket like it could tether you to this moment forever.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes lingered on each other. His lips were pink, and cheeks flushed, and his thumb still caressed your jaw.

“Guess we’re really doing this,” you murmured, breathless.

Yoongi smiled, eyes soft. “Yeah. We are.”

And this time, neither of you would let go.

——————————————————————————————————

As night settled over the house, the backyard glowed in the soft flicker of firelight. The small stone pit crackled with orange embers, casting gentle shadows that danced across the faces gathered around it. The scent of burning wood drifted lazily on the crisp breeze. It was the kind of night that wrapped itself around you. Lazy, quiet, sacred, and unspoken.

Han sat cross-legged on the blanket beside his grandfather, his cheeks pink from the cold and excitement, clutching his beloved bunny in one arm and holding up a bright red toy car in the other.

“This one is Lightning McQueen, Harabeoji,” he said, turning the car so the decals caught the light. “He’s super fast. Like, zoom zoom!” He demonstrated driving through the air.

Yoongi’s father leaned forward, eyes twinkling as he inspected the car with a mock-serious nod. “Ah… super fast, huh? Faster than Appa?”

He cast a teasing glance at Yoongi, who lounged beside you on the porch steps, one arm casually resting behind your back. Yoongi’s smirk was instant, boyish and knowing.

“Depends,” he drawled. “Is Lightning carrying a toddler and two bags of groceries?”

That earned a laugh from Yoongi’s older brother, who leaned against the fence sipping from a warm mug. “What motionless Min here means,” he said, gesturing at Yoongi, “is no, he’s not faster. I’ve seen your Appa trying to race a bedtime routine. No chance Han, my man, no chance.”

Han giggled so hard he nearly toppled over, clutching Bunny to his chest. “No one is faster than Appa,” he declared with great pride, the kind of reverent certainty only a child could have.

Your heart clenched at the sight—Yoongi’s soft smile as he looked at his son, the way Han beamed with affection so natural and pure. Moments like this—quiet and ordinary—felt like something rare and precious.

As the evening wore on, Han’s boundless energy began to dim. His eyelids grew heavier, and he started leaning sideways, his small frame tipping gently against Yoongi’s arm. Without hesitation, Yoongi adjusted, pulling him closer into his lap with practiced ease.

“Appa…” Han mumbled, voice syrupy and low, “I’m tired.”

Yoongi bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his son’s head. “Okay, bubba. Time for bed. Go give Eomma a kiss goodnight.”

Han stirred, blinking slowly before shuffling over to you on socked feet. He pressed a warm, sticky kiss to your cheek and wrapped his arms loosely around your neck.

“Goodnight, Eomma,” he whispered against your skin, bunny dangling from one hand.

You kissed his temple, lingering a moment as your fingers brushed through his hair. “Goodnight, my baby boy. Sweet dreams.”

He gave you a sleepy smile—barely there, more warmth than motion—then turned and reached for Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Yoongi rose with him in his arms, murmuring something soft as he carried Han inside.

Silence settled around the fire again, broken only by the soothing crackle of burning wood. The stars above had emerged fully now, glittering faintly beyond the reach of city light.

You glanced over and caught the look on Yoongi’s father’s face. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the retreating silhouettes of his son and grandson. There was pride there, but also a shimmer of something deeper—something almost disbelieving.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he said at last, voice quiet with emotion. “My baby boy… with a baby boy of his own.”

You smiled gently, watching the screen door swing shut behind Yoongi. “He’s a good father,” you murmured. “Han adores him.”

“He’s better than I was,” the older man said softly. “I can admit that now.”

At that, Yoongi’s mother reached over and gave his knee a firm squeeze. “You did your best,” she said firmly. “And you raised a son who does the same. That’s what matters.”

Your eyes stung unexpectedly. You blinked up at the night sky, letting the silence hold your gratitude.

A few moments passed before she turned her gaze to you. “He still looks at you the same way he used to, you know,” she said quietly. “But, like he’s not afraid of what might happen anymore. Like he’s… choosing something for himself.”

You didn’t know what to say to that—how to explain that your heart had never stopped choosing him, even in the silence, even in the years apart. That coming here had terrified you. That seeing Han this loved, this accepted, had undone something in you.

“I would choose him, everytime,” you finally said, voice thick. “The way he deserves.” 

She gave a slow nod with a smile

——————————————————————————————————

The next morning bloomed with quiet excitement. The house stirred gently awake, voices filtered through from the kitchen—Yoongi’s father humming tunelessly, and his mother calling out instructions with warm authority.

Today, you were going to Otgol Village—an open-air hanok village where Yoongi’s mother had planned a family outing, complete with traditional photos. “Just a few keepsakes,” she’d said, but you knew there was more to it than that. She wanted to capture this here and now, and Who were you to deny her?.

You turned at the sound of footsteps and caught sight of Han running in, already dressed and positively glowing.

“Eomma, look!” he squealed, twirling in his deep blue hanbok. The golden embroidery shimmered like sunlight on water, and the long sleeves flared like wings as he spun in happy, clumsy circles.

You clasped your hands together with a soft gasp. “Han, you look so handsome, my baby boy.”

He stopped spinning and struck a pose, hands on his hips and chin lifted. “More handsome than Appa?” he asked, voice bubbling with mischief and challenge.

You leaned in, lowering your voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell him I said so… but definitely.”

Han giggled, a bright, joyous sound that filled the room with warmth.

“Hey,” came a voice from the doorway, low and amused. “I heard that.”

You turned to find Yoongi leaning against the frame, arms folded casually across his chest, a lopsided smirk pulling at his mouth. He looked unfairly good—his hanbok was understated but striking, a cool slate gray layered with navy, a subtle contrast of textures and tradition. The way it fit him made your breath hitch—elegant, dignified, and so him. There was something deeply grounding about seeing him like this, back in his element, with home stitched into his skin.

Han gave a final twirl, clearly showing off for his father before darting past him, probably off to find his grandparents, or uncle.

Yoongi stepped further into the room, his eyes still warm from watching Han. “He’s right,” he said softly. “He does look good.”

“Hey he’s your twin,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

Yoongi’s mouth twitched, but before he could say anything, his mother appeared in the doorway, holding something cradled carefully in her arms.

It was a hanbok—soft peach silk with white and rose-pink accents, the embroidery fine and delicate, a garden stitched in thread across the chest and sleeves. She held it out to you with both hands, her expression was purposeful and left no room for argument.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—I—this is… beautiful. But you should take the photos without me! I’ll just—”

Her hand settled on your arm, gentle but firm. “Nonsense,” she said, eyes kind but resolute. “You’re Han’s mother. Don’t be silly. Come on.”

You followed her wordlessly down the hall, heart fluttering in your chest. She led you into a quiet room where the light slanted in through the blinds, painting soft gold stripes across the floor. It smelled faintly of cedar and old silk. Everything felt hushed, reverent, like stepping into memory.

She helped you dress with the ease of a woman who had done this many times—tying, tucking, wrapping layer upon layer of meaning around your frame. Her touch was graceful and practiced, yet there was something personal in it too—something deeply maternal. You felt the fabric mold to you, not just physically but emotionally, like being enveloped in a legacy.

When she tightened the waistband, she finally spoke.

“I saw you and Yoongi yesterday, on the porch,” she said plainly, her voice like the rustle of wind through a tree-lined path.

You stilled, your heart skipping a beat. Did she mean the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching? The way his hand hovered near yours all afternoon? The laughter you shared while guiding Han through the garden, or the kiss you had both leaned into?

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Worry pricked at you. Was she upset or disappointed? Did she think you were overstepping?

But she didn’t let you spiral.

“That little boy should have a family,” she continued, smoothing the silk over your shoulder. “Han is very lucky.”

A quiet breath escaped you, shaky with relief. She wasn’t scolding you. She was blessing you.

She moved to stand in front of you, her hands stilling on your collar as she looked directly into your eyes.

“Do you know what a mother’s greatest fear is, Y/N?”

You shook your head slowly, breath caught in your throat.

she took a grounding breath and said. “It’s wondering, after we’re gone, if they’ll still have someone who loves them as deeply as we did. Who will carry their heart like we carried it.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver.

You felt your eyes begin to sting. You didn’t mean for the tears to come, but they welled a fraction anyway. “I love your son,” you whispered. “Very much.”

She smiled gently, as if she already knew. “And he loves you,” she said, her voice thick with certainty. “Deeply.”

Your chest tightened, hope blooming in slow, steady pulses. “I hope so. With all my heart.”

She reached for a carved wooden comb, lifting it reverently before gently sliding it into the braid woven into your hair. The gesture was tender, almost ritualistic—like sealing a promise only the two of you would ever understand.

Then, her voice came again, low but strong. “Never forget—you’re a strong woman. A strong mother.”

She met your eyes in the mirror. “I am trusting you, Y/N. With their hearts. To love them fiercely. To protect them when I no longer can.”

A lump swelled in your throat. You blinked against it and nodded. “I will,” you whispered. “I promise.”

She let her hands rest on your shoulders for one long, steady moment, grounding you both.

The silence between you spoke of a shared devotion—two women connected not by blood, but by love for the same two souls: one man and one little boy. The man she had raised. The boy you were raising.

When you finally stepped out of the room, adjusting the sleeves of your hanbok, the soft rustle of silk accompanied each step. The cool fabric hugged your form delicately, the pale peach and pink tones glowing under the morning light that filtered in through the slated windows.

You looked up to find Yoongi standing there, leaning slightly against the wooden frame of the hallway, as if he hadn’t meant to linger—but clearly hadn’t been able to leave. The moment his eyes landed on you, he froze.

His gaze swept over you slowly, reverently, like he was seeing something sacred. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Just a breath—a small, awed exhale.

You raised an eyebrow, biting back the shy smile tugging at your lips. “What?”

Yoongi blinked, like he was waking from a dream, and rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “You look…” he began, but his voice caught. He laughed quietly under his breath, still visibly taken aback. “You look beautiful,” he said finally. “Really. Wow.”

Your heart fluttered, your cheeks warming at the rare glimpse of him so openly enamored.

Before you could tease him or close the space between you, the moment was interrupted by the thunder of little feet.

“Eomma!” Han came barreling into the hallway like a whirlwind, his tiny hands clasped to his cheeks in exaggerated awe. “You look like a princess! A real one!”

You laughed, crouching down to his level and smoothing your hand over his hair, which was slightly mussed from all his excitement. “A princess, huh? That’s high praise.”

Han nodded solemnly, turning to Yoongi with wide eyes full of certainty. “Right, Appa?”

Yoongi, still recovering from the double punch of emotion, looked at you again—this time through Han’s eyes. His expression softened into something even more tender. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower now, thick with something deeper. “She really does.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way he was looking at you—like you weren’t just the mother of his child, but something luminous. Something his heart had never stopped reaching for.

The three of you stood there for a moment, an unspoken warmth weaving between you like a thread.

——————————————————————————————————

The drive to the village was full of gentle energy. Han sat in the back seat between you and Yoongi, humming happily as the scenery changed. The farther you drove from the city, the more the landscape opened up—rolling hills and wide sky giving way to the quaint charm of traditional rooftops and quiet, winding paths.

“Okay, baby,” you said, twisting slightly in your seat to face him. “Remember, we’re going to see lots of beautiful things, but you have to look with your eyes, not your hands.”

Han nodded solemnly, holding up his pinky. “I pinky promise, Eomma. I’ll be really, really good.”

Yoongi reached over with a grin and locked pinkies with him too. “We believe you, little man. Just stay close.”

When you arrived at the village, the cool air smelled of pine, old wood, and roasted barley tea drifting from the small cafe nearby. Han’s eyes grew wide as he took in the sweeping tiled roofs, the stone walls, and the decorative latticed windows. He walked between you and Yoongi, gripping each of your hands tightly, eyes scanning every detail like he was trying to memorize it all.

Yoongi explained the history of hanok houses in his gentle, low voice—the way the wooden beams were joined without nails, the significance of the courtyard layouts, and how the warm floors kept families cozy through the winter.

Han listened with rare silence, his face full of wonder. “People really used to live here?” he whispered, as if afraid to disturb the memories in the walls.

“They did,” Yoongi said, ruffling his son’s hair. “This village is 400 years old”

 Han’s eyes lit up with wonder.

Yoongi’s mother took photo after photo, gently arranging the three of you like a proud director. Han posed like a seasoned pro—chin up, feet apart, hands on his belly like he’d seen in old portraits. He even insisted on taking a photo with just you and Yoongi, pushing you two together with all the might of his tiny hands before dashing into his grandmother’s arms to watch.

You stood beside Yoongi, shoulder to shoulder, the silence between you filled with unspoken things. He looked down at you as the camera clicked, and his fingers brushed lightly against yours—just for a second. Just long enough to make you wonder if he felt the same pull you did.

