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giannaln4 · 1 day ago

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For you? Anything.

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Even during the worst week of you life, and no matter how tired he is, Lando would do anything to make you feel better. (2.6k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, language.

a/n: And we are back to our regular schedule! Kinktober is officially over (kinda, more context here) so it's time to post regular fics. So, I wrote this sometime last week before the shit show of yesterday's race so that's why there are no mentions of it, but I do have some planned about that so we'll see when I can work on them. Anyway, this is for me and all the girlies who have been feeling stressed about work, let me know what you think!

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What a week it has been for you. You had done nothing but work on a stupid project your boss put you in charge of. It was very short notice, and the due date was creeping up on you faster than you would’ve liked.

The good thing is Lando had been away for weeks due to his job; not that you didn’t want to see him or that he was a distraction, nothing like that, but you always preferred to be with him instead of working, which isn’t something you would be able to do this time due to the amount of things you had to go over, but with the house all to yourself, you had the chance to get tons of work done.

It was finally the day of the presentation; you were supposed to pitch the finished project to management and honestly, you weren’t 100% confident in the job you had done. Usually, you were never too harsh on yourself, but with so little time to work on it, you knew there were some parts here and there that could’ve used a little more of your attention, but it was either use what you already have or show up with an unfinished project, so that would have to do. It wasn’t terrible; you were sure of that, but these people always found something to complain about.

You were there for only a few minutes before you were dismissed. What a fucking joke, you thought.

You didn’t even get half the presentation done, and the old dudes sitting across from you were already attacking you with questions, questions that didn’t even make sense or barely fit the theme of what you were trying to talk about.

Your boss was the one to send you out, saying something like “You have another week; we hope you’ll be more prepared next time,” before standing up and leaving the cold conference room, followed by the rest of the men that were surrounding him.

Only minutes after going back to your office you saw him come in, giving you notes on the things he thought you should work on. As the polite girl that you are, you just nodded and wrote down whatever he was saying, apologising for not turning it up on time, but as soon as he left, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face, ruining your make-up in the process. You still had half of your day ahead of you, so you calmed down, washed your face, and went back to work like nothing happened.

At the end of the day, however, that’s a different story. You went back home completely devastated. All those sleepless nights you spent with your nose buried in your laptop felt like a total waste.

As you drove back home, you tried your best to hold the tears, but it was getting harder by the second, especially with each step you took down the hall that led to the door of your apartment, and when you made it there, you started crying as soon as you closed the door behind you.

You instantly got rid of your uncomfortable clothes and got into one of Lando’s shirts, curling up in your bed and letting all that consuming and irrational feeling of failure sink in. You knew you weren’t a failure; you were well aware of your worth, but you couldn’t help but feel like that after miserably failing the presentation you worked so hard on.

Suddenly, the front door opening pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud sigh as you left the bed. You knew it was Lando coming back from his last race, and any other day you would’ve been happy to see him, running to the door to greet him with a hug like he deserved, but right now, you didn't want him to have to see you in that pathetic state.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, sighing again when you realised how obvious it was that you had been crying, so you’d just have to avoid eye contact.

“Hi baby,” Lando greeted you with his usual pretty smile as he entered your room.

"Hey,” you replied, immediately turning around and walking towards your desk, sitting facing away from Lando as you opened your laptop.

“Did you sleep okay last night? How did your presentation go?” He walked closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, kissing your temple.

“It was okay.” He stopped when he noticed your heavy mood.

"You alright, love? You seem down." His brows were slightly furrowed as he tried to make eye contact.

"Yeah, fine. I think I’m just gonna work on it a little more; there were some things missing that I need to include," you replied, clearly lacking energy.

“Hey now, let’s not do that." Lando turned the chair over to make you face him. He looked down and noticed your glossy eyes, a worried feeling growing inside him. “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”

You just shook her head briefly, a lip-tight smile covering your face. “Everything’s fine.”

“Y/N…” The slip of your name past his lips made you want to cry again. Of course you wanted to be comforted by your boyfriend, but you didn’t like the thought of him having to pick up the pieces anytime you messed up. As a tear rolled down your face, you realised that you didn't have the energy or even the desire to push him away “Oh baby, come here.”

Lando took your hand as he sat on the floor next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Your face was now buried in his black hoodie, the tears wetting it instantly as he brushed a hand softly up and down your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you." He would understand if you didn’t want to talk about it but would still like to know what was happening. If there was anything he could do to help, he would gladly do it. “Do you wanna talk?”

“I just-” A sob cut you off, “I- I couldn’t do it, even after everything I did, it wasn’t enough.”

“Is this about your presentation?” He asked, his voice softer than ever, and you simply nodded. “It’s alright-”

“No, Lando, it’s not alright. I worked hard to get it together, to get it ready for days and nights and I still failed, I’m so stupid-”

“Hey, baby, look at me," he interrupted you, pulling back a bit and gently lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “You know that’s not true; you’re so smart, and I've always admired your beautiful mind. You gave it your best, like you said, you worked really hard, and even if you didn’t get the reaction you deserved, you know I’m right here.” You simply nodded at his words as the back of your hand wiped some of the tears. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?”

"Because I don't want you to be disappointed in me like I am right now." You looked down to your lap as more tears fell from your tired eyes.

“You should know that I could never be disappointed in you, Y/N. You are so intelligent and kind; I’ve never met anyone with such a beautiful soul, so I don't ever want you to feel down about yourself because you are perfect." You felt both of Lando’s large hands caress either side of your face, bringing it up so he could look into your eyes again as he swiped at the tears that had managed to escape from your eyes.

The slight smile that had formed on your tear-stained face told Lando that his words meant something to you, and they did. “You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend for all those reasons." You giggled slightly. “And I’m sure that no one would disagree with me.”

“My boss would.”

“What does he know?” That made you laugh again, making Lando smile, a smile so sincere that told you he believed everything he just said.

"Thank you, baby, even though you’re being a little biased." You sniffled as you gently stroked the hand that was still on your cheek, keeping your eyes locked with his “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. You took a deep breath, feeling a lot calmer than you did five minutes ago as you looked at your laptop briefly.

“I should probably get back to work, though; I have to basically remake the whole thing and meet with them again next week.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to bed? You look pretty tired. We can cuddle, I know we both need it.”

“I would love to,” your gaze fell on your bed momentarily; it looked so comfortable, and it was literally calling your name, “but I really need to get this done, and I have to do it right this time. I don’t wanna be embarrassed again in front of a bunch of old dudes.”

You stood up from his lap and sat back on your desk, focusing on the screen in front of you as you began to analyse what you should take out and what you needed to add.

Lando just sighed. He knew there was no way he would get you to stop working if you already set your mind to it, but honestly, he thought he would get to spend every second with you once he got back home, so needless to say, he was a little disappointed that wasn’t the case.

He got it though; your job was important for you, and you would never settle for anything unless it was perfect. What made his blood boil was the fact that your boss had the nerve to make you feel like you weren't worth it.

“Did you eat something already?” He asked you, getting up from the floor and wrapping his arms around you once again.

“Uh- I’m not really hungry.”

“Why don’t I cook something for us? What do you say?”

“It’s okay, baby, you should go to bed.” You tilted your head to look at him and give him a quick kiss. “I know you are tired, the triple header couldn’t have been easy.”

You started collecting your things so you could take over a different part of the apartment. He had been travelling for weeks; it wouldn’t be fair to keep him up just because you needed to get work done.

“Where are you going?”

“To your office, if that’s okay. I really don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not-”

“Lan, I’ll be okay, I promise. Just go to bed, don’t worry about me.” Taking a few steps closer to him, you gave him a loving hug, “I love you.”

You left the room, holding everything in your hands as Lando just stood in the same spot. There was no way he would go to bed without you, not when you were feeling so down and it was clear you just needed to take a break.

Taking a deep breath, he started to make a plan in his head. He took the quickest shower of his life and got into something comfy, praying there was food, or more specifically, ingredients to cook you something that he wouldn’t mess up and that you would enjoy.

Everything seemed to be on his side when he found everything he needed to make some Alfredo. Everything was pretty much premade, so he knew he wouldn’t ruin it. He happily got to work, setting up a nice dinner as he hummed one of the songs that had been stuck in his head for who knows how long.

In the office, you were nearly breaking your head as you read the information you had over and over again. You kind of knew what it needed to be since your boss gave you a few specific notes, but then again, you weren’t feeling completely confident in your own ideas.

You didn’t realise you had been locked away for over an hour, your eyes getting insanely tired as you typed away. A break was needed and well deserved, and you were aware of this, but somehow it didn’t feel like you were making any progress, even though you had been working non-stop and you had already readjusted about half of the project.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you abruptly closed your laptop, your face falling to your hands as your eyes felt wet yet again. That was it; there was no way you could keep going. You needed to grab a quick snack and head straight to bed. You did have an early morning the next day after all.

Just as you were gathering all your strength to get up, you heard the door open, making you jump a bit.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” You laughed as your hand fell on your heart.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggled, walking towards you.

“What are you doing still awake? I thought you went to bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep without you. Are you almost done here?” He looked at your closed laptop, celebrating internally as he assumed you were done working for the night.

“Yeah, I guess. My brain stopped working, so I thought my future self can worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Good. Come here.” He extended his hand out to you, which you happily took. “Please stop overworking yourself, you know this isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” you let out a sigh as you accepted his embrace. “I’m seriously thinking about quitting. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something that doesn’t make me feel this stressed all the time.”

His hand was caressing your back softly as he pulled away to look down at you. “You know you can, right? And I really think you should. I make enough to support the both of us and even a family in the future... Baby, you don’t have to keep working there if you don’t want to.”

His words made a smile appear on your face. Not because he was offering to basically support you for the rest of your life, but because he brought having a family with you. “You know I’d never let you do that-”

“But if you do want to quit and just take a break, you can do that too,” he interrupted you. You nodded, seriously considering it, but that was something you would have to think about and have a serious conversation in the future if you ever did decide to do it.

“We’ll see. Right now, I just need something to eat and some sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Speaking about dinner, I made something for you.”

He took your hand and guided you to the dining room, a big smile on his face as he proudly showed off the beautiful set-up and the (hopefully) delicious dinner he managed to cook. He looked back at you expectantly, but his happiness quickly turned into a worried look when he noticed tears falling from your eyes again.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, a hand softly falling on your cheek as he leaned down.

You were out of words; you truly didn’t know what to say. This is just what you needed, and the fact that he went out of his way to do it for you meant a lot more than he could ever imagine.

“I- Lando, this is-” you cut yourself off when you couldn’t find the right thing to say, so you just jumped in his arms and gave him the tightest hug ever. “Thank you for everything. And I mean everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugging you back as he buried his head on the crook of your neck. “For you, my love, I’d do anything.”

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris one shot #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #giannaln4 writes

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sincerelyengen · 18 hours ago

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the small things ─── ingrid e.

masterlist.

the three times you wanted to kiss ingrid, and the one time you did.

content warnings: n/a

The first time you wanted to kiss Ingrid Engen:

You were always scared of Ingrid Engen. From the first look, she was certainly the mean girl type. But once you had joined her club, you had realized that was anything but the case. She specifically took a love to you, always doing the small things for you.

She would put her hand on the small of your back to guide you through a crowd or give you her jacket if you complained that it was cold, even if that meant she would be cold. All things that made you feel special and seen. The way she talked to you was so gentle and kind, never a bit of venom in her tone.

But this time, it was different. You had been over to Ingrid’s place plenty of times before, often even spending the night. And sure, she’s cooked you dinner and did all sorts of sweet things for you, but nothing like tonight.

When you knocked on the door, it was like any other night. You were welcomed into her home and settled down on the couch with her to watch a show.

You two enjoyed a meal and settled into small talk. Not having anything to drink, you found yourself thirsty.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get a water.” You excused yourself, making your way to her kitchen.

As you opened her fridge to get the water out, you heard her voice call out, “I bought those drinks you liked! They’re in the door!” She called.

Your heart fluttered. Her simple gesture of purchasing something she knew you liked whenever you came over made your day. It was nothing really, something anybody would do. But from Ingrid, it was different, it was something more heartfelt.

And in that moment, all you wanted to do was run into the other room and kiss her.

The second time you wanted to kiss Ingrid Engen:

The second time you wanted to kiss Ingrid was only weeks later. You two were spending time in the city, simply walking around with each other checking out shops and enjoying each other’s presence. You two had been in several different stores, Ingrid carrying around several bags in her hands.

“We should get coffee!” She exclaimed, seeing a cute bakery coming up in her vision. You grinned and followed her lead, entering the small bakery. The wonderful scent of baked goods and freshly brewed coffee invaded your senses and gave you a sense of comfort.

You ordered a matcha latte and Ingrid ordered a caramel latte. After receiving your coffees you two sat down at a table outside and sipped your beverages in silence. You two talked a little bit, but you mostly spent your time admiring the footballer’s beauty. The way her green eyes contrasted with the dark locks that cascaded over her face made your heart flutter.

After your drinks, you guys ended up at a small candle shop. Taking time to smell each one and make comments. Ingrid had picked up a pretty purple candle, gently removing the top to take in the scent. She nodded, clearly enjoying it. “Mmm, I like this one.” She grinned.

“Yeah? Whats it smell like?” You asked, not noticing how she was staring at you with the utmost love in her eyes.

“Your perfume.” She says calmly, pointing it towards you so you can smell it as well.

Your heart skipped a beat. She said it in such a calm and sweet way as if she wasn’t thinking too much about it at all. You stuttered through your words, struggling to control the heat in your cheeks and how your stomach fluttered.

She could tell that you were struggling, grinning wide at your reaction.

And in that moment, all you wanted to do was kiss Ingrid Engen.

The third time you wanted to kiss Ingrid Engen:

Ingrid was pretty. You knew it, she knew, everybody around her knew it. It wasn’t a secret that she had women and men throwing themselves at her all the time, but she always brushed them off. You always had wished you were one of those women throwing themselves at her, and to be fair, you practically were.

You couldn’t count the number of times she had caught you staring, it wasn’t your fault, she was just gorgeous. Especially gorgeous when she stood behind you with her hands around your waist, guiding your hands cooking.

It had become a weekly tradition to come over to Ingrid’s place and cook. She loved to teach you different dishes and how to make them. Tonight, she wanted to help you make a new dish, something you had never made before. You were competent enough to cut veggies by yourself, but that didn’t stop Ingrid from standing behind you, her hands over yours, guiding you.

It was intimate.

“You’re doing so good,” She mumbled into your shoulder where her head rested comfortably.

You didn’t respond, too concerned with not making a fool of yourself. You swallowed, feeling her hands run up and down your forearms. You were beginning to doubt your belief that she would never be into you either.

