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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months ago

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as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 1

LN x fem!leclerc reader

part 1 of 2 -> find part two linked HERE!

in which you just can’t help yourself and neither can lando…

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! hi sorry it’s been a while but we are back with what i hope is a bang lol. i’ve missed writing so much and as stressful as this was, i’m so so glad to be uploading something! i worked hard on this one and, of course, now i hate it whoops, but my girlie @lavenderlando made this possible and worth it. that’s my hype woman fr fr. N E WAY enjoy! lemme know what you think, and use some imagination for the timeline…

songs to set the vibe: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams, 2hands by tate mcrae, love in the dark by adele, illicit affairs by taylor swift, think twice by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!),

part 1: 10.3k words

1. oncoming traffic

“hey, osc, who’s that girl hanging around leclerc? thought he was still with alex.” lando tries his best to sound nonchalant, but oscar can see through him like a freshly buffed window, the way lando clears his throat and nervously ruffles his unruly hair.

“mate, i know you’re not the sharpest but i didn’t think you were that slow.” oscar laughs, side-eyeing the brit. he was baffled that lando was even asking. lando just shoots him a glare. “wait, you really don’t know?” lando’s glare hardens further, his eyes demanding an answer and oscar just laughs. “that’s his sister, you idiot. how have you never seen her?”

lando didn’t know how he’d never seen her. this year had been nonstop, what with the pseudo-championship battle and the never ending media shitstorm that rained on him whenever he reared his head. he’d also learned in his years of racing never to look too closely at the women in another drivers entourage. that’s how you ended up in the wall during a race. but charles’ sister? how had he never noticed?

“maybe i should go and introduce myself.” lando trailed off thoughtfully, his voice remaining playful. oscar snorted beside him, adjusting his racesuit.

“ooh, yeah, send twitter into a frenzy. it’s been boring lately.” the aussie driver drawls sarcastically, successfully dodging lando’s rapidly approaching elbow to his ribs.

“glad to know that you take pleasure in my never ending public humiliation!” lando grins maniacally, sauntering out of the garage, no longer any intention of seeking out the pretty girl in the short, black skirt. it was for the best.

he’s passing through the pit box, immersed in a groupchat thread with max and p about a trip to portugal that he didn’t really want to go on, and bam! like the idiot oscar had just accused him of being, he slams blindly into oncoming traffic.

oncoming traffic: the pretty girl in the short, black skirt.

“are you incapable of looking where you’re going?” your accent comes out thick, low with rage. it tickles his brain, like he’s heard it before. lando opens his mouth, like a fish out of water, closes it again pathetically. “seriously, for a pilot you have abysmal spacial awareness!”

“sorry… what the fuck.” lando mutters. why is this woman shouting at him like she knows him? like he regularly barrels into her?

“lando, yes?” you’ve calmed down a bit now, but you still speak through gritted teeth.

“…yes?” he replies like he’s not so sure.

“learn to look where you’re going.” you wrinkle your nose, composing yourself before stepping around him and strutting down the pitlane as if nothing had happened.

lando stands there, fixed in place, watching her walk away in utter confusion.

“smooth!” oscar calls from inside the garage, flanked by several laughing mechanics.

“go fuck yourself!” lando’s flushed red, now, and beeline’s for the pit wall.

he’s out of earshot when oscar says it.

“think he just met his wife, boys.”

lando is staring at the data on the screen when it hits him, will’s voice somewhere far away all of the sudden.

the mysterious leclerc had every right to reprimand him, because she was right. he did need to learn how to look where he’s going.

she’d told him that already, during their actual first meeting.

2. the first collision

the music was too loud, suffocating him along with the overbearing smell of cheap perfume, but the alcohol in his system and the outpouring of validation kept lando going.

three time race winner, lando norris.

five years of clawing back points and grabbing at podiums with two impatient hands had built up to this, to the incomparable glory of gracing that prestigious top step, and lando wasn’t about to let go of this moment just because of a pressing headache. max and pietra were waiting for him in a booth, surrounded by the rest of lando’s touring entourage. he was wracking up quite the tab, but it was all worth it. every slap on the back, seductive grin sent his way, made it worth it.

he’s stumbling over his feet, wasted, or close to it, grinning lazily, peering through hooded eyes. the vodka cranberry in his hand is sloshing dangerously around in the glass, his careless movements propelling him towards disaster.

lando hears the splatter of liquid, first, the scoff of disgust immediately after. long hair whips against his face as she turns, eyes wide with fury, set into a face that was never meant to look angry. he can smell vanilla, flowers. she’s an angel, turned devilish under the strobe lights, her delicate face morphing when he takes in the sight of him.

“are you fucking serious? mon dieu!” her accent twists his tummy, as does the increasingly see-through material of her tight white dress, layers of chiffon turning transparent with the stark red liquid. it’s all over her back, running slowly down the length of her exposed thighs, sticky. lando stands there, utterly transfixed and useless. she looks like she might slap him; he kind of wants her to. “of course, just stand there. fucking pilots.”

she mutters the last part and lando gulps. what does she know about other drivers? the implication makes his skin crawl for no reason, the idea of this nameless, mystery woman being familiar with his co-workers. he’s flushed with embarrassment for a multitude of reasons, opening his mouth just to close it again.

“‘m sorry!” he finally calls out to her, over the music. can the dj turn that shit down? “can i buy you a drink?” she just glares at him, gesturing at her ruined dress. “or… a new dress?” lando tries again, flashing what he hopes are puppy dog eyes.

he wants to take her back to his hotel room, lick the sweet liquid off of her frame, lap at her til she’s clean and crying. he wants to peel the stained white material off, tear it a little - it’s already ruined anyway! he can’t, though, because she’s wrinkling her nose at him, eyebrow raised, judging, and he’s awash with embarrassment all over again. the club spins and he feels nauseous. he finds max’s eyes on him, his friend stifling laughter at the tragic scene.

she’s gone when he looks back, seems to have disappeared into a cloud of distinctly expensive perfume, and her friends are curling their lips up at him, dismissive. they don’t care who he is. he wonders if they’re redbull fans, ferrari fans, perhaps.

he’s met with hoots of laughter as he slumps into the booth. he grabs a shot without a thought, doesn’t even register what liquor it is as it slides down his thick throat.

“can’t believe you just did that. only you would spill a drink all over leclerc’s sister.” max teases, elbowing him playfully.

“wha- he has a sister?” lando slurs, spluttering.

he doesn’t remember much after that.

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others.

youruser: shoutout to the guy that spilled his drink all over me!

francisca.cgomes: so beautiful so slay i miss u already

alexandrasaintmleux: love you!!!

charles_leclerc: delete this 🤦‍♂️

and other comments.

3. the watchful eyes of the big, black horse

your arm is linked with kika’s, giggling with her as you walk through the paddock.

“what about him?” kika whispers, pointing her chin towards one of the passing alpine mechanics. he’s blonde, pale, eyes dark. “pierre said he heard that he’s good with the ladies.” she wiggles her eyebrows and your cheeks heat up, swatting her playfully.

“i am not about to get a reputation for sleeping my way through the paddock.” you scoff. “plus, he’s not my type.” you shrug.

“you need to start putting yourself out there more, you keep saying you want someone.” the portuguese girl reasons. you nod sheepishly.

“i don’t wanna look for something, i want it to find me. is that pathetic? i just see how you are with pierre, how alex is with charles, and that’s what i want. something… real.” you sigh. kika sees the way your eyes gloss over with sadness.

“it’s never as easy and as perfect as it looks, babe, trust me. and anyway, maybe just focus on… the thing you were telling me about.” kika lowers her voice, giving you the look.

“shut up!” you squeal. “god, i am not discussing that here!”

“discussing what?” you hear pierre before you see him, hot with embarrassment. you’ve know him since before you could even walk, which is why you have no problem voicing your deepest, darkest shame.

“how i’m not getting laid, apparently!” you drawl sarcastically, slapping your hand over your forehead.

a poorly concealed laugh that you don’t recognise has you whipping around, eyes wide with bewilderment. it’s hearty, smooth, surprisingly warming. you practically growl when your eyes land on the source of the noise, standing next to pierre who looks embarrassed for you, his lips pressed thinly together to prevent himself from cackling.

“why is he here?” you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes so tightly shut that you feel a pang in your temples.

“as polite as ever.” lando smirks. you open

your eyes just in time to catch him eyeing up the skin of your thighs that your skirt doesn’t quite cover. is he checking you out?

“says the drink spiller.” you bite back, rolling your eyes.

“hey, i tried to pay for the damage.” lando looks utterly amused, pink lips still twisted into a punch-worthy smirk.

“so, you’ve met lando, then.” pierre grins, staring between you both. you don’t register the way he’s trading looks with kika, watching whatever this scene is unfold.

“unfortunately!” you smile tightly at the racing drivers.

“pretty sure you walked into me that second time. distracting me in the workplace, or something.” lando chimes in, enjoying this all a bit too much.

“if you did a better job at looking where you’re going-“

“okay, so this has been delightful!” pierre buts in, knowing that you have the shortest temper of all the leclerc offspring. “you,” he points at you. “get laid. you,” he points at lando. “don’t piss her off, you won’t like the result.”

kika can only send you a sympathetic smile, and remind you of the coffee date you have scheduled for tomorrow morning, as she’s dragged away from your place of social suicide. pierre winks, tilts his head far too pointedly for your liking towards lando. you fantasise, in that moment, of clawing his eyes out.

“i am sorry, for the record.” lando smiles at you, genuine and gleaming. something inside of you twists.

“for which time?” you’re just teasing now, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“you have quite the attitude on you. that why you’re not getting any?”

you’re about to rip his head off and give max an even easier ride towards the championship, but lando steps forward. you can smell old spice, tangy and alluring and masculine.

“how fucking dare you-“

“because most men don’t know what to do with a woman like you. don’t know how to treat them right.” he’s so confident when he says it, leaning towards you in a way you can only describe as enticingly.

“oh, and you do?” you scoff, arms crossed. you must remain combative, or else you’ll give in. is this rock bottom?

“i’m free tonight if you wanna find out.”

“i’ll be far too busy doing literally anything else.” you can only pray he hasn’t caught the tremble in your voice, the ever so slight quiver of you bottom lip. you chew it into your mouth to stop yourself.

“but not anyone else.” lando doesn’t pose it as a question. it seems that he’s got you all figured out.

“whatever helps you and your hand sleep well tonight.” you spit. there’s heat between you, sparking into a flame that could burn down your whole life. you feel eyes burning into the back of your head - green ones that match yours. you falter. “i’m done here, lando. have a fantastic evening.”

he takes another liberty, leaning in even closer. spearmint and the idea of a million bad choices flood your every pore. you can feel the big, black horse watching over you, now, set into bright yellow, adorned with ferrari red. looming, warning, turning you in.

“you know, something tells me i will.”

lando disappears first, not even giving you a chance you spin on your heel and storm off. you want to kill him, hurt him, sink your teeth into that bronzed, thick throat, claw into his back, down, down, down… until you’re on your knees and-

“why were you talking to lando?” charles’ voice cuts through your filthy thoughts and you sign yourself over to god immediately, purifying yourself as you banish the visions of delicious sin. after all, you’re standing in the presence of il predestinato, the prince of monaco, a saint to many. but to you, he’s just your brother. your big brother, always in the way, always meddling, always, always watching. you sigh.

“friendly conversation.” you quip, short. you love him dearly, would take bullets for him, but, god, he keeps you on a leash. leo’s has more give than the conceptual tether charles has to you, keeping you close, boyfriendless, out of “trouble”. you know why, and deep down, you’re beyond grateful, all things considered. you can’t admit that, though.

“that’s not how pierre described it to me.” charles raises an eyebrow, voice bitter despite the clear attempt he’s made to try and hide it.

“fucking pierre.” you grunt. “it’s nothing, he came over with pierre. i was with kika. first time i’ve ever even had a conversation with lando.” that didn’t result from a drink being spilt over you to the point of transparency. you leave that bit out - charles really doesn’t need to know that.

charles mulls over your words, eyeing you suspiciously. you want to stomp your heeled foot like a child, a brat, scream and shout and kick and wail that he has to back the fuck off eventually, but you just smile innocently and pray he believes you.

“okay,” he mutters, making his peace. “i don’t want you getting too… familiar with him. bad reputation. he used to be quite sweet until his last breakup and now he will fuck anything with a pulse.” you wrinkle your nose at your brothers crude words, feeling the need to jump in and object. but why? you don’t know lando, you don’t care about lando. you press your lips into a thin, painful line. “you should go back to the hotel with alex. looks like i’ll be here late.” he rolls his eyes, you know how it is.

“sure, good luck.” you offer, smothering the rage that pools in your belly. let me fucking live, you think. just because he’d had to swoop in and save you from yourself once before, didn’t mean that you could live like this forever.

he has lit a spark under you, one that spreads like a wildfire towards the flame that lando ignited minutes before. if only your brother knew how to keep his big mouth shut, you wouldn’t be spurred on to bad behaviour.

if only lando hadn’t spilled that drink over you, maybe you wouldn’t be opening his instagram profile and sending a message request.

a place. your room number. a time.

you only wish you’d gotten to see the devilish grin on his face when he received it.

lando can’t want you for the reasons that other guys do. your status as charles leclerc’s little sister, and the gateway to your brother that you provided, meant nothing to the brit. that’s why you’d let him have you; he wouldn’t try to take more than you wanted to give.

4. generous

the knocks are soft against the door, yet they manage to have every hair on your body standing to attention. you’re quick to let him in, itching to get him inside and away from prying eyes. this is clandestine, secret, could even feel somewhat sacred once it’s over, and the last possible thing you could ever need is for another soul to know what you intend to do with lando, what you intend to let him do to you.

“hey.”

“hi.”

you stare at each other.

he steps forward. you don’t move away. he takes it as an invitation to close the space entirely, so close that, there it is again: oldspice, except this time it’s mixed with something fresh, shower gel you guess, sea salt. his curls are crisper than they were a few hours ago, still damp from the shower he must have just taken.

“what changed your mind?” he asks.

“i was feeling generous.” you deadpan. he bites back a laugh.

“generous, huh?”

“very.”

“considering your alleged dry spell, i’d say i’m the generous one, no?” his voiced is edged with something dark, dropped a few octaves. you could absolutely squirm under his gaze, but you hold strong.

“you know where the door is if that’s how you’re gonna be.” you coo, mocking his seductive undercurrent. all he does is flash his teeth, grinning cheekily, his way of accepting your challenge, your attitude.

“i think you want me to stay, honey.”

honey. you fear it works on you. the gap closes even further, you fear it’s your doing.

“you’re only getting this opportunity because i invited you here.” your resolve is slipping. you’ve admitted that you want him in your pathetic bid to hold the power, when the truth is, you want him to pounce on you, strip away every layer and barrier and make you see stars, feel euphoric.

“okay, honey, whatever you say.” he chuckles, cruel and taunting. “so, how dry of a spell has it been? wanna know what i’m working with.”

lando touches you then, lightning shooting down your arm as he traces from your elbow down to your fingers, featherlight, barely there, a ghost of a touch that haunts you so deliciously. your fingers intertwine. you initiate it, but really, it’s his fault. this is all his fault.

you try and laugh, but it sounds broken, quivering it’s way out from your dry throat.

“dry.”

he just stares at you, expectant. he needs to hear more, needs to know. he craves details about you, has ever since you body slammed him outside his garage - leading to some very covert instagram stalking on his behalf and his oh so convenient way of worming his way into a conversation with pierre when lando could see that the other driver was on his way over towards you. it’s pathetic, maybe, but he craves you the way one craves nicotine forever after just one puff of a cigarette. he has you, just for tonight, maybe longer if he gets this right, so he will know everything he needs to know so that he can touch you just how you need.

“i’ve only… it’s been a while.”

he sees right through you.

“you’ve only what?” he presses. he needs to know.

“i’ve only done this once.” you whisper. it’s the meekest he’s seen you. he loathes it.

“and was it good?” lando murmurs so attentively that you want to cry.

your fourth interaction with this man, and he has you melting.

“not really.”

“do you trust me?” his nose is bumping yours. you’re locked in, twitching. he has both hands on you, now, one still laced with yours, the other trailing up your arm, tempted to brush his fingertips against the taut skin of your neck.

how the fuck can i trust you? i don’t know you! what the fuck are we doing? what the fuck am i doing?

that’s not what you say, though, because for some reason, you are so sickeningly comfortable and okay that you worry that something is wrong with you.

“yes.”

“then this time will be so, so much better. i’ll make it all better.”

when his lips meet yours, you’re surprised at how good it immediately feels. you don’t know what you were expecting, but his lips are plush, enveloping yours softly, but firm enough that you sink into him, allowing him to cement that grip on the side of your neck that he’d been taunting you with.

he kisses you like he’s sure of everything, like this is second nature and you’ve done it a thousand times. you want to kiss him a thousand times. why it’s so good, you’re not sure, but it gives you the confidence to lean into him, grab the bottom of his hoodie in your hands and tug.

“be patient, ‘n i’ll make you feel so good, honey, i promise.” he mouths down your cheek, nipping at your jaw, down your neck until he finds that special spot below your ear. he nibbles there, lapping his tongue over your sensitive skin like he already knows your body. you want to see just how familiar with you he can get. “but,” he punctuates the word with a sharp bite. you both dread and revel in the mark it will leave. “you have to behave for me, okay?”

his words are whispered against the shell of your ear and you shiver, eyes rolled back already. you wonder if he’ll get them to do a full three-sixty rotation in your skull.

“‘kay.” you breathe, mindless, floating away. it’s already better than last time.

“‘kay’?” he mocks. “no, honey, you gotta promise me. can you promise me?”

“promise.” you lock eyes, conveying your obedience. his eyes blow wide, pupils dilating to shove away the mysterious bluey green. his teeth grit. he knows he’s hit the jackpot.

“good girl.”

you’re stripped naked, mustering all of your energy to shove his clothes off, his hoodie flying away, his sweats kicked into a faraway dark corner. you’re left naked, him in some increasingly tight boxers, and you tumble into the freshly made bed. he slinks over you, crawling on his hands and knees, predator stalking prey.

he stains your inner thighs purple, tugging your legs over his shoulder, huge hands warm and rough as they manoeuvre your malleable body to his liking. lando presses kisses to every inch of skin, dragging his tongue over your bare flesh before he spreads you open, sucking and tasting and savouring. he moans into you, open and wet, and it ricochets off of every nerve ending, sending your body taut and arched, catlike. you’re trying to get away, whilst simultaneously grinding yourself closed to him, feeling that broad, sharp nose of his bump messily and firmly against your clit, an ache spreading through your pelvis that makes you shake and shake and whine his name out to the gods.

“taste like heaven.” lando’s words are simple, straightforward, make you bite your lip so hard you taste something metallic seeping over your tongue. “so tight, even around my tongue,” he slurs, drunk, lost. “gotta stretch you out for me. that okay, honey?” you can just about make it all out, and you nod furiously, pleading.

his teeth graze your clit.

“say please.”

“putain! please!” you kick your feet out when all he does is laugh into your wet flesh.

one finger grazes through your folds, parting them and collecting a mess of your slick. he looks transfixed as it drips down his finger.

honey.

you watch him watch how he opens you up, revelling in the utter fascination painting his features, pussy drunk and curious, transfixed.

“can’t believe you’ve never been fucked right.” he coos, breathless, genuinely shocked. you quake under his skilful hands and his awful, sinful, dirty mouth.

“more.” you plead, not ashamed by your crude begging. you’re a mess for him already, might as well get the full experience.

“think you can take another?”

a second finger slides in, rocking against your walls, testing the waters. you writhe, meeting his movements with shallow thrusts of your hips.

“faster, i need- mon dieu! anything, lando, please just-“ he really goes to town then, scissoring your dripping cunt open, curling and twisting and grinding the two digits so deep that you see white, hazy chocolate coloured curls and deep, glazed over eyes.

“that’s it, honey, there you go. so fucking pretty for me.” lando whispers the last bit, awestruck, and you’d take the time to wonder why if you weren’t on the verge of tears, overstimulated, ears ringing. your orgasm crashes over you like a surge of electricity, tearing through your body like it’s trying to escape and take cover. it’s so strong that you’re damp everywhere, sweating and crying and so fucking shocked that it can feel like this.

“lando.” you pant, mouth dry, voice hoarse.

“you did so good. was it okay?” he rubs small circles into your hips, eyes flitting between your own and where you’re still leaking for him. he manages to tear his eyes away, like a trance has broken, snaking up your body until he’s laying next to you, propped up on his elbow. he hovers over you, raking his eyes over the rising and falling lines of your body.

“pretty good, i guess. didn’t know you had it in you.” you tease, smirking lazily up at him.

you want to keep staring at him but your vision is blurring as your eyes begin to droop. what a long day it’s been.