After the photos, you stopped at the cafe near the entrance. The interior was small and cozy, filled with the scent of soy, sesame oil, and stone-grilled meats. Han devoured his rice and bulgogi, cheeks full, chopsticks clumsily managed but determined.

Returning home, the house was full of laughter and light. The scent of dinner still lingered in the air, mingling with the soft chatter of relatives and the occasional burst of Han’s delighted squeals. You moved through the warm blur of clinking dishes and old stories, smiling and nodding where needed, but something inside you tugged toward quiet.

You slipped away when no one was looking, stepping out the back door and onto the veranda. The night air greeted you like a sigh, crisp and clean, brushing cool fingers over your skin. Overhead, a strand of fairy lights cast a soft, amber glow across the porch—gentle and golden. The stars blinked faintly above, and the trees rustled low in the distance.

A few moments passed before you heard the creak of the door behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

Yoongi stepped out, the screen door clicking softly shut behind him. He didn’t say anything at first, just moved to lean against the railing beside you, his shoulder almost brushing yours. He wore a soft charcoal sweater and jeans, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes on the dark sky.

You didn’t need words. His presence was enough.

But after a beat, his voice came—low, a little rough like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “Thanks,” he murmured, almost shyly. “For humouring Eomma with everything today.”

You turned your head to look at him, raising a brow. “Don’t go all shy on me now, Min,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Seeing the man who boasts about his tongue technology getting tongue-tied over a girl in a hanbok? That was worth the whole day.”

Yoongi huffed a laugh, his mouth twitching into a grin. “What would the famous D-boy Agust D think?” you added, eyes gleaming.

His laugh broke free then—deep, rich, and real. The sound rumbled through you, warm and familiar, and for a second, you felt like no time had passed at all.

Then he turned toward you slightly, stepping closer. The fairy lights painted his skin in soft gold, and the way he looked at you made your breath catch.

“I’m sure that Agust D would remind you,” he said, his voice low and velvet-smooth, “that he still remembers the way you sound when you beg for that tongue, Y/N.”

The words hit like lightning, arcing down your spine and pooling heat low in your belly. You sucked in a breath, eyes wide, heart suddenly galloping in your chest.

“Yoongi,” you warned, but it came out soft. Weak. Not even remotely convincing.

His smirk deepened, all slow burn and dangerous charm. He leaned in just a little, fingers ghosting over your wrist. “Such a sweet taste, too,” he murmured, each word a tease, laced with memory.

You let out a disbelieving breath, swatting lightly at his chest. “Stop,” you said, but your skin was already tingling, your mind playing traitor with images you thought you’d buried.

His laughter came again, husky and honey-smooth, warm enough to melt bone. Then, without ceremony, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He rested his forehead gently against yours, your noses brushing, breaths mingling in the quiet space between.

“Now who’s tongue-tied?” he whispered, smiling smug satisfaction written all over his face. “You always were so cute when you’re flustered.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but your hands betrayed you—fisting in the soft fabric of his shirt, clinging. You didn’t want to let go. You weren’t sure you could.

His smile softened, that cocky edge giving way to something quieter, more vulnerable. His fingers moved in lazy, slow circles against your lower back, grounding you.

“I missed this,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I did too,” you admitted, the words catching slightly as they left your lips. “So much more than I let myself feel.”

He exhaled, the tension in his body visibly dissolving. Then he pressed a kiss—tender and brief—to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into it, into him, into the weight and warmth of the moment.

And for a beat, it was just the two of you. No past. No future. Just now.

But then—

Tap tap tap tap.

The unmistakable sound of little feet against the wooden floorboards broke the silence.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh, no.”

Yoongi chuckled, already hearing it too.

“Unless you want Han to know now, we should—” you began, moving to step back.

But he didn’t let you.

In one smooth motion, he caught your chin with gentle fingers and tilted your face up. His eyes searched yours—not for permission, but for something deeper. Something you both already knew.

And then he kissed you.

Firm. Sure. No rush, no hesitation. Just truth, pressed warm and steady against your lips.

His kiss told you everything: that he was still here. That this wasn’t just memory. That he wasn’t going to let you go again.

“Eomma! Appa!”

You broke apart just in time.

Han’s little voice rang out, and a second later, he tumbled through the door and onto the veranda, running full-speed into Yoongi’s leg.

Yoongi barely blinked. “Hey, bud,” he said, crouching down smoothly. “What’s up?”

Han blinked up at both of you, suspicion written across his face. “What were you doing?” he asked, squinting.

Yoongi glanced up at you, fighting a grin. “Nothing,” he said innocently, ruffling Han’s hair. “Just talking.”

Han didn’t look convinced. But before he could press further, his eyes lit up. “Halmeoni said I can have another cookie!” he announced proudly. “But only if you come with me so I don’t take all of them.”

You laughed, reaching down to smooth a stray curl off his forehead. “Did she now?”

He nodded with wild enthusiasm. “Come on! Before she changes her mind!”

Yoongi stood up slowly, casting one last glance your way. His fingers brushed over yours in passing—just a whisper of touch, a fleeting warmth—but the promise in it echoed loud and clear.

I’m not going anywhere.

Then Han was tugging him inside, and Yoongi let himself be led, hand in hand with his son.

You stood there a moment longer, heart still racing, a smile curving your lips without permission.

The night air wrapped around you again, but you weren’t cold. Not anymore.

As you tuck Han into bed that night, the warmth of Yoongi’s childhood home wraps around you like a soft, familiar quilt. There’s something grounding about the creak of the old floorboards beneath your feet and the faint scent of simmering broth still lingering in the air—a comforting blend of soy, garlic, and memories. The walls of the guest room have been hastily dressed with an array of little space and airplane decals that Yoongi's mother had found in a storage box from Yoongi’s own childhood. It was imperfect, but it spoke volumes. And Han, in his astronaut pajamas, nestled into a borrowed blanket, looked perfectly content.

The soft hallway light spills through the cracked door, casting long, lazy shadows that stretch across the room like gentle arms. Outside, the muffled hum of conversation and bursts of laughter echo faintly from downstairs—Yoongi’s family still gathered, full of food and joy. But here in the low hush of bedtime, it’s just you and your son, wrapped in your own quiet world.

Han clutches his frayed, well-loved plush bunny against his chest, the tips of his small fingers curling into the worn fabric. His cheeks are pink from warmth and the day’s adventures, and his round, dark eyes—so unmistakably Yoongi’s—watch you with a curious intensity far too deep for a child his age.

“Eomma?” he asks in a soft, uncertain voice.

You pause, pulling the blanket higher over his chest, your hand smoothing it down like muscle memory. “Yes, bubba?”

Han furrows his brow, clearly grappling with something important in his little mind. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a serious whisper.

“Because you and Appa kissed… does that mean I’m gonna be a big brother now?”

Your heart trips over itself.

For a second, you’re stunned into silence, blinking at his tiny face lit by the gentle spill of light. You open your mouth—then close it again—trying to form a coherent, age-appropriate answer while your brain short-circuits.

“Well, baby… no. Kisses are special, yes, but…” You trail off helplessly, waving your hands for a moment like the answer might float out of the air if you just reach for it. “That’s not exactly how it works.”

Han nods slowly, like he’s considering this, then gives a little huff of finality. “Good. I don’t wanna be a big brother yet. Appa’s brother is loud. He talks a lot.”

You nearly choke on your laughter.

From the doorway, there’s a faint rustling, and you glance up just in time to see Yoongi leaning lazily against the frame. He’s fighting a grin, but it’s a losing battle. His hand is half-covering his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, his eyes crinkled into perfect crescent moons.

You narrow your eyes and glare at him, exasperated. “You wanna step in and help me here?” you whisper harshly.

Yoongi pushes off the frame and walks in, his socked feet whispering against the floor as he approaches the bed. “Nah,” he murmurs, teasing. “You’re doing great. Very educational.” He mirrors your earlier hand movements.

He then crouches next to the bed, reaching out to gently ruffle Han’s already messy hair. “And you’re not wrong,” he says with a grin. “Appa’s brother is very loud.”

Han nods as if that settles it, yawning wide and snuggling deeper into his bed. You take the opportunity to pull the blanket snug around him and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, your hand brushing gently through his hair.

“Sleep well, sweet boy,” you whisper. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, remember? More Daegu exploring with me and Appa.”

Han hums, eyelids fluttering shut, but he still manages a tiny nod. “’kay, Eomma… ‘night.”

Yoongi stays crouched, his expression softening as he watches Han drift closer to sleep. He leans in, brushing a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, bubs,” he whispers. “Always.”

Han mumbles something that sounds like “love you too,” his little hands clutching his bunny even tighter, and then he’s out—his breath evening out in quiet rhythm.

You and Yoongi exchange a look, one that lingers longer than necessary, full of awe and affection. It’s the kind of look that says everything you’re too full to speak aloud.

You both slip out of the room quietly, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear if Han calls out in the night. In the hallway, the light is dim and golden, casting a warm glow across the faded family photos on the walls.

You lean your back against the wall and let out a long, slow sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. “That kid is going to be the death of me,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

Yoongi laughs softly beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours. “He’s definitely got a lot of opinions,” he agrees, voice low and warm. “Wonder who he gets that from.”

You scoff, nudging him with your elbow. “You, obviously.”

“Mm,” he hums, unconvinced. Then, quieter, “He’s amazing, you know. You’ve done such a good job with him.”

Your breath catches. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that—but somehow, here in this house, with the scent of old wood and childhood surrounding you, it hits different.

You glance at him. “It wasn’t just me, Yoongi.”

He meets your gaze, something soft and vulnerable glinting in his eyes. “I want it to be us again. Not just in memories.”

The air thickens between you. Gone is the teasing now. He steps in closer, his fingers brushing yours. “I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I want to try again. I want to be a real family. Not just for Han, but for us.”

You stare at him, your heart stuttering painfully against your ribs. The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, familiar and overwhelming. You used to dream of hearing those words again. And now they’re here, and real, and spoken in the home where he first learned what love looked like.

Tears prick your eyes, but you smile through them, stepping close enough that your chest brushes his. “I want that too, Yoongi,” you whisper.

He lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for years. Then, with aching tenderness, he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles—slow, reverent. A vow.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice husky. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

And in the quiet hallway, beneath the soft echo of distant laughter and the hush of your son’s breathing behind the door, you let yourself believe in a new beginning.

One born from all the love you never stopped carrying for each other.

——————————————————————————————————

The house gradually quieted as night settled in, the soft murmur of voices downstairs fading into comfortable silence. You helped Yoongi's mother with the last of the dishes, exchanging gentle smiles and quiet words about the adventures that day. As his father headed to bed with a warm "goodnight," and his brother left for his own home, the familiar comfort of the day began to shift into something more intimate.

Yoongi caught your eye across the kitchen, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his gaze. He tilted his head slightly toward the stairs, a silent question in his expression that made your heart skip.

"Want to sit and watch the stars?" he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "The view from the roof is still amazing."

You smiled, remembering countless nights spent exactly there, back when you were both younger and the world felt simpler. "Lead the way."

Following him up the familiar path to the rooftop felt like stepping back in time. The wooden stairs still creaked in the same places, and the cool night air still carried that distinct Daegu scent - a mix of night blooming flowers and distant street food. 

The quiet hum of the city at night buzzes around you, a low, familiar melody of distant cars, cicadas, and muffled voices from neighboring houses. Above you, the stars are scattered like shattered glass across the sky, but the only thing you can focus on is the slow, steady rhythm of Yoongi’s heartbeat against your back, as you sit nestled comfortably with his legs either side of you.

Then, with that signature lazy smirk that always makes your pulse race, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear.

“Hey… remember the last time we were alone upstairs here before today?”

Your entire body tenses as heat floods your cheeks. You know exactly what he’s referring to. And judging by the mischievous glint in his dark eyes, that was the entire point—to watch you squirm, to see you fall apart for him the way you always have.

Before you can even open your mouth to answer, the memory crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and dragging you under.

You’re back in his old bedroom. The wallpaper is peeling in the corners, and the posters of old rappers and basketball players still cling stubbornly to the walls. There’s a fan humming quietly in the corner, doing little to cool the heavy, sultry air. But none of that matters.

Because you’re bare. Spread open beneath him on his mattress, your back arched and thighs trembling. His hands grip the backs of your thighs, holding them wide, thumbs stroking slow, teasing circles against your skin.

And his mouth—God, his mouth—is working you like he’s starving.

Yoongi’s tongue moves in slow, devastating sweeps, licking through your folds with maddening precision before circling your clit in wet, flicking motions that send your hips jerking. He groans against you, the sound low and guttural, and the vibration of it punches straight through your core.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, one hand tangled in the sheets and the other buried in his soft blonde hair, holding him there like a lifeline.

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets hungrier. Bolder.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, gentle at first, then with firmer pressure, dragging a strangled moan from your throat. His fingers join the assault—two of them, thick and sure, slipping inside you with practiced ease, curling forward to press just right.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. “Please—please don’t stop—”

He hums again, deep and satisfied with how he’s unraveling you. The heat coils tight in your belly, your body wound like a spring, every nerve lit up and buzzing.