At that moment, all you wanted to do was turn around and kiss her, show her how much you actually wanted her.

The one time you did kiss Ingrid Engen:

Now that you had confirmation that your silly crush on Ingrid was reciprocated, it was time to make a plan. You two had made dinner plans tonight, nothing too fancy, an Italian place you two visited often. And you knew, you were kissing her tonight.

You had shown up earlier than her, finding your table and nervously fidgeting with your fingers while you ran through every possible situation that could happen tonight.

Maybe Ingrid really wasn’t into you like that and you were delusional. Maybe this was going to go horribly and you two would never talk again. You have had your heart broken so many times before, you really didn’t want to lose Ingrid, one of your best friends.

“Earth to y/n?” You heard the unmistakable accident of your ‘date’ for the evening. Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked up and saw Ingrid.

She was drop-dead gorgeous.

Her hair flowed beautifully as always, it went great with the black dress that hugged her body perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous.” You smiled, pushing the chair across from you out with your foot, allowing her to sit down.

“You are too, hun.” She grinned, the pet name easily falling from her lips.

You blushed at that and turned your head away, a smile plastered across your face.

“How has everything been?” Ingrid asked, moving the conversation forward.

The conversation flowed well, talking about your days and upcoming things. You two had been friends forever and still had managed to never run out of things to talk about. She truly was your best friend. Dinner was ordered and you two ate in peace, laughing with each other.

Her laugh always made butterflies burst in your stomach, your heart being won over and warmed all over again.

Once the dinner was paid for and everything was done with, you walked out with her.

Under a nearby streetlight, you stood in front of her, staring into her eyes and her hands in yours.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked softly.

A blush spread over her face and that toothy grin came out. “Took you long enough.” She mumbled before leaning in.

Your lips smashed together and it was like fireworks went off, her lips were soft and the way her hand cupped your face made you feel so safe.

This was everything you were dreaming of.

#ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso writers #woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni

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thecharacterchronicler · 3 days ago

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Craving (Part 5) || Coriolanus Snow || Smut

Outline: After many attempts, you’re finally pregnant but you need Coriolanus’ help to induce labor.

Word count: ~ 4’000

Warnings: marriage of convenience, pregnancy, explicit smut.

Author’s note: I finally felt like continuing this series but I’m a bit rusty, it’s been a while since I wrote anything, especially in English, so my apologies if I missed some mistakes while editing this.

(( Part 1 - There Will Come A Ruler )) - (( Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top )) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable )) - (( Part 4 - The Bitter Taste Of My Fury )) - (( Masterlist ))

He still remembered how you told him the news, so casually, standing in his office and interrupting his work. He didn’t mind, the moment you had walked in, all his senses went wild, his body alert and ready like you had somehow managed to train him to react that way to the infernal curves of your body. It was a day like any other day, he imagined you were visiting him in hopes to put the small amount of time he spent home to good use. Especially with how nice you looked in that dress, the fabric highlighting all the curves and dips he so enjoyed to touch… But, instead of approaching him. Instead of sitting on his lap or bending over his desk with your dress pulled up for a quick - but efficient - hookup, you remained on the other side of his desk, a nervous expression on your face that he noticed right away.

“I’m pregnant.” You told him, dropping it like a bomb. If his blood had rushed down straight to his cock the moment he saw you, it took another turn as he heard your words, making his veins buzz with adrenaline. And maybe a bit of fear too.

But what was there to be scared about ? He was Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem, youngest - and most brilliant - head gamemaker of the Hunger Games and a wealthy and powerful man, nothing scared him… Especially not a baby. Yet, he felt his hands tremble slightly as he ran his fingers in his hair, trying to process your words and figure out a proper way to react to them but he felt lost and probably a bit dumbstruck too.

The fact that you seemed to be waiting for his approval, his congratulations or something - anything - only made it worse. He was a charming, charismatic politician, able to play with words to his advantage, he always knew exactly what to say and when to say it… But the news had rendered him silent. Or maybe it wasn’t the news, but the fear that seized him at the throat when he had heard it.

His voice was gone. His lips were sealed. But he found a bit of strength to nod at you, quietly. You gave him a cold nod back and turned around, your high heels clicking against the wood flooring of his office before your mesmerizing silhouette disappeared behind a closed door.

And that was when he realized… That was exactly what he was so scared about. Not the pregnancy, not the baby itself but you, returning to your life as if he no longer existed in your eyes now that you had fulfilled your part of the contract.

He knew it was a selfish fear, coming from a man who barely knew anything about you a few months prior. But now, he knew how to make your body react to his touch, he knew that you liked it when he was rough when fucking you and he knew exactly what to do to get you to cry out in bliss. And he dreaded the idea of never putting all that knowledge to good use ever again.

A few months later and he almost was used to the distance between you both again. His political duties were consuming the most of his time and energy so, even if you still haunted his every thought, he barely had the opportunity to feel miserable about it, too busy having to put up a show of perfection for his electors.

Every once in a while, he met you for lunch or supper at the manor, always surprised by how round your belly was getting. It seemed to him that it kept inflating like a balloon day after day. The bump you carried with you was a constant reminder that you were about to give him an heir yet, he never felt so feral at the idea of fucking you and breeding you. The way all your outfits always seemed too tight around your chest, your breasts so swollen that they seemed desperate to spill out of the fabric of your clothes, how your hips looked larger and wider than before, enhancing the shape of your body and making you resemble a work of art… All of that was close to making him lose his mind with the intense desire he felt for you.

But, despite his desperate need for you, he was determined to respect your wishes. If you no longer wanted him to touch you, now that you were about to give him what he had asked of you, then he wouldn’t force you to accept him, even though he knew very well that he could. He didn’t even try to take his frustration out on another woman, because none of them compared to you. All he had left was his hand and the blurry memories of your body and how it felt when he was buried inside you.

“Mrs Snow.” He greeted you, casually, as he always did so that there was no way for you to be able to tell what effect the sight of you had on him.

“Mister Snow.” You replied, taking your seat at the end of the table.

He liked when you called him like this, even if it sounded cold and distant. In the intricacies of his mind, he firmly believed that it was your way of calling each other pet names.

“The pond you wanted to add to the greenhouse is finished.” He told you, hoping that small talk would help him focus on something other than the plumpness of your lips.

You didn’t say anything, simply nodding, as two of your house employees placed a plate of fuming food in front of each of you. Coriolanus found it odd to see you react with such little enthusiasm, considering that the pond was one of the few things you had asked in exchange of giving him an heir.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, as unpleasant images of your body in a hospital bed and thick smoke danced in his mind.

“Absolutely.” You replied, in a tone that meant the opposite.

He watched as you shoved a huge piece of filet mignon in your mouth, chewing with determination. He decided to do the same, carefully cutting his meat in small cubes before bringing one to his lips. His tongue instantly tingled in reaction, his tastebuds catching fire as he struggled to chew and swallow the overly spicy piece of meat. He tried to put out the fire in his mouth and throat with a big gulp of water but the numbness that the burn left in its wake almost felt worse.

Coriolanus looked at the avox standing by the door, wondering if somehow, one of his servants had attempted to poison him but then, his gaze landed on you, chewing on your meal as if the spice barely affected you.

“What is going on with the chef ? It’s the third time this week that we’re served spicy food.”

“It was a request of mine… I was hoping for something stronger, I’m a bit disappointed.” You replied, placing a slice of pepper directly on your tongue.

“Why would you want to eat… This ?” He asked, unable to conceal the expression of disgust that appeared on his face.

“I read that it helps to induce labor.”

Coriolanus almost choked on his water at your words, he wiped his mouth with the luxurious napkin placed on his lap before looking back at you, skeptically.

“Isn’t it a bit early for such experiments ?”

“Early ? I’m over forty weeks pregnant and there are no signs of the baby coming out anytime soon.” What ? Forty weeks ? How was this possible ? If the time he spent longing after you felt like an eternity, surely his daily life didn’t seem to be passing by as quickly. “I want this baby out, I won’t be able to stand being pregnant much longer.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, finding your distress a bit amusing but, judging from the way you were glaring daggers at him, you did not agree with him.

“It’s not so bad, is it ?”

Your eyes darkened for a moment and he wondered if you were plotting his demise.

“Are you kidding me ? My whole body aches constantly, I’m hideous and our baby won’t let me sleep because he or she is too busy kicking my bladder from midnight to morning.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, hiding his smile by taking another sip from his glass because he knew you might kill him if you caught it. “I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can.” You answered, a spark of something unusual in your eyes. Coriolanus raised an eyebrow at you, wondering what he could possibly do to take away a bit of your discomfort. Whatever it was, he was willing to give it a try and that made him realize that, maybe, sex wasn’t the only thing he cared about after all.

You winced and before he could ask you what was wrong, you stood up to join him by the opposite end of the dining table, placing his hand on your belly, where your skin was stretching out under your baby’s ferocious kicks.

“See, I swear he does it on purpose.”

Coriolanus didn’t answer anything, amazed but what he felt under his palm. Life he had helped create, moving and stretching, right there inside you. It was unbelievable.

“It must be… Uncomfortable.” He finally managed to say, keeping his hand there for a moment longer.

“Very.” You confirmed and, when he looked at you again, he noticed the soft blush coloring your cheeks. “I was told that orgasms are another good way to induce labor.”

He took his hand off of your belly like it had burned him. He wasn’t used to you being so… Blunt. The proposition was tempting, extremely tempting, especially since he hadn’t touched you since the moment you had told him your efforts had paid off and you were finally pregnant. Even if, most nights, he couldn’t sleep, thinking about how he missed fucking you. He missed how you moaned his name and how you cried out in pleasure. How your pussy perfectly fitted his cock each time. How good it felt to be inside you and how much he loved the fact that everyone in Panem knew that you were his.

It was impossible to refuse what you were asking of him now, not when all he had been thinking about for the past 40 weeks was how different your body must feel now, with your breast so much bigger and tender looking, your hips wider, and that round stomach that would bounce with each of his thrusts. But if the goal was to get you in labor faster, then he couldn’t do it. Not if it meant taking the risk to shorten his time with you, if anything went wrong and he lost you… If he could never see your beautiful face again, fuck your perfect body until he was satisfied and hear the way you laughed at other politicians’ bad jokes, he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from such heartbreak. Because that was what it was, even though he fought against it with all his might.

He loved you.

“I think you should rest, the baby will be here soon enough.” He told you, his chest tight with the realization of his feelings for you and his body begging for him to change his mind.

“Please.” You pleaded, taking a step closer to play with a button of the burgundy vest he was wearing. “Don’t make me beg, Mister Snow.”

He would do anything for you and you knew it, didn’t you ? All you ever had to do was ask nicely and it was yours. This request was no exception, he couldn’t say no. Not when his cock was throbbing with desire in his pants and his body was calling for yours like a magnet desperate to connect with its rivaling force.

There was no guarantee that this old wives’ tale would work and provoke the birth after all. And he couldn’t pass up on this opportunity to be inside you once again, fill you up with his cum, one last time before he’d avoid it at all cost after that. He was determined to not get you pregnant again, not if it wasn’t necessary, the risk of losing his most valuable possession - you - in childbirth was far too high to take.

His heart skipped a beat as his eyes scanned your voluptuous body with hunger. The sight of your lush curves and the scent of your perfume filled the room, a heady aphrodisiac that made his cock throb painfully in his pants. With a low growl, he stood from his seat, grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer, and pressed his thickening erection against the soft mound of your belly.

Without a word, he scooped you up and sat you down gently on the polished mahogany table gleaming under the soft glow of the pendant light. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed over your body, caressing your swollen breasts and tracing the curve of your hips. His fingertips grazed your clit, and you gasped, arching your back.

Your pussy was a wet, already soaking the crotch of your silky panties, leaving a damp spot on the fabric that grew darker by the second. He slid his hand down to feel the heat emanating from your core, and his cock grew even harder at the thought of plunging into your tight, wet warmth for the first time in such a long time.

He took his time, tugging your dress off and unhooking your bra, revealing your swollen breasts in all their glory. He took one in his mouth, sucking your nipple with a hunger that only a man who hadn't tasted his wife's flesh in weeks could muster.

You reached down to unbuckle his pants, your eyes never leaving his as you freed his cock. It sprang forth, thick and veiny, the head a dark, angry shade of purple. You stroked it gently, your thumb circling the precum that had gathered at the tip, smearing it along his shaft and making it glisten. He groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily at your touch.

The tension grew as you stood before each other, naked and wanting. Your belly, a testament to the love and lust he felt for you, served as a tantalizing reminder of the passionate moments you shared. He stepped between your legs, his cock standing at attention as he leaned in to kiss your pussy, his tongue sliding along your slit and teasing your clit. You threw your head back, your hair cascading over the edge of the table. His tongue delved further into your depths, savoring your taste, while his thumb played with your clit in slow, deliberate circles. Your moans grew louder, your body tightening around his mouth as you approached your climax.

He glanced at you, mesmerized by how your breasts heaved with each ragged breath you took, the sensation of his mouth on your most sensitive flesh driving you wild. Your hands clutched the edges of the table, your knuckles white with the effort of holding on as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Finally, your climax crashed down on you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out in ecstasy. He didn't stop, though, his tongue lapping up your sweet release as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

With a smug smile, he straightened up and positioned his cock at the entrance of your slick pussy. He paused for a moment, your eyes locked in a silent challenge, before he thrust into you with a force that sent shockwaves through both of your bodies. You were tight, tighter than ever before, and the sensation was both painful and exquisite. You both gasped as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock stretching you to the limits of your new capacity. Your walls clamped down around him, a velvety vice that seemed to pulse with every beat of your racing heart.

His hips slammed into you, his cock plunging deep inside you with each powerful stroke, while you met him thrust for thrust, your heels digging into his backside. The friction of your skin was electric, sending sparks of pleasure along every nerve ending as you pushed each other closer and closer to the brink.

You could feel your orgasm building again, a slow burn that started in your toes and worked its way up your body. You reached down to rub your clit, your fingers slick with your juices, and your pussy contracted around his shaft, urging him deeper. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the thought of you coming again was almost too much for him to bear. He gripped your hips and drove into you with renewed vigor, his own orgasm fast approaching.

Your bodies moved as one, your hearts racing in sync. With each thrust, he grew more desperate, more frenzied, his breath coming in gasps and moans. And then, with a final, guttural cry, he erupted inside you, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. He felt your pussy clamp down around him, milking every last drop as you shuddered through your own climax, your walls pulsing with the force of your pleasure.

You stayed like that for a moment, panting and spent, your bodies entwined and your hearts racing. Then, with a sly grin, Coriolanus whispered in your ear, “I’m willing to help you out like this whenever you want.”