“high praise coming from you.” lando reasons, laughing lightly. he strokes over your hipbone and you jolt, curling around onto your side. his skin is warm against yours, soft and smooth, and you dare you press your even closer, shy, as if he wasn’t just buried mercilessly between your legs. you hum in response, spent and languid. “you wanna get some sleep?” he asks.

“we didn’t… i mean, you didn’t…” you trail off, awkward, gesturing towards his middle.

lando just smiles.

“guess i’ll just have to come find you in monaco.”

you flush, cheeks burning as you consider the fact that you’re gonna be in the same country, a very small, very private city. who knows what could happen?

you fall asleep quickly, easily, far too comfortable next to the british driver. if you were to ask, he’d say he left immediately. he watches the way you breathe far too intently, ever so slowly pulling his clothes back on. he doesn’t know how long passes, but what he does know is that he can’t wait to have you like this again.

5. some guy

you sink into the oversized armchair, sitting back and letting kika and alex talk, nattering backwards and forwards about nothing in particular. or, maybe you’re just zoned the fuck out.

you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, your body littered with evidence, dark purple bruises turning a stale green between you thighs. when you woke up, you initially wondered if it was all a dream, but the dull, sweet ache thrumming through your bones told you just how real it really was. you went through the motions, embarrassed momentarily before deciding to just embrace it, try to bask in the way he’d made you feel: sexy and desirable and electric.

it was just a shame that it had to be him. that’s what you kept telling yourself, at least.

kika’s nodding along to a story alex is telling about leo, about to respond with a similar anecdote about simba but she gasps instead, almost spilling her americano all over herself. this gets your attention and you open your mouth to ask her is she’s okay, but she beats you to it.

“my god, what is that?” she chokes, staring at you. or, well, your neck.

you flush, heated, blood pooling in your cheeks.

you’d tried to cover it up, seriously, applying layer after layer of concealer and strategically placing your hair in such a way that you prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable, but nonetheless, there it is, clear as day. red raw skin tinged purple around the seams, branded into your neck like some kind of public humiliation ritual.

fuck you, lando fucking norris!

you avert eye contact, leaning away from alex who is now making a point of leaning in, going as far as to push your hair back so she can get a closer look.

“oh my gosh!” she squeals, giggling with kika.

you take a long, slow gulp of coffee, not caring that it burns your tongue.

“who was it? holy shit, was it lando?” kika whisper shouts and you officially drop dead on the spot, watching her connect the dots so easily.

“oh jesus, no! no!” you lie, feigning offence, your leg bouncing shamefully under the table. the two girls eye you suspiciously, but you assume you’ve played it off well.

“who, then?” alex asks. you wonder if kika has told her about yesterdays interaction.

“just- i don’t even know, some guy.” you huff, playing with a loose thread hanging from your jumper.

“some guy? after what you were saying yesterday? okay, babe.” kika teases sarcastically. “no, cmon, who?” she pouts, leaning in as well.

“just… someone.” you squeak, unable to look up at them.

“okay, well, we will find out eventually.” alex wiggles her eyebrows and you stick your tongue out, mock-glaring at your sister in law.

“no, the fuck you won’t.” you try and fake some confidence, scrapping for a mere shred of control.

yes, the fuck they will, because when you leave for the bathroom, you leave your phone unlocked like the utter fool you are. god has it out for you, you figure, because that’s when he chooses to strike.

the message lando sends you is short and sweet, and alex chokes on a piece of cake when kika starts gesturing wildly at the notification that pops up on your screen.

for when you’re lonely at home and can’t find anyone to fuck you right.

attached is his address.

they don’t breathe a word when you come back, but they share a knowing smirk when they catch you smiling at your phone, and again when you ask if either of them have anything with a higher neckline that you can wear for the race.

youruser has just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and others

youruser: race day, big slay

user1: LEO!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: prettiest girl in the world

user45: lando what are you doing here 🤔

6. manners

“are you even listening to me right now?” charles scoffs, finishing off his drink out of annoyance. your eyes snap back to him, the thumping music vibrating through your body.

“sorry, just tipsy.” you purse your lips, attempting to lock back in on whatever he’s saying, but it’s hard. it’s hard, because sprawled out in a booth across from where you stand at the bar, lando is watching your every move.

you’ve managed to avoid him thus far, no contact since you’d liked the DM he’d sent you a few weeks back. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t think of him and what you’d done at literally every waking moment, so the way he’s watching you, hooded eyes sparkling under the strobe lights, has you squirming. it was easier to tell yourself that, surely, it wasn’t that good when he wasn’t right in front of you in a half unbuttoned shirt. the navy blue fabric is wrapped around his body deliciously, taut where his muscles are, the colour popping against his tanned skin - which you can practically feel writhing against yours.

you wish charles would go away so you could crawl into that booth and commit public indecency.

speak of the devil, your brother seems to have clocked that you have zero interest in what he has to say so he huffs, ordering another round for the table and telling you he’s going to find alex. he shuffles away and you subtly search for the british drivers mindful eyes, but he’s disappeared, left his entourage in the booth. you swallow disappointment that makes you feel pathetic, head in your hands against the bar top, but the lightest brush of fingers against your waist drags you out of your spiral. you know immediately.

“did you dress like that for me, or are you just a slut?” he’s grinning, light and teasing, surprisingly sober, tipsy at most, just like you.

“i could ask you the same.” you smirk, blatantly eyeing his exposed chest. he shrugs, leaning in.

”might have left an extra button undone just for you.” lando winks and you hope the lights hide the way you flush.

“sure you did, just for me and every other girl in here.” you challenge. his eyebrows furrow.

“nope. just for you.” his eyes darken, just a tad but enough that you notice. your mouth runs dry. “you never replied to me.”

“not true, i liked the message.” you smile coyly, sipping your drink. your lipstick smears against the rim of the glass and you watch him stare at the print, tongue wetting his lips.

“you are something else.” he shakes his head, pushing his curls back. it could be frustration, but he still seems at ease, like he’s enjoying your combative nature. you smile into the glass, hoping he doesn’t notice. he does. “how much have you had to drink?”

“this is my second.”

“you sober enough for me to take you home?” lando’s face is mere inches away from yours now, and you can feel the pull, desperate to crawl into the space that still remains and lose yourself there.

“depends.”

“on?” you truly exasperate him, but he thinks he loves it.

“if you’re actually gonna fuck me this time.” you casually take another sip, playing it off as if your crude words had no impact on you.

lando’s eyes widen at your bluntness, and so does his grin.

“meet me by the valet.”

lando leaves, and you quickly follow, downing the remnants of your glass and touching up your lipgloss.

alex watches from her booth, and pulls out her phone.

to: kika gomes

oh, she’s deeeeefinitely sleeping with lando!!!

pietra leans towards her boyfriend, close enough that he can hear her over the noise.

“isn’t that charles’ sister?” she shouts, pointing to the bar, where lando is stood.

max analyses the way he’s stood, leant against the bar, nice and close to the ferrari drivers little sister. he knows that look on lando’s face, and he knows it far too well. max pinches the bridge of his nose.

“oh for fuck sake.”

it’s weird, sitting with him in silence. he’s only had half a drink, able to drive back through the winding hills to his apartment. you stare out the window, mostly, when you aren’t staring blatantly and curiously at lando. you can see the sea, glistening under the moonlight and you wish you could focus on that instead, but he’s there, and you have to admit - begrudgingly, albeit - that he’s stunning. his hands wrap around the wheel tauntingly, as if he’s trying to convey how he’ll touch you, all consumingly. your thighs press together, your fingers clasping together as if you’re subconsciously stopping yourself from reaching out for him prematurely.

as if he can hear your thoughts, his palm smoothes over the skin of your bare thigh, right where your dress has ridden up, without a second thought, nothing tentative about the way his digits curve around your skin.

“so, you’ve been thinking about that night, then?” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you.

“what makes you say that?” you whisper, not even meaning to but the silence had been so heavy.

“well, you only left with me on the condition i’d bend you over.” he laughs loud, whole and warm. you fight it, just for a second, but then you join in, giving in to him. you can’t help it, he makes it easy.

“you got me.” you concede, rolling your eyes. without realising it, you’ve relaxed completely into his touch.

he pulls off of the road and into a private garage. you breath hitches.

“do you want a drink or…?” lando gestures blindly towards his kitchen, walking further into the apartment.

he’d spent the elevator ride up to his place leant against the opposite wall, taunting, making you wait. he’d let himself look at you, totally unabashedly, raking his eyes over your frame, meekly tucked into the corner, shy under his intense gaze but frustrated by his lack of urgency.

“i’m good. didn’t come here for a tea party.” you hope your words push his buttons. they must, because he turns on his heel, facing you again, suddenly towering over you.

his eyes are steel, face serious, and you don’t know what to do. you’ve never seen him look at you like this.

“i think we need to work on your manners.” he speaks condescendingly, down at you, and if you weren’t so needy, hadn’t been waiting weeks, you’d turn around and leave just to really prove his point. but you stay planted, looking up at him through mascara coated lashes, softening you gaze until you’re sure you’re conveying faux innocence.

“maybe we can work on them in your bedroom.” you truly don’t know where you get this confidence from, he’s the second man to have ever touched you so intimately, but he’s magnetic, drawing you out of your own head and straight towards him.

he tugs you towards him, kissing you messily, right there in the dim light of his kitchen, pawing at your waist hungrily. his tongue brushes your and you moan, humming into his mouth at the faint taste of mint and vodka, long gone but you can taste everything. his thick fingers find your ass, hoisting you up until you have no option but to wrap your legs around him, your dress scratching at your thighs the higher it rides up, but all it does it turn you on more, rough sensations on sensitive skin.

lando walks you blindly to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss, and you wonder how many times he’s done this to get it down to muscle memory. the thought makes you nauseous, drags you mercilessly right back into your head, and you pull away, your lips barely brushing his.

“why me?” you breathe, panting into the shallow space where your mouths have parted.

“what?” he whispers, confused.

“why do you want to do this with me?” you have to check, past insecurities rising to the surface like bile in the back of your throat. he looks genuinely baffled and you feel foolish for ruining the moment.

“why wouldn’t i? you’re gorgeous and-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes glazing over. the demeanour slips and you’re stuck, his arms still tight around you, holding you close in the empty space at the foot of his bed.

“what?” you whisper.

“you’re part of the same life.” the way he looks at you says words that he can’t.

words that will sound too shallow and too selfish and too meaningless, even though you will understand them because you’re here for similar reasons, and therefore, they will mean too much.

you can’t take things from him. you can’t fake it. you can’t break him into a million pieces when he finally discovers that you want him because of what he can give you.

you nod once, firm.

“i get it.” you smile sadly. lando wants to know more. he can find out some other time. a moment of clarity passes between you. “kiss me, again?” you ask. he delivers immediately.

kisses you all the way onto the bed. kisses you while he helps you take off your heels, while he drags the zipper of your dress down. you both feel safe now, understood, and that really moves things along.

“so pretty.” he mutters into your skin, shedding you of your tight dress.

your shaky fingers work over the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off of his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him all over again. you’re left in your panties, braless already, and he gawks down at you, like he’s seeing everything for the first time. it makes you feel powerful.

“can you hurry up?” you writhe, arching into his touch. he smiles, covering his body with yours and pressing a kiss to your lips. his fingers slide over the curves of your body, finding the band of your underwear and toying with it.

“want me to take them off?” he purrs, trailing his lips down your jaw to just below your ear.

“now.” you beg, eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath pricks at your skin, teeth nibbling. “no marks.” you whine, flashing back to the weeks over knowing looks and attempts at covering the last one up.

“what were we saying about manners, hm? gonna need to start hearing some ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, okay, honey?” he bites down again, harder this time, and you squirm underneath him, your soft belly moulding to each dip of his abs.

his fingers dip into your panties, finding your clit amongst your wetness. you just about bite back a moan, but you can’t help but roll your hips into his hand, his fingertips gliding easily through your folds.

“va te faire foutre.” you mutter, teeth gritting at the pleasure and his words. go fuck yourself.

“i’ve lived in monaco long enough to know what that means.” lando whispers, pinching your clit once before plunging a finger inside of you.

you hiss, head thrown back, the feeling of him smiling against the hickey bittersweet. and to think, it was almost healed. you can’t help but keen into his touch.

“more,” you pant. “please.”

“you learn fast.” lando approves, and quickly fulfils your request, adding another finger.

they flex inside of you, grinding deeper and deeper until you’re whimpering his name and leaking down his wrist. your arms wrap around him, nails digging in to his smooth back, his ropey muscles tensing under your firm touch. his thumb bumps your clit, over and over, pushing you to the precipice, so close you can taste the impending orgasm on your tongue.

“it’s so good, merci, god.” you sound wrecked already, and lando can’t wait to see how far he can push, how far apart he can take you.

“that other fucking loser didn’t know what he had, jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” he rasps, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, how your breasts bounce with every thrust of his fingers, the way his hand is glistening in the low light of his bedroom. his words are your undoing, the awe in his voice sending sparks shooting through every nerve ending.

“lando, ‘m gonna… putain!” the way you switch languages is sexy to him, tells him how scrambled your brain is, and he twitches in his boxers. when you cum, it’s as gorgeous and as enticing as the first time, and he jolts against your hip, desperate to get inside of you finally.

“you’re so beautiful.” he groans, pulling his fingers from your entrance. he stares blindly at the mess you’ve made on them, salivating, remembering the way you taste. it’s a no brainer for him, and he licks both digits clean, giving you just a moment to recover.

“i need you.” you whisper, your legs still spread, quivering slightly.

you pull him in once more, his covered crotch grinding against your slick and you cry out, the friction sending you into overdrive. his teeth dig into your shoulder, the sensation entrapping him, leaving him weak, ready to give you whatever you ask. he pushes his underwear away, and your eyes go wide.

“you can have me,” he grunts, running his hand over himself. “think you can take it?” he wets his lips and you think you could cum again at the sight of him. sweat slicked, tight curls falling over his eyes, lips licked pink and kiss swollen, hard and heavy in his own hand, body curved over yours possessively. you’re a simple woman, really.

“i think i can try.” you want to sound confident, but it comes out as a squeak.

he sits back on his knees and brings his free hand to cup your jaw.

“i’ll go slow with you, honey, okay? you can tell me to stop.” lando promises. “you sure you want this?”

you nod, pouting up at him.

“i want you, i can take it.” you manage through a deep breath.

the stretch is brutal, splitting you in half. all you can do is breathe, watching the way he watches you, and that’s what you hone in on, his pretty eyes watching where he’s filling you up. when he bottoms out, he stops for a second, scanning your face for discomfort.

“are you okay?”

“c’mere.” you coo, and he falls back over you, paws at your waist. “move, lando.” you plead.

it’s slow, deep, makes your toes tingle. you can feel each and every drag of him against your walls and it makes you dizzy, a knot twisting and tickling in your belly. your fingers are twisted around him, around his biceps, crumbling a little bit every time he flexes in your grip.

“oh, mon dieu.” you’re whimpering, legs wrapping around him like vines, tighter and tighter with every buck of his hips.

“‘s it feel good, honey? yeah? you’re so fucking tight for me.” lando chokes, licking over the sweat on your collarbone. “‘m i making it feel good?” he sounds so cocky, sexy, but there’s a soft edge around his words. it matters to him, how he’s treating you, this, a certain delicateness hanging around your intertwined bodies like a cloud.

“so good, lando, so fucking good.” the words scratch your throat raw, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“no, no, lemme hear you, pretty girl. can feel how close you are for me.” you can hear the edge to his voice, can tell the end is near for both of you, the way his words wobble despite his best attempts at hiding it. “need you to look at me, and i need to hear you.”

you don’t even realise until then that your eyes are shut, screwed up tight as the pleasure rolls through your body, flooding each and every one of your senses. you free your lip, and everything pours out, whines, raw slurs of his name.

“i’m so close.” he grunts, watching the way your face moves, hanging on to every micro expression, the way you battle to keep all of your attention on him.

“fill me up.” you urge, squeezing his hips between your thighs. his eyes widen, the request slowly registering, and he blinks away the voice in his head telling him to do it.

“you know i can’t.” he’s firm, sensible even if you aren’t.

“want it so bad, lan, please, wanna feel it.” you reason, cupping his face and pushing his curls back.

“not tonight.”

“yes, tonight. give it to me.”

“i said no, don’t be a fucking brat.” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

“know you want it.” you whisper, seductive and devious. you can see his resolve slipping, tightening around him.

before you can say anything else, your hands are scooped up, pinned above your head. he’s right over you now, your hips perfectly aligned, and he’s driving so deep that you swear you can feel him in your tummy. his thrusts resort to a harsh grind, digging into each other with every snap of his pelvis.

“you want it so bad? huh? fine.” he growls, forehead resting against yours. “want me to cum in you, fuck it all back in? yeah, honey? you gonna keep it all in for me?”

“whatever you want.” you promise, eyes rolling back in your head. “just- please, please do it.” you pant, mouth dry.

“that’s it, pretty girl, take it all for me.” he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “doing so good.” the words fan against your throat, hushed, leaving you warm from the inside out, brainless.

when you spill around him, it’s at the same time as he lets go, and he fucks you through your orgasms. you go limp beneath him, taking it, letting it all wash over you, letting him wash all over you. you feel like you can’t breathe, suffocating under the weight of him and the reality of what you’ve just done. again. for some reason, you don’t care, and decide that you’ll do this again and again, anytime he’ll have you. not that you’ll ever tell him that…

“fuck.” he exhales, rolling off of you carefully, but the overstimulation - and then lack thereof - makes you wince, and he strokes your hip gently in apology.

“that was better than i thought it would be.” you grin, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“you know, these are starting to sound kinda backhanded.” he beams, laughing breathlessly, but just as he begins to relax into his bedspread, he remembers. “oh fuck, shit, we need a pharmacy!” lando bolts up so that he’s sitting, scanning the room blindly for his clothes. you giggle and he snaps his head towards you, panicked.

“no, lando, we don’t.”

“all of that ‘uh, fill me up, please lando you’re so sexy’ talk means that, yes we absolutely do! fuck, how much is plan b these days?” he’s spiralling now, tugging at his curls.

“first of all, i’m on birth control. second of all, i don’t sound like that, and most importantly, i did not call you sexy.” you smirk, stretching out your tight muscles.

“that’s the most important part? woman, you nearly killed me.” lando gasps, slumping back down into bed.

“‘m sorry, couldn’t resist playing with you a little. good to know we share a kink, though.” your smirk turns into a coy smile, and you swing your shaky legs out of the bed, your feet sinking into the plush rug.

“oh, yeah? what other kinks are you hiding from me?” lando sits back against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his bed. you have to look away, or else you’ll accidentally fall back into his bed.

“guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” it makes him quirk an eyebrow, a look of understanding settling over his face.

“so this is gonna be a regular thing, yeah?”

you’re putting your underwear back on when he says it, searching for your dress, but his words make you freeze. he sounds hopeful, and it makes your chest pang… wait, is that your heart?

“i don’t… i mean, as you unfortunately know, i haven’t done this before. i don’t know how this works.” you say it so earnestly, so innocently, that his whole face softens, awestruck and boyish.

“i want it to be a regular thing.” he says it gently, like he’s offering it to you, to the universe.

“okay. me too.” you whisper back, shy under his gaze.

“are you… like, do you think you’ll be sleeping with other people?” lando squeaks, doing a terrible job of playing it cool.

“for so many reasons, no.” you grimace. “but if we’re doing this then i wouldn’t want to anyway.” you say softly. your dress is back on now, but he has you flustered, and you can’t quite get the zipper.

“lemme help.” he offers, and he’s out of bed and before you in a matter of seconds. his calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls the zipper together and up, adjusting your dress back into place. it feels so terrifyingly intimate, exciting, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. “i wouldn’t want to either.” he breathes the words quietly into the small space between you.

“okay.” you don’t even try to hide the way you beam, staring up at him.

“i’ll take you home, yeah?”

“yeah.”

7. worth it

and so, begins a clandestine affair, touches in the shadows, subtle glances, watchful eyes.

one of you calls, the other comes, sneaking through doors that neither of you should enter, leaving bars a few minutes apart, making up excuses to get out of plans.

there’s the time lando has you bent over the end of your bed, tears leaking into the mattress, slick everywhere. he’s so deep this way, hammering away at the special spot nestled within you that he’s become very familiar with. one of his hands is dragging your hips back to meet his thrusts, the other splayed out across your back, holding you down.

your phone rings. it’s alex. you were supposed to be a brunch twenty minutes ago. you groan out, frustrated in every sense of the word.

“answer it, honey.” lando grunts, pulling you towards him even harder. you whimper, shaking your head, words dying on your tongue. “go on, i know you can do it. wouldn’t want alex to worry, would you? let her know you’re okay.” he coos, condescending.

he’s so arrogant, full of it, and you like the challenge. you can’t let him win, can’t let him revel in how fucked out he has you, so against your better judgement, you grab the phone, fingers shaking as you answer.