Then—

The front door creaks open downstairs.

And his mother’s familiar voice echoes up the stairwell.

“Yoongi, Y/N, we’re back!”

You freeze. Everything in you seizes up, panic flashing white-hot through your chest. You tug at his hair, frantically trying to get his attention. But Yoongi just looks up at you, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal, eyes glinting with mischief and something wicked.

He doesn’t stop. He grins.

“Better hurry up and cum, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, hot against your soaked skin. “Can’t leave them waiting downstairs, can we?”

You want to curse him. You want to yell at him. But you can’t do anything except writhe helplessly as he presses his fingers deeper, his tongue flattening over your clit and stroking slow, languid circles. He’s too good. Too confident. And your body betrays you instantly, tightening like a bowstring, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You bite down hard on your own fist, the scream muffled as your orgasm tears through you—violent, shuddering, impossible to fight. Your thighs clamp around his head, and still, he doesn’t stop. He licks you through every pulse, every twitch, every helpless sob.

When you finally go limp, chest heaving, he pulls back and licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the aftertaste. Then he crawls up the bed and gathers you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your temple like he didn’t just ruin you moments before dinner with his parents.

You blink back to the present, your face burning with the force of the memory. Yoongi is watching you closely, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I do remember,” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “You were such a little shit for that, I blame the blonde hair made you to cocky. I still can’t believe you had me sit at the dinner table afterward, pretending I wasn’t still shaking, I couldn’t look anyone in the eye!.”

Yoongi laughs, the sound low and deliciously raspy, and you can’t help the way it melts something inside you. You shove his shoulder lightly, but the warmth blooming in your chest betrays you.

He grins and leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet.

“What can I say? You’ve always been irresistible.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is hammering in your chest when he cups your face, his thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone.

He leans back on his hands, his gaze twinkling with more mischief.

“And to be fair,” he adds with a cocky tilt of his head, “that wasn’t the first time we almost got caught.”

You gape at him. “Wait… what? When?!”

He chuckles, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“After your third semester. I brought you back here on break to show you where I grew up, remember?, I Thought we had a few hours at least before they got home.”

The memory tugs at the edge of your mind, slow and vivid, and your jaw drops as it all comes flooding back.

“Min Yoongi, you sly dirty motherfucker,” you accuse, pointing a finger at him. “Tell me you did not, strategically plan a fuck?!”

He just shrugs, completely unapologetic.

“What! I hadn’t seen you in weeks. I was a man with a plan, honestly what else was I supposed to do?”

You shake your head in mock disbelief, voice faux sweet.

“What would the eommas of the world think if they knew the sweet son of Daegu was corrupting an innocent university exchange student in his bedroom?”

His eyes darken, the mischief in them sharpening into something molten. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a low, sinful rasp that he knows good and well, sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“Probably the same thing they’d think if they knew I had you bouncing on my dick so good, you didn’t even hear my parents come home. Had to cover your mouth so they didn’t hear us, sweetheart, and the way you took me, innocent my ass.”

Burying your flaming face in your hands as your shoulders shook with laughter, Yoongi laughing openly now, utterly delighted by the effect he still has on you.

“I hate you,” you mutter from behind your hands.

He gently pries them away, his smile softening as he presses a kiss to your lips.

“No, you don’t. Not even close”

You sigh, leaning into him helplessly, your smile betraying you.

“True. Not even close.”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, his voice a low, tender rumble that vibrates through your chest.

“Because I don’t hate you either.”

And just like that, wrapped in Yoongi’s arms under the Daegu night sky, everything else fades away.

The night air is cool against your skin as you sit on the rooftop, the soft glow of the city lights stretching out beneath you. It feels familiar, almost nostalgic, being up here with him again. This place holds so many memories—quiet moments shared between classes, stolen kisses when the world felt too big, and promises whispered under the stars.

Your heart flutters as you glance at Yoongi. He looks more at peace than you’ve seen him in years, the faintest smile playing on his lips as he gazes out at the city he once called home.

“It’s been a while since we sat up here,” you murmur, breaking the comfortable silence.

Yoongi nods. “Yeah… feels like a lifetime ago.”

It does. But somehow, being here again feels right—like this is exactly where you were meant to be.

After a while, Yoongi stands and offers you his hand. Without hesitation, you take it, letting him help you down from the ledge and back inside. But he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs you closer, your bodies almost touching as he looks at you with that soft, vulnerable expression that always made your knees weak.

“Stay with me tonight,” he says quietly, almost shyly. “No funny business. Just… sleeping.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

This… this is something new. Something real. A step forward in whatever this is between you two.

You search his eyes for a moment, seeing nothing but sincerity and the quiet longing that mirrors your own. A slow smile tugs at your lips as you tease, “What? Not a man with a plan tonight?”

Yoongi chuckles softly, shaking his head. “No… not tonight.”

Your heart swells as you squeeze his hand and nod. “Okay. I’d like that.”

You follow him, up to his old bedroom that somehow still smells faintly of mint and something uniquely Yoongi. The room is dimly lit, warm and familiar, filled with pieces of his past.

As you slip under the covers beside him, Yoongi wraps an arm around you, pulling you close until your head rests against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, calming, and for the first time in years, you feel truly safe. Truly home.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

You smile against his shirt, feeling the happiest you’ve felt in years.

“Goodnight, Yoon.”

And just like that, with your bodies tangled together and your hearts slowly finding their rhythm again, you both drift off to sleep.

taglist: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @hyuninslutbbgirl @Granataepfelchen @mar-lo-pap @enfppuff @senaqsstuff @vainkiss @rinkud @lanyia @alessioayla @watchingover-hypegirl @muchwita @elliott-calls

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Will we get to see any NSFW stuff with Mommy!Hwa?🥺

I totally understand if not but I just know he would go feral while pleasing his Baby😩

➯a/n: yes. yes. YES. OH MY GAWD YEA LFHSKQ I ABOUT COMBUSTED WHEN I SAW SOMEONE ASKED FOR THIS 😭i was so excited that i kept losing my train of thought and had to rant about how mommy hwa is in bed to calm down bahaha

Mess

Baby Series !

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, smut

✫彡wordcount: 4.5k

♫ "It feels good, girl, it feels good to be alone with you." Hozier, To Be Alone♫

♫Baby Playlist♫

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not proof read, ddlg themes (NO age regression), dubcon (because of stockholm syndrome), hwa is a PERVERT, messy and rough sex, cunnilingus, fingering, spit, squirting, overstim, extreme dacryphilia, creampie, big dick hwa, reassurance, unbelievable amount of praise and pet names, embarrassment, accidental piss kink discovery (LMAO DONT LOOK AT MEEEE)

♡ateez masterlist !♡

➯disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy relationship of any kind. ➯disclaimer2: as i've said before it is VERY important to always keep age regression and age play SEPARATE, and ive also said that seonghwa never touches baby while she's in little space MANY times. baby is not "baby mode" when they are being intimate, and i will never write that. baby is ALWAYS going to be in "adult space" (kkkk i can't think of a better word) when sexual things are happening, even if she acts cutesy and stuff

MINORS DO NOT TOUCH MY BLOG

❝you're my baby, say it to me❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

"Here you go," Seonghwa whispers as he tosses your shirt to a far off corner of the room; completely forgotten about as he slowly slides his hands up your sides, "let me see my girl."

"Don't be a tease, Mommy," you pant softly, already worked up beyond belief as your eyes flick up and down his naked torso.

You had joined him in going a few hours away from home for a photo shoot — of course you did, it's not like he would ever leave you behind. You watched with his manager, which was probably a mistake considering how hot and bothered it made you. You hadn't felt like slipping into your little space all day long, probably because you were so busy gawking at your 'boyfriend'.

Because it was so far away, there was a hotel room waiting for you when he was done. And he wasn't blind, he saw the way you were looking at him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand — even better, actually.

So this room is going to get a lot more use than originally expected.

"But you're so cute when you're flustered," he smirks, cupping your chest gently as he leans down and pecks your lips. "Does my pretty baby want to play?"

You nod quickly, fisting the blanket with anticipation bubbling up. Remember your manners, "oh- oh, yes! Yes, please, I want to..."

    You hadn't been intimate together since you had a tantrum and yelled at him, almost a month ago now. That probably partly why you were so needy — if he isn't the one making you cum, it's not happening at all.

He doesn't need more convincing than that. He straddles your hips and cups your face like he doesn't have a second to waste, his kiss is different than it usually is. It's hungry and passionate and soul consuming.

He can't help himself. He doesn't have any restraint when it comes to pleasing you. Anything you want, save for your freedom, is yours the second he can do something about it.

And he won't admit it out loud, but he's just as needy as you are.

His inconvenient hard-ons have been more frequent and frustrating. He's lucky you haven't noticed the way his eyes have been lingering when he helps you change. He's sexually frustrated, sure — but he keeps to his promise and he almost always waits for you to come to him.

No matter how badly he wants you, he wants you to want him more. He needs you to.

     He starts peppering kisses along your skin; traveling lower and giving attention to your chest. As your fingers tangle up in his hair, he's moaning like he's the one having their body worshipped. He steadies himself by grabbing your waist, fingers digging in.

A broken moan bubbles up your throat as he wraps his lips around your nipple, "a-ah! Mommy, I need more..."

Oh, he might explode here and now. You call him that every single day — but not like this. Not with your voice filled with lust. Begging him to touch you.

     That little tremble in the way you call his name is reserved for times like this.

    He takes in a deep breath before he speaks, "tell Mommy what you need." He leans back over your face, hovering with stars in his eyes. Any hint of tiredness from the day is gone. Only passion remains.

"I...w-" Even when you're not in little space, you're so light headed around him. He just has that effect on you, especially after so long.

"C'mon, Baby," he coaxes you gently, giving a single roll of his hips that leaves your jaw dropped with the flood of dopamine that it gives you. "You know I won't judge you, tell me how to make you feel good."

"Please," you look away shyly, like you aren't about to ask something so vulgar. "I need you to make me cum..."

The quickness with which he yanks off your skirt and panties makes you yelp in surprise, but the sound is quickly cut off by a lewd moan as he slips down and gives a slow lick up your slit. All in one fluid movement: he's rid you of the fabric, slid down the bed, and got you on his tongue.

You slap your hand over your mouth as he spreads your thighs, your eyes nearly rolling back at the feeling of his pointed tongue. As he draws a slow circle around your clit, you nearly cum then and there. You've forgotten how skilled he is.

"God, I've missed you," his mumbles are lost on you because next thing you know; he's eating you out like a man starved. Flicking and swirling and lapping and sucking. If your mind could form any semblance of a thought, you might wonder how in the world he's doing all those things at once. And the answer is simple. He was born to please you. At least, that's what he claims.

Your other hand is wrapped in his hair like a lifeline, and the slight stinging with each movement of his head doesn't stop him from licking your clit like a mad man — it only stirs him on.

He's messy as always, slobbering all over your heat without a care in the world.

    He gives one last rough suck before he pulls back a bit, panting as he looks up at you. "Baby-ya," he calls as he slides a hand down your thigh and towards your heat. He locks eyes with you as he purses his lips and lets his spit dribble down onto you.

    "Mommy-ya," you moan back, grinding up into his hand as it brushes against your epicenter. His middle finger slips in, drawing out a loud "oh~!" from you before you can stop it.

He's never practiced so much self restraint in his life. Even just feeling your hot walls around his finger has him twitching. If he wasn't so dedicated to pleasing you first and foremost, he'd already be buried inside of you. But, his Baby comes first.

"That's a good girl," his praise makes you clench around his digit, your head tossing to the side. It feels like it's been so long. Even just his finger feels like it's hitting all of the wonderful spots inside of you as he slowly starts thrusting it. You can barely imagine what it will feel like when he's inside you again —

"Mommy, please," you groan, swirling your hips until he rests his forearm across your pelvis and holds you down to continue his devilishly slow teasing. "More!"

"I know, Baby, you want me to fuck you so bad, huh?" He nips your thigh as he adds another finger. "Mommy has to stretch you out first~"

"Hurryyyy," you pout as you try to arch your back, trying to suck his fingers in deeper, "I need you."

You don't have to tell him twice, that is for sure. The soft way you cry for him to hurry and fuck you has his brain turning into a feral mush.

You let out your loudest moan yet as his fingers, previously going at a leisurely pace, are now diving in and out of you with near reckless abandon. You can't move your hips, still held down by his arm and forced to take the onslaught of pleasure.

You slam both of your hands over your mouth as you slump back.

He doesn't like that one bit. He reaches up and yanks your hands away; and all while still curling his deliciously long fingers, he speaks, "let me hear you. Be as loud as you want, Baby. We can be as loud as we want, you don't have to be shy."