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Other series:

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 12 hours ago

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Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo.

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them.

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better.

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description.

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty.

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return.

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him.

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay.

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too.

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual.

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne.

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.”

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial.

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do.

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says.

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king.

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again.

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.”

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?”

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you.

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?”

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it.

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch.

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt.

“I don’t know the code,” you say.

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.”

You nod.

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase.

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.”

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently.

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning.

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it.

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--”

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?”

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds.

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?”

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards.

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.”

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling.

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.”

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means.

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--”

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.”

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks.

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #death wish #series #drabble #mob au #au #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu

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dansedesdragons · 3 days ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐒

=͟͟͞♡ SIMON "GHOST" RILEY x gn!READER

⌨ | your neighbors ask you to babysit their child for an evening. after your request, they kindly agree to let your boyfriend, Simon, stay with you. this could be the beginning of a bad joke, because Simon babysitting is a rather... atypical sight? but things are going very well until the question of math exercises comes up...

notes — i had this idea recently and i found it really cute bc Simon is not a scary guy in everyday life in my eyes even if he's probably not the sunniest of guys. so just comfort bc i think we all need it <3

Oh what a sight it was... Simon, a military man by profession, with a solid reputation, well into his thirties, stood with his head in his hands, bent over a maths exercise book.

The answers to the exercises were already carefully written down in the little boy's notebook, and while his elder was having an existential crisis over a maths exercise, he was patiently playing with Simon's mask.

Simon had taken the time to explain all the exercises to the child, using the method that he knew, but he had realised that, these days, we don't teach using the same method. The child had to be able to do the exercise using the current method. So you had discovered a very patient side to your boyfriend, who explains as best he can. At first, the child was confused. Why two different methods? Then he accepted his fate, understood the two methods and moved on. But Simon didn't.

With a few muffled curses, he made a point of comparing the two methods, couching tons of mathematical formulae to prove his point: the old method was more effective than the new one. ‘‘But why?’’ you heard him swear under his breath after the third time in five minutes, ‘‘Why change a method that works very well, damn it!’’.

‘‘Simon, your language’’ you exclaimed, pointing at the child, but he wasn't listening any more. He had put on Simon's mask, which was twice too big for him, and was drawing on a corner of a sheet of paper. But it wasn't going to be conclusive as he couldn't see anything. The sight was quite comical and you took out your phone to immortalise the moment, especially Simon struggling with elementary maths problems, silently promising to show it to Johnny sometime.

Simon angrily lifted the notebook to show you his development, ‘‘But look! It doesn't make any fucking sense!’’ He looked so determined, so dramatic, so invested that you burst out laughing. You'd have thought he was about to take up arms against the national education system. He grumbled a little at your mockery, then sighed as he closed the notebook, glancing at the child who hadn't followed anything but was now asking for spaghetti bolognese.

‘‘Oh, Lieutenant Ghost, this is a science that doesn't move, you should be able to complete this mission with ease’’ you mocked shamelessly, earning yourself that murderous look, so threatening, promising terrible reprisals that you still felt a shiver of anticipation run through your body. Oh, he won't forget that when you're safe in your room, you were sure. But then he stood up, planted a warm kiss on your forehead and it was your heart's turn to shiver. ‘‘Come and help me instead of mocking me,’’ he mumbled with a semblance of an amused smile on his lips.

Later, as you walked down the steps to your appartment, you couldn't help but tease Ghost: ‘‘You know, you really did sound like a father of three, on the verge of a mid-life crisis when we're not even parents yet’’. You stopped when you realised that Simon had paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at you with a tender smile and a look of great meaning. ‘‘Not yet, for the moment...’’ You returned his beautiful smile, your heart racing at the sight, he seemed to enjoy the idea. Then you saw his smile fade and his eyes take on a bored look: ‘‘No, never mind, by the time we have a child and it grows up, they'll have time to change their methods 30 times.’’

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes and resumed your walk.

‘‘You're a pain, Simon. You're rambling.’’

‘‘I'm mostly fucking right. But when you look at it—’’

Your discussion faded as you descended the stairs, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley's swearing disappearing for good as the door to your flat slammed behind you, muffling your heartfelt laughter.

#my first writing here !#hope it was ok #i needed some comfort and something a little domestic life with Ghost so here it is :)#cod mw ghost #cod writing #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod x reader #comfort #cod imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley

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brujamala-aka-gigi · 2 days ago

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your ideal partner is like...

On this pick a pile reading, im focusing on positive traits to take into consideration when wondering if someone is worth putting your time and energy into a committed relationship. This is not meant to be strict guideline of arbitrarily imposed "must have's" to look for, but more of an opportunity to reflect on what could be beneficial to your ideas of a healthy relationship.

dividers by @chilumitos

pile one pile two pile three

‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ tarot menu

✶ ko-fi page (support and tarot services) ✶

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number one ˚.⋆

I get the feeling that you value certain aspects of relationships that could be considered “traditional” or “old school”, but not necessarily the ones that are limiting to your sense of identity or your will. I think you find value in things that bring peace of mind and comfort due to being structured in a way that feels natural and balanced, or at least aim to provide those qualities into your life. In your case, I feel like commitment in any sort of union is something you value a lot, specially because you have a deep understanding of your own individuality which involves wanting to connect with someone who is just as conscious as you are, and just as willing to bring out the best in you as you are willing to do so for them.

Your ideal partner is someone who wants a certain level of structure in their lives, but also wants to find opportunities to experience child-like wonder. This is a person who is patient, and knows that building strong foundations in the relationship is the best way possible to ensure that both of you get to be joyful together. A key aspect here is that you look for someone who shares your values, not because they aspire to them, but because they live by them even if their lives are completely different to yours. Maybe your life experiences of the past might not be similar, but what’s important is that your ideals and aspirations are the middleground where you are both capable of nurturing a genuine connection. Both of these cards show me that you are determined to achieve harmony in a way that you consider both practical and fulfilling, and yet you are not willing to sacrifice your individual aspirations. Therefore, whoever is meant for you, needs to embrace the way in which you decide to nurture a relationship.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number two ˚.⋆

This combination of cards is telling me that you are someone who has coherent reasons to be slightly afraid of vulnerability. You have been in places where your honesty and your vulnerability have been misunderstood as weaknesses and treated as such. Nobody deserves to be hurt because of such noble traits. What's relevant here is that you are cautious with who gets access to your truest self, which is not that bad, but from time to time your anxiety in regards to vulnerability might be something that makes it more difficult to find true connections with others. It is hard to know who will value your genuine ways of living and expressing your feelings if you never try to do so, if you never give people the opportunity to show if they are worthy of you being in tune with your sensitive essence.

Your ideal partner is someone who is not only empathetic, but also someone who is willing to put effort into building a sense of trust within the relationship. Whoever wants to love you, needs to understand your healing process and willfully put in the work so you feel secure with them. I'm talking about a person who values having the difficult conversations instead of running away from the issues or hiding anything that could turn into a problem. This is someone who shows their loyalty by either being helpful or being a good company. You can be very introspective and mindful of your issues, you are too used to solve problems on your own. These are amazing qualities that can be nourished when you engage with a person who is willing to learn when you need help,when you need company and when you need your own space. Finding out who has this characteristics is only possible if you find the peace of mind and the confidence to approach vulnerability in a way that gets you out of your comfort zone without getting hurt.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ✧ pile number three ˚.⋆

Well, I can’t lie here, these cards are giving me a subtle “opposites attract” type of scenario. Which doesn’t mean that you should go and look for someone who is nothing like you, but it does mean that maybe you should consider your own virtues and defects and how they can be complemented by a partner, while also thinking on how you compliment them. This is not only about superficial compatibility, but more so about both of you being able to rely on each other and able to ask for help. From what I see, it’s most likely your ideal partner is someone who shares a similar life path to yours, but they have an entirely different set of skills. Having shared objectives and aspirations is something quite valuable, especially if both of you are equally as committed to them.

What I see from an ideal partner in your case, it's this passionate approach to almost everything. It is not a kind of passion that comes from a need to fill a void in their lives, it is the kind of passion that comes from a deep sense of responsibility and consciousness in regards to their own lives. This is a person who sees the value of their journeys and is able to be truthful and fair with their approach to new experiences because they want to remain aligned to their honest desires. They are fully aware of what they can and can’t do, but what’s interesting about them is that they also see value in creating dynamic ways to work around that. You need to find someone who respects you enough to allow themselves to ask you for help, but are also willing to help you too. A key thing to consider when thinking of an ideal partner is the sort of enhancements made possible by a connection where both genuinely respect and admire each other, without idealizations that could harm the relationship.

hey there! i hope this reading was useful or at least entertaining for someone <3 if you did enjoy it, don't hesitate to check out my other P.A.C readings i think they're also kinda fun??

anyways, big updates (maybe not too big)

i set up a ko-fi (finally, ik, im sorry, many people told me to do so but apparently i had to drop out uni to find the time to do it lmao actually not funny btw i dropped out to focus on my work because economic crisis, fuck you javier milei, i work on a tarot reading app btw but i cant disclose it or share my profile from the app idk why)

I FINALLY CAN TAKE PICTURES OF MY CARDS !!!!! (they are still samsung phone quality but they are expensive samsung phone quality ok) so yeah things are going to look prettier i guess??? maybe i'll do videos someday??

im also working on a posting schedule and taking this blog more seriously because i missed tumblr so much tbh and i need a way of sharing the beauty of tarot thats not literally too close to working a 9 to 5 call center job (i love my job tho, but working in tarot apps is... interesting) . i love this site so much, i was literally raised by it at this point (i feel like an elder user because i've been here since 13 and im 23, i saw gen z underage people calling 25 year olds "uncle" online and honestly i cant even be mad about it because if any gen z calls me an auntie i wont go against it, i've been on my single auntie patty and selma vibes since forever tbh and im technically gen z too?? )

last big update: i got a kinda fun and silly oracle deck which i will be using for an ask game eventually.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ tarot menu

✶ ko-fi page (support & tarot services) ✶

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ bookings are open ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

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cutehoons02 · 2 days ago

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TOO CLINGY WITH YOU?

* pairing: Jay x reader (grumpy x sunshine)

* tags: fluffy,kiss,a little smut,misunderstandings, jealousy

* synopsis: You liked Jay for a long time but could not admit your feelings and Jay seemed to not cling on anything (or maybe he was just pretending)

* word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

(English is not my native language)

You and Jay were not engaged but neither friends, were in a limbo of uncertainties, and for the first time in your life you had seen Jay look at you sadly and go angry from your home. You and he were the perfect representation of grumpy x sunshine, only that you too were quite extrovert but only with those few people who made you feel comfortable; instead, he also talked to the walls, joked with everyone, made even the most shy and lonely people comfortable and for your misfortune flirted with most of the girls on campus. Before you met him and became his "friend" you knew of his reputation throughout the university but you would never have thought to express feelings for him…

That night you were watching a reality show you both loved, it was kind of "Too Hot To Handle" but in an Asian version, and every time they aired it you couldn’t stop laughing or gossiping about the contestants, or the choices made by the various authors of the program to make it more spicy but at the same time fun. Jay had his face resting on your breast. With one hand he drew you small circles in the lower back and a myriad of chills made their way into your body, it was the first time in your entire life that you felt so overwhelmed by a guy and were seriously afraid to let Jay know that you liked him, but at the same time you hated the feeling you had as he gently touched your body like a feather that could go away forever.

"Jay, could you move your head for a second? You’re squeezing my breasts and tomorrow should get me the period so they hurt me". A little laugh came out of the boy from Seattle and after a few seconds you had in front of your face a Jay with the tufts all in front and with a small smile, every time he smiled out of his little dimples that you loved to touch, but that night you needed all of Jay’s body attached to yours but at the same time you would send him away because you would regret telling him how you felt about him and you didn’t want to lose his company. "Why aren’t you even touching me with a finger Y/n? I’ve been trying to feel your hands on my body all night but it seems like i’m a ghost for you today! I know you don’t like physical contact with people but with me there was never any problem, until today." Jay’s eyes darkened and his jaw got as hard to make him look more man, your little hand came up to his face but was faster than you, and his hand immediately squeezed you and put it behind your head. "It’s not me that urges you to touch me but you must want me, what is going on in this little angel's, head for a couple of days i see you strange?"

You wanted to shout out to the world what you felt when you were with him, and it wasn’t just about his physical appearance but what you felt as you watched him push himself to reach his dreams,He warmed your heart whenever he helped someone in trouble with his positive statements,You loved to see him focused while he played something on the guitar or when he pulled your sweatshirt or your dress to stand by his side while you were at a party or just during the queue for coffee.

"You’re too clingy with me Jay, i’m not the one who doesn’t touch you but in this last period you are always attached to me like a puppy!" After you grabbed it, you felt Jay’s body move away from yours and a sense of emptiness struck you in the face of Jay fi formed a small wrinkle and after a few seconds stood up from your bed. "I didn’t seem that he was too sticky with you last week while i kissed you all over the body, but if for you i am a puppy who needs only you, you are mistaken big Y/n" Jay was wrong because you were the only one who made him feel like a boy at first with a thousand butterflies in his stomach while he watched you do the simplest things in this world, like petting a dog or preparing a cake together. He loved spending time with you and his feelings for that shy girl he saw for the first time at that party organized by his friend Jungwon, with time they had grown, also the jealousy to see you smiling with other guys had become a habit that grew more and more; but when you told her it was too sticky and that it bothered you her touch did not waste time to get away from you. He wanted to see if what he felt for you was real, For you too and so; he ended up at another party with all his dearest friends drinking and joking but a part of him would have liked to be in your company watching that stupid program where it was supposed to be about not feeling what the contestants did with you, because he would have wanted to kiss you from everything and claim that you were his.

The music was ringing all over the house and you were drinking your drink and listening to a guy who had come forward to ask if you wanted to dance with him, but your answer was no for the guy in front of you with red locks could not take his eyes off and flirt funnily but at the same time cringe with you. "I don’t like dancing, especially with a stranger and then i’m waiting for my boyfriend!" You told a white lie to the boy in front of you but you knew that somewhere in the house there was your best friend Jungwon, his friends, and surely also Jay.