“hi, love. i know, i’m late! ‘m sorry, i’ll be there soon!” you wince at the way your voice shakes. you hope she can’t hear the way you’re panting, or the sound of his hips hitting yours.

lando slows his hips, hitting deep at such a torturously slow pace that feels a million times better than it already did. your free hand flies back, swatting at him.

“where the hell are you? i was worried!” alex sounds relieved, but there’s something else in her tone that you can’t quite decipher.

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.” you lie, throwing your younger brother into the line of fire. you know, for credibility. alex is silent for a moment.

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you release a breath you were holding, crying out when lando immediately speeds up again.

“i hate you.” you choke, grinding your hips into him. lando just scoffs, sliding a hand under your belly, flush against the mattress. he finds your clit, playing with it, urging you quickly towards your release.

“no, you don’t.” he laughs. “you better cum for me, pretty girl, i think you have somewhere to be.”

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.”

alex has to bite back a laugh. she stares across the table, where arthur is having an avid debate with charles and joris. arthur, who had been with her and charles for hours.

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” alex hangs up the phone, giggling to herself. leo stirs in her lap.

“what’s so funny?” charles asks her. she shakes her head.

“oh, nothing, she just overslept.”

there’s the time where he has you hiked up on your kitchen counter, messy curls tickling the insides of your thighs. he’s licking at you ravenously, dragging his tongue up and down, twisting around your clit in circles.

you’re tugging on his hair, holding him close to where you’re aching, dripping, slicking up the lower half of his face. he’s groaning into you, starved and desperate. it’s been a week since you’ve seen him, had him like this, the longest you’ve done without him since the first time you’d had sex. its untamed and needy and you fear what it means, the way you’re so addicted to one another.

you also haven’t seen your brother for a week, something you realise when you hear a key turn in the lock, down the corridor. you have seconds to react, the noise washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. you squirm, pushing a very confused lando away, managing to kick him lightly in the head as you leap from the counter.

“mon dieu! fuck, i’m sorry!” you gasp.

“what the fuck is going on-“ you cut him off, slapping your palm over his mouth.

you glance around frantically, looking for a way out of this. there is but one option available.

“the balcony! just- fuck, get out there!” you shoo him over to the small window, begging him with your eyes. “please! i’ll get rid of him!”

you can hear footsteps approaching. you’re sweating now, smoothing down your skirt and your hair anxiously.

charles calls your name, rounding the corner and walking into your kitchen, just as you pull the window closed again.

“shit, you scared me!” you fake, clutching your chest. you can feel your heart hammering.

“i did knock, sorry!” charles looks you over, scanning the kitchen. “are you okay?”

“yeah, fine, sorry, i must have been out of it. i’m in the middle of an assignment.” you lie.

“oh okay, well i can always go…” he’s looking at you weirdly, and you fear he knows something, that he can tell.

“can we get dinner tonight? i’ll book.” you offer, scratching your neck.

“yeah, that’s great. are you sure you’re okay?” your brother asks, turning to leave.

“promise, yeah, i’m just so busy with work, deadlines and all that.” you wrinkle you nose, feigning distaste.

“well you can tell me all about it later, okay? love you.” charles says sincerely, smiling.

“love you too.” you call, listening for the sound of the door closing behind him.

you immediately rush for the window, throwing it open, peeking your head out. lando stands with his back against the wall, shivering in nothing but a t-shirt. you look at him sheepishly.

“get back in here.” you tell him, standing back to give him space to crawl back through. “‘m sorry.” you giggle.

“you’re lucky you’re worth it.” lando teases, stalking towards you and wrapping you in his arms. his skin is cold against yours, and you huff, try and push him off. “hey, i’m cold!” he pouts.

“you know, you’re lucky you’re worth it, i could have just let him murder you.” you reason, looking up at him. your hands slide around him, returning his embrace, warm hands skating up under his shirt.

“you wouldn’t.” he says simply. “i’m way too good in bed.”

“you keep telling yourself that, norris.”

“i don’t need to, you tell me more than enough.”

lando leans down to kiss you, then, nothing all that unusual but it always feels like a step too far, intimate in a way that you two usually aren’t. you kiss him back regardless, because really, you love it. he always tastes minty, divine when you let him lick into your

mouth.

“i believe we were in the middle of something.” he whispers.

“remind me.” you breathe.

and there’s also the time where he’s fucking you in his drivers room, the massage table thudding dully against the wall with every hard thrust.

his race suit is pulled down just enough, your dress bunched around your hips, and he’s slamming into you mercilessly.

the whole thing was a blur, really; you’d always vowed that you would never have sex at a race track, but that promise was old news, now, broken the very second you caught the way he was staring at you. his eyes were hard, unreadable, jaw clenched as he glared at the man talking to you. you were just being friendly, catching up with franco, but lando wouldn’t have it, not after such a shitty race. one harsh snap of his neck towards the mclaren motorhome had you quickly excusing yourself. you knew what it meant.

“you don’t talk to me at the track but you let him?” lando growls, rutting into you wildly. you cling onto the damp material of his racesuit, head thrown back.

“was just saying hello.” you gasp out, opening your eyes to look up at him. he’s staring down at you, angry. it’s hot.

“i don’t wanna see you talking to him. you see how he was looking at you? fucker should know who you belong to.” he hisses, sliding his hand between your legs. “you’re gonna cum for me when i say, okay? and you’re gonna be nice and loud, honey. no holding back.”

“lando i’m-“

“when. i. say.” he cuts you off, punctuating each order with a snap of his hips.

all you can do is take it, dripping all over him. you can hear it, the wet squelch of him filling you up.

“should mark up this pretty neck, yeah? let everyone know that you already belong to someone.”

you barely register what he’s saying, but the words leave you hot, pushing you even closer to the edge and you clamp down around him.

“squeezing me so tight, bet you’ve wanted me all day, huh, honey? saw you looking at me earlier, pretending like you weren’t when i caught you. couldn’t just asked and i would’ve fucked you right then.” lando grunts. you wail out, thrashing against the makeshift bed and he nods, letting you know it’s okay.

“that’s right, pretty girl, that’s it. been so good letting me have you. cum for me, baby.”

baby.

it’s the first time he’s ever called you that. it’s the final push you need.

he collapses into you as he finishes, sweaty curls plush against your bare shoulder. you’re both panting, spent, basking in the moment of silence.

“thank you.” he whispers, sealing it with a kiss against your neck. it tingles, a foreign feeling settling in your belly, shooting through your veins.

“you drove really well.” you reply, quiet. his breathing halts, a self deprecating laugh filling the room.

“don’t do that.”

“what?”

“act like you were watching my race. charles have a great drive, that must have been a lot more interesting.”

“maybe, but i was watching you.”

your words hit him hard. he can’t help but kiss you. you swallow a moan, and a whole heap of feelings that you’re too scared to tackle.

“you better go. will i see you in brazil?”

“yeah, lando. you will.”

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes

liked by: alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

youruser: hola chica 🤭

francisa.cgomes: my love my loveeeee

user21: once again i am asking. why are you here lando? 👀

user56: stop inventing!

alexandrasaintmleux: my beautiful girlies

user66: icon mother slay incredible

PART TWO IS HERE!

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jobean12-blog · 8 months ago

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The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #ceo!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #ceo au

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letstrip13 · 4 months ago

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🧼 - dirty dishes

summary: needy!matt wants to help you with the dishes

warnings: smutttt, unprotected sex, uhhh i think that's it

word count: 1,506

author's note: this was going to be a blurb but it's actually a fic now because i said so. also i think it's way too long to be a blurb now anyways

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warm sunshine beams through the open blinds of the kitchen window above the sink. warm water is rushing out of the faucet as suds and bubbles start to form around the piles of dishes.

you're standing in front of it, watching and waiting for it to fill up. you had cuddled with matt for a while until he had fallen asleep next to you; the poor boy had been so tired from constant meetings about merch and filming a car video late into the night. chris had went to the warehouse to check the new fresh love samples and nick was in a meeting about the next steps for space camp.

so while everyone was busy, you decided to help the boys out by tidying up the kitchen and living room. the living room was finished, everything back in its place now. the kitchen was almost done, it would be as soon as you did the dishes. you could've just used the dishwasher but unfortunately, it wasn't working right at the moment and needed to be repaired.

now, here you are, standing at the sud-filled sink while using a dish sponge to scrub the plates from last night’s dinner. the sink has two sides so one is soaking with soapy water while the faucet is turned to the other, empty side so you can rinse the dishes off without flooding the sink.

you get into sort of a rhythm, forgetting everything else around you and only focusing on the task at hand. you feel a warm hand slip around your waist and you jump, the sharp knife falling from your grip and clattering in the sink as a yelp escapes your lips. you turn to see your boyfriend with an apologetic smile on his face, running his hand through his hair, still messed up from his nap. all he’s wearing is a pair of blue plaid pajama pants, having removed his shirt due to the heat in his bedroom.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says in a husky, still-tired voice. “it’s okay,” you reply with a soft smile before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. you notice his eyes rake over your body, taking in the sundress you’re wearing; a pretty pastel green with tie-up straps, little bows resting on your shoulders.

he doesn’t say anything so you turn back around to finish up washing the dishes. “i’m almost done, love. what do you wanna do after?” “hmm i don’t know..” he trails off as his arms snake around your waist. he presses hot kisses to your neck, murmuring in between, “need any help with that?”

your cheeks heat up in a blush as you feel his lips graze the sweet spot on your neck. “i’ve only got like four bowls left. why don't you go get dressed? maybe we can go out and do something.” a sort of whine escapes him and he presses himself closer to you so you can feel his clothed bulge against your ass.

you put down the dish you were holding, not being able to focus on anything other than him. “matt-” “please, need you so bad.” it seemed like his mood had done a full 180, but you weren't entirely complaining. “i’m almost done,” you reassure him.

he starts moving his hips, grinding so slow and subtle that you hardly even notice at first. he reaches a hand up your skirt as he does this, slowly pushing your panties away from your slick folds. his fingers gently tease you, earning a small moan from you. “can't you finish this later? need you now,” he practically begs.

you want to say yes right then and there; the way his finger is slowly circling your clit while not quite touching right on it is enough to make you melt in his arms. but you want to see how bad he really wants this, you love the way he gets needy for you.

since you’d been continuing to wash the dishes throughout this interaction, you were now almost done. matt lets out a whine of impatience as he watches you, still pressing his body against yours. you grind your ass back against his clothed bulge, stifling a smirk as he groans from the contact.

“i can't take it anymore,” he mumbles. but all he does is hold your hip tighter. “well, why don't you do something about it?” you tease, “you've just been standing behind me the whole time, barely doing anything.”

that's all it takes. with a sudden burst of desire, he quickly turns you around to face him and heatedly kisses your lips. he pulls away a few moments later, leaving you with a stunned expression on your face. “not so cocky now, are you, princess?” he lets out a small chuckle. he pushes the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his hands immediately coming up to palm your tits, squeezing them in his hands a little. “are you sure you want to do this right here?” you simply nod but he stares down into your eyes. “words, sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it.” “yes.”

that one word was enough for him and he moves his hands to your hips to spin you around so your back is to him. he reaches up your skirt and pulls your panties down, letting them fall to your ankles. you can hear him fumbling with the fabric of his pajama pants. you bend over and pull your skirt up, getting ready for him. suddenly, you remember to turn the tap off just before you feel the tip of his cock as it brushes against your entrance.

you share a moan as he slowly pushes into you, filling you up. luckily, he doesn’t take his sweet time teasing you like usual; you know that chris and nick could come home any minute. almost as if he read your mind, he speaks during his quick yet deep thrusts into you, “gotta make this quick, sweetheart.. don’t want my brothers to see you like this. i’m the only one who can.”

his hands trail from your hips to your tits, holding them in his warm palms as he continues to pound into you from behind. you moan as he hits just the right spot inside of you, like always. it’s not just a filling thing in the physical sense, but in an emotional way too. in the course of your relationship, you and matt have opened up to each other so much. you’ve gotten so comfortable with him that vulnerable situations don’t even feel vulnerable anymore. you just feel full, complete, happy.

his warms lips on your neck bring you back down to earth. there’s that familiar knot forming in your stomach and by the way his thrusts are getting faster and less rhythmic, you can tell he’s feeling the same way. your moans have grown in volume and he’s thrown his head back in pleasure. you tightly grip onto the counter, bracing yourself as that wonderful feeling washes over you. your walls clench around his cock as you cry out his name.

he follows right behind you, spilling his release into you as his movements fade to a slow rut of his hips. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, planting kisses there as you both recover from your blissful highs.

the sound of a key in the front door quickly jolts the both of you back to reality. he quickly pulls out and tucks his now half-soft dick back into his pants. you rush to pull your underwear back up and pull the straps of your dress back onto your shoulders to cover yourself. you both attempt to fix your messy hair and catch your breath as nick’s laughter echoes as he comes up the stairs.

“hey guys. how’d everything go?” you ask trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of matt’s cum slowly seeping out of you and soaking your panties.

nick tells you that the meeting went really well and everything is going great with space camp but chris seems less than thrilled because the fresh love hoodies didn’t turn out quite right. chris suddenly notices that the living room and kitchen look much different than when he left. his gaze falls on you. “did you do all this?”

“yeah, i was up early and thought i’d give you guys one less thing to worry about.” the both of them thank you profusely, saying you didn’t have to. “it’s fine, really. matt helped me.” matt who had remained silent until now coughs and cracks a weak smile, croaking out a soft, “yeah.”

“must’ve been some hard work. you look like you just ran ten laps around the house.” you and matt exchange a look, internally grateful by how absolutely oblivious his brothers could be. “yeah, something like that..” he mumbles as he turns the faucet on to finish those last few utensils and a bowl that you had abandoned.

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jennifer-jeong · 9 months ago

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Smut | AFAB!Reader Voice Message

SUMMARY He's on a work trip and you decide to record him a little gift

CONTENT NSFW, 18+, smut, assigned female at birth (AFAB) reader, m and f masturbation, sex toy usage, orgasm, implied relationship, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

WORD COUNT: 1278

GOJO SATORU, KAMO CHOSO, AVENTURINE, RAFAYEL, MARIUS VON HAGEN

It was a nice evening, the sun was just setting and there was a nice breeze coming through the window of your apartment that you shared with your lovely boyfriend. He was on a work trip so you were feeling a bit lonely and also a bit… needy. Yeah it had only been a week but could you really blame yourself? You were ovulating, of course you kinda needed him. So, sitting up in bed and feeling a bit cheeky, you decide to record him a little message. A video message felt like a bit too much of an endeavor so you settled on an audio message. After preparing your favorite “materials” you pressed record.

He was only a few time zones away so it wasn’t too late at night for him yet. He heard the notification come up on his phone and read it over.

Heyyyy, I’ve been missing you so I made this for you cuz I thought you might be missing me too pookieee <3 enjoy with headphones ;)

Your boyfriend raised an eyebrow and then smiled, realizing what you had probably done. He was in his hotel room for the night so he figured he’d get ready for bed and take a little listen and indulge himself.

After situating himself in bed in his pj’s (sweatpants and a white t-shirt), he replied to your text.

Hey pretty girl, miss you too <3 I’m about to give it a listen 😏

You liked the message and waited for his response, having already finished yourself.

After seeing your reaction, he put in his earbuds and turned off his light, setting his phone down on the nightstand. He pressed play, closed his eyes, and your pretty voice filled his ears.

“Hey baby” you said out of breath already. “I miss you- mmmphff” his eyes shot open and his cock twitched. Your heavy breathing and light moans sending a wave of lust through his body as he swallowed hard.

“hah ngh… miss you a lot… hah- wish you were here- mmm!” His eyes started to roll back into his head as he clenched his jaw, hands sliding down to palm his already half hard cock.

“Wish this was you inside me,” you said, followed by moans. “You always fill me up s’gooood… nothing feels the same.” He could hear your vibrator buzzing in the background of the audio, turning him on even more knowing that you were actually getting yourself off just thinking about him. He threw his head back, pushing it into the pillow thinking about how you were fucking yourself with a dildo and upset that it wasn’t his dick. He let out a light moan at the thought and touched himself through his pants, painfully hard at this point.

“Only you make me feel that good baby, I really need you,” he could hear your small “ah’s” and the occasional “mmph” between your sentences. “I’ll make you feel s’good when you’re back,” that made him roll his eyes back again, blinking slow and with lidded eyes thinking about you.

“Sorry this is all I can do for you now baby,” he started pulling down his sweats and boxers, “...the only way I can help get you off.” He groaned when he finally freed his cock out of the confines of his pants.

“Bet you’re already all hot and bothered hm?” you giggle “not that I mind.” He moaned at your slight teasing. “Thinking about it actually turns me on more- ngh,” he started to stroke himself, his tip sensitive and leaky because of you.

“Mmmmm fffucckkkk” you moaned lowly “m’ close daddy.” He let out a shaky sigh hearing the pet name, it was so fucking filthy that it was erotic to him but he still loved it and you did too.

You continued to edge yourself closer and closer to the edge in the recording and he followed suit. Your moans got more and more whiny and loud, barely able to think of more dirty talk for him because your brain was in overdrive focusing on all the stimulation. He adored this part of the recording though, just listening to you pleasure yourself, saying the occasional “feels s’good” or “yes” between needy whines.

Your already fast breathing picked up a minute or two later and he noticed it, knowing that you were already close. “P-please cum with me,” you sobbed out, “I need ittt… hgnhh.”

Your boyfriend cursed under his breath trying not to let out too much noise in the hotel room. But it was so difficult when you made him so sensitive and you weren’t even here. He sped up his hand, having it now well lubricated with a mixture of precum and saliva he spit onto his hand. The erotic wet sounds of him stroking himself paired perfectly with your recording to turn him on to the absolute max.

“I’m thinking about you,” your voice starts again, clearly shaky. “How it feels when we cum t-together mmm,” you say through labored breathing. At this point you’ve managed to bring him to the edge with you, he’s bucking his hips upwards, fucking his fist imagining it was your gummy pussy squeezing him so heavenly like you always do. His hair is starting to stick to his forehead slightly as his body continues to overheat from all the pleasure. He grabs his shirt and pulls it up to hold between his teeth preemptively, not wanting to stain his shirt and also to muffle any moans that escape.

“Fuckkk- ugh- mmm!” you cry through the phone as his body tenses, abs spasming as he fucks his fist and free hand gripping the sheets. “G-gonna… gonna cum!” you babble as you breathe heavy into the mic, each moan rising in pitch until your breath hitches, letting out loud groans as your waves crash over you. “hh- ah! c-cumming! hmmnnnnn cummingg nghhh” he hears in his ears, throwing him over the edge with you as he thinks about how your walls clench and twitch on him when you cum. How you gush arousal all over him when you finish on his cock. His own breathing has sped up at this point as he bites down on his shirt and lets out a strained “f-fuck!” and moans your name quietly. Ropes of cum cover his torso as his hips stutter upwards into his hand. His legs are shaky as he comes down from his high, riding through it with slow strokes, almost overstimulating himself since you were still coming down.

Slowly your breathing slowed and you ended the recording with a quiet “love you baby.” He took his earbuds out and blinked a few times, taking deep breaths as he lays there, enjoying his afterglow and also thinking a bit of “wow… well that just happened.” He stays in that moment a while longer before grabbing the nearby tissue box to clean himself up and run to the washroom quickly before settling back down in bed to text you a reply.

Holy fuck I’m saving that Omg did you like it I fucking loved it wow You really just made me that for free LMFAO mm hmm just for you baby Don’t worry I’ll be sure to give you a payment in another way plus the tip of course Idk if the pun makes that better or worse. ANYWAYS ilysm babyyy I’m glad you liked ittt :) I love you sososo much too pretty girl, can’t wait to see you so I can love you properly in person For now sleep well though, good night <3 Hehe MWAH I’m looking forward to it sleep well too baby, good nighttttt <3

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #choso x reader #choso smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #marius von hagen x reader #marius von hagen smut #j's silly ramblings

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a-write-for-soreeyes · 1 year ago

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Yes, Chef [OPLA Sanji x Afab!Reader SMUT]

Pairing : OPLA Sanji x Chef (AFAB) Reader

Summary : Sanji is the only one you call 'Chef'. One night when you're the only ones working the late shift he finally confronts you about why.

Warnings : 18+ !!!!!!, NSFW/SMUT, Semi-public sex (kitchen), Oral (fem receiving), some slight dirty talk?, the apron stays ON during foreplay, Use of the term 'Chef' in a sexual way, Top!Sanji, Bottom!Reader

Word Count : 3685 (good lord)

A/N : I have never written smut before but I think this went really well! I had one quote (that quote from Fleabag the hot priest says) and a dream (sanji brain rot and my sexy playlist), so please feel free to leave your thoughts! <3

“y/n I think we’ve known each other long enough you can stop calling me ‘Chef’.”

“Yes, Chef I know” You said, carefully placing the garnish on the plate of steak and seared vegetables at your station. It was the last call of the night and of course a group had walked in right as you and Sanji had finished clearing your stations for the night.