"Ah, I f-forgot," you whine, your eyebrows pressing together as his fingertips graze against something inside of you that makes you gush around his fingers with more messy arousal.

"It's okay, angel," he laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand as he pushes a third finger inside of you. "You can scream. Let Mommy hear how good you feel."

The stretch and the angle and his voice — "don't stop!"

He wouldn't dare. He's watching every twitch of your brow and every jolt your body makes as he searches for something inside of you. When your jaw drops and your eyes roll back, he knows he's found it. He's on a mission. He needs to make you squirt. He needs to make a mess of you.

"Ohhh," he coos deeply, "right there, Baby?"

"R-right there, Mommy!" You don't care about your volume anymore. His reassurance and the way he's practically assaulting your g-spot while holding your hand makes it impossible to care about anything.

"Riiiiight there~" He smirks as you roll your hips clumsily to push his digits deeper; even when his palm is already hitting your clit with every thrust of his fingers. "That's it, pretty girl," he leans over you and drives his fingers in at a whole new angle; pressing harder against the spot that's making you dizzy, "give me a kiss."

Shakily, and quickly, you toss your arm over his neck and yank him down. Your lips on his like you need him more than you need air: and he returns the passion ten fold, he always will.

Your moans are swallowed up by him as he sends you closer to the edge. Closer and closer and closer and straight over. Your release splashes against his lower stomach, the warmth of it makes him send moans right back to you. Your hand is still held tightly in his and he's starting to lose color in his fingers from how tightly you squeeze them.

He lays on top of you to stop your convulsing, a dark satisfaction settling in his bones as you whimper; forced to take the overstimulation as he curls his fingers. It fills the room with lewd squelches that make his neglected member twitch.

A string of saliva keeps you connected as he finally moves away from your lips. He watches it closely as it snaps, falling onto your chin. And you don't even notice it as you have your eyes closed, panting, in the throes of bliss.

He leans and licks it up softly while he slowly withdraws his fingers, making you whine and chase after them with your hips. "Shhh, none of that, Baby." He hums as he rubs down your arm gently, "you ready for me now?"

"Oh, yes," you nod quickly, you almost forgot that's where this was leading. Now, you're ecstatic at the promise of him being even deeper inside of you, "please, Mommy."

God, if you keep saying it like that he won't be able to hold himself back. He knows he'll end up being rough with you — both of you do. But he likes to take it slow at first so he doesn't hurt you.

    He bites his lip, quickly pressing his forehead to your shoulder so that you won't see the wild look in his eyes. The look that says he's about to lose control.

"So polite," he pants softly, smiling down at you after he forces himself to calm down. "I'll give my angel what she wants~"

     His pants are gone in a second flat, and he's pulling you further down the bed by your thighs until your hips hang on the edge. "Hold your legs for me, Baby," he hums as he pushes your knees together.

While you're wrapping your arms under your knees and hugging them tightly to prepare yourself, effectively exposing yourself to him — he's gathering up the wetness from his skin and lathering himself with it, jerking off slowly to the sight of you.

All worked up and gushing for him; giving him a nice, unobstructed view as you hold your legs as close to your chest as you can. Your eyes a bit fuzzy as you watch him eagerly. Your socked feet fidgeting in the air, white frills catching his eyes. Your breathing still uneven from your first peak of the night.

The first of what will be many, because Seonghwa is an overachiever when it comes to you.

He kisses your leg gently, smiling innocently as he bends down and lines himself with your weeping hole. "My good girl," he mutters softly, "that's what you are. My perfect little angel."

The praise goes straight to your cunt, fluttering around nothing before his tip is suddenly entering you with an almost audible pop. Your eyes slam shut, a gasp caught in your throat. Three fingers and a squirting orgasm suddenly didn't seem like enough prep for Seonghwa's impressive girth.

"Fuck," he groans, hands planted on the back of your thighs to ground himself; digging his fingers into your plush flesh. He leans his head against the side of your legs, gazing down at you with nothing but love and lust. "You gotta relax, Baby-"

"You're too big," you shake your head, eyes still squeezed shut.

He bites his lip in a combination of effort to conceal his chuckle and to hold himself back. He takes a breath, rubbing the back of your thighs softly as you continue to clench around his bulbous tip — it feels like you're already trying to milk him for all his worth. The warmth of your gummy walls is trying to enchant him, trying to make him sink deeper, faster. He needs to bury his whole shaft in you or he's going to lose what's left of his mind.

"Have some faith in yourself, baby-doll," his nickname makes you twitch around him. He did that on purpose, no doubt about it. "You've taken it before, right? Mhm~" He nods with you, reaching to trace your heated cheek with his knuckles as you peek your eyes open. "You can take it, can't you~?"

It's not a question, even if it's formatted as one, rolling off his tongue with a soft inquisitive tone.

It's a reassurance and a statement. You can and you will take it, just like you have so many times before. "Yes, Mommy-"

You should have chosen your words more carefully, because the second 'Mommy' leaves your lips — all whiny and sweet — he's sinking into you.

"Ah-" He almost whines, "that's it, my star~ Let Mommy fill you up."

No matter how much you relax, no matter how pliable you make yourself; he's still having to make his own path through your gooey channel. He's still carving you to the shape of his cock to fit like a custom sleeve. And it feels too fucking good — "Please!" You yelp, nails digging into your legs as you continue to hug them as tightly as possible, "please, I want you to take me already!"

You can't take another second of his slow march forward — but that's too bad, Baby.

He likes to take his sweet, sweet time to really feel your searing cavity as it encases him. "Shhh, Baby, don't you worry," he places another kiss on your leg, smirking as you quiver around him, "you know I'll give you what you want, right?"

He leans over further, crushing your thighs all the way against your chest and making your legs rest over one of his shoulders. "Right, Baby?" He moans as he finally, finally bottoms out.

"Y-yes," you pout up at him beggingly, your entire being set ablaze as he settles inside of you.

For someone built so slim, his cock is thicker than you feel it should be — but you are not complaining as he stretches you from the inside out so nicely.

"What did you say you wanted, hm?" He teases you playfully, withdrawing just an inch before sliding back in.

It's maddening, he does it again; the tiniest bit further this time. "T-aaah!" You kick your feet lightly when one of his hands snakes between you and begins rubbing your clit. "Take me! Go faster, please! Please, plea- oh my good g-aaaah!!" You wail unabashedly as he starts slamming his hips into you: rough, fast, and calculated all while toying with your bundle of nerves.

      "Of course, My Baby~"

His words are so sweet while he absolutely ruins you for anyone other than himself. Not even you could make your body fill with the pleasure that you're feeling as he rubs his thumb across your cheek affectionately while drilling into you. "Look at my gorgeous doll, taking me so well."

All you can respond with is a slurred 'mhmmfff', your brain already sufficiently scrambled and overheated from his inhuman pace with his in-and-out, in-and-out; the pad of his finger never leaving your buzzing clit.

"Aww, it feels good?"

You nod quickly, leaning into his cupped hand while you gulp down the build up of saliva in your mouth. His eyes are trained on you like a hawk, every single twitch in your face committed to memory.

"Yeah, it does~" He grins devilishly while giving you a particularly rough slam when he catches your lips parting — making a loud and lewd yip-like moan tumble out. 

    "Mommy, c-" You choke on your words, arms trembling as you clutch your legs as a lifeline.

    "Cumming~?" He hums, pressing his fingers harder to your clit and making you squeal. "Go ahead, Baby, make a mess on Mommy's cock," he licks up your neck and the warm feeling of it passing your jugular makes the burning ball of arousal in your gut spread through your entire body.

    Once again, he's holding you down with the weight of his body as you tremble, your jaw dropped in a soundless scream while you release with a wave of cream onto his member; a milky white ring forming around his base while he fucks you through it.

     You let your legs go with a whine, letting him gently maneuver them and lay you on your side while he whispers soft praises that barely reach your muddled mind. "N'break..." You slur out through your breaths, melting under his soft touch on your legs.

     "A break?" He smiles while rubbing up and down your legs. His cock, still lodged deep inside of you, is throbbing — basically yelling at him not to give you what you ask for. "Just a little one, starlight." Because he isn't done wrecking you yet.

     "Thank goodness." Your little sigh makes him chuckle as he forces himself to pull out; doing so slowwwwly to make your sensitive walls tremble and beg him to stay.  "...fuck."

    The only time you ever dare curse infront of him is when you're like this. And the sound of the filthy words on your precious lips almost makes him take back his promise of a break.

     He leans back and stands fully, his heart pounding in his chest even harder as he gets a good look at you.

    In nothing but your cute little socks, you're already in a sheen of sweat from the violent thrumming of your own heart after two intense orgasms. There's already two wet spots on the hotel bed, the source between your legs glimmering in the dim lamp light. Your poor pussy lips are already a bit swollen from his stretching and pounding, your legs twitching every so often in the aftershocks of pleasure.

     He needs to make a much bigger mess of you before he's satisfied. Some deep, dirty part of his brain demands it. He has to make a mess of you, he just has to — and you've barely cried! That will not do. He needs to ruin you completely and place you back together with his saccharine words. He needs to. 

  He maneuvers you like a doll, smirking to himself at the trust you have in him to let him move you into whatever position he sees fit.

     He kisses your shoulder softly as he lays you on your stomach, crawling over you. "Are you ready for more, Baby?"

    "Mhm," you nod, having caught as much as your breath as you could.

   "Close your legs for me."

    You look back at him with a questioning gaze, "close them? Isn't it the opposite, Mommy?"

    "Not today, Baby," he grins as he soothes your messy hair, "you want me to show you what I'm thinking?"

    You hesitate for a second before you nod, turning back to face the blanket shyly as he locks his eyes on yours while sliding back inside of you. He breathes a laugh, straddling you from behind and already stretching you to the limit when —

    He starts pushing your legs together with his own, making you clamp down on him.

     "Oh my g-good fuck!"

      "Tight, isn't it~?"

    You nod quickly, shivering as he puts almost his full weight on you — and, by extension, on his cock inside of you. By the time he's got your legs fully pressed together, it feels like he's filled you up so much that he's in your guts. And when he starts thrusting? You have no brains left in your head.

    "Ahh, yes!"

    Your yell stirs him on, making his pace pick up almost immediately and he's back to pounding you like you owe him money; no mercy at all for his precious Baby. The slap of his skin on yours echoing and making his stomach flutter. The way you can't even hold back a single noise, every hit of his pelvis to your hips making a small yelp or moan tremble out of your lips. This is his new favorite position. His only complaint is that he can't see the cute little faces you have to be making right now.

    You certainly don't have any complaints. He feels like a fucking giant as he pounds the life out of you but his arms are gentle as he wraps them around your shoulders — all of his weight on you besides what he uses to slam into you. A shattered gasp leaves you as you feel his cock prod you so rough and deep that it presses into the mattress through you.

    He feels it too, and heaven help you; because now he's never changing his angle. Groaning and praising right in your ear as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the mattress — quite literally. "Oh, My Baby," he moans deeply, "Mommy is fucking you so deep~ And you're taking it like such a good girl. F-fuck..."

   He's pressing every spot inside of you that there is. Even one that you've never felt before — no, that's not right. You have felt that pressure before. But not when you're having sex.

     He's fucking you so deep that he's putting pressure on your bladder.

    You gasp loudly, clenching around him, "Mommy! Wa-" Clenching was a mistake. Usually, it helps you hold it. Not this time. It pulls him closer. You grab at the blanket, fisting it tightly. Fuck, this is embarrassing. Well, you'd rather just say it so he can stop and you can relieve yourself.

     "Mommy, st-op! M'gonna pee myself!"

     Only... Seonghwa doesn't stop.

     His hips stutter for a moment as he takes in your words — then he's plunging into you impossibly rougher. Like he wants you to. Because he does.

     He knows that makes his an unbelievably perverted person; wanting you to piss on his cock. But he can't help it. He couldn't stop right now even if he had to.

     He can't put it into coherent thoughts right now, only thinking 'harder, fuck her stupid, make her cry, harder, make her pee, make her break...' But when he eventually can organize his thoughts; he'll realize why he couldn't even speak because he was so focused on fucking the literal piss out of you.

     Why? He is the only one on the entire planet that can fuck you so good that you lose control of your bladder. He is the only one to see you so vulnerable. He gets to be filthy with you.

    "Mommy!! P-please! I have t'go!"

    Bless your heart. You still think he might let you get up and go to the bathroom to relieve your abused bladder.

    He wraps his arms around your shoulders tighter, panting and growling like a damn animal in your ear. He's never sounded so dangerous, so feral. He's not even acknowledging your words with any of his own. Only digging his fingers into you and holding your legs shut with his as you try to spread them and get a bit of pressure taken off.

    "Please! P- uh!!" You're crying fast, fat tears now, and Seonghwa can hear them in your voice. Not just because of your embarrassing predicament, but because it feels like pure ecstasy in your very being despite it. "Mm, fuck!" You whine loudly, still feeling his tip press against the bed through you every time he bottoms out. "M-mommy, se-riously! M'gonna pee!"