You saw him coming closer and closer and your eyes moved intimidated by his sight to that of the center of the lounge until you felt yelling your name and a familiar hand leaned on the low bottom of your body "Angel you could have written me that you had just arrived at the party" The pressure of Jay’s hand was strong in your body and his obvious jaw hardened more when he saw you smiling to that ragged one with bordeux hair before his eyes, but after a few minutes he realized that you were not at all comfortable talking to that boy and a sense of jealousy and protection was affirmed throughout his body. "You better hold on tight, i asked her to dance but she told me she was engaged." You looked very bad to the boy in front of you and tried to get away from Jay’s hold but she became even more protective and tight towards you. "Quiet from next time i will always come with my girlfriend not leave her at the mercy of boys who can’t accept rejection!" a little smile came out of your lips and Jay’s hand took yours and you walked away from that boy and after a while you found yourself leaning against the wall of his room.

"Did Angel try to touch you without your consent or make jokes about how you’re dressed?" Jay’s gentle hand leaned against your face and the scent of whisky mixed with honey and a note of wood invaded you "No no, he just wanted to dance with me, but when i told him, i didn’t want to and that i was engaged he didn’t believe me because he saw me going in alone." "You don’t come alone to these kinds of parties anymore, guys can’t control themselves when they see a beautiful girl like you angel. Especially if they see a single girl dressed in such an attractive dress, even the most sane guy would have to ask you to dance with him and put his hands on your hips to the rhythm of music" a rosier infested your cheeks and a little rising heat ran through your body "stop flirting with me Jay, you’ve seen me dressed in this skirt and i have nothing less than other girls, and down at the party there will be more beautiful and more confident than me with guys."

"I know you think i’m a loser and you’ll call me "puppy" but it’s been more than a week since i touched you and i need to kiss you, when i saw you talking to that loser, a feeling of jealousy and protection burst in me. I know i’m not the guy of your dreams because i saw how you avoided me these days but fuck y/n i like you and can’t help being sticky with you, if you’re around" When you heard these words coming out of Jay you did not think for a moment and you put your lips in those of Jay, the kiss had started slowly but Jay had other plans with you, he had always pulled back because he was afraid that you ran away from him. She wanted to kiss you for hours but needed to feel your sweet scent of flowers and figs, so i put her lips in one of the most sensitive points of your body. He loved to kiss your neck and collarbones but the thing that made him crazy more than all was your breast and with a hint of yours he took off the top you had and with one hand he tickled your left breast and with his lips, he merged to fill you with kisses and mark your other breast,his big hand was perfect for your breasts and various moans came out of your mouth and a grin made its way into Jay’s lips.

"Angel you’re perfect for me, and no other guy will touch you for I don’t know how long because i don't like to share anything of mine, but if you want all this too you must strive not to be shy with me to tell me if it is too much or if you don’t like something you should not be ashamed to tell me" You put your hands on his face and kissed the little mole that he had on his forehead a strong sense of letting him know that you cared for him and that you liked to kiss the small butterfly-shaped birthmark/heart that he had on his neck.

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masonm99 · 3 days ago

Text

Let Me Take Care Of You

Manchester United had done it! They had won the FA Cup final and you couldn’t be proud, especially for the love of your life.

Mason.

After the season he had, this was the best way to end things and you couldn’t wait to show him how proud you are of him.

You waited long enough, after all you couldn’t tear your eyes off him when he wore the suit, it was your weakness. His hair already made you weak. This suit of his though, it was brutal for you to watch him parade in it and you not being able to do anything up until now and even then you didn't have long because the afterparty was in about an hour. So you had to be quick and let out all your feelings in the hour that you had before you go to the afterparty having to pretend again that the suit doesn't make you want to tear his suit off right there and then in that moment.

Replaying the FA cup win in your head made you feel proud and happy for the team and especially Mason - as it always did. But you were only human, and that suit on him was the reason you were dripping wet for him.

‘You here, babe?’ You heard Mason yell, you were in the ensuite when he came into the hotel room, and you walked out as soon as you heard him, and made a beeline for him and jumped into his arms as soon as you saw him. You leapt up and circled your legs around his waist.

You placed your lips on his and kissed him; you couldn't waste any time. You were practically insatiable. You felt Mason walk over to the edge of the bed, and sat down, you were now on his lap, never once breaking the kiss.

Mason's large hands went down to your ass; you were still in your Manchester United shirt specifically and obviously the number 7 shirt, nothing else. You didn't bother wearing much clothes when you came back to the hotel as you knew what would happen and thought it would save you time and get to the real deal quick enough because you couldn't keep your hands off him long enough.

‘Fuck Y/N no underwear, and the number 7 looks so fuckin' sexy on you. Are you trying to make me fuck you?’ He smirked. You pulled back from his lips and glared at him.

‘Ah, not yet. Let me take care of you first,’ you say with a wink.

‘Damn! What did I do to deserve this? But you know I love when you take control so go ahead baby,’ Mason says, his tongue poking his cheek, looking all smug and cockily.

‘Win the FA cup, duh,’ you playfully say, rolling your eyes.

‘You better get on your knees then baby.’ he winks.

Before obeying him, you couldn't resist but leaving open mouthed kisses on his neck. You trail your mouth even lower , grabbing his arms as you kiss his chest, licking his nipple , then biting it softly, then giving the other nipple the same attention; his arms are flexed and you can feel how much bigger his muscles have gotten. You've always loved his body, but damn, he was so much stronger than you and you could barely wait until you could put some of your ideas into practice. But not now; it is all about him now. So you continue moving your kisses lower, your hands now following your lips on his sides. You pause for a moment and look at him, and you wish you could take a picture of this moment and capture Mason under your control. He looks delicious and you're finally about to have a taste.

You finally obey what he says and get on your knees. When you're finally able to unzip his trousers you let out a sigh of relief . You've been waiting all day for this moment and you're going to cherish every moment. His trousers slid down to his ankles, and you start teasing him, going past his clothed erection and kissing his inner thighs, his legs opening to accommodate you better. You simply grasp at the waistband of his boxers and pull them down until they reach the ankles, just where the trousers fell. You can see his cock twitch in anticipation. You don't even have to look up to know; you can feel his stare. When you sense that he is about to beg - and you want to save that for later - one of your hands comes into a circle. your fingers loosely around his cock. You take one look at him again, staring into his eyes, as you lower ypur open mouth to his balls, and at the first lick his hand on the duvet tightened, and you moan, closing your eyes.

You love how sensitive he is to your every touch just like you are to his. You don't put any pressure on his cock yet, choosing to focus on his balls, for now, teasing him with your tongue and hand, caressing them, licking around them, sucking them lightly into your mouth. You almost miss him moaning out your name and a soft please, and you look up at him.

‘Grab my hair, Mase.’ You don't need to say it twice, the hand that was on the duvet moves, helping you keep your hair from your face so you can focus on the task at hand. You decide not to make him wait any longer and close you fist around his cock, dragging it slowly up and down once, twice, and on the third time your hand goes down, your tongue lavishes attention to the head of his cock, his taste and smell invading your senses. You sense him gripping your hair tighter and you close your eyes, sucking the head into your mouth and moaning around it as he gets louder, his hands tightening even more. You suck him a little harder and release the head with an audible noise. Your tongue goes back to his balls, but this time to lick a strip up until you reach the head again and out it in your mouth, sucking it and going down his cock as much as you can as you close your hand against what doesn't fit.

You don't waste anymore time, bobbing your head up and down slowly at first, matching the movements with your hand while the other gives some attention to his balls just like how you know he likes. Every time your mouth moves down, you suck and press your tongue against the underside of his cock, and you feel him clench his hands on your hair more and more, still holding himself back, but you want him to just let go. This time, as you suck down, you try going deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you pause for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose. You slowly move your head down, taking more and more of him until your nose is pressed against his stomach and you swallow around him, feeling him deep. This time his hands pull on your hair and you moan, which only makes him pull harder, and you choke, tears coming to your eyes. He pulls you off his cock and up to kiss him, muttering 'fuck' in your mouth.

‘You're gonna make me cum like this,’ he says.

You smile, raising your eyebrow and wordlessly go back to sucking him into your mouth. This you keep your eyes glued to his, needing to see his face as you pleasure him; whenever he is going on you and maintains eye contact you feel it is too intense, but being in this position you understand why he loves to look at you like this, underneath, receiving this pleasure. You start moving your mouth faster, sucking harder, and you press down a little more, swallowing around him. You feel him pulling on your hair, trying to have you come up again, knowing he's close by the way he's clenching his thighs and his cock is twitching in your mouth.

‘I want you to cum in my mouth, Mase,’ you say as your hand keeps the movements, not stopping his pleasure. He nods, licking his lips and opening his mouth to let out a moan while his hips press up, needing more, he's so close, so you give him what he needs.

You suck him hard, no more teasing, no more going slow or careful. It gets messy and wet, you sucking him up and down and feel his thighs clench and his hands tug on your hair, his breath becomes heavier and shorter. One of his hands grabs the sheets near his hips, gripping into the mattresses he gives you a warning that he is close. Once you know he is close, you suck deeply, deep throating him, moaning around him, encouraging and making him reach his peak. You feel his cum fill your mouth and you have a hard time swallowing with him still in your mouth, so you let some dribble out as you keep the same pressure on his cock, prolonging his pleasure until he twitches.

‘Wow! I think that was the best head I’ve ever had.’ Mason manages to get out, pulling you up into his lap. You felt a bit flustered after realising what you just did, and your face said it all. ‘Don’t get all shy on me now, we’ve got a long night ahead of us,’ he winks, after realising you went quiet and found your face hiding in the crook of Mason’s neck inhaling his cologne which almost sent you to your knees again.

‘Not yet Mr, in case you’ve forgotten we’ve got an afterparty to attend in approximately 40 mins and I need to do my makeup again. Can’t go down looking like this now, can I?’ You finally speak, now getting out of your hiding spot and looking Mason in the eye, he just smiles down at you, ‘Fuck, how did i get so lucky?’ Mason lets a whisper completely disregarding your previous comments. ‘And to answer your question, No, this side of you is only for me to see. You’re an angel in the streets and a devil in the sheets.’ Mason smirks, leaving you speechless once again.

The afterparty was quite eventful and the entire night you could feel Mason’s lingering looks, it’s like you both knew what was going to happen when you got straight to the hotel.

And your gut feeling was right.

You had already been one orgasm down but you knew you wanted to try something different by being on top, you didn’t know how he would react but you wanted to watch him lay back and relax whilst you’re riding him.

‘You got another one in you for me, sweetheart?’ His deep, sensual voice is smooth as butter as he whispers. Hovering over you, he lines himself to your entrance and lets his spare hand lace with yours on the bed while the other gives his cock a few tugs.

‘Wait,’ your tone is stifling. You breathe as you place your hands on his broad shoulders. ‘Tonight I want to try something different for you,’ For a brief moment, you make eye contact enough to feel secure in each other's company. Your body moves slowly from under him, luring him to lie down on your king sized hotel bed with your silky sheets tumbling around you. As you straddle him, his palms caress your hips and his hand rests on the small of your back. ‘Relax for me, Mase.’ You whisper, gently planting a kiss on his lips, holding his stubbly cheek in your palm.

He nods, breath hitching in his throat as he gazes at you, your lips swirling around his fully erect cock, hand pumping him. He lets out a soft moan watching you as you barely taste him, the pre cum seeping out of his tip devoured by your sleek mouth.

Your thighs straddle him, lining his tip with your entrance on top, once you’ve primed him, his cock glistening with your clit. His cock slides effortlessly from your glossy arousal for him as you guide him inside of you, your moans threading together. Your hands clasp his chest, providing stability. You rock your hips slowly and sensually at first, giving each other time to get used to get used to one another.

‘Wait, Y/N.’ Your face drops at him calling out your name, you wondered if he didn’t want this, you were getting ready to get off his lap until Mason held you in place before reaching for the bedside table, where it had the FA Cup medal. You gave him a look at first wondering if he was instantiating what you were thinking. ‘As much as I think riding me alone is the hottest thing, I want you to wear the medal whilst you’re riding me. That would send through the roof.’ Mason says, clearing your doubts. You move your head forward so he could put it on you.

‘You can carry on now,’ he winks.

His lips utter muffled groans as he watches you bounce on his pulsating cock.

‘Tell me if this feels good, okay?’ You cup his cheek once again and plant a tiny kiss on his jaw. You let motion take control and your hips rotate in a half circle.

His cock, which is buried deep inside you, hits your end this time as you bounce slowly, grinding, and you make sure to rock your hips a little more. The sloppy sounds of the wetness pumping in and out, He moans your name in an enticing deep tone, and he is so thankful for you right now.

Mason’s hands are on your waist and his eyes are closed as you guide yourself on his twitching member, ‘F-fuck.’ he softly moans, stammers and rolls his eyes to the back of his head. Drops of sweat glisten on his forehead as you tightly grip his biceps.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’ You gently gasp when his cock hits your G-spot, hips motioning up and down now.

‘So good.’ His teeth are clenched, a whimper falling from his lips as his hands come to hold over yours on his chest. Squeezing your hand tight as you clench your walls around him, each inch of him is felt, filling inside. ‘Please don’t stop, baby.’ He bites his lips. ‘Keep going love, just like that.’ He grunts when you go deeper, tightening around him. The pads of Mason’s thumbs are digging into your skin now.

You feel Mason thrust up into you, ever so slightly, meeting your hips half way. He swiftly pulls you down flush to his chest, your boobs and the cold feeling of the medal pressed against him, so vulnerable, exposed for him, Your skin sticking to one another. His breath is moist against your lips as your forehead touches and you gaze deeply into each other's eyes for a while uttering gasps and groans that fill the air. Your brows furrow in total ecstasy as your hips continue to move sensually on his cock.

Mason’s arms are wrapped around you, holding your body close as he kisses your face endlessly, between moans. You’re a whiny mess on top of him, trying your best to focus on making him feel good.

It’s the least he deserves after the day he’s had.

The feeling of him stretching you, filling you to the brim, your clit ached to the way his cock pounds in and out of you as you move, feeling completely full. It’s a unique kind of ultimate bliss, something only the two of you have the pleasure of indulging in.

He quivers, whimpering almost as soon as you circle and rotate your hips in a different way.

‘I won’t be able to last much longer, Y/N, I'm so close,’ He trembles and shivers as your pussy moves a little bit quicker at this point, your hips curving in full motion. ‘Baby, you’re taking me so well.’

‘No.’ you groan softly, the sound of your skin slapping together loud, your ass pounding his thighs, your creamy release glistening at him. His thoughts are captivated by the way you fit him like a glove. You stop dead in your tracks and plant a kiss on his lips, your foreheads meeting as you do so.

Your fingers interlock his hair, you let out small, breathy moans, soothing him. ‘Not yet, baby.’ You sigh, nuzzling his neck. ’All good things to those who wait.’

He nods, pulling you closer, his lips parted and his chest flushed pink, rising and falling. ‘You just feel so good.’ His deep voice makes you shiver, with small groans and husky tones as you pulse him. ’So drenched for me.’

