#if only I knew that I would become obsessed with him

[babsworlds]

DEAL?

pairing. Dave Lizewski x fem! reader

synopsis. You and Dave make a deal to solve your problems.

warnings. fake dating trope, pre relationship, mention of obsession, murder and kidnapping (It’s not bad like it sounds i promise)

YOU HAD A REALLY SHITTY WEEK, and for some reason, you thought it couldn’t get any worse. An idiot named Oliver started to like you way too much, and what began as an innocent crush turned into a weird obsession.

He seemed to be everywhere you went, always finding some excuse to talk to you or try to get your attention. It felt suffocating, and no matter how politely you tried to distance yourself, he just wouldn't take the hint. The constant unease and annoyance made the days drag on, each one feeling longer and more exhausting than the last.

It was a long-awaited Friday, which meant a sleepover with your best friend Dave. This was the only thing that could help you forget all the issues with Oliver. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, knowing that Dave's presence always had a way of making everything seem a little bit better. The two of you had a special bond, one that had grown stronger over the years, and you knew that you could always count on him to be there when you needed him most.

“Hello, Y/n,” Dave greeted you, but he wasn’t smiling like he usually did. You could sense that he hadn't had the best week either. He smacked his back onto the little couch in your room, his usual energy replaced by a tired slump. His eyes had a distant look, and it was clear that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

You leaned against the wall behind your bed, unable to do anything else but stare blankly ahead. The weight of the week’s events pressed down on you, making it hard to muster any energy or enthusiasm. The silence between you and Dave felt heavy, each of you lost in your own thoughts, searching for some way to make sense of everything.

Dave quickly understood your mood, and he wasn’t really in the mood for anything wild either. He climbed up next to you, joining in the silent, vacant staring contest with the wall. It was a quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you, a shared moment of vulnerability that required no words. Sometimes, just being together was enough.

“How have you been?” you broke the silence, your voice sounding empty and devoid of emotion. The effort to speak felt monumental, as if every word required a tremendous amount of energy.

“Shitty,” he shrugged, his shoulders slumping even further. “Katie— I mean, everyone thinks I’m gay,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration and sadness. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, so he didn’t see that. It was a small, involuntary reaction, a brief moment of levity in an otherwise heavy conversation.

“How about you?” Dave asked, and you could feel his head turn toward you, though you didn’t look at him.

“Not much better,” you assured him, letting him know he wasn’t the only person feeling down. “Oliver is being a weirdo again, and still,” you explained, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Whoa,” Dave sighed, “I hate that idiot.” There was pure disgust and hatred in his voice, and it felt good to know that he shared your sentiments.

“I just wish he would leave me alone,” you said, your tone heavy with exasperation. The constant annoyance and unease Oliver brought into your life had become unbearable, and you longed for some peace and quiet.

You placed your head on Dave’s shoulder, feeling more comfortable. As you sat there, you thought about all possible ways to get rid of Oliver—both legal and illegal. The constant obsession was draining, and you were desperate for a solution.

Suddenly, a genius idea flashed through your mind, but you weren’t really sure if Dave would agree with it. It was unconventional, but maybe it could work.

“I’ve got an idea,” you said, smiling from ear to ear as you moved to sit opposite him, your excitement growing.

“Kidnapping?” Dave joked, raising an eyebrow at you. He wasn’t taking it seriously, thinking it was just a playful suggestion. “Murder?”

“No, asshole,” you rolled your eyes, your smile still in place. “We should pretend that we are dating.”

“What? Are you on something?” Dave wasn’t buying the idea. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you could see the skepticism in his eyes. It was clear that he didn't understand what you meant, and the suggestion seemed to catch him off guard. You couldn’t blame him; it was a rather unconventional plan, and you knew it sounded a bit far-fetched.

You took a deep breath, determined to explain your reasoning. “I mean, think about it,” you began, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “If Oliver sees I’m with someone, he’ll leave me alone,” you continued, laying out the logic of your plan. “And you will get rid of these gay rumors,” you added with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood and make the idea more appealing. The thought of solving both of your problems with one simple act was too tempting to pass up.