Placing the final plate on the counter you hit the bell, one of the servers came through the doors to the kitchen grabbing the plate and turning on their heel pushing through back to the rowdy group of pirates in the dining room. Turning back to your station and beginning to stack your pots and pans, placing the used utensils inside the pot and carrying them over to the sink, ready to re-wash them.

A comfortable quiet had washed over the kitchen, only broken by the boisterous chatter from the last table of the night. “You can head out if you’d like. I’m going to put together a new dessert I’ve been practicing for these gentlemen, hopefully get them to tip better after coming in right before closing.” Sanji had called from across the kitchen while grabbing ingredients from the pantry.

“Chef, if you don’t like my company you can just say and I’ll get out of your hair.” You joked,

“Ay don’t you ever say that gorgeous, you know I love your company,” Sanji flirted pausing next to you, “Someone with good looks and good conversation, how could I not want you around?” He winked, continuing his stride back to his station.

“I think I’ll stick around once I’m done with these if it’s all the same to you, Chef. You know how much I love to taste whatever new recipes you put together.” You replied with a smile. You really did enjoy being able to be the first person to taste all of Sanji’s cooking, and you suppose being the only person in the kitchen late at night, with your criminally good looking coworker wasn’t so bad either. Rolling up your sleeves and plunging your hands into the warm water of the sink you began to scrub at your dishes.

You scrubbed in silence for a few moments, washing the grime and the stress of the day away. “Really y/n, you can go home I really don’t mind,” Sanji walked next to you leaning his side against the counter stacked high with plates and cups that would need to be washed during tomorrows slow hours, “You’ve already stayed late enough, just finish up your dishes and turn in for the night.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see him looking over your face,

“It’s fine, Chef you know I would probably be awake anyw-” Your sentence and scrubbing stopped as Sanji reached forwards wiping a smear of some ingredient from your cheek, letting his thumb linger on your cheek for just a moment, your face heating at the intimacy of the moment.

“Sorry love,” He said, pulling his hand away from your face and placing it back on the counter next to you, “Couldn’t focus on your beautiful face with something covering it.”

This has always been the game between the two of you. When you had joined the Baratie’ crew almost 3 years ago, Sanji had started working his charm on you from day one, flustering you everytime causing you to always avoid his flirtatious gaze. Although it had taken you about two months to get comfortable with the pleasure he takes in flirting with you, (leaving you mildly excited each time he had thrown a nickname your way) the day that you did start flirting back was possibly the best day of Sanji’ life, (although he wouldn’t be admitting that to anyone anytime soon) and possibly the worst of yours. The embarrassment you felt every time you gave a flirtatious response, effectively causing you to never have the guts to look him in the eyes.

And although his flirting was nothing new, something about being the only people in the quiet kitchen after a busy Friday night, had the soft way Sanji was speaking to you to have a new feeling behind it.

“Sanji, I’m fine really. I’ll finish these up and then I want to taste whatever you’re supposed to be cooking over there, for our lovely guests.” You softly broke the tension, not looking up at him from the murky water. Sanji chuckled and pushed off the counter, making his way back to his abandoned pastry mix. Resuming your washing the both of you working contently in each other's presence.

—-

Placing the last of your now clean dishes back at your station and wiping your hands on the towel you always had draped over the string of your apron. Slugging your way over to Sanji's station, you hiked yourself up onto the counter next to him, huffing out a quiet “Whatever you’ve got baking smells amazing Chef. I can’t wait to taste whatever it is.”

Sanji chuckled, continuing to whisk whatever he was whipping up for a “quick dessert”.

“They’re strawberry macarons, with an easy butterscotch drizzle on top.”

“Ah yes Chef, a very simple dessert, definitely not a complicated pastry that can take years to master.” Laughing, Sanji put down the bowl and grabbed his dish towel, turning towards the oven behind him, taking hold of the hot baking sheet in his covered hand. Turning back to you he gently swatted your side, placing the hot tray down where you had been sitting.

“For your information the pastry is not the hard part for me. It’s the filling that always gets me.”, Using his one hand to pull the macaron shells up from the pan, Sanji stuck his finger in the bowl on his right swiping up some of the filling he had been whipping up on his finger, and held it out to you, “Here give this a try, I know it’s missing something I just can’t quite place it.”

Seeing Sanji hold his finger out, covered in the pink buttercream filling, you made the conscious decision that this was going to be your winning move in this game of cat and mouse you and him had been playing for the past years. You leaned forwards and wrapped your mouth around his finger, the taste of the sweet icing flowing over your tongue. Swirling your tongue around his finger to get the last of the filling off of his digit.

“It’s good. Could maybe use a little more powdered sugar, get it to thicken up a bit more.” You shrugged.

Sanji was silent. Not even a flirtatious remark about how ‘you’re all the sugar I need sugar’ just silence. Looking at Sanji directly (for possibly the first time in months) you were shocked at the way he was looking at you. So gently, so full of love and something else you couldn’t quite place. Surprise? Uncomfortability? You weren’t sure, only assuming the worst, regret flooded your body immediately. Sanji opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, hanging your head,

“I-I’m so sorry Chef, I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just thought it would be funny considering how much we fake flirt with each other, but I’m now realizing that that was WILDLY inappropriate especially to someone who is a much better chef than I am- I’m so so sorry Chef-”

“Ah, fuck you calling me “Chef” like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” Your head snapped up to look him directly in the eyes.

“Wha-what?”

“You heard what I said.” He smirked at you, blond hair falling in front of his left eye, “The way you say it any moment you possibly can, ‘yes Chef’, ‘I’m sorry Chef’, ‘Of course I can Chef’. You think I haven’t noticed how I’m the only one you call that?” Sanji stalking around the counter, placed one hand on the counter at either side of you.

He leaned into you, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Everytime you say that stupid fucking title,you know what it does to me. What it makes me think of.”

Shivering at the feeling of his breath you turned your face towards him, “And what does it make you think of, Chef?” A low rumble reverberated from Sanji’ chest, now pressing up close to you.

Sanji tilted his head, lips just barely ghosting over yours, “Would you like me to show you?” You gave an embarrassed nod.

His lips were soft against yours, tasting of cigarettes and the mint he used to try and cover the previous. Pushing himself up against you, you could feel your underwear beginning to slick. Teeth clashing together you ran your hand up Sanji’ back, neck and up into his blonde hair. One of his own hands wrapping around your waist, the other sliding up the front of your apron and giving your breast a soft squeeze. You gasped, and fast as lightning Sanji slipped his tongue into your mouth exploring it with a small groan at the feeling.

Using the heated kiss as a distraction Sanji began to unbutton your uniform, pausing every few buttons to bring his hands up to your face, deepening your make out before going back to his main mission of releasing you from your shirt.

Finally undoing the final button of your uniform Sanji reached into your shirt with one hand swiping over your tit, causing it to harden under his calloused hand, even with the fabric of your bra separating them. Although Sanji made quick work of that issue, easily reaching around you and unclasping the irritating bra pulling it down under your breasts, allowing them to bounce slightly with the force of your making out. Removing his other hand from your waist Sanji roughly cupped your breasts in his hands bringing them out from behind your apron. Squeezing them with his large hands, your apron roughly scraping against the soft flesh, you moaned into the unstopping kisses. Hiking you up onto the edge of the counter Sanji gave himself better access to your chest, leaning down to your right tit and taking it into his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple, leaving kisses, nips and hickies all around. His left hand grasping at your other tit Sanji pinches at the bud for a few moments before switching. Moans leaving your mouth, you bit your lip nearly drawing blood, as you used one hand to pull his head closer into your chest, the other pulling off his ascot, apron and starting on the snap buttons of his uniform.

“Please, Chef please.” You whimpered, beginning to roll your hips on him, the feeling of his warm mouth on your chest with no friction on your lower parts starting to take its toll on you. Feeling Sanji groan and roll against the counter he pulled back looking at you, hair a mess, eyes glazed over in arousal he ripped the apron and top from off your body, bra following immediately after. During the moment of separation you ripped his now crumpled shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen out of your vision, which was now focused solely on taking in Sanji’ gorgeous figure.

Grabbing his face and pulling him towards you hungerly you continued to make out. Sanji began to press his body against yours reaching behind your figure to swipe the forgotten baking sheet off the counter creating room for him to be able to push you back into a lying position, the heat of the counter where the hot pans of pastries had just been only seconds earlier caused you to let out a gasp, arching your back to get away from the heat pressing your breasts right into Sanji’s hard chest, his hand going behind you to pull your torso as close to him as possible.

Pulling back from the kiss, Sanji gently laid you down fully on the counter. Running his hands down your sides he began to kiss his way down your body stopping to leave small nips around your chest and hips. Pulling away Sanji started work on your belt, unbuckling it and immediately going for your buttons. You begin to fuss at the feeling of his hands being so close to where you need him but he has yet to touch you.

“I know love, don't worry, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he whispered out, pressing a kiss to your thigh as he finally slid your pants off, leaving you in just your panties. Groaning at the sight of you trying to hump the air to get any friction to quell the desire you feel, Sanji brought a finger up to your covered mound, gently ghosting it along causing you to let a loud whimper escape from your lips. “Darling you’re soaked. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you want me to make you feel good?”

Gripping the edges of the counter whimpered “Yes. Yes yes please Chef, please make me feel good.”

Sanji smirked up at you, already fidgeting and he hasn’t even started yet. “Well, when you put it like that. I guess I have no choice.” He pulled your panties down grabbing them in one hand and used the other to grasp your hip bringing your soaked pussy right to him, immediately beginning his assault, licking up your folds and once he reached the top starting to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around the small bud. Your hand shot down for Sanji’ bleach blond hair, fisting it and using it to pull him right into you, wrapping your legs around his head when he stuck his tongue right into your pussy.

“Oh fuck! Yes, god please!” You moaned, at the sound of your moans and whimpers Sanji could feel the tent in his pants straining, he beginning to slightly hump at the air, getting pleasure from just the motions he made.

Feeling the knot begin to form in your stomach you started to pant and hump his face faster. Sanji getting the message stopped tongue fucking you to resume sucking on your clit bringing his right hand down to your entrance sticking 2 fingers in you easily between the slick and spit that had been pooling there. The pleasure assaulting your senses caused you to lurch forwards, nails scraping against Sanji's scalp causing him to moan against you.

Between the feeling of Sanji sucking on your clit, his fingers rapidly pushing in and out of you and the vibrations of the moans he was letting out you felt the knot in your stomach snap, shaking your felt yourself release all over his face, practically screaming out into the echoes of the kitchen,

“Yes, yes fuck, yes Chef! Fuck!” When the feeling of your first orgasm of the night finished and your clit started to become overstimulated you leant back against your arm, releasing your hold on Sanji's hair to run one hand through it and tried to pull yourself away from his mouth still licking up your wetness and kissing around your nub.

“Uhh, Chef- Chef please too- too much” Pulling himself off of you Sanji leant back on his heels, a string of spit and cum connecting him to you. You took a moment to admire him as he caught his breath. He looked beautiful, face covered in your cum with strings of it and drool connecting the two of you, hair sticking in all directions from your harsh pulling and his eyes, god his eyes he had a look in them you’d only ever hoped to see, he was so drunk on your pussy you’re not even sure he knew where the two of you were right now.

Grabbing his right wrist from where his fingers were still brushing against your pussy lips you pulled him up to you, locking your lips in another kiss, this one much more gentle and soft than the previous rough make out you had. Pushing your tongue into his mouth you could taste yourself on his tongue, occasionally kissing around his mouth and along his jawline to collect more of your slick from his face. Sanji let out a gasp as you kissed up his jaw and to his ear, giving it a slight nip before whispering to him, “You made me feel so good Chef. I wanna do the same for you.”

Standing to his full height Sanji started to work on his belt, hands shaking in anticipation at finally being able to feel you around him. You started work on the button on his bottoms, purposely brushing your hand against his erection feeling it twitch at every touch you gave him. Reaching your hands up to his waistband Sanji pulled down his pants and underwear in one swoop as he stepped out of the pool of fabric now at his feet. Cradling your face in his large hands Sanji ran his thumb down your cheekbone and swiped it over your lips.

"I wanna make you feel good, let me make you feel good.”, You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, your hand lazily wrapping around his hard-on, stroking him and running your thumb over his head using the precum that had begun to bead there as lube for your lazy motions. “Please Chef.” You felt his cock twitch at the title and his breathing hitch.

“We can feel good together love. Just let me take care of you this time.” At that Sanji guided you back to your lying position against the now cold countertop of his work station. Taking a moment to admire you splayed out before him Sanji ran his hands down the backs of your thighs pushing them up to give himself access to your wet cunt.

Rubbing the head of his cock against your folds he collected some of your slick before he watched his cock disappear into you. A growl coming from him as he felt you tighten around his shaft.

Keening at the feeling of yourself stretching around him, your eyes rolling back as he pushed further finally bottoming out. Sanji paused allowing you a chance to adjust to his size he could feel you tighten around him.

Slowly, he began to pull almost all the way out of you before rocking back in, the both of you groaning at the feeling. Sanji looked up at your face, eyes almost completely closed and mouth open gasping in pleasure. He reached forwards grasping your soft hand in his own rough one giving something for you to ground yourself on through the pleasure.

“Chef please-!” you whimpered at the feeling of his thrusts starting to pick up speed.

“Fuck love, you feel so good squeezing around me.” Sanji groaned into your ear, leaving sloppy kisses around your jaw and down your neck, his cock burying into you at a rapid pace.

Your moans and huffs at the overwhelming feelings you were experiencing getting louder with each thrust, to the point you were almost crying out in pleasure. Sanji captured your lips again roughly making out with you in an attempt to quiet you, although between your moans and the squelch of his cock pistoning in and out of you it was nearly impossible to do so.

Sanji could feel his high approaching with each thrust, “I-I’m close, fuck darling you feel so good-” he sighed pressing your foreheads together.

“I-I’m so close, please Chef. Please let me cum please!” You blubbered against his lips, tears beginning to form and run down your cheeks, you could feel every inch of him in you, stretching you, pressing against every part of you, his head kissing your cervix.

“Just a little more baby, just give me a little more.” Pounding into your cunt, slick running down both of you, you wrapped your legs around his back pulling him impossibly closer, the hand that was resting coming down to rub furiously at your clit, “come for me love, come all over my cock.” Your mouth opened in a silent scream as you felt yourself release all over his cock, your pussy clamping down, you cried out,

“Fuck! Chef!”

At the feeling of you cumming around him Sanji knew he just needed a few more before he to came undone, or- “Fuck Sanji!” your eyes rolling back, and that was his breaking point. At the sound of you crying out his name, his real name for the first time since you’ve met, not some title he’d heard a thousand times before, Sanji came. Ropes of his cum painting your insides with his release he shuttered, his vision blanking at the overwhelming bliss he was experiencing from cumming inside you for the first time.

The air between you two hot and heavy as you both stayed still just enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Sanji gave a few final sluggish thrusts to help you both ride the end of your pleasures before the feeling became too much. He pulled out gently being sure not to overwhelm you, the sound of your mixed cum quietly dripping from you both onto the tiled floor beneath him.

Basking in the afterglow of the scene, foreheads pressed together you tilted your head up locking your lips in a tender kiss. Bringing your hand that was not clasped in Sanji's up to caress his face, taking in the way the soft light reflected off his glistening forehead and the beads of sweat that dripped from his disheveled hair down the curves and lines of his face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to say that to you, Love.” He chuckled, allowing the seriousness of the moment to fade away into comfortable giggles. “I love you.” He breathed out, gazing at you, trying to memorize everything about you in this moment, from how your messy hair splayed out behind you to the dried tear tracks down your face. Looking back into his blue eyes,

“I love you Sanji.”

--------------------------------

#sanji x reader smut #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader smut #smut #opla sanji #one piece live action #one piece netflix

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breezeflows · 6 months ago

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The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is here yippee!! I feel like these first few chapters are kind of slow but it’ll be worth it i swear!! And also a huge thank you to everyone for showing the first chapter so much love! It means the world to me. Now with all that aside here is Chapter 2! <3

Themes: This chapter is prettyyy sappy, Ford and Reader sort of make up? (Let’s see how long that lasts) sad feelings, small arguments, kissing, yearning, etc all the stuff that’s blanching okay anyways

The next day you find yourself sitting in a booth at Greasy’s Diner, idly stirring creamer into your cup of coffee. The diner is relatively quiet, the only sounds coming from the occasional clinking of silverware against plates and the soft hum of the AC unit. The smell of bacon and fried eggs wafts through the air, and sunlight streams through the large windows, casting the small diner in a warm glow. You take a sip of your coffee, the caffeine working its way into your system as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of yesterday’s events.

You’re soon brought out of your trance as your close friend Lizzy arrives, sliding her way into the booth in front of you. Her strong perfume drifts through the air as she tucks her curly blonde hair behind her ears, showing off the golden hoops she’s adorning as she readjusts her bright green V-neck. She reaches into her purse, grabbing a bright red lipstick and begins applying it as she speaks.

“Sorry I’m late doll. Traffic was a total nightmare!”

Your face warms at the presence of your close friend, although it doesn’t seem to ease the heartache you’re feeling from your previous encounter with Ford. Your hurt being evident in your tone as you reply.

“It’s no problem Liz.”

Lizzy’s gaze instantly meets yours as she pauses, catching onto your tone immediately. She studies you for a moment, lowering the red lipstick as she takes in your tired eyes and solemn expression.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks gently, voice laced with concern. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

You sigh, your shoulders drooping as you begin to explain your situation to Lizzy.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you say, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. (Ford’s sweater ahem ahem) “Things have been… hectic, to say the least. My relationship with Ford has been falling apart, and I feel like I’ve been living with a ghost these past few weeks. He’s been completely immersed in his research, and he barely even acknowledges my presence anymore.”

Lizzy watches you carefully with a frown, her brows furrowed in concern.

You continue, your voice faltering slightly as you recall the recent events. “Yesterday morning, we had a tense conversation where he basically said that his research is more important to him than our marriage. And then one of our old friends from college showed up and it made the situation even worse.”

Lizzy listens intently as you speak, her expression filled with sympathy. Once you finish explaining everything, she reaches across the table and takes your hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this Y/N,” she says soothingly. “You deserve so much better than that doll. And you should definitely get out of that house for a bit and clear your mind. How about you come stay at my place for a couple of weeks? You don’t need to deal with all of this...” she waves her free hand around as she continues. “Man-stress, alone.”

A wave of gratitude washes over you at Lizzy’s offer, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. She really was an amazing friend. You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “I don’t want to impose or anything.”

Lizzy chuckles dismissively, giving you a reassuring smile.

“You won’t be imposing on anything Y/N. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment, and it’ll be nice to have some company other than my boyfriend. Plus, a change of scenery might do you some good.”

You take a second to consider her offer, weighing the pros and cons in your mind. The idea of getting away from everything for awhile was tempting, and spending time with a good friend is always a nice thought. You take another deep breath, pushing down the small voice in your head that is telling you to stay and make things right with Ford. You knew he wasn’t going to change his mind anytime soon, or at least it felt that way.

“Okay,” you finally say, your voice slightly stronger now. “I’ll stay with you for a while. Thank you, Liz, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

Her smile widens, and she gives your hand another squeeze. “Of course chick,” she says. “What are friends for right?” She then reaches over and takes your coffee, thoughtfully taking a sip of the not-so-hot liquid.

“So, do you need help packing a bag, or do you want to go back home first to get your things?”

You think for a moment before replying. “I can head back to the house to pack a bag, but I’ll probably need to leave the car for Ford in case he needs it. Could you pick me up around 3:00?”

Lizzy nods in understanding, a slight frown on her face at the mention of Ford. Even when the two of you were fighting you still looked out for him, it was admirable.

“Yeah, of course,” she says. “I’ll be there at three. Text me when you’re packed and ready, and I’ll head over to pick you up. Just focus on getting what you need, and don’t worry about anything else, kay?”

You down the rest of your now-shared coffee, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of getting away from the stressful atmosphere of your house. You thank your friend once again for her kindness, promising to message her once you’re ready to be picked up. With a small wave you leave the diner, heading back towards your house to pack a bag and prepare for your temporary stay at Lizzy’s.

As you make your way back to the cabin you realize walking may not have been the smartest choice. The skies have darkened, and the air has grown crisper. Large, plump raindrops begin to fall, creating a soft patter against the pavement. The once bright and sunny day has transformed into a dreary, rainy afternoon, the weather seeming to reflect your current situation.

You quicken your pace, the sound of rain getting louder as it hits the ground and the surrounding trees. The house soon comes into view, standing tall and imposing against the grey sky. Your clothes and hair become soaked with rain as you speed towards the front door, swinging it open and shutting it behind you.

As you step into the house, the heavy door closing behind you with a soft thump, you are surprised to find Ford standing in the entryway. He looks the same as before, tired, and a bit weathered. Although he seems taken aback by your appearance, his eyes flickering with surprise and… something else.