In an instant, you are rocking and rolling oh him, feeling the waves of his cock as you move up and down on it, your hand reaching out to grasp his hand again. You can feel him trembling and twitching as he tries his best to hold off cumming deep inside right at that second.

Knowing he’s close, Mason takes a hold of your hand and gradually leads it down to his balls. ‘Can you..’ His words cease, a deep groan coming to his lips when he feels your fingertips on them. You know how much he enjoys it when you play with them and how it always pushes him over the brink. You massage, fondling them whilst he skims your gorgeously voluptuous boobs.

You’re practically crying from how good it feels; how good he feels. His hands move over your body, rubbing and caressing your plump boobs as they bounce along with you and the medal. Mason considers every part of your body to be his own little piece of heaven.

Somewhere only he had the right to be welcomed.

Each inch of his cock fills you as he sinks in and out, restrained compliments for you from his mouth as he watches, a jumble of messy moans from beneath you. Picking up the pace again, you hear his groans become louder and louder, knowing he’s getting closer as you edge him, only to stop your hips again as he’s about to release. With your touch stroking his temple, you gently kiss his jaw again, quietly whispering into his ear.

‘Not just yet, baby. Hold off for me a bit longer.’ Nuzzling your face into his neck, you paint delicate love bites while moving up and down on him, his hands wandering to your ass, moaning and groaning in delight, needily in your ear.

You’re exactly what he needed to feel, sweet relief, blissfully warm, wet, and tight. He craved it more than anything at that moment. Every now and then, you gasp quietly as your pussy throbs for him; the noises only make him want more.

Sitting up straight, you now press your hands to his chest, bouncing, harder, deeper, quicker, whirling in all directions, ready to deliver the climax you both craved. Mason starts to fall apart beneath you, your skin colliding quickly and meaninglessly and your actions wild and demanding.

You move faster, ‘Eyes on me, love. That’s it princess. I wanna watch you.’ You’re giving it your all, each string of nerves inside you is pulled, you fear you’re going to snap. He’s holding you so tight, as if scared you’ll disappear, he whispers in your ear, cooing how much he loves you and how good you make him feel.

Your release streams down his thighs, squirting out as you bounce faster, practically crying on top of him. He feels so amazing, almost too good to be true, and the twitching and pulsing of his cock is divine. Each curve and vein of his huge dick digs into you, leaving you sore and delicate.

Unable to restrain himself, Mason begins pounding up into you, meeting your hips. You cry, giving it your all as you bounce quickly, clutching his bicep. ‘Oh Y/N,’ he repeatedly exclaims.

Glancing between, he notices his cock glistening with your slickness, each motion of your hips, balls practically slamming into your core each time.

‘Cum for me, Mase.’ You say whilst biting your lip. ‘Fill me up.’ Tears pricking at how good he makes you feel.

‘Together.’ Mason moans in pleasure, bringing his thumb down to your clit to stroke circles. ‘Cum all over my cock, darling. Let go for me.’ He takes a sharp breath.

Within seconds, you both reach your high, foreheads pressed hard against each other so you can feel Mason close by, hip is bouncing through your orgasms. Mason’s cock slams into you again, only slowing when he spills into you, creamy ribbons of his cum filling you whole. He stops along with your hips, buried deep inside, still throbbing as your pussy aches around him, tender, sore, and delicate.

You’re now out of breath, and Mason’s arms keep you close to his chest as it rises and falls. You open your eyes, as he does, to join your gazes, his cheek flushed pink. You giggle, kissing his lips while still panting, ‘How was that?’ You ask, wincing as his cock moves slightly inside of you as he shifts whilst still buried in you.

‘So fucking good, baby. This is the best you’ve ever given me.’ Mason kisses your palm and holds it to his chest.

You smile, knowing how well you’ve done and how good you’ve treated him.

‘Now, it’s my turn to take care of you. Just so you know, I’m not going to let you go lightly. My teasing is gonna be ten times worse, baby.’ Mason smirks.

Mason’s lips trail lower, deep purple stained marks embedding their way into your skin from his hungering lips, and you softly smile, your lips curling into the gentlest of grins, watching the way Mason loves on you so well, leaving not an inch of your skin untouched.

His fingers are deep into you, your wetness soaking his fingers. His fingers move and please. The pleasure he gives flutters over your form, resulting in pleasantly rich orgasm’s. It approaches at a slow pace at first. As the peak - that sweet spot hits, it starts to build, rising with the tide. It comes, it pours but it never truly goes away.

Your legs and clit are spread out by him. Your scent of sex yearning heat enveloped his senses; a scent Mason had stored away in the depths of his mind for longing nights spent absent from his love. His sturdy fingers held open delicate folds whilst he lightly kissed your sensitive clit. ‘All mine.’ He breathes into your pussy as he lightly pecks along your soaking folds. ‘Can’t believe you’re all mine.’ He smiles, smirking up, catching a delightful view of your dewy skin. Your fingers thread through his chocolate locks nestled in your clit. ‘Can’t believe your body is all mine.’ Kissing lightly along the insides of your thighs, marking your skin as his and only his.

Through the quiet whimpers and shuddering breaths, you whine for him, your small, dainty fingers reaching, always reaching for his soft hair. You lightly tug on his hair, the sensation of his lips adoring your skin and his strong hands gently caressing your bare thighs, sending butterflies soaring through your body. ‘Mase.’ You moan as you feel his lips curl into a smile. The sound of his name falling gracefully off your lips is his favourite sound as it makes it feel like you’re his and his only.

You are his favourite sound. You scream, whimper, spill, ‘Mase,’ over and over again. His beautiful eyes which you can get lost into forever slowly wander to yours, a smile spreading over his lips as his hand reaches out to meet yours on the frantic white sheets. His lips meet yours in a kiss that is drenched in affection as he takes your hand in his and squeezes it with confidence. Mason’s lips intertwine with yours in such a delicate and tender way that you’re left staring into his chocolate orbs while your hand clutches and fits against his, holding yours like a puzzle piece.

‘Patience, baby.’ A soft bruise appears on your neck where his lips made love to your flesh, and purple hues pour over the area as he smiles into your skin. The swell of your breasts, bare and exposed with shadowed, pebbled nipples perking just for him, was your flawlessly attractive body. With anticipation of pleasing you so perfectly, he sinks a kiss into the valley of your chest, his moist lips scattering to your breasts, a trail of delicate kisses dotting your stomach.

With his lips hovering over your clit, his fingers spreading you, languidly stroking over your clit as stifling moans fill his ears. The sweetness of your quick arousal meets his tongue in a quick wash of your sweetness.His hand reaching up to thread yours once more to your side, He dives into you and gently caressing your clit nestled between, his thumb soothingly grazes the skin of your palm and his spare hand resting on your thigh.

Mason’s tongue flicks you in a way that varies between quick and languid, enticing your tender spots and blending his tongue’s flow with your moisture. He grins at you and says, ‘Baby, you’re soaked.’ A deep groan sends from the pit of his mouth, the sounds of his mouth slicking, his nose brushing against your folds, generating jolts of warm pleasure as he happily your whole. ‘Fuck, Mase!’ You cry out as you feel him sucking eagerly on your moist, gushing folds and lapping your creamy glisten. Your weak legs spread further out for him, your hand tightly gripping his in a painful squeeze.

Right now, to Mason, nothing mattered other than your body and your pleasure.

The way he leaves you is a mess; his lips spread your slick gleam of soaking arousal all over your clit, and the creamy build up of need soaks the inside of you as you whine for him. His beard shines with your dripping wetness, and his tongue speeds up movement when you moan out his name louder than before, a routine of signal of your proximity to release he’d become much familiar with through numerous occasions of love making they’d shared with each other.

When he places his hot breath on your clit, you feel a wave of pleasure crash over your body, causing your body to tense and your toes to curl. His lips never leave your clit, gliding over your pussy as he gently guides you down from bliss. You feel like a bliss of release almost as if you were seeing stars for a brief moment. His cock lifted in response to your whimpers and groans, revealing a deep desire to be buried within the cosy and moist walls of shelter he had just made.

You laboured, your breath quickening and huffing as you let out steam from the third orgasm he’d given you within a matter of minutes.

‘You got another in you for me, baby?’ He speaks in a deep tone. You can feel a bulge of dangerously eager cock against your stomach. His lips trace up, leaving an unrestricted amount of kisses and scattering moist pecks over your naked glory, a little sheen of dewy sweat apparent on your flushed cheeks. Slow, sensual hands wander your body . Your fingers grab for him again through suffocating breaths, yearning to feel him close - so close, in fact, that you’d become one.

You feel the weight of his cock stroking your clit every time he moves, beads of pre cum pricking your skin from his thick tip. His lips are still adoring your silky skin, and he has his body positioned above you, held close by his toned biceps. Every vein in his member throbs, waiting to be taken by you. ‘Mason,’ you manage, your words lost on his lips when you meet in a searing kiss. His bites of affection litter your chin, your jaw, only stopping when you reach up to cup his face in a desperate plea. ‘Fuck me.’ You manage to get out, the throb between your weak legs intensifying, ‘Take care of me like you do, baby.’

Chuckling quietly, a delicate smirk washes over his features, his lips twisting into a smile as he leaves a final kiss to your lips. With his hefty cock in hand, he directs, lining his cock into your clit, gentle groans and breathless breaths tampering through skin on skin as his hips roll at a frustrating gradual speed.

Mason slides in, a short dip of his cock inside you, before sliding out. You cling onto him, your claws digging into the rosy fleshed skin of his back,as his head finds a home between the soft spots of your shoulders and your neck. Sliding back in, you beg him to go faster through frantic groans, the stretch of him inside creating a familiar burn you’d become used to over the years you had been with him. A soft moan escapes yours and Mason’s mouths, the sensation of you tightening around him sends shivers back. With each thrust, he plunges, burying and searching deeper and deeper inside, his bulging veins pulsating against your walls.

With every firm push and open mouthed kisses against your neck, he sinks inch by inch. The ache inside you grows;your groans becoming necessary and your gentle yelps becoming more frequent by the second.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. ‘Fuck,sweetheart.’ Mason praises. You cry out a moan between loud, broken breaths, gripping fistfuls of the white sheets piled in a sea around their bodies, a hand caging to your mouth, muffling loud, vulgar groans that fall carelessly. Mason goes deeper and deeper, until rolled thrusts strike your end. Mason’s name comes off your mouth in a desperate plea. ‘You feel,’ he groans, clutching to your body tighter, ‘so,so good baby.’ His deep grunts rummage between your skin, demanding thrusts burying inside you with each movement, your body shivering with need, feeling the pulse of his swollen cock caged inside.

Mason’s pace quickly becomes faster by the second, with every dip into your warm haven, he showers you with praises, marking you with kisses and wet traces of his love generously on your skin.

The room was filled with the sound of your skin slapping, with each powerful plunge, a string of incoherent moans flooding his lips, The sensation of your walls milking his cock is a trance of its own. You whimper while he drills into you, jaw tightening, teeth gritting to the feel of nestling within you; his favourite place to be.His erection is stiff, tearing you open as his veiny bulk pounds in furiously, the words of praise that mist in the air pushing you into a frenzy of it own. ‘Gonna make you feel so good, princess.’ He encourages, his finger finding its way massaging to your sensitive clit.

With a swift motion, he pumps his hips and dips his fingers encouragingly into your smooth folds. You gasp when you feel this sinful touch, your head falling hopelessly to his shoulder as the sheen of his milky arousal envelops you.’Mase, don’t…don’t stop.’ You cry out feeling a wave of tears vulnerably fall from the corners of your eyes at the thought of how magnificently he fuck you.The bedframe creaking due to his demanding pace.

Your boobs move at his speed, bouncing relentlessly, his cock gleaming with your fluids, sliding with your mixture of releases interfering. Your body trembles beneath him as you cry out in a suffocating tone, placing your hands on his broad shoulders causing your figure to jolt with every thrust he delivers.

He savours each moan; he grunts when you close your walls around him, your pussy shapes particularly for him. Your foreheads brush as you stare attentively into each other's eyes, gasping in passionate motion, ‘Listen to the sound’s you’re making.’ Mason smiles, the sounds of your pussy pouring with ecstasy from his dick, fucking you so well, almost making you grit your teeth, eyes stinging. With a gaping angle, Mason’s cock hits your end deeper, and you tremble, shiver, and gush for him.

‘Mase!’ You groan out, anxiously clutching him tight, your fingernails digging into his skin. ‘Mason, please don’t stop, baby.’ Your words barely make it out as a whisper.

His cock dives within you repeatedly, the intimacy is far too intense. The pulse of his cock inside pairs with your perfectly, his tone husky, his praise loving, and his groans sweet.

You feel your core tighten, the burning stretch is unmatched, whimpering needily in his neck as he thrusts faster, quicker, harder, deeper, messier.

A burst of warm release gushes out, wet and spurting, coating his cock.

Your eyes are watering, your skin is sticky with sweat droplets , you feel hot and flushed, uncontrollable pleads and whimpers leaving your throat. Your legs spread widely and your clit is devoured by Mason’s cock, you experience a powerful and extremely strong orgasm that consumes your entire body. Mason’s cock moves at a steady speed. As he continues to drill his hips into your pussy, Mason praises you. ‘That’s it, my good girl,’ with peppered kisses to your skin. ‘Look at how you drip for me.’

Mason smirks, nibbling your neck, watching the way you moan. Senselessly, the curve of his shaft massages your sore, aching walls, leaving you delicate after your release, chasing his own.

Inhaling sharply, Mason feels his own orgasm coming close as his cock twitches through deep gasps and muffled moans. The warm, creamy wetness you’d created for him sent shockwaves of warmth, snapping at every vein in his cock and making every nerve in his body crave you.You hold tight onto his biceps, burying your face in his shoulder when he spills inside you through strings of his glossy cum.The insides of your walls are coated, adding to the milky wet haven you’d held particularly for him.

In the aftermath, your pussy aches around him.

Sensitive and sore.

Deep down, somewhere inside, you feel full, tainted by his quality, silky cum. His member is still dozing in your lush walls in the heat of the aftermath, the euphoria of the heat surrounding us contributing to soothing rides off a soaring high shared between us. Your chest heaving, parted lips, his forehead connecting with yours as his eyes flutter closed, feeling confined inside the woman of his dreams.

You’ll always be the woman of his dreams.

hi guys, anyone remember this?! it’s been a while and I found this in my notes so thought why not ;)

#mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount x angst #mason mount x desi reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x you #mason mount smut #mason mount x oc

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malk1ns · 2 days ago

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november 2 2024 vs habs, 3-1 win

bond fic part three (1, 2). i don't think they'll all be in this 'world' from now on, but i definitely plan to revisit, especially if sid keeps saying insane things like 'i love....really enjoy playing with him' on television while making the most blatant genoface of all time.