“That sounds a bit extreme,” Dave shrugged, not really sure how to answer. You could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced by the idea, his skepticism evident in his expression.

“Should I start thinking of some illegal plan then?” you shrugged, trying to press on him subtly, hoping to sway him without making it too obvious.

“Oh god no,” Dave said quickly, his voice filled with alarm at the thought. As he considered it again, an idea formed in his mind. He had always had a thing for you, and it drained him knowing he was just a best friend. Maybe this was his chance to take things to the next level. Besides, people would be shocked to see him with someone as hot as you. “I’m in,” he finally said, smiling devilishly.

“That’s how I like you, Lizewski,” you teased, making him blush slightly.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be anything dramatic,” you reassured him, though you both knew it could potentially be a bit more intense. “Just holding hands, few photos, kisses on the cheek and forehead?” You started brainstorming the details, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about pulling off this charade.

Dave shrugged, his blush deepening. He didn’t really care about the specifics; he was willing to do whatever it took to help you. The idea of pretending to be your boyfriend, even if just for a while, wasn’t entirely unappealing to him. In fact, there was a part of him that was secretly thrilled at the prospect.

“Yeah, that sounds survivable,” Dave shrugged, joking as he tried to mask his true feelings about your idea. His casual demeanor was an attempt to hide the underlying excitement and nervousness he felt at the prospect of pretending to be your boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes playfully, extending your pinkie towards him. “Deal?” you asked, your eyes locking with his. The devilish idea flickered through your mind, and you could see a similar glint in his eyes. “Deal,” he said, knotting his pinkie with yours in a binding promise.

A moment of silence passed as you both processed the new arrangement. The reality of the plan was setting in, and you could feel the thrill of the upcoming charade. It was unconventional, but it might just work.

“So I can call you my girlfriend?” Dave asked awkwardly, breaking the silence. His tone was uncertain, but there was a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

You smiled at the idea, appreciating his courage to embrace the plan. “I like the courage,” you replied, a playful twinkle in your eye.

“Yeah, you can, boyfriend,” you teased him again, giving your approval. Dave’s face lit up with a mixture of excitement and bashfulness. He didn’t mind you calling him boyfriend at all; in fact, he had secretly waited years for this moment, even if it was just for show. The idea of calling you his girlfriend, even in a pretend scenario, was something he had dreamed of for a long time.

“Well then, girlfriend,” he said, trying to keep his cool but unable to hide the smile spreading across his face. “Let’s make this convincing.”

And you weren’t really stupid. You knew his true intentions because you knew him all too well. Or maybe he was just too transparent to keep these kinds of secrets. But you let it be, because deep down, you wouldn’t really mind if something unexpected happened. It was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a line that had always been there, but never crossed. You could sense the possibilities, and while you were focused on the plan at hand, there was a part of you that wondered what might come of it.

[ai-musclebound]

He was living proof of what obsession could create. Every inch of him was a declaration – of sacrifice, of discipline, of an almost inhuman commitment to one goal: to build a body that defied limits. He wasn’t chasing aesthetics or applause; he was chasing dominance, the kind that left no room for doubt or comparison. His days revolved around the gym. The clang of weights, the burn of endless reps, and the strict precision of his diet. He wore his hunger for size and perfection like a badge of honor. This wasn’t vanity – this was a mission. To him, strength wasn’t just about power; it was about becoming untouchable, unbreakable. People often stared, whispered, or asked questions he’d heard a thousand times before: How big are your arms? How much do you eat? He’d smirk and answer with a shrug: “Big enough. And always more.” But what they didn’t understand was that this wasn’t just muscle. It was a lifetime of effort, of never letting up, of always finding the next edge. He looked in the mirror now, chest heaving, veins like a roadmap of war. Was it enough? That question lingered, always there, gnawing at the back of his mind. He knew he’d never find the answer. Not because he doubted himself, but because there was no end to this pursuit. The chase itself was the point. “You’ll never stop, will you?” a friend had once asked, half in awe, half in disbelief. He’d laughed, flexing an arm bigger than most people’s torsos. “Why would I? I’m just getting started.” And in truth, he was. This wasn’t the peak – this was only the beginning.