“You’re soaked,” he says, a hint of concern in his voice. “What happened?”

You turn your gaze from him as you shed your coat, revealing his old sweater underneath as you place it on a nearby hook.

“I went out with Lizzy for a late breakfast and got caught in the rain.”

Ford watches you as you hang your coat and begin to remove your shoes. He notices the slight distance in your voice, and the way you avoid his gaze. He knows deep down there’s more to it than just a simple breakfast with a friend. He hesitates a moment before speaking.

“I see,” he says slowly. “So, you two just… had breakfast?”

A sigh escapes you as you sit up straight, finally meeting his gaze.

“Yep.”

Ford’s jaw clenches slightly as he studies you, clearly sensing that there’s more to the story than you’re letting on.

“That’s it?” He presses, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“I’m going to be staying at her place for a couple of weeks.”

His eyes widen at your response, his lips parting in surprise. The hint of skepticism in his voice grows stronger as he takes a small step towards you.

“Wait a minute,” he says. “How long..?”

You turn your head from him with a frown, hugging your arms as you speak in a quiet yet frustrated tone.

“I’ll be out of your hair this way and you can focus on your project with Fiddleford, since it obviously takes higher priority.”

Ford’s eyes widen even further, a mix of shock and pain crossing his face at your words. His hands clench at his sides as he processes what you’ve just said, his mind reeling.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his tone now filled with frustration. “You’re treating this like I just want to get rid of you, like I don’t-“ He pauses closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like what Stanford?” you step forward, beginning to become angry with him. “Don’t act as though you didn’t tell me that your research is bigger than our relationship. You’ve tossed everything aside but now that I’m leaving for a few weeks you’re suddenly concerned?”

His eyes snap open at your outburst, scowling as his expression was a mix of frustration and guilt.

“You’re twisting my words,” he snaps. “I never said my research was bigger than our marriage. I just…” He falls silent, his anger deflating slightly as he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pleading in remorse.

“I just need some time to focus on this project,” he continues, softer now, his frustration giving way to desperation. “But that doesn’t mean I wanted you to leave. I… I never wanted that Y/N. Never.”

Your anger and resolve begin to crumble at his pleading state, your eyes softening as they meet his. You find your legs moving on their own as you step towards him, your arms slowly reaching to wrap around his middle. You rest your cheek on Ford’s shoulder, inhaling his scent. A mixture of pine and musk, with a tinge of smoke.

He lets out a shaky breath as you approach him, his rigid stance relaxing as you embraced him. His own hands eventually find your back, hesitating for a moment, but soon returning the embrace. He holds you as close to him as possible, trembling slightly as he buried his face in your hair.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, his voice muffled, but filled with a combination of mixture and despair.

“Please don’t leave me.”

You tighten your arms around him, your voice soft and reassuring.

“I’m not leaving you Ford,” you speak, your breath warm against his neck. “I just think we both need a bit of space right now. I need time to sort out my thoughts, and I think getting away for awhile will help with that. But I promise you I’m not leaving you.”

Ford’s grip on you tightens slightly at your words, as if he is afraid to let you go. His body tremors faintly as he absorbs your reassurance, his voice a mixture of relief and resignation.

“How long?” he asks with a vulnerable tone. “How long will you be gone?”

You pull back, just enough to look him in the eyes. You reach up, gently cupping his face in your hands, and he leans into your touch.

“Just a couple of weeks at most,” your thumb stroked his cheek as you spoke, giving him a look of sympathy. “When I get back, we can work through this, alright?”

His eyes search yours, his expression now one of understanding. Ford nods slowly, his hands moving to cover yours, his calloused fingers gripping your wrists gently.

“Alright. But please stay in touch. I need to know you’re okay.”

You manage to give him a soft smile and a nod, before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Ford’s eyes fluttered shut at the unexpected gesture, a small sound of surprise escaping him. His hands grip yours even tighter, his body leaning into yours as the kiss lingers for a moment.

After sharing a few more, you finally pull back. Ford’s eyes open, and he gazes at you with a look of surprise and yearning. A slight flush of pink is apparent on his features, his lips parted and slightly reddened from the act. He observes you for a moment, before bringing your knuckles to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there as if trying to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

“I’ll miss you,” he spoke tenderly. “Don’t forget about me while you’re gone, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sixer.”

Ford’s heart skips a beat at the familiar nickname, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He pulls you closer, enveloping you in his embrace once more, large calloused hands wrapping around your back.

“Good,” he murmurs, resting his chin atop of your head.

“Because I’ll be counting the days until you come back.”

tags :) - @artistic-gato @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum

#gravity falls #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines x you #ford pines x reader #the book of bill #gravityfallsxreader #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls x reader #x reader #oc

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 2 months ago

Text

What is this feeling? p.3

Heyy guys, here's part 3, if you've missed part 2 here it is.

I'm sorry for not posting yesterday, but this month I'll be pretty inactive since I have to study for my exams :(

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

"YN, you're good, but good isn’t enough."

Max’s words echoed in your ears as you sat across from him in the Red Bull hospitality suite. His sharp blue eyes studied you, a mix of determination and mischief glinting behind them.

"Okay, ouch," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively. "I’m working on it."

"You don’t just ‘work’ on being a winner," he said, leaning forward. "You have to become one. And lucky for you, I’ve decided to make you my new project."

"Your project?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I’m going to teach you everything I know. Strategy, focus, confidence—everything that makes a champion. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t just be good. You’ll be great."

You hesitated, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted. "And what if I don’t want to be your ‘project’?"

"You don’t really have a choice," Max replied, leaning back and crossing his arms with a cocky smirk. "Besides, I’m very nice for doing this. You should thank me."

"Wow," you said, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a small laugh. "How generous of you."

"Exactly," he said, his smirk widening.

Over the following weeks, Max threw himself into his self-appointed role as your mentor. It started with small things: tips on cornering, feedback on your race starts, pointers about tire management. He’d pull up telemetry data, going over it in detail, explaining every nuance of what made him fast.

"You’re not braking late enough into Turn 1," he’d say, tracing a section of data with his finger. "And your exit speed here? Too slow. You’re leaving time on the table."

"You’re insufferable, you know that?" you shot back one day, though secretly you appreciated how much he cared.

"I’m efficient," he corrected with a smug grin.

But it wasn’t all technical. Max started nudging you out of your comfort zone in other ways, too.

"You need to stop eating lunch alone," he told you one afternoon, stealing a fry from your plate.

"I like eating alone," you argued, snatching the fry back.

"No, you think you do," he said. "But winners know how to command a room. You should join us. Be part of the team."

Reluctantly, you let him drag you into more social settings, and while you’d never admit it to him, you began to enjoy it.

Somewhere along the way, things shifted.

It wasn’t just the racing tips or the forced social interactions. It was the way Max would wait for you after sessions, leaning against the wall with an easy smile. It was the way he’d cheer you up after a bad qualifying run, cracking jokes until you couldn’t help but laugh. It was the way his confidence in you began to chip away at your own doubts.

"You’re getting better," he said one evening after a long day of practice. "I can see it."

"Thanks to you, I guess," you teased, nudging him lightly.

"Of course, thanks to me," he said, but there was a softness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

By the time race day rolled around, you felt different. Lighter, more confident. Max’s faith in you had become your own, and as you lined up on the grid, you could see him watching you from the pit wall, arms crossed, a small smile playing on his lips.

The race was intense. Lap after lap, you pushed yourself harder than ever, channeling everything Max had taught you. The car felt like an extension of yourself, and when you crossed the finish line, the world seemed to erupt around you.

You’d done it. You’d won.

Climbing out of the car, you barely had time to process the cheers before someone was rushing toward you.

Max.

He reached you in seconds, pulling you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away.

"I knew you could do it," he said, his voice low and filled with pride.

"Thanks to you," you whispered, smiling against his shoulder.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, his usual cockiness replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

"You were incredible," he said.

"So, does this mean I’m officially not your project anymore?" you teased, though your voice wavered slightly, the moment feeling too big for jokes.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "You were never a project to me," he said. "Not really."

Before you could respond, the crowd surged around you—drivers, engineers, reporters. Max stepped back, giving you space, but his eyes never left yours.

Later, as the celebrations wound down and the paddock quieted, you found him leaning against the Red Bull motorhome, sipping a bottle of water.

"Hey," you said, approaching him.

"Hey," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, almost shyly, you added, "You know, I couldn’t have done this without you."

Max shook his head. "You could have. I just helped you realize it."

You stepped closer, your heart racing. "Still, thank you."

He met your gaze, and for the first time, you saw vulnerability in his eyes. "Anytime," he said softly.

The distance between you felt impossibly small, and as the night stretched on, you realized something had changed—something that couldn’t be undone.

Max hadn’t just made you a winner. He’d made you believe in yourself. And in the process, you’d found something neither of you had been looking for but couldn’t ignore any longer.

Part 4

@justaf1girl, @anamiad00msday

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

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etrsilk · 2 months ago

Note

shay pls feed us killua girlies, we r starving for killua content :333

— Eternity

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 content/warnings: fluff and very very light nsfw.

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 a/n: And here you go, some food for my Killua girls! I don’t know why, but this message really motivated me, lmao, so thank you so much! ♡ I’m just as annoyed as you are that so little is coming out about Killua lately. I hope you’ll enjoy this little one-shot because I truly loved writing it. Also, sorry it’s quite short!

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 song ; ★

⋟ I love this song because it makes me SO nostalgic, that's why I think it goes well with this one shot! ⋞

Killua is 24 here!!! This is a one shot w y/n & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐏!𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐀!

It was a beautiful, freezing winter night. Your silky hair danced with the wind, framing your delicate face. You wore a long silk robe tied at the waist with a lovely red ribbon. Your legs were barely covered, dressed only in pajama shorts, and you had on cozy slippers.

You stood on the balcony of the room you and Killua shared, your eyes lost in the vastness of the starry sky before you. The constellations seemed to dance just for you, but your mind was far away, immersed in your thoughts. — “What are you thinking about?” Killua’s deep, soft voice broke the thread of your thoughts. You turned slightly to meet two ocean-blue eyes gazing at you. His body, still warm from the shower he had just taken, stood before you. Only a white towel hung low around his hips, revealing his V-line and finely sculpted abs, the result of years of intense training. His skin glistened slightly, damp with steam. He tousled his silver hair with a towel in hand, continuing to look at you, curious about your silence

— “Nothing.”

You quickly averted your gaze, choosing to mask your thoughts behind a veil of mystery. Your heart raced, caught between excitement and fear of what you were about to tell him. But before you could think any further, you felt two warm arms slide around your waist. A comforting heat enveloped you as he began placing slow, soft kisses on your neck. His warm breath was a delicious contrast to the icy winter air. Gradually, his hands moved upward to gently brush against your chest.

— “Killua, I have something to tell you,” you murmured

He slowly turned you to face him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

— “Go on, I’m listening,” he said softly.

Your hands tenderly caressed his cheeks as you noticed the rosy tint beginning to spread across his skin. His deep eyes closed slightly, soothed by the affection you were giving him — “I love you,” you whispered. “I’ve loved you since I was 12. It’s been 11 years now that I’ve been by your side, and nothing makes me happier than waking up every day knowing that you’re here, with me… Killua, I want a future with you.” His cheeks, already pink, flushed an even deeper shade, like a ripe tomato. He locked his gaze with yours, his lips trembling slightly with emotion — “I can’t imagine a future where you’re not by my side,” he replied. “That’s why I asked you to be my fiancée. I’m so in love with you. No matter what my family thinks, it’s only a matter of time before I make you my precious wife, my love.”

Your heart raced at his words.

— “Killua. I’m pregnant.”

᱖ English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!!

Do not repost, use my works outside of Tumblr, copy, translate or plagiarize please !

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh x reader #hxh headcanons #headcanons #hxh killua #killua x reader #killua hunter x hunter #killua x you

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empressdede · 1 month ago

Text

The Lyon’s family Christmas

Summary: You lie to your mom and tell her that you have a boyfriend to bring home and begs your best friend Jon to come with you to meet your family.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Jimmy x Y/N

A/N: Happy New Year and Happy Holidays; I am so so so so sorry that this is so late but I literally worked the entire holidays so this was the best day for me to release. I hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. Guess who’s officially back? 🙂💙

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As often as this was a reoccurring issue, Y/N don’t know why she expected the conversation to take a different direction unlike the very worn out route her and her mother usually seemed to take.

“Do you remember Trent from church? I’ve heard the younger girls were saying he’s single now, and I was thinking about inviting him to our Christmas party. I think he makes for a nice boy, don’t you?" Her mom asked over the phone. And there it was, the same damn conversation causing Y/N to roll her eyes. Thank God her mother couldn’t see her.

Her mom never knew how to stay out of her business, always going out her way to try and set her up with damn near anybody because she thought it was the most terrifying fact that her daughter was single at 30 and have been for the last three years now.

But Y/N valued her peace more than anything, and all her past relationships have not always bought her peace, just heartache. So she wanted to be very cautious her next go round because she was being very serious when she told everyone she only had one more relationship in her. She just wished her mom understood that.

Y/N let out a sigh, "Mom, I haven’t seen Trent in forever. Do NOT invite that boy over for no foolishness. Plus, he’s really not my type." Y/N expressed which caused her mother her scoff.

"And since fuckin when was Trent not your type? I thought you were trying to get with a good man Y/N?" Her mother questioned.

Exactly.

Y/N let out a huff in annoyance, she knew way more than her mom and knew that Trent was definitely not the way go. But she didn’t know want her mom to think she was trying to push at the conversation so instead of being honest, Y/N does the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t wanna tell you like this but Trent ain’t my type because I have a boyfriend now Ma.”

Y/N’s POV

The silence on the phone made me more nervous, why the fuck would I just say that?

“You got a boyfriend? Since when you found a boyfriend? And why haven’t you said anything about him?” The questions were leaving her mouth like quick fire, barely giving me anytime to answer her. But I did the best I could.

“I didn’t say anything because I wanted to make sure this was something worth bringing up.”

“Mmhmm, and how long you’ve been seeing this guy?” She asked

“Five months now, but we were friends before we started dating. I’ve been trying to take it slow.”

Another beat of silence took over the phone and for a second, I thought she knew I was spewing nothing but bullshit just to get her to shut up.

“Hmm, well baby you ain’t getting no younger. Tell this man I wanna meet him, invite him to the party and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She finally replied, but her response took me aback.

“Wait- mom..”

“Great! I’ll see you guys next weekend, Love you baby.” And with a quickness, she hung up in my face.

I was left amuck, staring at the phone in disbelief because what the fuck did I just do?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In retrospect, you didn’t really have anyone to ask but him. You weren’t comfortable asking anyone else but your best friend - who has yet to meet anyone in your family, which was perfect.

Who else would’ve agreed to do this for you?

“You want me to what?” He asked, choking on the fried rice he was eating prior.

Okay, so maybe it’s going to take a little bit of convincing.

“Please Jon, you’re the only person I can ask and I feel like we’re close enough; we could definitely pull it off.” You exclaimed, a small smile on your face; trying to be as persuasive as possible.

Jon was not amused, for all he knew this was another one of your tired ass pranks that he refused to fall for.

“So you want me to lie to your mom for Christmas?” he questioned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re single? I’m sure it won’t be the end of the world.”

You sigh, shoulders sinking in a bit. “She wants to set me up with some guy I haven’t seen in years. You know how I get with guys Jon and she won’t stop until she sees me with someone.”

You turn to fully face him with pleading eyes. “C’mon Jon, I already told them I have a boyfriend, who else am I supposed to ask?”

Jon watched you with careful eyes, silent as if he was thinking it over. You couldn’t help but keep your gaze hopeful as you guts sat in your living room waiting for him to respond.

You knew it was a big favor to ask but you would owe him the world if he could help you get your mom off your back.

The silence that filled the room made goosebumps litter all over your skin and the anxiety that bubbled in your stomach made you want to throw up. Just when you were going to tell him to forget it, Jon cut you off.

“Fine, I’ll go. But if we do this, we need to get our story straight.”

And just like that, the planning began, and for the rest of dinner, the two of you sat and theorized on how their fake love story came into existence:

Two friends who danced around the possibility of what could be till one night Jon stepped up and asked you to dinner and you agreed and you guys have been taking it slow from that night on.

____________________________________________

Two days after that, Jon surprised Y/N with matching pajamas for this impromptu trip.

“What kind of couple would we be without matching PJs?” Jon had asked when he dropped them off.

It made Y/N more appreciative of the effort he seemed to put into it. Of course Jon would play the perfect gentleman like boyfriend, who else would’ve did this for her?

The night before they had to drive six hours to your mother‘s house, you two agreed that Jon spend the night. This instance wasn’t anything new, Jon was your best friend and he slept over before, but something within your dynamic changed.

It was as if they were falling into the role of a loving couple for each other instead of Y/N’s family.

Jon sat on the bed watching Y/N finish applying her night cream, getting ready for bed.

“Is there anyone I should expect to give me a hard time?” Jon asked and you shook your head.

“Honestly, my mom is probably going to push you to marry me.” You joked causing Jon to chuckle.

“Well, if that’s the case, you ready to be stuck with me for life babe?”

The nickname caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Babe?” You questioned and Jon sends you a shy smile.

“You gotta start the habit now. I can’t call you that when I get over there, what if I just randomly call you princess and you get flustered?” He slightly teased, and there was those damn butterflies again.

He was right though, they needed to fall into the role of a devoted couple because how else were they going to make everyone believe they were in love?

You playfully rolled your eyes, and respond back, “what if I call you, baby boy and you get flustered?”

At that, Jonathan laughs and shakes his head at you. “I thought you said you wanted it to be believable?”

“How is that not believable?” You questioned as you walks out of the bathroom and towards him where he sat on the bed.

You cupped Jon’s cheek and talked in a baby tone, “Who wouldn’t think you’re my baby boy?” Cooing softly in a joking manner.

Jon decided he’s had enough of your antics and stood up to tower over you. Your hand falling back to your side as you stare up at him, a small smirk slowly formed on his lips as he stared down at you.

“C’mon now, you really think anyone is going to see us and think you call me anything but Daddy?” He had lowered his tone on purpose, and just like that the playfullness was sucked out of the room.

Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice, taking note of how close you guys actually were. Why did he have to do all that?

You felt your cheeks warm up and you couldn’t be more thankful than you are now that your skin had a darker hue to it - but Jon didn’t need to see it to know that you were flustered because your silence gave it away.

His smirk grows, almost tauntingly as he stared down at you. Maybe he knew what he was doing to you or maybe he didn’t and just got a kick out of this, but you did not appreciate his little game.

“Isn’t that right princess?” Even though you knew that Jon was teasing, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine.

You squinted your eyes to glare at him, “You’re not funny Jonathan.” You hissed out but he only chuckled at you and shrugged his shoulders.

It was all fun and games until it was his turn.

Just to put the icing on the cake: Jon’s hand lifted up to cup your cheeks, “Say you love being daddy’s baby.” He cooed back causing you to smack your lips and slap his hand away.

Your nerves were still a little rattled as Jon doubled over in laughter.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny; you ready for bed or what? We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and you’re driving.” You stated, walking past him for bed.

This is going to be the longest four days weekend ever.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The drive to your childhood home to Orlando FL, wasn’t so bad, three hours into it anyways.

When there was three more hours left to go, you became just a little restless, whining about how cramped your legs were starting to feel.

It went to show how much you really disliked long distant roadtrips.

“You don’t think you can wait another hour? We’re almost there.” Jon tried to negotiate but when he turned to face you and seen the pout on your lips, he let out a tired sigh and looked for the closest exit to stop at the nearest gas station.

You flashed him a cheeky smile, “Who knew you loved me so much?” You teased and he rolled his eyes letting you have this little moment because you guys had three more hours to kill and he’d rather you be in a good mood.

Another pro for stopping at the gas station is the opportunity to restock on snacks. After Jon filled up the tank, you both entered the gas station to look for whatever looked good enough to replenish you guys for the rest of the trip.

You both split ways to look for your favorite road trip snacks: Honey flavored chex mix, gummy worms and sunflower seeds since it was Jon’s preference.

Humming along to the Christmas song playing in the store, you went looking for Jon. Your eyes skimming through the isle looking for the tall idiot until your eyes fall on two figures: a girl laughing and holding herself up on Jon’s arm.

You raised an eyebrow at the scene, the feeling of annoyance swirled around in your stomach.

What the fuck was he doing?

You watched as the girl flash him another smile while fluttering her lashes in a flirting manner, and you couldn’t stop the scoff that left your lips. Your eyes squinted into a glare before an idea flashed in your mind.

It barely fully registered in your mind before you found yourself walking towards the two with the fakest smile on your face, “Babe did you find us some drinks?”

Jon turned to face you, a small smirk on his face cause he had watched you walk up to him.

The jealousy that burned in your eyes was very amusing and very apparent for him to see. If he didn’t know you well enough - he would’ve pushed his limit just a bit to see how far he could take it.