     "So do it." His words make you wail, shaking your head as vigorously as possible and instinctively clenching again even though it does nothing to help your situation. He presses somehow deeper as he leans his head up and looks over your shoulder at you.

    His cock throbs inside of you, making you gasp, as he watches the tears flow down your heated face. Now he's getting somewhere.

     "It's okay, Baby-ya," he hums, his chest vibrating against your back as he crushes you to the bed, "do it. For- for me."

    "Tha-that's dirty!" You hiccup, kicking your legs until he places his over them.

    "You're already l-leaking everywhere, angel~ You're already creaming all over me. Do it."

   "Nmf-" You bite your lip roughly, a defeated squeak in your throat as a spurt comes out with his thrust. You try to hold the rest in. You really try. Despite his encouragement, you're still mortified.

    His next few thrusts earn him the same thing, a lewd splash against the bed. It's so fucking warm. He's digging his nails into you by the time you finally stop holding it back.

      The relief is almost as good as the orgasm that slams into you like a tsunami.

     You're a complete mess below him. Sobbing, kicking your feet, gripping the blanket so tightly your hands are shaking — all of you is shaking. Trembling like leaf in the wind as relief and pleasure overwhelm your humiliation and creates a feeling you've never dealt with before.

And Seonghwa isn't far behind you. He thinks his body must know not to make him cum while he's watching the absolute work of art he's made of you, not until you finally slump below him. Then, though — he's slamming one last time until your soaking cunt and staying as deep as humanly possible while he cums, holding you so tightly that you might have heard something pop if not for your absolute fried brain and his guttural moan drowning it out.

Yeah. This is his favorite position now, for sure.

❝MESS❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

[ejudollz]

📼 matcha powder - murata fuma .MP4

🐇ᯓ★ tape contents ⋆˚𖦹 fuma isn't normally the type to be submissive in a relationship, however you saw that as a challenge. things are so new for fuma but he's so willing to try things out for you. you're making it your mission to turn him into the most perfect sub.

𐙚🧸 content warnings ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 18+, sub fuma, dom reader, f reader, light subspace, edging, mentions of safe words (not used), usage of colors, finger sucking, nipple play, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fuma gets called bunny (he's me 😳), bunny doesn't know how to end fics pls tune out right before it ends, wc / 3,173

🐰ᯓᡣ𐭩 authors note ⋆˚ finally.. she writes.. it's been so long since i have written anything and this is my first full length fic on this blog and actually for &team in general!! im so excited to finally be sharing something that im at least semi proud of and im excited to fully showcase how i see the boys in my own characterization!! i hope you all enjoy and i hope to write more soon!! / ©byshens (layout)

fuma’s thoughts fog over in a way he'd never felt before. this wasn't a usual feeling of mental exhaustion or a simple mind slip.. instead, this was something very unfamiliar, something he wasn’t used to in the slightest. his hands gripped at the sheets beneath him, a low groan refocusing him on the scene before him. 

this was so new for him, he was torn between feeling scared, anxious, unsure.. he didn’t even know if he should be intrigued and aroused, maybe all of the above? honestly he couldn't even make out what the current feeling was that possessed him.

his body was exhausted, needing and craving release so badly, he’d never craved such a simple sensation so badly before. normally he'd be able to handle a lot sexually, but giving up his sense of control proved to be very different in all ways possible. 

fuma's was single for a bit of time, more focused on his career and his goals than anything else. he wanted to perfect his craft, build his body while he was still young, and achieve milestones in any way he could. 

although he’d been single for quite a while he can recall the way he usually takes on a role where he's in control. normally he's the type to take care of his partner, both in the relationship as well as sexually and that’s what he had gotten used to. he loves it, he's a giver at heart and feels very fulfilled doing so. however, you provided something different, you showed him something new, something he never thought he would take part in. fuma was able to explore different aspects of himself sexually which provided him with new feelings and sensations. 

nobody has ever made fuma feel the way that you do. not even in a cliche romantic way either, he has literally never been able to cum as hard as he does when you're touching him and taking care of him. when your hands are in his hair and working over his body it feels like his body isn’t even his anymore.  

you never imagined you'd make it this far with him, it brings you this sense of power looking at the boy in front of you. you'd never heard him sound like this before, his voice breathy and raspy, every noise sounding almost like a gasp slipping past his lips. now fuma’s a vocal person, he has been since you started having sex with him but he hasn’t let noises this sweet sounding pass his lips before. 

fuma has been so good for you since he decided to let you take over, you knew it would be a lot of responsibility to have someone like him in your control. you assumed he’d be a sweetheart, but he fully gives himself to you, his curiosity always allowing you to do as you please. it was shocking just how willing he is to allow you this much control. you've come to find out that he's so pretty when vulnerable and his body had so much to offer. 

you flicked your finger over his nipple, smiling at the way he bit down on his lip, furrowing his eyebrows tightly. you'd edged him quite a few times already, his cock and face flushing similar shades of red. he was sat directly in front of you, fully unclothed and exposed to you. part of him wanted to press his thighs together but the other part of him so badly wanted to be seen. anyone can tell he’s got such a beautiful body but being on display for you, having his body readily accessible like this was so different. 

fuma loves the contrast of you being clothed while he was out on display like this, he loved the restraint of not seeing you fully and having to rely on his imagination of what’s under your clothes. the contrast heightens the feeling of you having more of an advantage over him and it immerses him even more in the scene.

“my pretty bunny.. just so needy, aren’t you?” you notice the way fuma’s gaze is a bit hazy, his eyes unfocused as he looks at you. he nods eagerly, swallowing hard with an exasperated noise. you smiled at him and cupped his face, not missing the way he nuzzles into your touch a bit. he’s just so obedient, you can’t even believe the sight in front of you.

your hand was wrapped steadily around his thick length, you tightened your grip on him slightly as you looked into his eyes. “fuma.. focus for me baby.. gonna make you feel good okay?” his hands searched for you to brace himself, he gripped at your thigh gently and breathed out a shaky breath, just barely remembering to nod at the end. 

he couldn’t fully focus no matter how hard he tried, his breathing was a bit laboured and his body was seeming more tired than normal. “you doing okay bun? need a break?” fuma’s the type to keep taking everything you give him so graciously without putting himself first. having him as your sub required you to take care of him in ways that others may not require but you were more than happy to do so.

he just shook his head but you released his length, holding his chin up and helping his gaze find yours with the hand that was just wrapped around him. it was so lewd and a little dirty but it drove fuma even crazier once he thought about it fully. “use your words. are you okay? do you need me to stop for a little bit?” you’d never seen him get like this, he’s normally able to hold himself together with ease. while he looked sexy like this you are aware of how new this is for him so you were being extra cautious.

the boy in front of you gave a slight dopey smile, which made you laugh. he shook his head in your grasp, “mm.. wanna keep going..” you nodded at this, but began stalling the slightest bit, just to give him a small break anyways. you wordlessly placed a hand to his chest and gently pushed him down flat on the bed. you were sat beside the boy just watching him process his surroundings. fuma stared up at the ceiling for a second, blinking dumbly before turning his head towards you, he looked so pretty and fucked out right now. 

his hands slowly came to your arm, wrapping around the wrist of your hand that had previously been teasing him so much. you just watched him, holding eye contact as he slowly lifted your fingers up to his mouth. he’d never done this before, your eyes widened as he slipped your middle and ring finger past his lips. you nearly moaned at this as he began softly sucking and moaning around your fingers. you could feel the bass of his voice vibrating on your skin. 

“ohh.. such a good boy, fuma..” you played in his hair for a moment, taking in the way he stared up at you with his pretty round sparkly eyes. his hair strands were stickling to his forehead slightly, sweat beading up on his forehead. you decided to test the waters, your fingers slightly pressing down against his tongue as you scratched gently along his chest with your free hand. he shuddered under you a bit, you could tell you caught him a little off guard by the way he bit down slightly on your fingers. fuma rolled his hips up into nothing, his body squirmed senselessly at the throbbing between his legs. 

“should i touch you now? tell me how much you want it..” you noticed fuma's desperation rising so you decided it's time to finally give him what he so badly needs. 

“please..” he nods his head quickly, his words coming out muffled around your fingers. you waited for more but he stopped, trying to keep the saliva in his mouth from slipping out all around your fingers. 

you retracted your hand, allowing whatever he was trying to keep in to drip out. “hm.. must not want it that bad. maybe we should stop here?” you wiped your fingers on the bed beside fuma, faking like you were going to stand up. 

“no! please.. mm.. want it so bad.. need it.. please..” fuma appeared frantic and his voice matched his appearance. his eyes were round and full of need, you almost felt bad for joking with him like that. he looked completely disheveled and he reached for you, holding onto your arm to keep you from leaving. “i need you, y/n.” 

“okay bunny.. i'll take care of you.. what do you say if we need to stop?” he lights up a bit, his chest rising and falling quickly, “pineapple..” you nod with a smile, almost like you’re showing him that you’re proud.

“how do you want me to make you cum? i'll let you pick since you were such a good boy.” you slightly sink your nails into the skin of his thigh, dragging your nails downward as you waited for him to speak. 

every little touch was a challenge for him, he couldn't focus with your hands anywhere on him. he squeezed his eyes shut and sighed heavily, trying to refocus the fog that takes over his mind currently. he's so cute like this, he just seems so so pathetic. 

“wanna be inside of you.. wanna feel you.. please..” you nod at him while you stand up, facing fuma who's eyes won't leave your body. he’s so attentive to you, eyes hooded and so focused on every one of your movements. if he weren’t so foggy in the head he would be praising you for everything you do.

fuma attempts to sit up, normally he helps you get undressed.. he loves being able to feel your skin and slowly peel your clothes off of your body. but this time you stop him, telling him to just let you show off for him for a moment. he blinks slowly at you, sitting up on his elbows as best as he can so he doesn’t miss a single moment of what’s happening in front of him.

you move slowly as you get undressed, just the way fuma likes it. he loves the suspense of your skin slowly becoming more visible to him. you start with your bottoms, hooking your thumbs under the fabric of your pants, leaving your underwear untouched. slowly, you work your way out of your bottoms. fuma’s eyes fall to your hips, drool pooling in his mouth immediately. his eyes are locked on your panties, its one of his favorite pairs that were so patiently waiting to be revealed to him.

you threw your pants to the side and climbed on the bed with him, once again placing a hand on fuma’s muscular chest, but this time to brace yourself. you wasted no time resting your weight in his lap, noticing the way he sucks in a breath at the slight friction you caused. 

he stares up at you with big round eyes, so patiently waiting for you to say something. “undress me.” fuma moved quicker than you could finish your sentence, hands moving under your shirt and resting on your hips. his hands are big and on the rougher side, you shivered at the feeling of his skin on yours. 

he looked into your eyes as he pulled your shirt off of your body, biting his bottom lip a bit when he looked back down to your chest. he pulled you close, nose pressing against your body as he breathed in the scent of your body wash and perfume. he groaned against you, hands moving up your body and finding the hook of your bra. fuma’s eyes were closed as he rested against your chest, his cheek felt so soft on you.

the clasp of your bra came undone, fuma’s nails gently ran over your skin at this. he was taking every moment possible to admire you, to enjoy this closeness. fuma snuck in a few kisses, peppering small pecks against your chest before pulling away and revealing your breasts to himself. his breath hitches in his throat as he stares, your bra quickly being discarded elsewhere. 

“please..” his voice is a mere whisper, almost like he was trying not to let you hear him. “please what?” you run your hands through his hair, holding him close to you. he seems a little puzzled, like he was shocked that you heard him. he swallowed hard before speaking, “please ride me..”

you wordlessly lift up in his lap, running your fingers through your warm wet folds. you’d gotten quite turned on by this point as well. you pulled your panties to the side, lining yourself up with fuma’s tip. he could feel the heat radiating off of you, he couldn’t take it already, he needed you so bad. 

you push your fingers into his mouth, allowing him to taste the sweetness that coated your fingers. he groaned around your fingers, torn between shutting his eyes and watching you line yourself up. with your free hand you rubbed his leaking tip between your folds, letting out a moan in unison with fuma’s muffled noises. he closes his mouth a little harder around your fingers, bracing himself a bit for what he’s so desperately wanted.

you sink down on fuma’s cock, your gummy walls instantly pulsating around his thicker shaft. you gasp at the feeling, not previously realizing how sensitive you’d feel. fuma groans, his eyes shutting and his body tensing under you. you fully bottom out on top of him, sitting with him fully inside of you. you pull your fingers from fuma’s mouth and look in his eyes once more.

fuma’s expression his perfect, his eyes are sparkling, his lips are plump and swollen, his face is slightly covered by his fringe, but its clear enough for you to still see him. he looks absolutely euphoric right now as you move your fingers into his hair. 

you tug slightly, using the grip you have on his hair in order to control things better. your hips roll in fuma's lap, the feeling of him inside of you making you moan out. 

finally you start moving, slowly dragging yourself up and down his length. fuma’s hands fly to your hips, his hands immediately gripping at your skin. he craved this moment so much, his whines and gasps showed you this so much. 

you waste no time picking up your pace, the sound of you slamming down in fuma's lap fills the room. he leans forward into you, grasping at you anyway that he could. he couldn't hold himself together no matter how hard he tried. you let go of his hair, placing kisses all over his face and hearing the way he whines. 

his upper half suddenly felt too heavy for him to hold himself up. he rested his body fully, hands tangling in his own hair to replace your own hands. his hands fall from your hips, gripping at the sheets instead. 

this is the fastest fuma has come undone under you, his body tensing up and his moans getting caught in his throat. “cu.. c..” his voice trails off into moans each time he tries to talk but it's clear what he's trying to say. 

you place your hand around his throat, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. his moans sound gritty and rough, the volume of his voice finally catching up to him. he swallows hard a couple of times, trying to get his voice out again. 