Sid feels guilty about the bond.

It doesn’t take a genius to tell that it’s benefitting him right now a lot more than it is Geno. It also doesn’t require any special detective skills to narrow down what exactly it was that caused it to clamor for recognition now, after presumably years of lying dormant—the specialists the team has hauled in haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly when it started to click into place, but they’ve narrowed it down to sometime in 2014.

Sochi. Coughing up a 3-1 playoffs lead to the Rangers (the first time). The front office getting a clean sweep, with barely-veiled references to their leadership, or rather lack thereof, being the cause. Sid remembers how much closer to Geno he felt after their post-Olympics conversation, how much they talked that summer, hours on the phone railing at ownership, at management, at their teammates.

He’d wondered why Geno brought that up after his 500th goal. It had felt personal, almost, to hear him give up such a private, important detail like when they really started to consider each other family to the public.

Now, though, Sid knows why. That was the bond. It was the bond, which had sat patiently for a decade, pushing Geno closer to Sid, making him beg for time on Sid’s line, which—really, shouldn’t that have been a clue? He puts up 11 points in five games and suddenly wants to switch to wing? Geno’s always said that the Penguins were Sid’s team, always deferred to him and stepped back and let him take the spotlight, but at the expense of his own points production? It was the bond sensing a weakness, a stumbling in Sid’s ability to lead the team on his own, that pushed Geno up off his own line to Sid’s side. Geno never would have argued so hard to give up his role otherwise, especially not when his line was helping keep the team afloat.

After the Anaheim game, they’d stood in the parking lot for almost 20 minutes, Geno holding them up as he braced himself against the car, before someone found them. The athletic trainers had come running first, then the medical staff, and they’d been examined in separate rooms. Sid had been allowed to drive himself home, but Geno was still in with Vyas when he left, sitting on an exam table and shaking so hard he had to lean against a trainer to stay upright.

Everything in Sid had screamed at him to stay, but Kevin had firmly ushered him onward, and Sid had no choice but to go home.

And then Geno missed practice. A maintenance day, Sully called it, but the twanging discontent at the periphery of Sid’s sensation said otherwise, and he’d have gone straight to Geno’s after practice if he hadn’t been firmly warned off doing so. He needs space, Vyas had said. He’s not adapting as well as you to the bond, and proximity is pushing him past his own limits. He can’t help it. You need to give him today, and he’ll be better tomorrow. This will take time for the two of you to adjust before it’s smooth.

When Geno shows up for the game, though, the circles under his eyes are so dark that Kris is at his side immediately, brow furrowed with worry as he corrals Geno off to a corner of the lounge to talk to him. Geno listens, but doesn’t do anything except shake his head, even when Kris gets more animated, talking with his hands and getting in Geno’s space.

Sid leaves them to it. Kris knows what happened, is one of the few people they told, but there’s nothing he or anyone else can do. There’s nothing Sid can do, even, except keep playing and listen to the staff and hope that whatever is keeping Geno from adjusting resolves itself soon.

They can’t avoid each other in the game, though. Sid doesn’t think they’ve ever shared this much ice time in their whole careers as they have the last two games. Every shift, every faceoff, Geno’s there at his left, crouched down and staring at the puck, waiting for it to drop and play to start. On the bench they bend together over the iPad, and even Ricky trying to sit between them at Vyas’s request after the first period doesn’t last more than a few shifts.

Sid feels like he’s orbiting something, their gravitational pulls drawing them closer and closer together; collision feels inevitable and imminent. He can’t stay away from Geno, and he doesn’t want to.

Geno on his wing is a revelation. He’s settling into it now, digging in the corners and whipping the puck around the boards back to the point, doing all the dirty work to set up the rest of their skaters for a goal that he doesn’t get a single bit of credit on the scoresheet for. Sid knows, though, can feel the bond humming when they’re clicking out there, knows that his passes to Geno are going to hit every time, knows that Geno will find him through traffic and set him up no matter what.

It’s the third period when Geno starts swearing on the bench.

Sid scoots closer and tries to talk to him, but Geno shakes his head vehemently and hits his stick on the boards, going off in Russian to himself, and when he stands up and moves down the bench, Sid gives up.

They get the win. It’s hockey night in Canada, so Sid has to grab some branded towel and talk to the kid from Sportsnet, but his mind is a million miles away.

It’s like watching from a distance when he hears himself almost say he loves Geno on national television.

He’s able to backtrack, soften it and change what he was about to say, but when he finally escapes to the locker room, his hands are shaking as he unties his skates.

Sid can practically see Geno at home, pacing his kitchen and fighting with himself over how he feels. It’s the same conflict that’s been bubbling up since Halloween night in Sid, the one he didn’t notice until Geno left after the game. The same fear, the same worry, the same realization that for years there’s been something there that neither of them have seen.

Sid isn’t adapting better to the bond at all, it turns out. He’s just been better at folding himself in denial over what it meant.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series

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harlivyanddansen · 2 days ago

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Okay, so we see ONE section of plot-relevant dialogue and you just assume that they said nothing else? Also, ignoring nuance, because there is obvious fear and desperation from her mother in this scene. Doesn't look like they really want to do this, but they have to.

And what, you think if Kal-El never existed, they wouldn't send their daughter away from an exploding planet despite having the ship to send her in? Is that really what you think? The last heir to the House of El is just going to be allowed to die because there's no male to look after? Wow... okay...

Survivor's guilt is a powerful thing, and Kara is feeling all this from the perspective of 12-year-old who had a child's understanding of the situation. She's just repeating what she thought her responsibility was without taking into account what the purpose was behind that. Alex was right, and you're just being judgmental.

Okay, that entire quote was, again, Kara speaking from the understanding she had of the conversation that took place when she was a child. Her mother never said it was the ONLY reason she was being sent. The word 'only' never appeared in the dialogue. In fact, one can argue that with how it was phrased, this was Kara being asked to protect her much younger and more vulnerable cousin (he was ONE YEAR OLD, just as a reminder). Jumping to conclusions isn't an Olympic sport.

Yeah, the show sucked at giving Kara a real throughline, and also, her dad didn't say anything in the original scene, as you pointed out. Not onscreen, at least, because they only gave us plot-relevant dialogue. But notice how her dad said absolutely nothing about the mission she supposedly failed to accomplish, and neither did her mother. None of their dialogue had anything to do with her 'mission' at all if you paid any attention. They were just glad she was alive.

Funny how, once again, it's Kara's perception of her parents' wishes and not anything they actually said that trips her up. How interesting.

Again, the word 'only' wasn't in the plot-relevant dialogue. At no point was that what they said.

You still didn't answer the question. How could both kids be sent to Earth and Kara not at least feel responsible for her baby cousin? If they're both meant to survive, it makes sense that she would be put in charge as the older of the two.

Oh, thank you for those examples, neither of which actually mention that Kal-El was going with her. In the comic example, it actually looks like the familys are doing this independent of each other. In the screencaps, her mother still tells her to find her cousin, so she's still being made responsible for him. Not really shoring up your argument, hon.

Yeah, funny how families sometimes try to make decisions in tandem, and try to make one that's going to do the most good. Funny how they should care about both their daughter and their nephew. Seriously, did you try think about this from their POV at all, or did you just jump to 'horrible parents'?

Alura was on a chunk of her home planet with limited resources, hence their asking for help from Lena for the Huran-El. And how was she supposed to locate Kara on a planet of 14 billion people? I mean, Earth is a thriving planet full of other beings who are at least physically identical to Kryptonians in looks, having the same outward physiology, so it's not like all she'd have to do is look for the woman with the extra head. Not helped by the fact that she last saw her daughter when she was 12 and has no idea what she looks like as an adult.

Alura wouldn't have seen anything because they were still in the hanger at the time the pod got knocked off course, so I don't know where this part came from.

Ah, here we are. I mean, yeah, this has been used as a story beat, but that's not what actually happened. Besides, another good story beat is a character who has to find a new purpose after the one she thought she had was ripped away by fate, which was the one the show actually gave her.

If you want to show me where her parents were so disappointed she didn't wither and die because she didn't fulfill their original plans for her, go ahead. Show me that dialogue.

honestly, it's really crazy how kara's parents (in the show) saved her only so she can watch over kal. "you'll journey to earth to look after your baby cousin, kal-el.", "my father sent me to earth to take care of my baby cousin who went before me..." don't you just want your daughter safe? don't you just want her to live? is her life not worth that much to you? her happiness? why must she be spared only to look after some boy? why must you drill into the head of this young girl her life's worth it only if she's giving it away for others? are you not ashamed? ... fucking assholes!

#kara danvers #supergirl

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luck-of-the-drawings · 7 months ago

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[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS #REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT #NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS #THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS.#ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of #another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY..#i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her #idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had #when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them.#but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore.#but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think #i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow.#ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that #AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE #I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME #THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE #WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL #in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad #this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks-#-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl-#-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi #gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show #i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!!#anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM

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designernishiki · 1 year ago

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it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

#I think on another level he was sorta saying like ‘hey kiryu. you’re making it extremely clear that you don’t trust me and my intentions #and I’ve been trying to show you- over and over again- that I’d do just about anything for you and your safety #but I can’t just let my mask fall off in front of everyone- I need to keep up the unpredictable morally grey wildcard act for both my sake #AND yours. because disguising my helping you as crazy random violent outbursts and weird stalker behavior #is the only way I CAN help you. do you think it would go over well with shimano or literally anyone else if I was outright helping you out #of the kindness of my heart and fondness for you? stop being so fucking dense and look past the crazy wacky nonsense for a second and #maybe you’ll realize that all I do at the end of the day- really- is help you and put my own life and reputation on the line for you.#I am an honest guy when it comes to my real values and when I told you I wouldn’t let anyone kill you unelss it was myself- I meant it.#I’ve taken a knife and a bullet for you now. can you REALLY not see through the act yet? am I REALLY that unpredictable when you think about #it?’#that was a longer explanation than i intended but. it was difficult to put into words #I basically feel like it could be read as him implying kiryu shouldn’t backstab the people who put themselves on the line to help him #and/or pointing out that he’s never actually done kiryu dirty and has stuck to his word protecting him in the ways he can #trying to say yeah all this is a crazy act and all but when it comes down to it you Can trust me #it really makes sense when you think about it that he’d have to help kiryu/show affection towards kiryu in unpredictable convoluted ways #at that point in time because. I mean. there’s a reason he was the only person who showed up to welcome kiryu when he got out of prison #and that’s because A) he sticks to his word and his loyalty to people he cares about and B) no one else had the balls or the batshit insane #mask to wear to ward off anyone asking real questions like majima did. because ANYONE associating themselves with the supposed #patriarch-killer was a HUGE NO-NO at the time. someone important showing up for kiryu and welcoming him back outright could’ve caused #all-out warfare probably. except majima. because majima was dedicated and smart enough to use his widely-feared wildcard persona #(that everyone tended to view as incapable of having any Real agenda to worry about) to his And kiryu’s advantage #does that make sense??? I feel like it makes a lot of sense if you get it to click in your head #kazumaji #majima #kiryu #yakuza #kiwami 1 #yk1 #rambling

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artanogon · 2 months ago

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thinking more about being trans

#because i want the voice drop of testosterone because training my voice has not been enough for me. i want some of the body shifts with it #and i want top surgery at some point #half because aesthetics + dysphoria and half bc they're just inconvenient #but i dont want to be a “man”#i dont want the capacity to grow a beard or a bunch of hair and have to shave all the time to keep up my looks the way i want #i dont want to “pass” the way some people do #i dont want bottom surgery for sure and i don't have any desire to have a dick or anything. ideally i would be like a doll with no features #i certainly have no plans to stop dressing feminine #i like being my androgynous twink self #and theres certainly a lot of aspects of femininity i do enjoy #jewelry makeup skirts certain aestheitcs long hair etc #i just want to be able to wear those things in a way that i am no longer a woman but a feminine man instead #i want to be one of those weird 80s twinks who would steal your boyfriend while wearing your dress and looking better in it #or like half the men you see in regency shows with the long hair/fine features/gentle manner etc #idk. i dont want to be a man. i genuinely feel like im putting on the wrong skin saying im a transman #genderqueer/agender is the closest i think ill ever find #but god i just wish id been born a man and then had the freedom to explore looking like a girl #little fucked up freak femboy stuck in some body that doesn't feel like its mine #maybe going on t will help me feel comfortable with growing out my hair again tho #idk. spitballing #it doesnt even matter that much rn. i have to delay my t appointment because of other medical shit #but man are there a lot of thoughts up here that will never in any way make sense to most people or be accepted by greater society

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respectfulrebel · 2 days ago

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^^ Me the entire time reading this chapter 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I can’t put into words how special this story is to me. I already can’t wait to reread it, if you ever decide to publish it I can’t wait to buy it and have it on my nightstand so I can read it over and over and I then read it to my children if I ever have any or my cats if I don’t ever have children.

It was always a little surreal to see them grown up, these two who had shared so much, tethered by a bond she had always sensed. To her, they were still the children who'd once sought refuge in her kitchen after school, where she would braid Lia's hair and smile at Noah's pleas to grow his hair long like hers, that little girl with torn clothes and that boy who used to escape the struggles of his family by playing guitar.

Like this part already made me want to go back and reread from the beginning. It hasn’t even started yet and I’m already emotional.

Hana grabbed whatever was inside with such care that Noah and Lia's curiosity and confusion just increased. A moment later, she placed something in the palm of her other hand and extended it towards them, revealing a piece of red string.

I knew it 😭😭😭😭 Hundreds of hours of consuming fiction in all forms has conditioned me to be suspicious of seemingly unimportant details and it finally paid off 😭 Your mind is brilliant for planting a seed in literally the first chapter and seeing it through to have such a massive payoff 😭😭😭

"What?" she uttered before shaking her head. "How could that-? I don't own red socks."

"You did," Noah corrected her as he snapped his head up to look her in the eye, "when you were six."

CHILLS! LITERAL CHILLS!

"I thought it needed to be sewn back or something. I got worried you wouldn't have any more socks or that those would fray."