But knowing that they had three hours to kill before reaching Orlando, he’d rather not be in the car with an irritated Y/N, no matter how amusing it was to him.

Little did he know it was a little too late for that.

“Uh.. No, sorry babe. But we could go get it together.” He replied, and without bidding the girl goodbye, he locked arms with you to walk you towards the refrigerated section.

The girl watched with a frown on her face, as you guys walked away from her, and you couldn’t help but turn around to flash her a quick smile - almost taunting her before returning to face Jonathan, with the meanest glare, you could muster.

“I could’ve stayed in the car if you were going to be hot and fresh chasing hoes.” You gritted out once you were out of earshot.

Jon just chuckled softly, shaking his head at you while looking for your favorite drink. “She was just being nice.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’d rather you not insult my intelligence Jon.”

The frown was prominent on your face, and Jon couldn’t help the small smile that seemed almost glued to his face. You were cute he could definitely give you that.

A small chuckle emitted from him again as he walks closer to you to pull you into a hug. “You’re absolutely right princess, Daddy’s sorry.” He cooed, causing you to tense in his arms.

“Jon.” You grit out in a warning tone but he completely disregarded you. He lifted his left hand to tilt your head up to face him, and suddenly the air shifted between the two of you like it did back at your house.

“Jon.” You whispered out this time and he still chose to ignore you, his eyes flickering to your lips instead causing your breath to hitch.

��Jonathan.” You repeated, almost pleading with him and his eyes slowly traced up your face to lock eyes with you.

“You forgive me?” He rasps out; goosebumps littered all over your skin at the deepness of his voice.

“Y/N,” He muttered and you hummed to let him know you heard him. “Do. You. Forgive. Me?”

What in the world were you mad about again?

“Yeah.” You breathed out, hoping Jon with snap out of it, but he still didn’t let go of your chin.

“Good.” Was the only thing he stated before closing the gap between you guys. His lips pressed against yours and just for a second you both forget that this was supposed to be an act.

The butterflies that erupted in both of your stomach’s made the moment even more real for you guys. Your lips locked in a slow kiss, Jon’s hand slid down from your chin to grip behind your neck to keep you in place in deepen the kiss, just a little.

Your heartbeat filled your eardrums as blood rushed to your cheeks. When Jon finally pulled away, he seen how flushed you were, despite your darker skin tone.

He flashed you a small smile, “Was that okay?”

You nodded your head to assure him that it was more than okay. After the two of you finished up buying your snacks, you got in the car with childish grins and giggles slipping through your lips, both of you now in a way better mood than you were not less than 10 minutes ago.

You couldn’t help but secretly thank your mom for the invite to your family Christmas party because you don’t think you would’ve been here otherwise; and even though you’re pretty sure there is a conversation that needs to be had, maybe there was something to finally look forward to this holiday season.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lmao this was lowkey eh, but I did my bestest😭🫶🏾 Thank you to those who like and read it!

As always please, like, comment and reblog if you feel like and lemme know how you feel.

Tagging the lovelies: @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @blacst4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00

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paishoeyeroh · 24 days ago

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Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER SEVEN: Unspoken Truths

Chapter Summary: A night out leads to unexpected revelations.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The bright amber glow of the setting sun shines through the windows, casting long, soft streaks of orange across the living room. You’re sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, scrolling through your phone with the kind of mindless detachment that comes from too much time spent alone. The screen’s faint light reflects in your eyes, its cold glow at odds with the warmth of the room, but you’re not really paying attention to what you’re looking at. News headlines blur together, photos and updates from friends barely register. It’s just noise, something to fill the silence.

Your thumb pauses mid-swipe as your phone buzzes in your hand, the vibration cutting through the quiet. A new message lights up the screen.

It’s from Yuji.

Hey! Haven’t heard from you in a while, is everything okay?

You stare at the screen for a moment, chewing the inside of your lip. You don’t even know how long it’s been since you last saw him, of course he’s noticed your distance. You feel the familiar sensation of guilt tugging at you as you type back.

Yeah, just been busy with school and stuff. You know how it goes. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.

It doesn’t take long for his reply to come in.

Aw, it’s okay! We just miss you! Are you sure everything’s okay? We’ve all been worried, especially Megumi.

Your stomach twists at the mention of Megumi. Before you can think, your fingers start typing.

Especially Megumi? Why do you say that?

Idk, he’s just been different lately I guess. Kinda quiet, distant. Like, more than usual. Especially since that night he stayed over at your place. Did something happen?

Your heart starts to race, a wave of panic crashing over you. Does Yuji know something? Did Megumi tell him about Sukuna? No, you’d definitely know by now if Megumi said something. Right? You hesitate before responding.

No, nothing happened. Why do you ask?

You wait for Yuji’s reply. You can feel the weight of your lie pressing down on you as the seconds tick by.

Like I said, he’s just been off since that night. But it could totally be nothing. Just thought I’d ask!

You let out a breath, though the guilt doesn’t fade. So Megumi hasn’t told them. For a second, you think about what that means—about how much of a burden he’s been carrying on his own. You feel yet another sharp pang of guilt, knowing you’ve been avoiding him for too long now.

I'll reach out to him, you type back to Yuji, and then you close the conversation before you can second guess yourself. You stare at your phone for several seconds before pulling up Megumi’s contact. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a few moments, anxiety bubbling up inside you, but you finally manage to send a message.

Hey. How have you been?

There’s a long pause as you wait for his response. Your thoughts race, wondering what he’s going to say, if he’s even going to reply at all, if you’ve waited too long to fix things between you. Finally, your phone buzzes with his reply.

I’ve been fine. You?

Your fingers hover over the keys, unsure of how to continue. You don’t want to dive straight into everything, but you also don’t want to keep dancing around the issue. You decide to start cautiously.

Yeah, me too. I’ve just been thinking a lot about the other night. About you. I feel really bad, Megumi. I know I’ve been avoiding you.

Another long pause, and you feel the tension mounting. When his reply finally comes, it’s more direct than you expected.

It’s alright. I get it. I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything.

As you respond, you feel the weight of your own guilt pressing down even harder.

I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this. I never wanted you to get hurt.

It’s not your fault. But I don’t think you’re safe with that thing living with you. I still think you need to find a way to get rid of it.

Your heart sinks as you read the words. You know he’s right, but the idea of exorcizing Sukuna—of him being gone forever—feels more complicated now than it did before. You stare at the screen for a long moment, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to figure out what to say next.

I know. I just don’t know how.

Megumi’s response is immediate.

I told you, I can help. We’ll figure it out together.

Your chest tightens, a surge of panic rising up at the thought of losing Sukuna. You press the phone against your forehead and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push away the unsettling emotions clawing their way to the surface. You don’t even know why the thought unsettles you so much. Maybe it’s the bond, or the sheer chaos he’s brought into your life. Maybe it’s the fact that things have been going good lately, and a small part of you has grown strangely accustomed to his presence. Whatever it is, you can’t bring yourself to tell Megumi right now. Instead, you type a quick, simple response.

Thank you, Megumi, for everything. I’ll see you soon.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The next evening, you’re sprawled across your bed, propped up by a few pillows, your laptop balanced on your thighs as you half-heartedly work through an assignment. The cursor blinks on the screen, taunting you with the unfinished paragraph you’ve rewritten three times already.

Your focus keeps drifting, your eyes flickering toward the window or the clock on your nightstand, as if the time passing will magically bring clarity. The room is quiet except for the occasional clatter of keys on your laptop and the faint hum of activity outside.

Your phone buzzes against the bedspread, pulling you out of your daze. You glance over, expecting another email or random app notification, but the screen lights up with a message from the group chat. Nobara’s name flashes at the top. You sigh, reaching for your phone as the faintest smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Nobara: Let’s go out tonight! I’m so sick of sitting at home every Friday night. Anyone down for a dive bar?

You inwardly groan, already feeling a sense of dread creeping in. You haven’t seen your friends in over two weeks, and after what Yuji said about Megumi being different lately, you know you should probably go. But the thought of bringing Sukuna into such a setting makes your stomach churn. As if on cue, Yuji responds.

Yuji: YESSS! I’m in! Let’s drink until our livers explode!!!!

Yuji: I’ll buy the first round ;)

You roll your eyes, smiling as you read his text. Then, to your surprise, Megumi’s response comes in next. His texts are short, as usual, but the fact that he’s agreeing at all catches you off guard.

Megumi: Fine. I’ll go.

Megumi: Just don’t expect me to drink as much as Yuji.

Your stomach tightens with a sudden bout of anxiety. Megumi hasn’t spoken much since that night, and now he’s agreeing to drinks? Is he trying to make things feel normal again, or is he waiting for the right moment to say something? You can’t tell, and that only makes your nerves worse. Another text comes in.

Nobara: Finally! Now we’re only missing one person…

You hesitate. What do you say? You can’t say no now. They’d be suspicious if you didn’t agree. And to be honest, a night out with friends does sound like fun. With a small sigh, you force yourself to respond.

You: Okay, I’ll come. What time?

The moment you hit send, a flicker of unease rises in your chest. Sukuna will have to come with you, there’s no avoiding that, but the idea of bringing him into a noisy, crowded bar unsettles you. He has been better lately, borderline tolerable, but the thought of him in a space filled with drunk strangers is enough to make your head spin. You can’t shake the feeling that no matter how much control you think you have, Sukuna is always one step ahead, waiting for the perfect moment to remind you of who he really is. Even so, something about the last few weeks makes you pause. He’s been different—less antagonistic, less dangerous. But trusting him completely? That’s a leap you’re not willing to take. Your phone buzzes again, jolting you from your spiraling thoughts.

Nobara: 9pm. Don’t be late ;)

You close the chat and let out a heavy sigh. There’s no getting out of this. You’re going, whether you’re ready for it or not. And if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that Sukuna’s presence will probably make this night anything but ordinary.

You step out of your room, making your way toward the living room where Sukuna is sprawled lazily on the couch, taking up as much space as possible. His robe is slightly askew, the fabric pooling around him like some kind of dark, regal mantle, and his expression is one of utter boredom. In his hand, he’s holding one of the decorative items from the coffee table—a small glass paperweight filled with swirling patterns of color. He turns it over in his fingers, watching the light catch on the curves with a look of detached interest, as if the mundane object holds some secret he hasn’t yet unlocked.

For a moment, he glances up, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they meet yours. A flicker of amusement plays across his face, as though he’s waiting for you to reprimand him. You clear your throat, shoving your unease aside. You know you need to talk to him about tonight, to lay down some ground rules before things get out of hand.

“Hey,” you call out, “we need to talk.”

He sits up, leaning on one arm, his eyebrow raising slightly, “Oh? Are we having another heart-to-heart, princess?”

You try not to roll your eyes at his response. “I’m going out tonight with my friends.”

He tilts his head, the amusement in his expression growing. “And?”

“And,” you say, crossing your arms, “you’re not allowed to cause any trouble.”

He lets out a low chuckle, standing to his full height and casually strolling toward you, his grin widening, “But what if I want to cause trouble?”

You’re unable to suppress your eye roll this time, at his ridiculous attempt to pretend as if he has any control over the situation.

“Look, Sukuna, I’m not playing around. I command you not to cause a scene tonight or bother anyone in any way whatsoever. Okay?”

Sukuna stares down at you, the amusement fading from his face, just slightly.

“Tch. Pulling the command card, huh?” He sneers. “Fine. I’ll behave like a good little demon. But don’t blame me if your precious friends bore me to death.”

You let out a breath, relieved that the conversation went more smoothly than you’d thought it would.

“You can’t be ‘bored to death.’ You’re immortal.”

He raises his eyebrows at your response, but you continue, “I want to have fun tonight for once. Please don’t ruin this for me.”

Sukuna sits back onto the couch. “I already told you, I’ll be on my best behavior. Don’t really have a choice after your little command, do I?”

Feeling satisfied with his answer, you turn on your heel and head back to your room to start getting ready.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The door creaks on its hinges as you step into the bar, a faint chill brushing your skin as the heavy air inside the building washes over you. The unmistakable scent of stale alcohol and cigarettes hangs thick, mingling with a hint of something fried wafting from the kitchen in the back. Dim, amber light filters down from hanging fixtures over the booths lining the windows, reflecting faintly against the smudged glass panes.

Your eyes scan the space, taking in the familiar trappings of a dive bar that feels frozen in time. The battered wooden tables are etched with initials and graffiti carved by countless hands, and the leather on the barstools is cracked and peeling from years of use. The walls are plastered with old band posters, each one a relic of another era, their edges curling and colors fading. Neon beer signs buzz faintly from behind the bar, flickering now and then as if tired from decades of being left on.

The place isn’t too busy yet. A handful of people are scattered at tables or leaning against the bar, nursing drinks as they chat quietly. The speakers hum with rock music, just loud enough to vibrate the floor but not so loud that it drowns out the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses. You’ve always preferred places like this. Dive bars have a certain charm, their imperfections making them feel more lived in, more honest.

You move further inside, weaving past a couple of tables, and let your shoulders relax slightly. It’s not like the clubs you avoid—the sticky floors and dim lighting here feel welcoming in comparison. No blinding strobe lights or pounding bass, no sweaty strangers invading your space or asking for dances you don’t want to give. This place is raw, unpolished, and exactly the kind of scene where you can blend in without trying. The thought steadies you as your eyes scan the crowd for your friends.

For the briefest of moments, you wonder what Sukuna would do if you were in one of those clubs tonight, if some guy tried to hit on you. If, god forbid, you brought one home. The thought sends an odd, unexplainable feeling through you.

Nobara catches your attention, waving at you from a booth in the back, tucked away from most of the crowd. Yuji and Megumi are sitting on one side, so you make your way over and slide in on the opposite side next to Nobara. Yuji stands up to greet you with a hug before he heads to the bar.

To your surprise, Sukuna slides right into the booth beside you, his broad frame crowding your space as his shoulder presses against yours. His warmth is immediate, radiating through the thin fabric of your sleeve, and you shift slightly, unsure whether to lean away or stay where you are. A strange flutter stirs in your chest—unwelcome and unexplained—but you quickly brush it aside, chalking it up to the awkwardness of sitting so close to him like this.

You glance at your friends, hoping they haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, but Sukuna, ever perceptive, catches the flicker of unease on your face. Leaning in closer, his lips hover just over the shell of your ear as he speaks, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through the noise of the bar.

“Can’t really have any fun because of your silly command, now can I? Might as well make myself comfortable. Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”

His voice is a low rumble, smooth as silk, and it sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You shift in your seat, gripping the edge of the table to steady yourself as Yuji slams down the first round of drinks with a grin.

“First round’s on me!” He announces excitedly, holding up his shot glass. “To a fun night out with the gang!”

You chuckle, raising your glass along with everyone else, and you take the shot, wrinkling your nose as the alcohol burns its way down your throat. Yuji, clearly eager to abide by his earlier comment about “drinking until his liver explodes,” immediately calls for more shots.

“Come on, guys! Don’t make me drink alone,” he pouts at all of you until you agree to join him.

As you glance at Megumi, you notice him watching you with a strange, lingering look. It’s subtle, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes, like he’s trying to read your thoughts. You shift under his gaze, feeling the weight of the secret the two of you share. It’s an odd feeling, being here, surrounded by your friends who have no idea about Sukuna’s existence, while Megumi knows the truth. You offer him a small, apologetic smile. To your relief, he gives you a slight nod in return, his lips curving into a barely-there smile of his own before he turns back to Yuji. His silent acknowledgment eases some of the tension, and the night carries on as normal.

Yuji, as expected, is drinking the most by far, slamming back shot after shot with a grin, trying to get everyone else to match him.

“Alright, time for another round! Megumi, don’t be a fucking pussy!”

Megumi groans, holding his head in his hands. “We literally just took one, Yuji. At this rate, I’ll be passed out in a bush somewhere by the end of the night.”

“We won’t let that happen to you again, Megumi. Not after last time.” Nobara snorts, smirking and looking at you. “What about you? You’re being way too quiet. You gonna let Yuji drink us all under the table?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Fine, one more,” you say, reaching for another shot, but you know it’s a lie. The more you take, the more the nerves you’d been holding onto from earlier slowly dissipate.

Sukuna, for the most part, remains quiet. He leans back in the booth, his eyes flicking between the growing crowd and your group. Occasionally, you catch him watching you, his gaze lingering just a little too long for your comfort, though you’re too buzzed at this point to be truly concerned.

Yuji slaps the table again, his loud laughter echoing over the hum of the bar as he pulls Nobara into some exaggerated story. The corners of your mouth tug upward almost instinctively, and before you know it, you’re laughing along with them. The warmth of the alcohol spreads through your veins, smoothing the edges of your nerves and loosening the tension in your muscles. Slowly, the weight of your worries begin to lift, fading into the haze of the moment. For the first time in months, you feel light, unguarded, and the sensation is a welcome reprieve.

After a few more rounds, the group is decidedly drunk, especially Yuji. His cheeks are tinged a bright pink from the alcohol, his eyes glassy and bright with mischief as he interrupts Nobara who was telling some story about a guy she’d gone on a date with the other week. He leans forward suddenly, both hands on the table, before he turns to Megumi.

“Megumi… you know what your problem is?” Yuji slurs, his voice a little too loud. He doesn’t wait for an answer.

“You’re like, you’re like a cat. Wait! No,” he slams his hands on the table, his eyes widening as he has a sudden realization, “A bear! A big ol’ bear, all grumpy and fluffy, but deep down, you just wanna hug.”

Megumi, now slouched in his seat, frowns at that. His eyelids are heavy, and you can tell he’s just about done with Yuji’s antics, although there’s a small grin fighting to escape the corners of his lips.

“I don’t want a hug, Yuji,” he mutters, his words slow and drawling, “And I’m not a bear. Or a cat. I’m more like a… like a dragon.”

Nobara and Yuji burst out laughing, which makes you laugh in response, nearly spraying your drink all over the table.

“A dragon?! Are you fucking serious? Get a load of this guy,” Nobara pipes in, still giggling, “No, you're definitely a bear. Just look at you!”

She gestures toward Megumi’s disheveled appearance, his eyes half-open and his hair sticking up haphazardly in every direction.

“Like a bear that just woke up from hibernation.”

Yuji lets out another loud cackle, drawing the attention of a couple other patrons in the bar.

“See, I told you!” he leans in closer to Megumi, a wild grin on his face. “Admit it, Fushiguro. You wanna hibernate, don’t you? You wanna curl up in a cave somewhere and sleep for like, a hundred years.”

Megumi sighs, letting his head fall back against the booth dramatically. “If it means I don’t have to listen to you morons, sure,” he grumbles.

“Oh my god,” you slap your hands on your thighs as you try to breathe, wiping the tears of laughter that have formed in your eyes. “Megumi the hibernating bear! That’s so perfect. Big, strong, grumpy bear on the outside, but on the inside? Cuddly as hell.”

Megumi shoots you a glance. “Keep talking and you guys will be the ones hibernating,” he threatens, but the amused glint in his eye gives him away.

Yuji points at him dramatically, his voice loud and teasing. “See! That’s exactly what a grumpy bear would say!”

He leans in closer, wrapping his arm around Megumi as he leans his head on his shoulder. “But secretly, he’s really a teddy bear. Just a big ol’ softie.”

Megumi groans, shoving Yuji off of him. “Get off me, dumbass,” he takes a sip of his drink as Yuji blows him a kiss, pointedly ignoring him. “You’re all insane.”

You raise your glass, Yuji and Nobara joining you before even knowing what they’re cheersing to.

“To Megumi, our resident bear!”

All three glasses clink together dramatically as Megumi slides his hands over his face, looking more than done with your antics, but his grin lingers nonetheless, and you know him well enough to see past his front.

Sukuna shifts next to you suddenly, causing you to jump slightly. You’d almost forgotten he was even there, he’d been so quiet. You glance at him quickly as your friends become engaged in another discussion, and you find that he’s already looking back at you. There’s a strange intensity in his eyes, but you’re not in a state to try and decipher it now, and without being able to talk to him in a place like this, you ignore it, turning back to your friends to join the conversation.

But with your inhibitions lowered, you find yourself leaning into his side, pressing up against his arm. If you feel Sukuna stiffen next to you at the contact, you’re far too drunk to care.

As the night wears on, Yuji becomes even louder, babbling on about random things and trying to convince Megumi to go do karaoke with him later. Nobara’s leaning into you, giggling uncontrollably, and you’re pretty sure Megumi’s had more to drink than he let on, as he looks about two seconds from falling asleep on the table. It’s when you start to feel your head spin that you decide it’s time to head home.

You say your goodbyes, standing up a little too fast, and the room tilts slightly. Sukuna’s hand is suddenly on your elbow, holding you in place.

“Steady now,” he says, his voice low, “Wouldn’t want you to fall on your face in front of your friends.” You feel a rush of warmth flood your cheeks as you try to steady yourself. You wave to your friends, who are still caught up in their drunken revelry. You head to the exit doors, with Sukuna trailing close behind.