“go ahead bunny.. fill me up.. let it go, handsome..” fuma fully malfunctions at your words, it feels like his brain short circuits in this moment. he sucks in a breath and doesn't let go, body stiffening up once again under you. 

you feel his warm cum begin to fill your walls, his cock twitching inside of you. a high pitched whine finally comes out of him, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

he starts breathing ruggedly, his hips stuttering slightly. you don't stop moving, helping him fully finish his orgasm. fuma's sweating and breathless, so pretty under you. you let him catch his breath a tiny bit, watching as he swallows hard. 

you run your hand up and down his chest, smiling so sweetly, “gotta use you just a little more..” you begin to pick your pace up once again, hips very slowly moving. fuma's cum is dripping out, pooling in his lap below you. 

it takes him a second to reply, he's looking up at the ceiling again, a content expression on his face. “sorry.. came too fast..” you shook your head even though he wasn't looking at you, “it's okay.. doing so well for me. what's your color baby?” 

he looks at you now, still smiling slightly, “green.. wanna see you cum..” you admired his strong he was being.. takes everything so graciously and is always ready for more. 

you let out a sound of approval, gently rocking your hips back and forth in his lap. fuma bites his lip, eyebrows furrowed tight on his forehead. your clit was throbbing at this point, you wanted to cum so bad now. 

you start to move up and down his length once again, grabbing fuma's hand and moving it to your clit. he starts sloppily rubbing circles on your clit, eager to make you feel good. you let out a satisfied moan, fuma's cum providing yourself extra lubricant. your pussy glides over him so easily, his thumb working on you. you feel your orgasm start to bubble up in your stomach. 

it doesn't take much longer for your orgasm to fully hit you, your pussy clenching around fuma. you're moaning as you ride out your orgasm, leaning down to place your lips on fuma's. he's moaning into your mouth as you ride him, his hands running over your body. 

you lean forward against him, catching your breath and letting your orgasm wash over you. he's still inside but you just stay like this for a while, listening to your own heartbeat. the boy brings his arms around you, holding you tight and keeping you close to him. this moment is weirdly comforting and reassuring. 

silence fills the room but it's not uncomfortable, you both just lay there and take everything in. fuma is turning out to be the most perfect sub, much better than you had originally expected. you couldn't wait to further mold him into the perfect boy for you. 

you lift up to admire fuma's features.. you're really so lucky to have him. he stares back at you with that same goofy smile from earlier, “i love you so much y/n..” you giggle at the sudden confession as you caress his face, “i love you more fuma.” you lean down to place a kiss on his lips, you couldn't ask for anything better.

[koenigsdossier]

Secret Thoughts

König is very against the idea of sharing you in any way. You're his and only his. He doesn't want anyone touching you or making you feel like he does. But the idea of showing someone that you're his and showing how he makes you feel lingers in the back of his mind.

+18 NSFW, voyeurism, marking, possessive König, AFAB reader

This fanasty all started when König got jealous over you standing too close to Horangi, whispering to each other about something private. König trusted you both and knew you two wouldn't go behind his back, but that didn't stop from König's possessive side taking over his mind. He didn't think at all when he had walked over to you, quietly getting behind you and lifting your shirt up to expose the marks on your stomach. He always kept you marked up to ease his possessiveness, and it came in handy as he had to remind Horangi who you belonged to. Not that Horangi had any doubt in his mind or that he even had tried to get with you. Still, Horangi got a kick out of it while you got flustered over König's actions and scolded him for it.

But the incident had planted a new fanasty inside König's perverted and possessive mind. He found himself thinking about fucking you while Horangi watched. It was weird. The very idea of Horangi even seeing you in such ways made him jealous and had him pinning you down to place more marks on you. But it also made his cock so incredibly hard. To show Horangi just how much exactly you were König's, it did something to him. His body and mind were quite literally fighting with each other.

If you two ever did end up having someone watch you have sex, König would definitely want it to be Horangi. He was König's best friend, and he trusted him the most with you out of anyone else on the base. You got along great with Horangi, too, considering him one of your good friends. Horangi had already seen inappropriate pictures of you two. By accident, of course, König would never share a picture that you took and sent just for his eyes. You didn't want anyone seeing König in such ways, either. That was definitely for your eyes only. Horangi had also walked in on you two countless times, too, never learning his lesson to knock before entering. So, honestly, König cock inside your sweet cunt wouldn't be new to Horangi.

It was just so infuriating but exciting at the idea of Horangi watching König claim you over and over. König didn't want him hearing how pretty you sounded as you whined and begged König to make you cum. Those sweet pleading moans that slip out of your mouth as König made you feel good were for him to hear only. The obscene sound of your slick pussy as König bullied his fingers or cock into you, was for him to hear only.

But at the same time, he wanted Horangi to hear how you begged for König's fat cock. He wanted him to hear how whiny and loud you got from König pounding into you. It did make his mind swirl at the thought of your breathless voice saying you're his over and over again for Horangi to hear, so he got the message completely. He almost needed Horangi to hear how your greedy pussy sounded when it was mess of your slick and cum, as it kept clenching and sucking König in.

He definitely didn't want Horangi to see your body at all. Your soft, perfect tits were for König's eyes only. Only he got to see how hard your nipples got as horniness flooded your body. He should be the only one to ever see that perfect, sweet cunt of yours. Especially when it was dripping wet with arousal and clenching around nothing as it begged for König to touch it.

But god, a part of him did want Horangi to see how he pleased your body. He wanted to show Horangi how he could just have you shaking and begging for him as he rolled his fingers around your sensitive nipples, nipping and biting at your supple chest. Or how you would hold his head place as he ran his tongue over your nipples, switching between gently and harshly sucking on them as your back arched into his mouth. He felt the need to show Horangi how your pussy reacted to his fingers, how your hole leaked slick and clenched around him as he fucked his fingers into you with a thumb on your clit. Horangi should be able to see how König's tongue swirled around your clit as he greedily licked up any slick you produced, and how you would hold his head down when you were about to cum. König had to make sure Horangi saw how your cunt reacted to his cock, how it filled you up completely and made your cunt squeeze and drip arousal onto his thick, huge cock.

The only thing König's possession and newfound thoughts could agree on was that Horangi had to watch König mark you up. The idea of Horangi seeing König lay his claim over you over and over again was strong. He wanted to place deep, purple marks over your skin and tell Horangi "mine" each time he finished a hickey. König would even go over the marks already on your soft skin, telling Horangi how long the love bite has been on your skin and how you let König do this to you whenever he wanted. Because you were his and you loved being his. You only wanted to be König's so Horangi better back off.

König doesn't even want to think about Horangi seeing his cum on and in you, it made his dick way too hard. König's already made up his mind that if Horangi watched you two, he was going to mark you with his seed in every way he could think of. He wanted to cum on your tongue and make you show it Horangi, keeping eye contact as you swallowed all of his seed. He would push your pretty tits together around his cock, fucking up into the soft flesh until he busted his seman all over those beautiful tits. He would have to fuck your cunt two time, at least. Once, so he could cum all over your throbbing pussy and spread around until you couldn't tell your slick and his cum apart. Twice, so he stuff you full of his seed and completely claim you in front of Horangi. He already decided he would stuff his cum back inside you as him and Horangi watch it leak from your already fucked out hole. God, he just wanted you to be completely covered in his cum and scent, so you smelled exactly like him as he claimed you as his over and over again.

He wouldn't want Horangi to touch himself at all. He could get a boner for all he cared, but he better not get off from your body at all. This was to show Horangi that you belonged to König. It wasn't some special show that Horangi got to touch his dick to. It was König sending Horangi a very clear and obvious message.

But Horangi was awfully pushy. He had a nasty habit of teasing, especially you two. König can only imagine what he would say or even do if he allowed him to watch. He would definitely get too close as well, close enough to touch you, to smell you, to taste your arousal as it filled the air. He didn't want Horangi's hands anywhere near you. But Horangi loved to push people's limits. He would definitely touch you in some way. He would lean close to you and whisper teases and harsh words in your ears. He would probably do the same to König, pissing him off as he made his possession flare up horribly. Horangi would probably end making König fuck you harder than he ever has before. Your poor hole would definitely be sore and body aching by the end, König accidentally putting his frustration into pounding into you.

So, for now, König would keep these secret thoughts to himself. He didn't want to cause you any discomfort or end up doing something he would regret. For now, he would just be extra touchy when you two were around Horangi, clinging to you as he not so subtly tried to show Horangi who you belonged to. Maybe he could slip his hands under your clothes so Horangi couldn't see anything, but definitely still know that König was the one bringing you pleasure. Maybe he could finger fuck with your clothes still on as Horangi watched. He wouldn't be able to hide your cute noises, though. Or the sound of your sloppily cunt as he curled his fingers into your g-spot. He just needs to linger on the thought some more.

[sweetverine]

top tier subscriber | logan howlett

warnings : 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn with some plot, reader has an of account, no use of y/n, afab reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, dolly and angel), oral f! receiving, handjob, p in v, no use of protection, pulling out)?, filming a porn video.

a/n : hii :3 i wrote this because i was tempted by the idea of playing an old man!logan recording a porno ok.. originally, i planned for them to never meet, but oh well, i guess that's it. english isn't my first language, so if there's anything strange, please lmk! pt 1

How did Logan get there? Simple. A small election you made among your most loyal—and well-funded—followers. Whoever put up the most money would get a night with you, oh, and Logan? he wouldn't miss it for anything in the world. The large letters on his phone indicated the indications for participating, 'a night with me, recorded. only for true fans (only available for premium)'.

Without much further ado and with a lot of help from Google, he created a document, sending his application, you know, basic information, name, age, and phone number. He didn't think you'd accept him; subconsciously, he knew he was too old for you. Plus, you probably received many more applications, why choose an old man like him? But to his surprise, He was the damn winner. Was he fantasizing when you contacted him?

you two chatted about the location and payment of the motel and exchanged a few words in a phone call. You still didn't know who this man was except for the information he gave you and his deep voice, which made itself known during the call. You almost didn't accept it, to be honest. He was old... but? He was always the one who usually paid you the most, spending on you more and more. If you could stretch his pocket as far as you could, maybe you could make ends meet more comfortably.

The day arrived, and he hated to admit he was excited about it. What would you wear for him tonight? What would he have to take off? Would you look at him in disgust? These questions ran through his mind over and over again, insecurely, he wasn't like that... insecure. Even so he made sure to trim and tidy up his appearance a bit, he didn't want you to think he was a musty old man, still he wasn't the Logan he used to be, the handsome, young Logan. But he would do his best to try to be him again, for you.

He could feel his cock getting harder as he walked towards hotel room 277. It was really happening, he was going to shoot a porn video, with a pretty thing young enough to be his grandchild, it was embarrassing in many ways he couldn't quite describe. His fist knocked on the door twice, wiping the sweat from his hands on his pants as he waited impatiently.

As agreed, twice touches and it would be James.

You walked towards the door, a little nervous too, almost hesitant to open it. You put your thoughts aside, gathering your courage and finally doing it once and for all. You met an older man, tall and, you could say, somewhat muscular above his clothes. His eyes were definitely mesmerizing, he looked you up and down, it seemed like he was eating you alive. A prominent nose along with a salt and pepper beard. Hmm... James has awakened a new taste in men.

“You must be James.” You said, looking at him with a sly smile, still somewhat shy at the intimidating man in front of you.

Logan swallowed. For a second, he stared at you without responding, his eyes trailing over your figure as if he wanted to memorize every part of you, that cute little outfit you choose, god, he can't wait to take it off you.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice deep, a little raspy. “James… though I don’t usually use that name.”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck, uncomfortable, but unable to take his gaze off you. “You can call me Logan.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip, leaning against the door. It was getting a little awkward. “Please come in.. we can start.” You moved inside, letting Logan pass to close the door behind you.