He worried 😭 that she wouldn’t have😭 any more 😭 socks 😭 or that those 😭would fray 😭😭😭 at 7 years of age? 😭😭😭 oh sweet boy 😭😭😭😭😭😭

"There was something..." Grandma went on. "It was't just the string. There was something else, a feeling around the two of you, as if the world itself was telling me your place was with each other. When I look back, I'm convinced it all started the moment Noah first saw you, Lia. The thread may have existed long before, but the day your sock got caught on the pedal of his bike... it might have been a sign—a signal from some higher power that didn't want you straying away from each other. I never wanted to interfere, to disturb the natural flow of things... so I did the only thing I could. I held onto this little piece of rope, believing somehow it would help keep you two together. I was afraid the thread might snap or get lost-that something would come between you and your relationship would strain." She looked intently at them for a while. "I've never seen anything as beautiful and intense as what you two have. I said some people are meant to be but they never find their way to each other," she looked directly at Noah, "but you, my dear child, you never left her side." Not even when the thread threatened to break, when there were circumstances that hinted at a separation such as when Lia moved on her own, or when other people came between them-every one night stand, every girlfriend and boyfriend, Mitch, the night they slept together when alcohol was running through their veins.

I’m crying, literally 😭😭😭 He never left her side 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 my heart

And in that moment, her life changed.

Noah saved her.

Stooooooooooop 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"We've been waiting months for this, Grandma. We need to know. Please."

Literally me though, I needed to know 🫠🫠🫠

"I'm so scared of losing you one day," she whispered, her words barely audible against his ear.

FELT THAT 😭😭😭

"I told you. You've always been mine, Lia."

Still crying. Forever crying for those two 😭😭😭

This was an emotional one for me. The amount of love, work, research and planning you’ve put into this story really shows and I can’t tell you how appreciative I am and how lucky I feel to be able to read this and talk to you about it 🥺🥺

I love you and your brilliant mind so much 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

zutto — chapter eleven | wc: 5.9k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Noah and Lia get answers from Noah's Grandma to all the questions they've had since Koi No Yokan.

Reading time: 25mins aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: established relationship, slight angst, japanese folklore*, chinese folklore*, magical realism, fluff, a few tears, therapy, mentions/allusions to everything that has happened until now, including lia and noah's troubled childhood, lia's abusive relationship with mitch, and the time noah and lia slept together when they were drunk. Answers to all the mysteries that happened in Koi No Yokan.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

The house welcomed them with the earthy, lingering fragrance of incense. It was a scent neither Lia nor Noah could identify yet, for it was unfamiliar—perhaps it was woven from cedarwood. Perhaps sandalwood. Nevertheless, the scent and warmth of the house wrapped them in a sense of home despite knowing they were far from their own. It was an odd mix of comfort and respectful distance; they knew they were guests in a house where every detail was arranged with thoughtful care by someone else, and yet, it felt like being home in a way. But it wasn’t the place which gave them that feeling, no.

It was Grandma.

They slipped off their shoes at the entrance, following tradition, and as Lia wiped her eyes, Noah leaned into a hug to envelop his grandmother, a gentle but steady wrapping of arms that worked as a reminder of everything she had quietly done for him. As a boy, he had been unaware of it all, but now, as a grown man, he was aware and full of gratitude and admiration.

“Why don’t you let Emi take your things upstairs?” Hana suggested, a familiar sparkle in her eye that meant she felt very joyful at having them home, finally. “I’ll prepare some tea, and we can sit in the tea room.”

At that, they both turned to see Emi, who had appeared with graceful timing at the entrance. She was a woman with short black hair in her late forties who had been assisting Hana for years. Noah and Lia knew her from their previous visits, and once again, as she stood with her hands neatly clasped and she nodded politely in their direction, her expression remained the same as always: serene and carrying a formality that made her seem both close and reserved at once. Though Hana managed the house alone, Emi’s help had become essential as of lately. The house was spacious and slightly too big for a woman alone. There were countless small details to tend to, and Hana, with her body aging with every passing day—that pain in her right leg, the backache—found herself struggling with certain tasks. Emi was there to lend her hands, as she had likely done for others throughout her life.

Emi’s presence had taken on a near-reverent quality since the moment she was hired, and that attitude applied not only to Hana but also to any guests arriving at the house. Her English was very poor, and that had led to some awkward exchanges between her and Noah and Lia in the past. Once, Lia had tried to bridge the gap and she’d asked Emi to sit with them at the tea table. But Emi, polite and respectful as ever, had simply smiled, bowed, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lia feeling guilty at the thought that, while they were indulging in pastries and warm teas, the woman was cleaning the kitchen. Perhaps it was a cultural legacy of deep-seated respect, rooted in the tradition of servitude where service was considered a quiet honor, but it still didn’t sit too well with neither Lia and Noah. Hana told them, after a few times, there was nothing they could do and they had to accept the way she was, and so they never really said much else, not even when they felt a tinge of guilt.

Noah thanked Emi gently, shaking his head when she made to lift one of their heavy suitcases. There was no way he was going to let that woman carry those heavy bags upstairs. But as expected, Emi insisted, saying something in Japanese and bending down. Noah exchanged a look with Lia, as if asking for a help she couldn’t provide. Emi attempted again to lift one of the bags, her intent clear even without words and ignoring Noah’s hands.

“Can you tell her I’ll take care of it?” Noah asked Hana. “They’re too heavy. She’ll hurt her back. I can manage.”

Hana nodded, understanding, and with a sweet voice but reverence in her tone, indicated to Emi—in Japanese, of course—to leave the task to Noah. Emi listened to Hana with more will than she had listened to Noah, for she nodded in understanding immediately and retreated after offering Noah another nodding and a smile that he tried to weirdly reciprocate.

Lia trailed behind Noah as he took both suitcases upstairs at once, her carrying their backpacks, and once they reached the top of the stairs, she paused in front of the guest room door where she had always stayed.

Noah kept walking towards his room until he noticed Lia standing far from him.

“You don’t think we’re sleeping in separate beds, let alone in separate rooms, do you?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, but her voice softened as she glanced toward the stairs. “I just don’t want to be inconsiderate. Maybe we should talk to Grandma about it first.”

After a brief pause, Noah nodded.

“Yeah. Sure. We’ll talk to her.” He extended a hand to her, and he waited until Lia took it to lead her into his room, sliding the doors open.

The room was bigger than the guest room, square in shape, with a big futon laying on a wooden tatami, clean soft bedding drapped over it and an array of pillows. There was a small desk next to the door, facing the bed, and two more sliding doors on one side that led to a cozy balcony overlooking the distant mountains. Noah had never really stopped to appreciate how cozy the room was, but now he imagined how much warmer it would feel, having Lia lying in his bed.

Noah set the suitcases in one side and Lia placed their backpacks on the desk.

After spending a few minutes sorting through her toiletries and hanging up some clothes in the wardrobe, Lia slipped away to the bathroom for a quick break. Just then, a knock on the door startled Noah, causing him to turn around. He found Emi by the threshold, carrying more pillows in her arms and two colorful blankets. A sigh escaped him; he couldn’t find a way to explain they didn’t need so many, and he didn’t want to discharge her and offend her, so he simply stowed the extras in the wardrobe, thanking her.

Lia came back from the bathroom with her hair gathered in a comfy bun, and both headed downstairs.

Grandma was in the kitchen, a space that carried the comforting smell of teas being prepared and food being cooked. Hana was placing an iron kettle on a tray and arranging three delicate porcelain cups beside a plate of traditional sweets when both stepped into the room.

As Hana looked up, her eyes softened, the faint creases at their edges deepening. She paused, noticing the way Noah and Lia lingered at the door as if feeling shy about something.

Before she focused on that, a surge of disbelief spread through her. It was always a little surreal to see them grown up, these two who had shared so much, tethered by a bond she had always sensed. To her, they were still the children who’d once sought refuge in her kitchen after school, where she would braid Lia’s hair and smile at Noah’s pleas to grow his hair long like hers, that little girl with torn clothes and that boy who used to escape the struggles of his family by playing guitar.

“Is everything to your liking?” Hana asked, her gaze soft but searching.

“Yes,” Lia replied quickly. Noah nodded in agreement, but then Lia glanced at him before adding, a hint of hesitation in her voice, “We were wondering if… if Noah and I could… share a room?”

Hana’s attention drifted downward, catching the subtle movement between their bodies. Noah’s fingers reached for Lia’s, and she quietly laced hers with his. Hana’s eyes lingered on their joined hands for a moment, before her lips curved into an understanding smile.

With a quiet satisfaction that neither Noah nor Lia fully comprehended, Hana lifted the tea tray and moved gracefully around the kitchen island, gesturing for them to follow without saying a word. Despite her petite frame, there was an elegance and authority in her movements.

Noah and Lia exchanged a look, then followed her into the tea room.

Hana’s tea room was minimal yet spacious, containing a square wooden table in the center surrounded by floor cushions. A single cabinet along the wall held a modest assortment of teacups and plates and a bouquet of dry flowers that had been there since she moved into the house, crafted by Lia, of course. On the left, the panneled windows made of washi paper let in the soft, diffused light from the garden at the back of the house. The room had always felt like a sacred space.

Noah and Lia sat side by side, waiting in a reverent silence as Hana kneeled down in front of them across the table and poured the tea, the steam unfurling in delicate wisps that mingled with the scent of sencha. Lia wrapped her hands around the warm mug only to be warned by Hana.

“It’s hot, dear. Be careful.”

It was always the same warning, and yet, Lia never seemed to care about it. Hana would always say the same, and Lia would always keep her hands around the mug because instead of burning her hands, the heat brought a sense of grounding to her that spread from her hands to the rest of her body.

Next to her, Noah, normally patient, was growing a bit restless. He was expecting an answer. Yes. No. It had been a simple question, right? Can we share a room? Can Lia sleep in my bed? He just needed a simple “yes” or “no” —a “yes” better than the other option because truth was, he didn’t know what he would do if Hana said he wanted them to keep distance while in the house. But Hana had to be so cryptic. She had to draw things out and keep him on this toes.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hana’s old but wise eyes met his just as she finished pouring herself tea. Her expression was one almost… mischievous. There was softness in it, but she had a knowing smile on her lips that hinted at secrets only she knew.

Just as Noah opened his mouth to speak, she said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

She started to rise, and instinctively, Noah made a move to help, but she waved him off.

“No need, my dear. Just give me a moment.”

She dissappeared down the hall, her footsteps a soft patter that didn’t quite fade entirely as she retrieved what she went looking for in a nearby room. She returned moments later. In her wrinkled hands, she held a small, dark wooden box. She settled back onto the cushions.

“Is that where you’ve been keeping my old baby teeth?” Noah joked, gesturing to the box with a smirk. Beside him, Lia chuckled, but Hana’s silence—her smile still serene—quickly quieted them.

“Not quite,” was her reply.

Hana placed the box on the table, facing her. Her own cup of tea steamed right next to it. She slowly opened it, but the attached lid created a barrier that made it impossible for Lia and Noah to see what was inside. Lia shifted, hands on her knees, lifting herself slightly and stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of whatever that was.

Hana grabbed whatever was inside with such care that Noah and Lia’s curiosity and confusion just increased. A moment later, she placed something in the palm of her other hand and extended it towards them, revealing a piece of red string.

The string lay delicate and faded in Hana’s palm. It was fraying slightly at the edges where time had worn it thin. Once bright red, it had softened to a muted, dusty crimson. Unbeknownst to the young couple in the room, it had stubbornly survived, first wash after wash, and then travel after travel until it was kept safe in the box that now lay on the table.

“What’s that?” Lia asked, her eyes jumping to Hana’s, for she couldn’t make sense of the mystery that a tiny worn string could hold.

She hadn’t noticed Noah going stiff, his eyes frozen over the piece of red laying in Hana’s hand.

“That’s…” Noah began. He blinked, frowning a little as if he was trying to put the pieces together. He extended an arm and as gently as Hana had done, he took the string in his palm. “That’s a lose string from one of Lia’s socks,” he responded, more to himself than to Lia or Hana.

Lia’s confusion only deepened at Noah’s words and at his reaction. He kept staring at the string in his palm as if it was made of gold.

“What?” she uttered before shaking her head. “How could that—? I don’t own red socks.”

“You did,” Noah corrected her as he snapped his head up to look her in the eye, “when you were six.”

Lia wasn’t following. Noah continued.

“It got stuck on the pedal of my bike the first day we met, when I let you ride it. I gave it to Grandma right after I went back home. I thought…” The memories hit him, one after another. He nearly chuckled at his innocence back then. “I thought it needed to be sewn back or something. I got worried you wouldn’t have any more socks or that those would fray.”

Lia’s gaze flickered between the delicate string and the grandmother’s wise, knowing expression. She understood why little Noah, with his big heart and innocent worries, would have been anxious over the lost string. But Grandma? Why had she kept it for so many years? Why had she held on to it so reverently?

Unsure of what to say or feel, Lia found herself at a loss for words. She glanced at Noah, who was just as silent, both of them looking to Grandma.

“Have you heard about the red string of fate?” Hana asked then.

Noah’s brow furrowed, and he nodded slowly. “I think I might’ve heard something about it… Isn’t that Chinese folklore?”

Grandma gave a gentle nod with an understanding smile. “Yes, it is. But that doesn’t mean it applies only to that region.”

Lia held her tea cup close, her fingers tracing the warmth that seeped into her palms. She took a slow sip, her eyes never leaving Grandma’s face as she waited.

“According to the myth,” Grandma continued, “the string of fate is an invisible red thread tied around the fingers of those destined to meet, especially soulmates or true loves. The ones connected by this thread are bound to find each other, no matter the distance, time, or obstacles. Though the cord may stretch or become tangled, it is said to never break, symbolizing a bond that is unbreakable and meant to be.”

“Folklore,” Lia concluded, a tinge of dubiety in her tone.

“Folklore, indeed,” Grandma agreed with a tilt of her head. “Life is not that simple, or beautiful. Some people are meant to be, but they never find their way to each other. However, sometimes they do. Sometimes they find each other at the strangest of times; sometimes when they are old, carrying the weight of their lives with them, and sometimes… when they are merely kids, with everything still ahead of them.”

“This is a broken string, Grandma,” Noah pointed out, extending his open palm as if trying to prove a point.

“And I said the red thread is invisible,” she replied with a soft smile touching her lips. “When you came home with that string in your hand, I kept it in a drawer for days, just because you were so concerned about Lia’s socks. But weeks later, when I found it again, I remembered the old myth, the one that had traveled from family to family, village to village, weaving its way across countries. By then, you and Lia were already inseparable, and I couldn’t help but wonder…” She trailed off, tilting her head as she looked at the thread as though it might reveal a hidden truth, as if it held the memories of years gone by. “I wondered if there was something to it. So, I kept it, out of curiosity. And as I watched you both grow—the more time you spent with each other, the more obvious it became.”

“What was obvious?” Lia asked, quietly.

Hana’s smile deepened.

“That you were soulmates.”