The walk back to your apartment feels longer than usual, your steps unsteady, the world spinning around you. Sukuna doesn’t say anything, but his presence is solid, like a constant force by your side. When you reach the door leading into your apartment, you misstep, and before you can catch yourself, Sukuna’s arm is around your waist, holding you upright.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble near your ear.

You laugh, the alcohol making you feel bold, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Y’know, you’re not as mean as you pretend to be.”

Sukuna stiffens slightly, and for a moment, you think you’ve said something incredibly stupid.

“Is that so?” He chuckles, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, your heart beating just a bit stronger in your chest as you will your eyes to focus on his face through your blurry vision. His red eyes are gleaming with amusement.

“Yeah, S’kuna,” you slur, “you could’ve let me fall, just now. But you didn’t,” you grin up at him, placing a hand over his that still grips at your waist. “You’re so nice. Maybe you’re a big, handsome teddy bear.”

His grip on your waist tightens just a fraction as he glances down at your hands, and he leans in close, his breath ghosting against your neck.

“Careful, girl. You’re treading dangerous ground.”

His voice is low and smooth, dripping with something sharp that cuts through the fog in your mind. It’s playful, almost mocking, but there’s a heat in it that makes your breath catch in your throat. You tilt your head at him, a lazy grin spreading across your face as you respond.

“Maybe I like danger.”

For a moment, there’s a heavy silence between you, his eyes searching your face. Then, he pulls back, letting go of your waist.

“You’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

“I am not—“ you hiccup, “I am not drunk!” You sway slightly as you say it, and Sukuna doesn’t look convinced in the slightest.

“Uh huh. Come now,” he puts a hand on the small of your back to steady you as he leads you to your bedroom. You flop down onto your bed unceremoniously, and proceed to promptly pass out on top of the blankets.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache. The strong rays of sunlight filter in through your curtains, shining directly onto your face, making your eyes ache. You groan, rubbing your eyes and shifting in bed, feeling suffocated by the clothes still on your body from the night before. You sit up, glancing around, and notice your shoes are neatly placed by your bedroom door. And somehow, despite your faint memory of collapsing on top of the bed, you’re tucked neatly under the covers.

A glass of water sits atop your nightstand, along with a single aspirin, as if waiting for you. You blink in surprise, piecing together the remnants of last night. You don’t remember taking off your shoes, and you definitely don’t remember pulling the covers over yourself. Your cheeks flush at the thought of Sukuna doing it, the implications swirling in your mind.

Shaking your head, you slowly sit up and reach for the glass, sipping it as your thoughts run wild. You certainly wouldn’t have had the foresight to get yourself the water and aspirin before passing out last night. But would Sukuna really…? No. He wouldn’t. Yet the evidence is right there in front of your face, and you can’t shake the strange warmth that comes over you at the idea. Still, you’ll never hear the end of it if you bring it up.

You crawl out of bed, trying not to move too fast as your head spins. Your hair is a mess, and you’re sure your makeup is smudged across your face. You shuffle into the common space, eyes barely open, as you search the fridge for something quick to eat. You decide on a small container of yogurt, and as you walk over to grab a spoon, Sukuna peers over at you from his spot on the couch with something akin to amusement in his eyes.

“Well, well, well,” he smirks, “Look who finally emerged from her cage. You look like shit.”

You glare at him half-heartedly, too tired to muster up any energy for a real comeback.

“I feel like it too,” you mutter, rubbing your temples as your head continues to pound. You make your way over to the couch, taking a seat next to him. “I didn’t realize you were the type of man to comment on a woman’s appearance first thing in the morning.”

Sukuna chuckles, low and rumbling, “Just stating the obvious, sweetheart.“ Sukuna gives you a knowing grin, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling as if in thought. “You were a little bold last night too, if I recall.”

You freeze mid-bite, staring over at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

Sukunas gaze lands back on you, peering at you from the corner of his eyes. “Don’t remember, hm?”

You wrack your brain in a panic, trying to recall the events of the night, wondering how badly you may have embarrassed yourself. Suddenly, it all comes back to you.

“You’re a big, handsome teddy bear.”

“Maybe I like danger.”

You suppose you could’ve said worse, with the amount of alcohol in your system, but a wave of embarrassment washes over you all the same. You set the yogurt on the coffee table and hold your head in your hands as you let out a groan.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, your voice muffled through your fingers, “it was just the alcohol talking.”

Sukunas lets out a low chuckle. “Too late,” he says, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, “it’s already gone straight to my head. Plus, alcohol only serves to make you more honest, if I remember correctly.”

You peek at him through your fingers at his statement, curious. If he remembers correctly? Is he referring to his past, as a human? You want to ask him, but the memory of how he reacted when you first saw a glimpse of his human years still lingers fresh in your mind. It’s enough to make you think twice, deciding it’s best to leave the question unspoken.

You stand up suddenly, a bit too fast as your head pounds from the movement, making you wince.

“I need more food, like a bagel or something. I don’t have the energy to make anything complicated.”

Sukuna watches you as you move back into the kitchen. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” he says, “otherwise, I’d be giving you more of a hard time for looking like you just crawled out from the underworld.”

You grab a bagel from the pantry, not sparing him a glance as you start spreading cream cheese on it.

“That’s rich, coming from you. Didn’t you like, literally crawl out from the underworld?”

Sukuna laughs then, his real laugh, and it forces a small laugh of your own in response. You take a bite of your bagel, the laughter still echoing faintly in the back of your mind. The kitchen feels warmer than it should, like the kind of warmth that comes from something shared—something pleasant. Sukuna’s voice drifts lazily from the couch, another dry remark thrown your way, but there’s no bite in it. Only amusement. You chew thoughtfully, glancing his way before turning back to the counter. You shake your head, a small smile making its way across your lips, and focus on your breakfast, letting the moment settle in the quiet rhythm of the morning.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It’s been a couple of days since you last spoke to your friends, and since the night at the bar, you’ve found yourself increasingly distracted by thoughts of Sukuna. You don’t want to admit it—not even to yourself—but something about that night lingers in the back of your mind, tangled up with the way his teasing grin had sent an uninvited warmth creeping through your chest. You take a breath, trying to focus as you move around the apartment, tidying up. The repetitive motion of cleaning helps steady your thoughts, or so you tell yourself, but even as you fold a blanket on the couch or rearrange a stack of books, the growing confusion over your feelings refuses to be pushed aside.

Your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, pulling you out of your thoughts. You wipe your hands on your pants before picking it up. It’s a text from Megumi.

Can we talk?

You know what this is about, and you feel a pit forming in your stomach. You’ve been dreading this conversation, but you knew it was coming. You head to your room, shutting the door behind you, and sit on the edge of your bed. You take a deep breath and type out your reply.

Yeah, sure.

A few seconds pass before your phone buzzes again, with an incoming call this time. Your hands feel clammy as you accept the call and press the phone to your ear.

“Megumi?”

“Hey,” his voice is calm, but you can hear the underlying tension. “I wanted to talk to you about your… about Sukuna.”

You sigh, a sense of heaviness settling onto you at the thought of the conversation ahead.

“Yeah, I figured.”

There’s a pause on the other end before Megumi continues.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I know it’ll be hard, but we need to find a way to get rid of him. It’s too dangerous for you to keep him around. You know that.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you’re about to say.

“I dont… I don’t want him gone, Megumi,” you confess quietly, feeling small.

There’s a longer pause, and you can feel the shift in the conversation.

“What do you mean?” His voice is sharper now, clearly frustrated. “You have to want him gone. He’s a literal demonic entity.”

Your teeth gnaw the inside of your cheek, and a quiet ache blooms in your chest, heavy with unspoken shame.

“I know. I know he’s dangerous. But… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Megumi lets out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, you’ve said that before. What’s complicated about it? That thing is evil. You can’t seriously think keeping him around is a good idea.”

“I’m not saying it’s a good idea,” Your voice rises in defense, feeling cornered. “I just… I don’t think I can do it. I can’t get rid of him.”

Megumi is quiet on the other end, but his disapproval is palpable, lingering in the silence like an unspoken judgment.

“Why not?” he finally asks, his voice softer but still strained. “Why would you want to keep him around? This isn’t like some pet you can take care of. He’s going to hurt someone eventually, whether it be you, or someone else.”

You struggle to put it into words, grasping at fragments of meaning as the confusion churns restlessly within you.

“I don’t know why, okay? I just… I feel like things have changed. He’s not the same as when he first appeared. We’re… I think we’re friends.”

Megumi’s sigh is heavy, and you can tell he’s trying to be patient, even though it’s clear he’s not understanding.

“This isn’t like you. You’re not the type to get caught up in something like this. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” you whisper, feeling torn. “Trust me, I know. But I’m not in danger. Not from him, at least.”

“You don’t know that.” His voice is sharp again, but it softens a moment later. “Look… I know I can’t force you to do anything. But this isn’t something you can just brush off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of his concern. “I know, Megumi, but… I just don’t think I can get rid of him. Not right now.”

Megumi is silent for a long time before he finally speaks again, his voice resigned. “Alright. But if you ever change your mind… or if anything happens… you call me. Immediately. No matter what. Okay?”

“I will,” you promise, your heart heavy with your spoken confession.

“I just…” Megumi pauses, his voice quiet now. “I really do worry about you, you know. A lot.”

Your chest tightens at his words, your eyes suddenly filling with unshed tears. You try to keep your voice steady as you reply.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

There’s another pause, and then he sighs. “Take care of yourself, alright? If you ever need anything, anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. Please.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“Goodbye, Megumi.”

The call ends, and you sit in the stillness that follows, the echo of the conversation lingering in the air. You’ve said it now—admitted the truth you’ve been avoiding: you don’t want Sukuna gone. But even as the words settle, guilt coils tightly in your chest, sharp and relentless, knowing the toll this is taking on Megumi.

You drop your phone onto the bed with a sigh and rub your temples, trying to ease the headache that’s beginning to form. There’s a storm brewing inside of you—a mix of confusion, guilt, shame, and frustration.

You feel torn between your loyalty to your friend and this inexplicable connection to Sukuna. Maybe you could continue to push it all down, ignore it like you’ve been doing. But you know you can’t keep running from your reality forever.

Just as you’re sinking deeper into your thoughts, the door to your room creaks open without warning. Sukuna leans against the doorframe, both sets of arms crossed, his eyes focused on you. You glance up at him, feeling a mixture of emotions bubble to the surface. Part of you is frustrated with him—frustrated with the whole situation. And yet, there’s that strange feeling that creeps in when he’s near, the feeling you’ve been trying to ignore since that god forsaken dream.

“Brooding again, hm?” His tone is sharp, laced with mockery, but there’s something quieter that lingers beneath his words.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, turning your gaze away from him, unable to meet his eyes just yet. Sukuna doesn’t move from the door, his gaze careful.

“You’ve said that before, and it’s just as unconvincing now.”

You let out a small, exasperated sigh. “It’s nothing. Just… talked to Megumi.”

There’s a pause, and you feel Sukuna’s eyes linger on you. You can tell by his silence that he’s not entirely thrilled about the mention of Megumi.

“Oh?” His voice holds a hint of derision. “Let me guess—he wants to try to get rid of me. Again.”

You can’t help but scoff. “Of course he does. He doesn’t exactly love the idea of me being stuck with a cursed spirit.”

Sukuna grins at that, but it’s not a malicious grin—it’s more amused, as if he finds the whole thing ridiculous.

“He’s not wrong, you know. You should want me gone.”

You freeze at his words, another wave of guilt and shame crashing over you. You don’t respond at first, unsure of what to say. But the silence only seems to stretch between you. Sukuna raises an eyebrow, watching you intently, his smile fading.

“But you don’t, do you?” His voice drops, quieter now, softer, laced with inquisitiveness, though you’ve got a feeling he already knows the answer. You swallow hard, your throat tightening under his stare.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Sukuna steps closer, standing in front of you now, his eyes boring into yours. A playful grin tugs at the corners of his lips, tilting his head.

“Don’t tell me you’ve started to grow attached to me, now. Silly girl.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t bring yourself to respond. The room feels suddenly smaller, the air thick with an unspoken tension as Sukuna continues to watch you. After a moment, you stand abruptly.

“I—I just… need some time to think.”

You head toward the bathroom, feeling the sudden need to escape the weight of the conversation. As you brush past him and head into the hallway, Sukuna doesn’t follow or press the issue. But just as you’re about to step inside, his voice reaches you from behind—casual, almost indifferent.

“Don’t worry. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

His tone is light, but you catch the subtle edge to it, as if there’s more he’s not saying. You pause at the door, his words hanging in the air between you. Without turning around, you nod once, acknowledging the truth behind his statement. Then, you step inside the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a sigh, relieved to have escaped his interrogation.

You turn the knob to the shower, needing something to distract yourself. As you stand there, looking into the mirror, the cool tile beneath your feet steadying you, your mind is racing. You grip the sides of the sink. Everything feels so confusing—your feelings for Sukuna, your guilt about Megumi, the strange sense of security you feel in Sukuna’s presence. But one thing is clear. You don’t want Sukuna to leave.

And that scares you more than anything.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☰ Taglist: @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #dark romance #slow burn #enemies to lovers #jjk fics #sukuna fic #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna #bearer and the bound #true form sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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oaksgrove · 13 days ago

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Perfectly Imperfect

Pairing: Alex Keller x Insecure!Reader

Synopsis: When Alex Keller takes an interest in you, your insecurities make it hard to believe his intentions are genuine. As the walls you’ve built around your heart start to crumble, you realize love might be easier to accept than you thought.

Warning: Mentions of self-doubt and insecurity, fluff, supportive themes, slow-burn romance, mild emotional tension.

The whir of espresso machines and the faint clinking of mugs created a cocoon of warmth on the otherwise chilly day. You sat in the far corner by the window, your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long gone lukewarm.

Your eyes darted to the door every few seconds, your heart doing an anxious somersault every time the bell chimed. Meeting Alex for coffee seemed innocent enough. He wasn’t intimidating in the traditional sense—his easy smile, laid-back attitude, and relentless sense of humor had a way of putting people at ease. But for you, Alex’s charm was the problem.

It had been weeks of him casually dropping by your office, finding excuses to talk to you after briefings, and—most shockingly—asking you out for coffee. You’d agreed, though the moment the words left your mouth, you questioned what on earth someone like Alex Keller could see in you.

Lost in thought, you almost missed the sound of the café door opening, but when the cold breeze hit your face, you glanced up. There he was, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached, his voice warm and familiar. He was dressed casually in a leather jacket over a sweater, his sandy hair slightly tousled as though he’d just walked through a wind tunnel. He looked effortlessly handsome, of course.

"Hi," you managed to say, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

"Sorry I’m late," he said, sliding into the seat across from you. "Traffic was a nightmare."

You waved it off, giving him a small smile. "It’s fine. I wasn’t waiting long."

Alex tilted his head, studying you. His brows furrowed slightly, and his smile dimmed, just a bit. "You okay? You seem... quieter than usual."

"I’m fine, just... tired." you replied quickly, your voice softer than intended.

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. The real issue was the nagging voice in the back of your mind that kept telling you you weren’t enough.

Alex didn’t press, but his perceptive eyes lingered on you, and you could tell he wasn’t convinced. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in a way that somehow still felt relaxed. “Good. I’d hate to think you weren’t happy to see me.”

Despite your nerves, you let out a soft laugh. “I’m not unhappy to see you.”

“Good,” he said again, flashing you a grin. “Because I’ve been looking forward to this.”

To your surprise, Alex made it easy to settle into the conversation. He was warm and engaging, filling the space with stories that ranged from funny to downright ridiculous.

“So there I was,” he said, gesturing animatedly, “dangling from a helicopter, trying to hold onto this ‘perfect coffee maker’ my buddy swore by. He’d convinced the whole team it was worth the hassle. And do you know what happened when we landed?”

You shook your head, already smiling at the absurdity. “What?”

“The damn thing broke,” Alex said, throwing his hands up. “Completely useless. I risked my neck for nothing.”

You laughed, a genuine sound that caught even you by surprise. For a moment, your nerves melted away under the warmth of his presence.

“You think I’m making it up, don’t you?” Alex teased, leaning forward slightly.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Cross my heart,” he said with a grin. “You can ask anyone who was there.”

The corners of your mouth twitched, but your laugh faded quickly as you caught him looking at you—really looking at you.

“What?” you asked, your voice small.

“Nothing,” he said, his tone soft. “Just... it’s good to see you laugh.”

You felt a blush creep up your neck and quickly looked down, playing with your mug.

As the minutes turned into an hour, the tension in your chest began to ease. Alex had a way of drawing you out, his easy humor and genuine interest making it impossible to stay closed off.

When the date ended, Alex insisted on walking you home. You’d protested, saying it wasn’t necessary, but he waved you off.

“Humor me,” he said with a lopsided grin.

The evening air was cool, the city’s lights casting a soft glow over the streets as the two of you strolled. Alex talked easily, filling the quiet with lighthearted banter, but you couldn’t shake the nagging voice in your head, as you neared your apartment, the doubts you’d managed to push aside began to creep back in.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you reached your building, you stopped at the entrance, turning to face him. “Why are you doing this?”

Alex blinked, caught off guard. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The coffee, the walk, everything. Why me?”

His expression softened, and he took a small step closer. “Why not you?”

Your throat tightened, and you felt a lump form as you struggled to find the words. “I just... I don’t know. You’re... you’re you. And I’m... me.”

Alex blinked, clearly thrown by your response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re charming, funny, smart, and so confident,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m none of those things. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

For a moment, Alex said nothing, his brows furrowing as he processed your words. Then, with deliberate care, he reached out and gently took your hands in his.

“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “you’re wrong. You’re smart—smarter than you give yourself credit for. You’re kind, you’re funny, and you’ve got this quiet strength that blows me away every time I’m around you.”

Your eyes began to sting, and you bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

“And as for why I’m here,” Alex said, his voice softening further, “it’s because I want to be. Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I’d be an idiot not to want to spend time with you.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back, and Alex reached up to gently wipe them away.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said. “Nobody is. But you’re perfect to me, and that’s what matters.”

You let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over you. “How are you so good at this?”

He grinned, his boyish charm returning in full force. “CIA training, obviously.”

The laugh that bubbled up this time was genuine, and Alex’s smile widened at the sound.

“Can I come in?” he asked after a moment, his tone turning playful.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

Later, as the two of you sat on the couch with cups of tea in hand, Alex reached over and laced his fingers through yours.

“You’re incredible,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “And if I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of that, I will.”

“Thanks for tonight,” you said quietly, glancing at Alex.

He turned to you, his smile warm. “Anytime.”

As Alex leaned back, still holding your hand, he grinned. “Hope you know you’re stuck with me now.”

The warmth in his voice and the steady way he held your gaze made your chest ache with a strange mix of fear and hope.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was undeniable. “I guess I can live with that.”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.“Good. Because I’m not letting you get rid of me.”

taglist:

@honestlymassivetrash

#call of duty fanfic #cod modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #alex keller x reader #alex keller #cod #cod x reader #cod mw reboot

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nigtmarcz · 18 days ago

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⎯⎯ Love Me Not

hamzah x reader

based off the song love me not by ravyn lenae

summary: hamzah has been neglecting his girlfriend y/n due to his busy work schedule. y/n feels invisible and frustrated by his lack of attention.

warnings: sad???

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing, so I’m sorry if it sucks lol. i was listening to this song and thought it would make a great plot for a story! hope you enjoy it! :3

The glow of the computer screen cast soft shadows across Hamzah’s face as he sat hunched over his desk. The air in his room was quiet except for the faint sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard. The newest Slushy Noobz video was almost done—just a few finishing touches before it would be uploaded for their fans who eagerly awaited their next upload.

But tonight, Hamzah wasn’t entirely focused.

His thoughts kept wandering to y/n, his girlfriend. She’d been on his mind constantly lately—more so than usual.

He hadn’t seen her much over the past few weeks. They were both content creators, each with their own projects, and while it was something they’d always been able to juggle in the past, recently it had begun to feel like the space between them was growing. She was in the living room, editing her own content, while he was buried in the latest Slushy Noobz video.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her, but he found himself getting swept up in the grind, constantly chasing the next big upload, the next milestone for his and Martin’s podcast, Out of Character. There was always something to do, something to edit, something to record.

But now, the silence between them seemed louder than ever. They hadn’t fought—at least, not in the usual way—but something unspoken lingered. Something that neither of them had fully addressed. And it was starting to feel like a weight pressing against his chest.

He glanced at his phone. y/n had sent him a message hours ago, but he hadn’t replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but everything had felt off.

Her text simply read: We need to talk soon.

The simple words made his heart sink. He knew exactly what she meant. She was frustrated. And he had been too distracted to notice.

With a deep breath, he closed his laptop, pushing the editing software aside. It felt like a relief to step away, but his heart ached with the nagging thought of the distance between them. He stood up, walking into the living room where y/n sat, bathed in the soft glow of her screen.