Your shoes clicked against the floor as you approached the bed, adjusting the camera and lights. Silence seemed to reign in the room. Nobody said anything yet until you decided to speak.

“We'll start recording, okay? Remember the limits?” you mumbled as you adjusted the camera.

“Yeah– I remember them.” Logan says, looking at you, to then look away as a small light illuminates the bed.

“Ready, Logan?” your finger about to press the button to start recording.

He simply nodded, looking away, still nervous about it. The camera started recording, the small red flash there as you walked away and started walking in his direction. Appearing in the shot, Logan and you in the foreground, your hands resting on his chest to move up and caress his shoulders as his big hands pull you closer to him with a strong grip on your waist.

You didn't say anything, just looked up with a mischievous smile, licking your lips. Logan understood immediately, moving down a little towards your height to meet your lips for the first time. A simple kiss that slowly heated up. Your hands are buried in his gray hair while your tongue intertwines with his in a desperate manner. His nose brushed against yours sometimes when he rearranged his head.

“So pretty f'me, angel.” He whispered, guiding you to the bed as his lips went to attack your neck, giving some wet kisses on your skin.

Your back rests on the bed as Logan begins to undress you, leaving you only in your underwear. A cute lace lingerie that looked great on you, that colour just does something to him, looking at your chest, he couldn't help but gently squeeze both of your tits over the bra, Admiring how you look. The lace feels so good on his hands, hypnotized by your body, Remember that you really are real. It's not just one of his fantasies.

Your hands reach out and take off your bra, Leaving your chest bare in front of him, getting more comfortable, his lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking and gently biting, while with his remaining hand he squeezes the other. You feel yourself melting and starting to do some sounds of pleasure, Enjoying it more than you should. You looked into his eyes as he began to kiss your abdomen, slowly moving down until he reached your panties.

He kissed your clit over the thin fabric before placing his nose on your clothed pussy, inhaling just a little bit of you, oh god, he's so pathetic.

“Are you enjoying your prize?” You whispered, blushing a bit as your panties were quickly removed, leaving you exposed to his deep gaze.

“hell yes, princess.” he whispered, not breaking eye contact as his tongue gave a testing lick on your slit, watching you squirm and moan softly.

“so wet, this turns you on, doesn't it? dirty girl.” Logan rasped, much more confident as he saw how you were slowly melting under his touch. His mouth begins to work on you, slowly licking your folds with the tip of his tongue. Your hand tugged at his hair, trying to keep him there. He lowered his face a little further, his nose level with your clitoris as his slippery tongue delved into your warmth.

“Logan—oh, fuck!” you moaned, arching your back. Throwing your head back, you were really surprised by this situation. You thought Logan would care about his own pleasure, like any other man would, you were so wrong.

It was so good, you had completely forgotten about the camera. Logan's hands were on your thighs, squeezing the tender flesh of them, while he continued to eat you with pleasure. His beard was rasping in the most delicious way, a perfect mixed feeling of burn and pleasure.

You began to feel pressure on your lower abdomen, You were close. Really close. Your hand held Logan there as he began to breathe heavily, your hips rising, rubbing against Logan's face in a way that was inevitable. You could hear him groan as you used his face. Littles pleads escaping from your lips as you move desperately. Hmm, he seemed to know you so well. Helping you reach your peak, your body tensed and your thighs clamped down on his face, holding him there as you rubbed your pussy over his face a few more times.

somewhat sensitive and you slowly came down from your climax, opening your legs and letting it go, completely satisfied about your experience —not yet finished— with Logan. He licked his lips, he could feel his beard a little wet from your fluids but god, they were worth it, and even more so when you tasted as sweet as candy.

“Are you tired already sweetheart? You last much longer in your videos." He teased, starting to remove his clothes. You didn't even notice he was still fully dressed, still very pleased with your recent orgasm.

You were surprised to see his cock, hard and thick, the tip dripping with precum. All for you. You sat down on the bed somewhat languidly, taking it gently in your hands to jerk it slowly as you looked up at him. Oh it wasn't anything like his hand. yours was so soft and warm.

he couldn't help but groan. “You're worth every penny, dolly.” Logan looks down, watching you kiss the tip playfully. You spit on his cock, making everything more sticky and easier to move your hand.

You then pulled away, laying on your back with your legs open. Logan, somewhat impatient, positioned himself between your thighs. He couldn't wait to be inside you, to make his fantasies come true. He took his shaft, passing it through your sensitive and wet folds, stealing a few pleased hums from you.

“Can you take it all for me, princess? Hmm?”he whispered in your ear, earning you to nod your head. slowly, he put his tip inside, pushing his whole cock into you little by little. He couldn't help but throw his head back when he reached the end, you were hugging him so warmly he could cum right now. You moaned at the feeling of it all inside, your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close. His lips find yours again, kissing for a little bit, letting you get used to it.

Logan started to move after a while, his hips meeting yours as he picked a slow pace, trying not to cum, not yet. the sound of skin clashing and your sweet moans fill the room. He was moving hard, his thrusts more erratic now, his breathing ragged against your neck. Your legs were still tangled around his waist, your body sensitive, and sweating, trembling beneath him.

You didn't have the breath left to beg him not to stop, and you didn't need to. He didn't want it to end either.

But finally, he let out a deep, guttural groan that vibrated against your skin as he pulled out of you just in time, pumping his thick member over your abdomen. The warmth of his cum spread across your tummy The warmth of his cum lays across your skin as his body tensed completely, panting and trembling slightly as he collapsed beside you, exhausted.

Both of you were breathing heavily, not saying a word at first. Your eyes looked up at the ceiling, then back at him. He had his eyes closed, still recovering, his chest rising and falling heavily. with a disheveled appearance, disheveled hair and a wet beard.

You remained silent for a few more seconds, letting your frantic heartbeat calm down. Then you smiled, softly.

Maybe... just maybe, you thought as you stared at the still-recording lens, Logan could be more than just a client. Maybe... a new regular collaborator

[cwwv9]

«Child in the shower, disaster in life»

— Without gender!Children's!Reader x Isagi Yoichi, Meguro Bachira, Hiori Yo, Karasu Tabio, Chigiri Hyoma, Michael Keiser, Alexis Ness, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Shidou Ryusei.

Genre: casual, romantic subtext, fluff, a little thrash

Warning: The text is the maximum amount of absurdity, folly and unexplained logic that exists in people whose inner child has never grown. The reader is a walking natural disaster with the soul of a child who rejoices at frogs, plays pranks, falls into ridiculous situations and invariably draws characters into chaos.

Note: I didn’t plan to go down like this, but my powers failed. I still don’t feel very well, but I will try to get myself together this weekend. I actually thought about trying "fem! character x reader" coming soon, do you think it’s a good idea?

wrote it exclusively for your smile, enjoy reading!

Isagi Yoichi

- Yoichi! - you’re screaming from the other end of the field, waving your hands.

He just finished training, wiping sweat off his forehead when you run to him, hiding something behind your back. He immediately gets excited. Your smile is wider than that of a horror maniac, and your eyes are burning with excitement.

- I’ve got a surprise for you! - You put both hands in front of him, clenching your fists. - Do you want to see?

Yoichi looks at the coach in the distance, then again at you. He had already been caught in "surprises" like a pie in the face, a shocking beetle and one very suspicious candy from which his tongue was green all day.

- Is it safe? he squints. I won’t have to eat porridge through a tube for another week?

You’re not happy.

- I’m serious! That’s nice! Really. Honest. Well... almost.

- "Almost" is already suspicious.

You can’t hold it and you want to, your chest tickles with impatience. Finally you breathe out:

-Okay, all right, you ready?

-No, - Yoichi says dryly, but he’s already leaning closer.

Your hands are wide open.

A small, living, grey frog jumps out of them.

- WOW! - Yoichi yells, bouncing back, almost stumbling over his own boots.

You fold in half from laughing. You fall on the grass, holding your stomach, and the frog jumps aside, shocked by what is happening.

- DID YOU SEE YOUR FACE?! - Yell through tears. - God, I would frame this!

Yoichi is breathing hard. His hand on his knee, his face distorted by a mixture of horror and laughter. He throws a murderous look at you, but the eyes already appear tired, but warm "of course".

- Why am I still surprised when you do that? - He sighs, helping you up. - How old are you? Five?

- Six and a half, thank you.

You walk beside him, touching him while he’s walking.

- And the frog was jumping, huh? Just like in a cartoon! We still have to find one. Or maybe we can have an aquarium at home, huh? And there’s frogs and bugs. And mice are allowed.

- Mouse?.. - Yoichi stops. - No. No, please. We and one of you are enough for chaos.

You throw yourself at him and cling to his hand, slightly pressing your cheek against his, feeling his warmth.

- Admit it, you liked it!

He sighs. And here is the most sincere smile of the day on his face. He looks at you as if you were a natural disaster, which is impossible not to love.

- Yes, he says, rubbing your top gently, you’re a total lunatic. But mine.

Meguro Bachira

— We only take macarons, okay? Ma-ka-ro-ne - Bachira leans towards you, clinging to the importance as if you’re a spy on a top secret mission. - No step left, no look right. Only. Pasta.

You nod with a face like you get it, but in three seconds you’re already crawling along the windows, stretching your neck and your eyes picking up shiny boxes, rustling packaging and... toy department.

- Bachira! Look! Look-look-look! - you suddenly disappear from view and burst into toy paradise like a tornado.

- Bachira! Look! Look-look-look! - you suddenly disappear from view and burst into toy paradise like a tornado.

He follows you, of course. He always comes after you - no matter how much he sighs. Because he knows: where you are, it will be either fun or dangerous. And more often both.

You’re already squeezing the breast of a plush cat. Pumpkin on the head, tail with glitter. Too bright, too ugly... and definitely your favorite for the next three days.

- He FARTS, - you proudly declare by pressing on his stomach. And indeed, something... sinister-breathing is being pulled out of the speaker.

Bachira blinks.

- What is he?

You press again. The cat makes another moist sound.

You’re laughing so hard, you almost fell.

- It’s fate! He talks to us in my native language!

Bachira picks up the toy, turns in her hands. She croaks. But then he looks at you - you’re shining like a midnight firework, holding that vile thing like a shrine.

-Okay... add to your collection, - he sighs. - seventy-one. We have a shelf to change.

You jump for joy and kick like a little child.

- I’ll call him Puffy. He’ll guard the bed from monsters!

-From me, I guess.

- He’ll let you in. I swear!

He laughs quietly, pushing you closer as you go to the cash register. And, hell with macarons.

Hiori Yo

It was a hot day, too hot. The sun was burning your neck, and you were running around the yard with a water gun like an apocalyptic gremlin. Behind the bush - ambush, on the tree - base, and in your hand - weapons of mass destruction.

- Hiiori! - you scream with a belligerent squeal. - GET READY TO SWIM, DEEP-SEA SHRIMP!

He only carries out a towel and a bottle of water, as if the jet is flying into him - direct, precise, straight into his chest. He doesn’t even have time to breathe as you’re already running up and kicking your feet in place.

- Hit! Right in the heart! Critical damage!

- You said, "You’re not shooting today," - Hiori breathes hard as she squeezes out her shirt. - That was a lie.

- I forgot, honestly! you say with a big smile. But you’re too much of a target. I couldn’t resist.

He nods, calmly and with restraint. He goes into the house... suspiciously calm.

In five minutes he comes out. He’s holding a plastic bottle of coke.

- Peace? he asks, holding it out.

You smile like you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, grab a bottle.

- Of course, the world! Drink me! - You turn the lid off quickly.

PSHCHHHH!

You forget that you yourself have shaken this bottle before as a "time bomb". Cola shoots the fountain - in the face, on the T-shirt, on the arms. You reflexively put the bottle to your mouth, trying to "save" the drink, but with laughter you get nervous, let out a fountain from your mouth and literally sprinkle Hiori with a sweet soda.

He stands. Impregnated. Sticky. With pieces of ice under his sock.

- It... was... he says slowly, looking at himself.

You’re already lying on the ground, hovering like a madman. You’re dripping with water, looking like a flared firecracker in cotton candy.

- THAT WAS GENIUS! - you squeal. - Hiori! It was a self-destruct attack! You should have seen your face!

He looks at you... then just sits quietly next to you. Takes a newspaper that is lying nearby, and puts it on his face.

- You’re like a child, he mumbles, but the corners of his lips are still shaking with a smile. - Absolutely uncontrollable.

You roll closer and squeeze to his side like a wet puppy. Licking his shoulder, which was in the ruts of coca cola. He sighs but does not repel.

- You still love me, don’t you?

- Hardly. And in the breaks between washing, he snorts.

And yet his hand gently rests on your head. As if to say: "yes, I love. Even with sticky hair and water gun".

Karasu Tobio

You were unpredictable. Like the weather in April. Or like a machine with toys, which instead of a rubber ball gives out a dead crab.