Noah and Lia didn’t say a thing as they absorbed her words in quiet wonder and daze.

“When you moved in with Noah on your eighteenth birthday, I remember Noah calling to let me know that you’d settled in. There was something different in his voice—a blend of joy, contentment, and peace I’d never heard from him before. And then, the day you graduated, the look on his face when you came down the stairs in that beautiful dress, with those shoes you didn’t want to wear… Do you remember that, Lia?”

“I remember,” she replied as the memories flooded back.

She recalled dancing with a classmate whose name had long since slipped her mind. She recalled Jolly telling her he was suspicious that Noah liked a girl. She remembered sneaking vodka shots with her friends in the restroom, and later that night, Noah giving her a piggyback ride to her room. And yes, she remembered the way he looked at her before any of that—a look she had assumed was the fond gaze of a best friend to whom you mean the world. Nothing more.

She turned her head to look at Noah. He was focused on Grandma, though there was a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“There was something…” Grandma went on. “It was’t just the string. There was something else, a feeling around the two of you, as if the world itself was telling me your place was with each other. When I look back, I’m convinced it all started the moment Noah first saw you, Lia. The thread may have existed long before, but the day your sock got caught on the pedal of his bike… it might have been a sign—a signal from some higher power that didn’t want you straying away from each other. I never wanted to interfere, to disturb the natural flow of things… so I did the only thing I could. I held onto this little piece of rope, believing somehow it would help keep you two together. I was afraid the thread might snap or get lost—that something would come between you and your relationship would strain.” She looked intently at them for a while. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful and intense as what you two have. I said some people are meant to be but they never find their way to each other,” she looked directly at Noah, “but you, my dear child, you never left her side.” Not even when the thread threatened to break, when there were circumstances that hinted at a separation such as when Lia moved on her own, or when other people came between them—every one night stand, every girlfriend and boyfriend, Mitch, the night they slept together when alcohol was running through their veins.

Be that as it may, Noah had always remained close to her. She had, too, in her own way and despite trying to push him away.

“So,” Noah ventured, “you’re saying that we’ve always been meant to be together?”

“Yes. Lia has always been meant for you, and you for her. That’s what I believe, even if it sounds unreasonable, fantastical—you have every right to feel that way,” her voice flattered as her gaze drifted to a spot on the floor, unfocused. Lost in thought, her expression softened, and tears welled in her eyes. “But you’re here now. You’ve come back to me, together,” she continued, a smile breaking through the weight of years past, “after everything you’ve been through, all the struggles my children have faced so far away from me… I can only imagine how difficult it’s been, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything for you. But now, you’re finally here, as you were always meant to be.”

Seeing Grandma’s silent tears trail down her cheeks was almost too much for them to bear. Even with the joy in this moment, the pain she’d carried across the years was evident, stretching from L.A. to this quiet town in Japan. She had watched, powerless, from afar as Noah and Lia overcame struggle after struggle—every little and not so little thing that threated to keep them apart. She’d been alone, helpless against the silent ache that crossed oceans—the butterfly effect.

Lia resisted the impulse to react to Hana’s tears, instead setting her cup of tea down quietly on the table. Without a word, she reached over and took the string from Noah’s hands, holding it with a calm resolve.

The moment the fabric touched her skin, she was pulled back to that morning, twenty-one years ago.

She remembered waking up alone in a crumbling house, piecing together a small breakfast from what she could find in the kitchen. She’d dressed in clothes that had piled up at the foot of her bed, unsure of how to wash them or make the machine downstairs work. Hoping to give them a different smell, she’d played in the garden among the flowers until her clothes smelled of lavender and thyme. Inside, she’d lost herself in her sketching and coloring, hours slipping by in a quiet solitude she barely noticed anymore. When hunger crept in, she’d scavenged an apple from the fridge, slicing away the bruised parts and eating what was left. Eventually, she’d perched by the window, watching the world pass outside, dogs barking in the distance, occasional cars rumbling by. Finally, she climbed the stairs back to her room to put on some red socks and boots. She’d opened the house door, stepped outside, and settled herself on the concrete. A while later, Noah had appeared.

And in that moment, her life changed.

Noah saved her.

With the back of her hand, Lia wiped a stray tear as she blinked. She rubbed the string between her fingers, its fibers stiff but delicate, like a fragile relic of the past that carried the memory of those early days—painful and sweet at the same time.

Both Hana and Noah waited for her to speak. It took a moment, but finally, she opened her mouth, her voice quivering as she looked at Hana, eyes glassy.

“Can I keep it?”

Noah half-expected Hana to hesitate. After guarding this small piece of their past—of their beginning— for so many years, he thought she might be reluctant to let go, fearing that releasing it might somehow weaken the bond between them. But Hana’s response was instant. Her smile brightened as she nodded.

“You can keep it, darling.”

Maybe, Noah thought, seeing them together after all these years had finally soothed Hana’s fears, rather than fueling them. He was still taking it all in, not so much the fact that she’d kept this string for over two decades, but the meaning behind it.

But it made sense.

Every little thing made sense.

And if he was honest, it was exactly how he wanted it.

He’d wanted Lia since that Saturday morning when she was six and he was seven, in one way or another.

He watched her fingers play with the red string, as if she were trying to understand if it was just a scrap of her old sock or a sign of something greater. It might have been nothing more than a forgotten string. Or perhaps it was indeed the physical proof of a bond that had been with them since childhood.

His tea sat untouched, forgotten as he focused solely on Lia, watching the worry etched into her expression. He couldn’t look away. He whispered her name, hoping to see if she was all right or if all of this was becoming too much. Her big brown eyes met his, unguarded and glassy with emotion. She didn’t smile, didn’t speak, just looked at him, and then, her concern shifted toward him. Just as he was about to tell her he was fine, she turned to Hana.

“What happened to Noah?” Lia’s voice was steady but edged with urgency. “The coughing. The fever. All those flowers.”

Hana’s gaze softened, though her expression remained unreadable.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she replied, sensing Lia’s growing distress.

But Lia shook her head. “No. Now. We need to know.”

Hana hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Lia, my darling,” she began gently, “you just got here. Maybe one story is enough for today.”

“We’re fine,” Noah interjected, his tone resolute. He rested a hand on Lia’s knee, squeezing it lightly. “We’ve been waiting months for this, Grandma. We need to know. Please.”

For a moment, Hana’s shoulders slumped as though she were carrying the weight of something long-buried. She took a slow breath, then nodded, her gaze drifting somewhere beyond the walls of the room, as if she were looking back into a distant memory.

“When you were little, Noah,” she began, “I used to tell you folklore stories… so many you probably couldn’t keep track of them all.” She offered a bittersweet smile, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Do you remember any those?”

“Some. You even got me a compillation book one Christmas.”

Hana nodded. “Yes, I did. And you’d beg me to read them, even when you should’ve been fast asleep.” She paused, eyes unfocused as if seeing the past replay in her mind. “There was one story—the tale of a boy and a girl. This girl loved the boy, loved him so much that it seemed to consume her. But the boy…” Her voice trailed off. “He didn’t feel the same way. It was a one-sided love, and because of that… she fell ill.”

Lia’s brow furrowed. “Ill?”

“Yes. In our culture, we call it Hanahaki disease. It begins with a feeling, a weight in the chest, but then it grows. Flowers begin to bloom inside you, filling your lungs with every unreturned feeling. And the more the love festers, the worse it gets.”

Noah frowned, his mind racing. The name felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall ever hearing the full story.

“That’s not exactly what happened to me,” Noah intervened, lowering his voice. “I got sick every time Lia was physically away. But got better when she was around. And then one day, all of a sudden, the entire thing disappeared. On top of that, it was never a non-reciprocal feeling, so it cannot be the reason why I was coughing up flowers.”

“Not everything happens as its written in the books, my dear. As for the cough stopping one day and never coming back, maybe Lia can tell you more about that.”

Noah turned to Lia, surprised to see something in her expression he hadn’t expected—a trace of guilt, a hint of something she’d held back. She had listened intently, but now it was as if Hana’s words had pulled a thread that led to a long-kept secret. Her gaze met his, a small crease forming between her brows, her face shadowed by a reluctant admission.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Hana said, her voice gentle but decisive.

Both Noah and Lia looked up, startled.

“But we just sat down,” Lia protested. “The tea…”

“Don’t worry about the tea,” Hana replied, already rising with her cup in hand. She smiled warmly at them both before turning, and with a gentle slide of the door, left them in the quiet intimacy of the tearoom.

Noah turned back to Lia with a deeper frown, a look of weariness in his eyes that said he was done with so much overwhelming. There were still questions in the air and he wanted answer for all of them. Now.

“What was that about?” he asked, his voice edged with frustration.

Lia took a steadying breath, sipped her tea, and set the cup down beside the string as she searched for the right words.

“I think she’s right,” she started. “I know I brushed off all those times you mentioned Grandma’s theories—that being close to you somehow made you feel better. But after hearing about this string, that story, how long she’s held onto it… maybe there really are things beyond what we can explain and understand. Maybe this strange flower-coughing disease is one of them.”

“I’m with you on that,” Noah replied, his gaze holding hers. “But it wasn’t one-sided when I fell head over heels for you, Lia.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But it took me months to realize it myself and then, accept it.”

Noah’s eyes—and mind—were clouded with confusion. Sensing his need for clarity, Lia took a deep breath and tried to lay it all out, piece by piece.

She’d been in love with him for longer she could admit. Deep inside, her heart had always belonged to him, but over and over, she had refused to believe it, to accept such a thing. She couldn’t jeopardize this near-perfect friendship they shared—that meant everything to her. And they had made a promise. So, she buried those feelings, ignored her heart, told herself over and over that whatever she felt was just a passing infatuation and that it would go away in time. She lied to herself because she hadn’t been willing to admit to herself, let alone to Noah, that she was in love with him.

In the end, it was her denial that made him sick. It wasn’t that his love for her wasn’t reciprocated; it was that she couldn’t bring herself to believe in her own love for him as more than just a friend. Yet, despite her efforts to bury it, her love always found a way to surface—whenever she made him laugh, whenever she comforted him, whenever she showed up at his door just to be with him. Somehow, Noah’s heart had always known that hers belonged to him, and that was why, whenever she pulled away or tried to distance herself, his sickness would worsen.

Only after countless hours spent in therapy did Lia finally begin to admit the truth that her own heart, her own body, had been trying to show her all along. She remembered that session vividly:

“No.”

“Lia—” Dr. Reynolds insisted.

“That’s not how it is,” she assured nearly through gritted teeth. Her voice was tight with resistance.

“It is, and you know it. You’ve known it for a long time, but you refuse to accept it. For me to help you, you must acknowledge it. You have to say it out loud and accept it. I know you’re scared, but you have to admit what you feel.”

Lia felt the words crawling up her throat, her heart racing, her palms damp as she gripped the arms of the chair. Her breathing grew shallow, and she looked at the doctor with wide, glassy eyes, the truth trembling on her lips.

“Lia,” Dr. Reynolds pressed, “you are in love with your best friend, Noah. Say it.”

Her heartbeat was rapid and erratic, each beat hammering against her ribcage. She was terrified—terrified of what admitting it would mean, what it would change. But perhaps the only way to stop the ache was to finally speak the words aloud.

“I’m…” Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath, her nails digging into the armrests of the chair as she steadied herself. “I’m in love with Noah.”

Back in the tearoom, Lia took a deep breath, her gaze landing on the steaming cup of tea. Noah's hand was no longer on her knee, and she missed the warmth it’d provided.

“The day after meeting her,” Lia continued, “Jesse called me. He said you were worried something had happened to me.”

“That was the day the coughing stopped,” Noah acknowledged. “The day before had been Hell. I’d been so fucking sick, and then… from night to morning, I woke up and felt fine.”

“It was because I admitted to myself what I’d been refusing for so long—that I loved you. You were sick all those times because of me.”

Noah hesitated, his lips parting slightly as he processed the rising panic in Lia’s voice. He shifted to face her, still seated in a lotus position on the cushions

“That’s—” After a moment’s deliberation, he shook his head and squared his shoulders, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on them. They could continue down this path, but it would only lead them to the painful memories of the past, and that was no longer what mattered. “It doesn’t matter now. That’s all in the past, Lia,” he concluded, his voice steady yet tender. They had endured so much together. Neither had been at their best; they had made mistakes and harbored regrets. How could they have paid heed to some whimsical folklore tale—much less the reality of it manifesting in their lives? Considering everything, there was no sense in revisiting those moments or blaming each other for every obstacle they had placed in one another’s way. “We got the answers we wanted, and what matters is that we’re here, and we’re real, right now.”

Lia blinked back tears, but a few slipped free despite her efforts. She brushed them away. When another tear fell, Noah reached over and caught it with his thumb. Before she could think, she climbed onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him, clutching him tightly. He quickly wrapped her in his arms and held her close, resting his cheek against her hair, and she felt his steady breath as he nuzzled into her neck. The weight of her in his lap felt so nice and natural, and the way his arms encircled her made her feel safe, almost fragile but in a good way, because she knew she was out of danger with him. Would always be.

“I’m so scared of losing you one day,” she whispered, her words barely audible against his ear.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at her. Glancing at the small, coiled red string on the table beside them, he reached for it and held out his hand to Lia.

“Give me your pinky finger,” he ordered.

She looked at him questioningly but placed her hand in his. He laid his own pinky alongside hers and began to wind the red string around them.

“Help me with this?” he asked, giving her a soft smile.

She did. When they finished the knot, their pinkies were tied together with the thin red thread. He tugged gently to make sure it held, then grinned.

“Now we’re really tied together. See? Problem solved.”

Lia’s laugh came out, light and clear, the tension in her shoulders easing as she looked down at their fingers entwined by the string. The sound was so full of life, of relief, that Noah couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through his chest. He lifted his hand to her face, cupping her chin with two fingers, and leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, savoring the way her smile lingered against his own.

When he finally pulled back, he whispered,

“I told you. You’ve always been mine, Lia.”

— prev. chapter | chapter twelve 🌶️

Author's note: 100 points for those who guessed it was the red string 🤭 You can reread about that moment in Chapter 1 of Ikigai (literally the beginning of the story). It's no more than a couple of paragraphs, if I don't recall wrong, right at the end, but it was a very important detail for the future. Thank you once again for reading and being with me in this journey :)

*I've done some changes to the original folklore stories mentioned in this chapter to adapt it to Noah and Lia's romance story. I hope everything was more or less clear regarding all those weird things happening in Koi No Yokan. I never had this story planned in detail before I started writing, so it got tricky at some points, but I think I managed to make everything fit reasonably within its flow.

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#forever favourite #the inevitability of love at second sight #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah x lia

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