She looked up when he entered, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Hamzah opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, y/n stood up, her arms crossed. She looked tired, not just physically, but emotionally. He had seen that look before—the quiet frustration that came from being overlooked, from being too far down the list of priorities.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I’ve been distant. I’ve been caught up in work, and I didn’t realize how much it was affecting us.”

y/n gave a small, sad smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “I get it, Hamzah. You’re busy. But we haven’t really talked in weeks. I’ve been here, just waiting for you to notice, but it feels like I’m invisible.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she quickly swallowed the emotion, not wanting to show him too much.

“y/n…” Hamzah stepped forward, but she backed away slightly, a flicker of something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite understand.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” she asked softly, almost as if talking to herself. “I’m right here, all the time, and yet it feels like you’re living in another world—one where I don’t exist. Where it’s just you and the next video and the next podcast.”

He could feel the sting of her words, and he hated the way they made him feel like he was failing her.

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” Hamzah said, his voice barely a whisper now. “I don’t mean to make you feel invisible. I just… I don’t know how to slow down sometimes. There’s so much going on, and I get lost in it. But I never meant for you to feel left out.”

y/n shook her head slowly. “It’s not that you’re busy, Hamzah. I get it, I really do. It’s just that I don’t know where I fit in anymore. I’m here, and I care, but I’m starting to wonder if we’re even in the same place anymore.”

His chest tightened as the weight of her words sank in. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to fix it. He hadn’t been paying attention to what mattered most.

“I don’t need you to change everything, Hamzah,” she continued, her voice soft but firm. “I just want to matter to you. I want to be something real, not just an afterthought that comes second to everything else.”

“I do care about you,” Hamzah replied quickly, his heart racing. “I do, y/n. It’s just… it’s hard to balance it all. I don’t want to lose you.”

For a long moment, y/n stayed quiet, her gaze on the floor, her fingers lightly tapping on the edge of her laptop.

Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes heavy with a mix of pain and longing. “You say you don’t want to lose me, but you’ve been losing me slowly for weeks. I don’t know if you see it, but I miss you, Hamzah. I miss you, but I don’t need you. I miss the way we were before this whole thing took over. I miss you, come here.”

The words hit him harder than any criticism he’d received. The truth of it all hung in the air, like a silence that neither of them knew how to break.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking just a little. “I miss you, too. But I don’t know how to fix this... I don’t want to keep failing us.”

y/n closed her eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath. When she opened them again, there was something softer in her gaze, something that felt like a mixture of hope and resignation. “Maybe we just need to find our way back. I don’t know, Hamzah. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for you to realize I’m here.”

Her words lingered in the air like a shadow between them, a painful truth neither of them could ignore. Without another word, y/n was gone. The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was suffocating. The house felt colder now, emptier, as if her absence had seeped into the walls, leaving Hamzah alone with the weight of everything unsaid.

Hours later, as the quiet of the night settled in, Hamzah sat in front of his desk again. His video was still unfinished, but for the first time, the video felt less important than the empty space beside him. y/n was gone now, her absence heavier than any argument they could have had. The silence in the house was suffocating, and the stillness in the air made his thoughts spin.

He stared at his screen, but the words from their earlier conversation kept replaying in his mind: I miss you, but I don’t need you, Hamzah. I miss you, come here. Those words hadn’t just been a declaration of longing—they had been a quiet assertion of independence, a signal that y/n was done waiting for him to notice.

Hamzah rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of what she’d said. She didn’t need him anymore, no matter how much she still missed him. The space between them wasn’t just physical anymore; it was emotional, deep, and unspoken. He realized she had given him a choice—one he hadn’t fully understood until now.

He reached for his phone, hesitated for a moment, then typed a message to her: “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want to lose you. Can we talk tomorrow?”

He hit send and waited. The seconds dragged on, stretching into what felt like hours, but no response came.

A moment later, the familiar vibration of a reply lit up his phone. He quickly unlocked it, hoping for some kind of resolution. But when he saw her message, a heavy weight sank into his chest.

“Okay.”

The words were short, almost distant. There was no warmth, no eagerness to reconnect. Just a quiet acceptance.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them more suffocating than any physical distance. y/n’s voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to her words that cut through the silence.

“I miss you, Hamzah,” she started, her gaze never leaving the floor. “I miss how we used to be, but I can’t keep pretending that things will go back to the way they were. I’m tired of waiting for you to notice me, for you to put me first. I need to move on, for my own sake.”

Hamzah opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize, to say he could change, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He knew that something had already shifted between them, something that couldn’t be undone with words.

y/n continued, her voice steady despite the ache in it. “I’ve tried, Hamzah. I’ve tried to make this work, but it’s like I’m invisible to you. I’m right here, and you’re always so caught up in your work. I miss you, but I don’t need you anymore.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. The weight of them sank deep, and he realized that she wasn’t just saying goodbye—she was choosing herself. Choosing independence over the emotional attachment that had once connected them.

“I think... I think it’s time we both move forward,” y/n said, her voice quieter now, but firm. “I can’t keep waiting for something that might never come. You’re not the only one with dreams and goals, Hamzah. I’ve got my own life to live, and I can’t keep holding on to something that isn’t there anymore.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and feelings neither of them could fully articulate. Hamzah wanted to reach out, to say anything that might change her mind, but he could see it in her eyes: she had made her decision.

She was already gone.

Later that night, after y/n had left for good, Hamzah sat alone in the empty house. The space felt colder than it had before, as if her absence had stolen the warmth from the walls. He sat in front of his desk, staring at the finished video, but all he could feel was the heavy silence that had taken her place.

The message he had sent her earlier echoed in his mind—I don’t want to lose you. But as he replayed their conversation over and over, he realized that he had already lost her. He had lost her to the space he had failed to notice, to the time he had neglected, and to the love he had taken for granted.

The realization stung more than he expected. He missed her too, more than words could say. But as much as he longed for things to be different, he couldn’t deny the truth: she was better off without him, seeking her own path, her own independence.

Hamzah leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, feeling the weight of everything she had said. He missed her. But more than that, he understood why she had to go. The ache in his chest reminded him that sometimes, love wasn’t enough to hold two people together.

And for y/n, it had been time to let go.

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #slushynoobz #slushy virus #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzah x y/n #hamzah fic #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #martin and hamzah

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taesancore · 9 months ago

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School au Friends to lovers w Woonhak pls ☹️ He's the cutest I want more ppl to write for him!!

the playlist i never sent

woonhak x f!reader

(𝐈) slow dance

a/n: omg anon ily for this ask!! i’ve been writing a f2l school au for woonhak but with a little twist~ i’ll be releasing it in parts as a series and i hope you enjoy it!!

🕊️.ᐟ synopsis: in which a dateless woonhak finds himself swept away by a mysterious white masked girl during his school’s senior masquerade ball.

🕊️.ᐟ genre: f2l (idiots to lovers🤡) with a modern cinderella au

wc: 3093, lowercase intended

“hurry, the ball’s almost starting!!” came eunchae’s frantic reply from your phone as you scanned the doors of the large banquet hall. accompanying your mother to one of her business events at the banquet hall wasn’t in your list for the month and you were quite unhappy when she announced that you were gonna have to miss your school’s senior masquerade ball. which is why you were currently trying to find an entrance from where you could sneak out without your mother catching you.

after successfully escaping from the staff’s entrance and to the parking, where you pleaded mr. yoon, your mother’s personal assistant to drive you to school, you were able to settle down and touch up your makeup, texting eunchae and letting her know to not let woonhak know about your arrival.

“what??? but our class planned the entire theme together!! and you were gonna be my date too!!” your best friend woonhak had lamented when you broke the news of you not being able to make it to the ball. “i know…i wish i could be there too but you know my mother” you exclaimed sadly as woonhak nodded, knowing that you stood no chance against her orders.

“what am i going to do now y/n, i can’t be dateless at the ball! i’m too hot for that” he cried dramatically again as he sat up. “calm down you manchild, you’ll find plenty of other dateless people in there” you snorted, making him fall silent. “is that okay with you? me dancing with someone who isn’t my date-?” woonhak questioned with a strange tone. “huh— yeah? why won’t it be?” you asked with a confused look.

the drama club really needed to cast you as one of their leads, you thought to yourself as you looked back at that moment. the thought of woonhak dancing and getting along with someone other than you made your insides twist unpleasantly. upon the sight of your school building drawing closer, you straightened up. you couldn’t wait to surprise woonhak and dance with him.

꒰ 🍃 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

the city below them was brightly lit up despite the late hours of the night. they illuminated your face as you admired the view. woonhak cleared his throat as you turned to face him. the boy nervously stepped forward as he looked into your eyes with a determined gaze.

“y/n…i like you” he said as you smiled, his favourite smile where you resembled the sun and its warmth—

this. this was how today was supposed to go. he had it all planned, along with the location of the confession too but instead, woonhak was bored. and lonely. he didn’t think that his first masquerade ball would consist of him being dateless and grumpy. he sighed as he lied down alone on the football turf. until he heard the rustling of a dress and the clanking of heels.

“i swear— no i won’t be dancing with you!” he yelled out, expecting another giggly freshman’s proposal. “okay? i can’t dance either ways” came a confused reply as he sat up with a start. the white feather mask covered her entire upper face except for her eyes which were currently sporting a quizzical look. her peach dress was embedded with little pearls at the waistline and hem, the peach-orange tint matching the colour of his tie. “oh— we’re matching!” the girl giggled, pointing at his tie.

“ah— sorry for my response earlier, i’m not having the best day” woonhak had no idea why he blurted that out to a random girl, but he did feel slightly lighter after letting it out. she smiled sympathetically as she moved towards him, not caring about her dress getting rumpled as she flopped down ungraciously next to him on the grass.

“same here, i can’t find my date” she confessed with a light laugh. “did he bail on you?” he asked curiously. if he did, boy was he blind because the girl next to him was stunningly pretty, even with the mask on. “no…i searched everywhere for him but i think he left” she sighed. “i’m thought he’d be at the dance floor…he’s such an extrovert that way” she continued. “if it helps, i’m dateless tonight too” woonhak said with a bitter smile. the girl turned to look at him with a frown” is that why you’re having a bad time right now?” she replied softly. he nodded as she pouted. “well, we’re both dateless and having a shitty day…let’s change that!” she declared as she stood up, wobbling slightly due to the weight of her heels. “watch out!” woonhak cried out as he stood up, catching her by her wrist as she fell into his chest with a tiny oof-

“i think you saved my life” she breathed out with a grin, stepping back and fixing her mask. he cleared his throat as he let go of her hand, turning away to hide his fierce blush. why was he blushing over some girl at the ball?

stop it woonhak you can’t do this to y/n! he chastised himself inwardly.

“let’s go?” the girl asked, cutting off his inner thoughts.

“what—“

“last one to reach the rooftop has to do a dare!” she yelled gleefully as she sprinted off.

how was she so fast in those heels?? woonhak yelled out a “hey!” as he ran, a smile unknowingly blooming across his face as he chased her across the empty hallways.

꒰ 🍃 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

the moon lit up the stone tiles of the rooftop balcony, with cool breeze brushing the school’s flag and the hairs on your sweaty forehead as you laughed through gasps. “god your legs are annoyingly long” you whined as the yellow masked boy laughed at your state. clouds of air escaped from his lips as he bent down to catch his breath, clutching the fabric of his pants as he met your eyes. “you’re seriously slow dove girl” he giggled. “dove girl—hey! you aren’t any better canary boy” you yelled back, causing him to double over the railing. once they calmed down from their laughter, you noticed his small smile as he gazed at the sky. “what’re you thinking about?” you questioned softly, the distant sounds from dance floor overlapping with your voice.

“i was gonna confess to her here” he replied, then chuckled bitterly. “ah nevermind— it’s probably for the best that i didn’t get to”.

he likes someone. your shoulders slightly sagged at the revelation, probably empathising with his situation. “you must really like her if you planned out the confession spot too” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “i really do… but i doubt she feels the same” he sighed, turning to face you. something about those eyes—

“what are you saying— you’re a catch!” the words left you before you had fully processed them. gosh, you were being quite bold tonight which was very unlike you. canary boy scoffed with a smile. “you’re just saying that, you don’t even know me” he pointed out.

“well we should get to know eachother then”

was it the thrill of talking to someone new? someone who could possibly be your classmate from years ago or someone whom you’ve never interacted with in your entire school life? you really had no clue what spirit possessed you but it sure as hell made you determined to follow the YOLO principle tonight.

⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆

woonhak was left speechless again by the dove girl. she grinned at him, leaning back to enjoy the night breeze that caressed their figures in the dimly lit balcony. okay, two can play that game. “you have to do the dare by the way” he spoke out, as she groaned at his reminder. “alright let’s get this over with your majesty” she grumbled jokingly, turning towards him. “who do you like?” he asked, mentally facepalming himself right after asking the question because jeez it really sounded less childish in his head. “is this a truth or a dare?” dove girl giggled at his question. “it’s only fair! i told you about my pathetic love life too…it’s your turn now” he defended himself sulkily. “okay lover boy…where do i began?” she pondered.

at that moment, the song shifted to another upbeat one, the cheers of their fellow classmates nearly deafening him as she laughed over the music. “i hate this song!” she hollered, her actions contrasting her words as she bounced along to the beat. “doesn’t seem like it” he teased as he mocked her movements, laughing at her annoyed expressions. “ah you’re a terrible dancer dove girl” he snickered as he moved closer, ignoring her offended exclamations as he held her shoulders.

“you gotta relax your arms, stop flailing them like tentacles. and your hips should be more….”

⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆

his words floated in and out of your ears as warm feeling crept up your neck. his hands moved to yours, guiding them upwards to match the pace of the song— what song was it again? his warmth suddenly left your arms as you looked up to meet his eyes, those familiar round eyes you were sure you had seen before multiple times.

“do we have mr. choi’s class together?” you blurted out, watching his face twist into a grimace. “now why would you bring up mr. choi? ah my mood is ruined” he sighed loudly, causing you to snort. “anyways, am i doing better now mr. just dance?” you called out as you moved and wiggled wildly, beaming with a sense of achievement as he burst out laughing.

꒰ 🍃 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

the voices from the current song drifted towards you two as you fanned yourself. your hair was probably a mess after dancing your heart away, as several strands were stuck to your forehead and the nape of your neck. canary boy was no less, sprawled out on the floor of the rooftop balcony, his panting frame was currently staring into the starry sky. “you never told me” he started as he turned to you, patting the space beside him. “about your love life”. the yellow mask fell slightly askew across his face as he ran a hand through his brown hair.

“what can i say…he doesn’t like me either” you sighed as you lied down next to him, wowing at the specks across the sky above you. “tch, what a loser” he mumbled as you jabbed him with your elbow playfully. “he’s also my best friend, which makes the situation much more complicated” you let out, gazing into the sky as you thought about woonhak, who must’ve gone back home— which was quite unlikely. he was probably dancing down with your friends, and possibly with another freshman with a crush on him, or one of the really pretty trainee classmates of yours—

“well, he is a loser if he doesn’t like you” canary boy declared as he sat up, smiling at you as he helped you sit up too. for a moment you two sat in silence, basking in each others presence as the singer continued to sing the last notes through the speakers.

⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆

“i really like this song” she murmured as soft music drifted out after the remnants of the previous song. woonhak blinked as she smiled, a full yet gentle smile and she got up, offering her hand to him. she didn’t leave his hand, still staring into his eyes as she moved closer. “dance with me?” she asked, looking up at him with shy eyes. seriously, how could someone not like her? “sure dove girl” he said as he grabbed her waist with one hand. “see, you should move your legs like this—“ he paused, catching her looking at him with amusement. “ah, i ramble too much don’t i?” he smiled sheepishly. “it’s quite cute canary boy, you must enjoy dancing” she mused softly, resting her hand on his shoulder as they moved slowly to the tune.

maybe he did share a class with her because woonhak did find her smile a little familiar as he watched her smile to herself. “thank you” he mumbled as she looked up at him. “for staying with me tonight” he said, sending a genuine smile. she smiled back, that familiar little smile as she whispered “thank you too, canary boy”. they continued to dance atop the balcony, as she spoke up again. “i hope she likes you back you know? your girl” she grinned as the leant forward. “because you really are a catch” she whispered cheekily in his ear. woonhak was pretty sure she didn’t miss the way his ears reddened because her grin bloomed into a full blown smile when he turned his face to hide his blush. she continued to dance with him as the song came to its end.

“i hope your friend likes you back too” he said slowly as they stopped dancing. his firm grip never left her waist and neither did her hand on his shoulder. woonhak had no idea what made her do it. or what made him do it. scratch that, he had no idea who did it first. because as soon as he uttered those words, he found the distance between them close as he leaned in. he felt her breath hitch as she too tiptoed forward to match his height. a pair of soft lips landed on his, he barely felt them due to their feather like feeling as he lightly squeezed her waist. he closed his eyes, mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. his first kiss. he was kissing the dove girl. his first kiss and it wasn’t with y/n—

she pulled away faster than lightning, covering her mouth with her hand as she gasped. her eyes were wide with alarm as she looked into his equally shocked gaze. his mouth opened and closed, with no sound coming out. he probably looked like a fish right now, he thought to himself. the distance between them had increased significantly as he felt her eyes move to something behind him…the clock? she gasped again, this time moving a little closer to him as she took in his hand in hers urgently.

“listen, i really have to get going now canary boy, but it was so much fun talking to you-“

“what—“

“-and i’m so sorry for um, pecking you like that—

“hold on—“

“-and once again, thank you for making my night the most memorable one!” she finished in one breath and she hurried down the hallway.

“wait!” woonhak rushed behind her. really, how was she so fast in those heels?”

he got a glimpse of her ruffled orange fabric as she dashed through the exit of the first floor, he chased her down the corridor as she ran towards entrance in a hurry.

woonhak’s pace slowed down as he crouched down, gasping for air near the entrance as he lost sight of the girl’s speeding figure. his breaths came out in ragged pants as his eye caught something on the floor— an earring. he reached to pick it up, a small pearl stud. the moonlight bounced off its surface as he turned towards the clock, displaying the time “01:28”. he sighed as he got up, lifting his fingers to his lips as he remembered what happened minutes ago. “fucking hell” he cursed as he caught sight of his pink cheeks in a mirror near the doors. fucking hell indeed, just how did he land himself in this situation again?

꒰ 🍃 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“mr. yoon! I’m here!” you gasped out as you ran towards the black car, almost stumbling due to the bites on your toes, courtesy of those huge heels. “what took you so long? you know that your mother will be home in the next half an hour!” yoon jeonghan, your mother’s personal assistant chided as you quickly settled yourself in the car. “let’s leave fast, please mr. yoon!” you cried out, removing your sweaty mask as you fanned yourself. you were sure your face was still cherry red, probably due to the heat inside the car or the kiss you shared with the canary boy. it was probably the former, it really was quite hot in the car, you thought as your mind kept replaying the moment you kissed him—

“could you not mention this to mother?” you mumbled lowly as jeonghan chuckled. “when have i ever betrayed your trust miss lee” he exclaimed as you reached for your phone, which you had left in the car. “so many new messages and oh my god one from mother!” you fretted as you quickly typed out an excuse to your mother, exiting the chat as you opened woonhak’s chat which had six new messages from several hours ago.

woon-foetus: 1 image attached

woon-foetus: this is what you’re missing out on

woon-foetus: Y/NNNNN ITS SO FUN HEREE

woon-foetus: ok i lied. I WISH YOU WERE HERE ITS SO BORING WITHOUT YOU😔😔😔

woon-foetus: 1 image attached

woon-foetus: eunchae says hi, we both miss you bae💔

you snorted at his texts, opening the image of him with eunchae, his bright smile illuminating the screen of your phone as you smiled at his and eunchae’s silly poses. however, what caught your eye was his tie that was loosely tied around his collar. it can’t be…

you swiped to the first image he sent and sat upright with a cry. “is something wrong?” jeonghan called out from the driver’s seat. “n-no no, nothing’s wrong” you said shakily. oh, everything was wrong. you took in the picture of woonhak, showing off his outfit consisting of a light coral tie and white shirt, neatly tucked into his beige pants. a similar coloured blazer was buttoned on him, as he flashed his signature smile at you through the screen.

how didn’t you see it? that same smile that you had elicited several times tonight, the same loud laugh. his hair was styled with his forehead exposed and the usual bangs that fell above his eyes were neatly slicked back, all that was missing was the pastel yellow mask. you fell back against the car seat as the the ugly truth lit up the screen of your phone. canary boy was kim woonhak, the very same kim woonhak whom you had ranted about to canary boy…you had told woonhak about woonhak. your mind felt dizzy as you digested the truth. and…oh my god. your lips tingled as you buried your face in your palms, trying to get rid of the burning across your neck and face. it was of no use of course as you looked up at his selfie on your phone.

you had kissed your best friend kim woonhak, and he had no idea that it was you.

a/n pt.2: comment for a part two! do like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this part and feedback is welcome as always!

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