Today started well. Karasu led you around the mall by the hand like a child, so that you didn’t get lost and run off to the station with fluffy slippers.

But suddenly you got out of control and rushed to a group of serious, solid men at the coffee shop. On the go opening the tablet.

- YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS! - Loud, too loud.

Karasu stalled. His face was stretched out like a dough in a pizza.

- No. Not again.

You run to the men and with a solemn look put in the face of the screen: where the wife is sad and the child spanch bob, and the panch bob was already lying in the grave.

— Sad, right?! Hahahaha! The baby spanch bob is crying so bitterly, with comments saying that he’s already an orphan! because mom left in a man.. - Do you ask, leaning towards one of the men. - Is this for you?

They don’t talk. One of them already has his phone. The other is coughing and looking at you like you’re infected with something dangerous.

- It’s... not funny, young man - frown alone. - Where are your parents?

- I... - You look back. - I’m with him!

And Karasu, as in slow motion, runs up, grabs you under his arm like a sack of potatoes, and looks tired guard drags you aside.

- Are you BACK? he hisses. - You promised not to traumatize strangers with the strange pictures you made.

- But there’s Sponge Bob, with a beard! He LOOKS AT THE SOUL, Tobias! It’s art! You don’t understand anything! - you scream, your feet are wagging.

He stops, puts you on the ground and grabs your face.

- I can’t do it anymore. I need pills. I need a lawyer. I need... a psychotherapist to learn how to live with you.

You smile and throw yourself at his neck.

-But you love me, right?

- I’m guarding you, that’s different.

- Okay. But I still have a picture of a pigeon with the face of a grandfather saying, "Give back your pension". We show it in the bookstore?

Karasu rolls his eyes.

- Only if I sign up first.

Chigiri Hyoma

- Hyoma! Hyoma! Come here now! - you’re breaking into the room where Chigiri was quietly drinking tea and trying to breathe.

He does not even have time to turn his head - you have already grabbed him by the wrist, hold him like a raging tornado, and loudly, with encouragement you are saying:

- I’ve made a DISCOVERY! Scientific! Medical! I’m a genius! You’ll be the first to try it!

– It won’t be like last time, right? - Chigiri asks anxiously, remembering the case when you smeared his nose with honey "so that a raspberry grows on it". Or when you tried to "tame" the microwave, saying «Jars, beasts, jars».

- It’s DIFFERENT. You’ll have a mustache. Serious ones. I tested on a stuffed hippo, and it looks solid!

Before Chigiri could do anything - click, you pressed two fluffy black things to his face, and on top of that you put a hairspray, super glue and for some reason a bun-smelling perfume.

- That’s it! - you exhilaratingly scream. - Now you are... General Hyomka! You have a new personality! Walk, command, go!

Chigiri is looking at himself in the mirror in complete shock. He has a huge, ridiculous mustache - one side bent up, the other dangles like a sad worm. And it’s not coming off.

- ... you ruined me. I’m like a bad guy from a cartoon about potatoes.

You clap your hands:

– That’s right! UskKom 3000! I create personalities! I can give you a cape, and you will interrogate plush toys. Someone has to keep order in the house!

He’s dead.

- You... put something on my face. REAL GLUE?

You nod. Proud. Happy. Absolutely no remorse.

- Not to fall. Stability is the foundation of leadership.

Pause. He turns around, slowly goes into the bath, and in a few seconds you hear:

- I’m going to shrivel my face, I’m going to get smoother than walk with this!

You’re giggling on the floor.

- General Hyomka against the innovations... Too bad.

And you already take out of your pocket the spare kit... with eyebrows-nuts.

Michael Kaiser

You burst into a room with a homemade helmet out of a cereal box strapped to the head of a pot, and proudly say:

- Today we’re going to Mars to save my son!

Kaiser doesn’t even lift an eye from his phone.

-You don’t have a son.

- I have one. It’s a plush toad named Herman. It was stolen by the evil cucumbers from Jupiter. You don’t want Herman to become a salad, do you?

He sighs. Very slowly.

-Is it because you drank ketchup and coke?

- It’s because I’m a great space traveler! King of the Clouds, Lord Lugh and Count Ploppi!

The Kaiser is still watching. And for a long time.

You wave your pawn like a scepter, and pull out from behind... a folded map (actually a pizza flyer) with the pen reading: «HERE IS MARS».

- We’re leaving in five minutes. Get your toothbrush, it’s gonna be a long battle!

- I’m not going to Mars.

- Then Herman dies.

- It’s a toy toad you left in the oven.

You are offended:

- It was a bunker!

- There was lasagna.

- Herman loves lasagna...

You lower your head. Sad, theatrical. It’s time for you to go to Cannes for this drama.

Kaiser rolls his eyes.

- Where’s your spaceship?

You pull out a mop and a stool.

- Get ready for the acceleration, princess. We’re going to hell.

Ten minutes later, the Kaiser, still in his pajamas, sitting on a stool, holding a broom and watching you yell in a bucket: "Open the portal! Herman, hold on, Daddy’s flying!"

- That’s... - He exhales. - It’s worse than when you tried to give me a jam shot.

You giggle and kiss his cheek.

- Thank you, you saved the planet. Herman will be proud.

- I hope he chokes on lasagna.

You make a sullen face, then you spit on his knees.

- And Herman wants a brother. Do you mind if I get a snail?

- As long as she stays silent and doesn’t burn the microwave like your "dragon".

Alexis Ness

- Look, look, look! - you yell from a distance and fly down the sloped gravel path on a skate, waving your hands as if trying to get off the ground.

Ness is sitting on the blanket, just started to turn out the container with fruits, as notices your death flight.

- NO! he screams, leaping on his feet. - Not on the grass! Not through the tree! Not in the

BACH.

Skate rolls by. And you - fly right into it, carrying Ness and container with watermelons in the bushes.

You’re lying on top of it, happy as a clam.

-Did you see? I was almost in the trenches! A little bit more, and I’d have a world record. I had a real backflip going on in my head, honestly.

Ness is looking up at the sky. He’s trying to remember how to breathe.

- You’re in my head right now spinning funeral.

You sigh as you leap:

- Okay, okay, this is going to be really cool. I found a log! You can slide it on your belly like a snowboard. I called it the Thunder-2000.

- It’s... a regular log.

- But if you believe - it’s a real miracle

Ness comes up, shaking, and mumbles:

- I just wanted to eat cherries and sit in silence...

And you’re already climbing up on the log, clinging to it like it’s a giant carrot, and yelling,

- Look! It’s like "Forsag", but cheap and with bumps!

And you go. The log rolls down the hill, you squeal like a teapot, your legs are wobbly, your face in the leaves. At some point you just fall, roll over and get up with a mossy forehead and a happy smile.

- I’m alive! My ass - no, but I’m alive!

Ness comes in, grabs your wrist, checking your pulse.

- I had to sign a paper saying that I was responsible for you? Where is my legal team?.

You hug him by hanging him around your neck.

— You are my little insurance agent. And now... for the shish kebabs! - you point to the mangal, who unskillfully burned himself. And that at this moment begins to smoke suspiciously bright.

- No-no-no! - in a panic, Ness yells and runs to kill.

And you, in a fire of coal and memories, sit with the guitar and start yelling something about skateboards and love for frogs.

He already knows: the day is just beginning.

Rin Itoshi

Rin opened the door and before he could even breathe, you flew into the hallway, all wet, dirty, with hair sticking out in different directions and a bright smile on your face. On the cheek - a heart, painted, seems to be chalk, on the jacket - a mark of a boot, on the hand -... a plastic spoon?

- Rinn! I drew you on the asphalt! Only... a bit like a crab. But it was you, I remember!

You have removed from the pocket a handful of colored chalks, behind which there was immediately smeared wet grass, petals and paper from the gum with the princess.

Rin blinked.

-Why are you all wet?

You proudly raised your finger:

- Because it rained!

- And you thought that was a... reason to go outside and...?

— Dancing, drawing, catching sparrows, jumping into a puddle, competing with the child who throws the next stone... Well, I also saw a butterfly! - You put your hands on it. - I wanted to show her the peacock dance, but she flew away. Rude.

Rin pressed his palm to his face.

-And how are you... still alive?

You smiled joyfully:

- It’s because I have a strong spirit. And you also gave me vitamins, remember?

- You’ve been cold for a week. Your spit was only yesterday.

- But it was fun!

The next morning you woke up with a nose like a tomato. Walked around the apartment with a roll of toilet paper, breathed like Darth Vader and resented:

- Why is everything leaking?! I have a hole in my brain?

Rin sat at the table, eating his boring, proper breakfast and looking at you like a disaster on a natural scale.

- And I said it. Dancing in the rain is romantic until you become a slut.

You, with your nose full, tried to turn gracefully. You almost fell. You shrunk. You cried.

- I’ll go again anyway. The neighbor’s cat gave birth, I have to name the kittens. One will be Pelmeni.

Rin sighed.

- I give up. Next time just take an umbrella. And wear a hat. And... maybe don’t lick the puddles?

- It was an experiment, Rin!

He put the fork down.

- I still don’t understand why I’m with you.

You sat next to him, nodded at him and moaned through the snot:

- Because I’m beautiful.

- Because you’re a disaster, said Rin.

And I still moved the cup of tea closer to you.

Sae Itoshi

You’re standing in a perfectly white room, glowing with delight, holding a glass of soda and candy on a stick. You were dressed in decent clothes, combed your hair and even put on a bow tie that does not suit you at all, and which you tried several times removed, but as a result of Itosha each time clapped his hands and corrected him, And in the opinion of Sae, it makes you look like a decent man.

The event was important: a bunch of rich and famous people, social conversations, shiny dresses and veiled insults.

You did it.

And then I noticed a lady in a lush skirt, whose bow was slightly crooked.

You came close.

- Do you have lace?

She blinked:

- Excuse me?

- Well panties! With ruffles! I saw it. They’re so funny! Like a cupcake, honestly!

And - hop - the skirt flies. Woman screams. Someone drops a glass. Journalist turns camera.

And you - run away, drooling in your own laughter, like a goose on rollers.

- Yes! - you scream, just seeing him.

He has already squinted. He sees you rushing through the whole hall, behind you - a guard, behind him - a woman with a hat and the expression «call court».

You run into the Sae and hide behind him.

- Can you tell me it was me? Well, I guess.

- You were literally shouting, I’m a hero, I’ll see all the panties» before that - weary, he burkes, catching you by the hood like a coddling cat.

You’re putting candy in your mouth.

- But they were beautiful. I just wanted to praise them. That’s kindness, Sae.

- You’re a nightmare in patent shoes. We just got here, and it’s time to run.

— Can I get one more lady? She’s got a marshmallow skirt! - talking to the girl next to him, starting to squiggle to try to look under his skirt, but he is lifted up behind his jacket on time

- No. I’m going to put it on your head.

- You’d be a beautiful girl, Saé. I’d lift your skirt too, honestly.

He stares at the ceiling as if to ask for power from heaven. Or a new brain. Himself. Or you.

-Why am I with you?

- Because you love me, - you’re snorting, looking over his shoulder. - And because you can’t turn me in!

- You’re terrible.

But still takes you by the hand and pulls you away from the light, the cameras and the women in skirts.

- The next event is only if you’re wearing a straitjacket, okay?

You were wondering.

- And the bow is with the lace?.

Ryusei Shido

- Bro, brooo, there’s a frog path! - your voice is on the other side of the bush and Shido already suspects something’s wrong.

He takes his head off the phone where he tries to make a funny selfie with a pitcher, and comes out from behind the trees - only to find you kneeling in the green mud with your hands outstretched forward and your eyes shining with happiness.

- Really? Did you fall into the radiation?

- No! It’s a secret place. I called it the Kwa-kva-park. Look at all the frogs!

- It’s a swamp. And they may be guarding you as the new king, he snorts as he approaches. Get to shore before the toads grow wings.

You want to, you’re spitting on the surface and suddenly you’re lifting something.

- It’s an ancient sword of the swamp knights! you scream, showing Shido just a stick.

He laughs, comes up close and says:

- Give me this, I’ll show you the «double rotating hummingbird cam». Watch carefully, little one, it will be-

Plum.

You grab his wrist and pull him down.

- SURPRISE!!! - you yell.

Shido has only time to curse, before falling close by, the splashes are flying in the sides, the birds break from the trees, and the silence of the forest is broken by a deafening slap.

You both come out. Shido has algae on his head, and you have a snail on your shoulder that you now call an alter.

- I’ll KILL YOU,' says Shido with a hoarse laugh, wiping out his eyes. 'I look like a salad!

You’re snorting in the swamp, completely satisfied.

- We’re a team of swamp rage now. We’ll save the world with frogs and clay. We’ll even have a logo!

Shido looks at you, then at himself, then at you again. The smile is getting wider.

- Damn, you’re contagious. Let’s go again. But this time I’m the first one.

You jump into the swamp together, screaming and laughing while the world sinks in mud and happiness.