[thelostgirl21]

Julian Alfred Pankratz (a.k.a. Jaskier) going directly for the jugular since the early 1230s.

- How can you think my feelings for you are a lie? - Because that is who you are, Radovid, at your core.

I kind of loved that, when Jaskier finally decided that he'd had enough and fought back against his bully in "Sirens of the Deep", he knew exactly what to say to hit Zelest where it would hurt him the most.

It showed that, even as a child, Jaskier was highly aware of the power of words, perceptive of other people's deepest fears and unresolved issues, and vicious enough to target those directly for threatening things and/or people he holds dear.

I also found it interesting that Zelest is the bastard son of a king that spent his whole life trying to prove himself to him in the hopes of finally being worthy of his father's love and recognition.

And that, the very moment King Usveldt finally gave Zelest what he thought he'd been after all along - the very moment that he finally said "watch yourself, son" - in a last-ditch attempt to maintain his power and control over him - was the moment where Zelest realized that he no longer wanted it!

Jaskier left Bremervoord to become who he wanted to be. Zelest stayed, trying to gain the love, approval and acceptance of someone that simply had none to give.

Zelest, as a child, felt so small and vulnerable, that he kept overcompensating by picking on those that he perceived as being even smaller and more vulnerable than himself to make himself feel bigger and stronger.

And, as an adult, he essentially became a vessel for his father's prejudices and cruelty.

But that isn't who he is. And,the very second King Usveldt realized that he'd lost his hold over Zelest - the very second he no longer had any use for him - he called him nothing but a mistake that he'd always wanted to erase, and ordered his death!

He even implied that the only reason he was willing to put up with how much of a disappointment his legitimate son, Agloval, was to him, was because of his obsession with his own legacy!

And I was truly glad that Jaskier was there to witness Zelest finally having the courage to take a stand against the person that had caused them both so much pain (as Zelest's own issues had caused him to take that pain out on Jaskier), and to reveal himself to be someone fundamentally honorable, that would rather fight to protect others than push for senseless war.

I was glad that Jaskier got to fully witness just how bad things had been for Zelest, and where all that hurt, pain and violence had come from.

Not because that justified any of what Jaskier himself (and others) had been through at the hands of Zelest nor made everything okay again.

But it opened the door for the two of them to really start healing from their respective traumas, better understand it, and move on.

For Jaskier, more specifically, it gave him the chance to understand that he'd never deserved any of this, and to gain some recognition and respect from the person (Zelest) that used to redirect his own suffering on him.

And the saddest part, perhaps, was that no one appeared to mourn Zelest's loss, or truly be affected by it, in the end, besides Jaskier.

When Geralt mentioned that Usveldt used to have two sons, and now he had none, it was clear that the king still only cared about how Zelest's loss affected him.

As for Agloval, I suppose that he wouldn't have been too inclined to discuss his half-brother's death with his heartless father - so maybe he did mourn him off screen, at the very least, but the movie never showed it.

Zelest's violent death, however, caused Jaskier enough emotional distress for him to pick up Zelest's sword in the aftermath, and launch himself at a group of vodyanoys that hadn't even appeared to have been paying any attention to him until then (even that first one that Jaskier attacked had to turn around a bit to better face him... So, it really looks like the first blow came from Jaskier, not the other way around!)!

Jaskier went from having fantacized about Zelest dying of syphilis in a debtor prison half blind, crazed and salivating...

To being so upset about his death, that he stupidly grabbed the man's sword and tried taking on four freaking vodyanoys at once on his own (I'm sorry, but more than ever, I'm 100% convinced that this bard has a solid case of ADHD!)!

Because, shortly before reaching that point, Jaskier had heard Zelest openly acknowledge that he had been right to leave, and then he'd seen him pull the same "plank trick" that he'd used to torment him back in the days, but to save his and Geralt's lives with it this time around instead.

Zelest took a painful memory that they both shared, and used it to protect Jaskier and someone he loves.

And, from the way we could see Jaskier smile in that scene, it seemed that Zelest had just successfully managed to go from a personal tormentor to a personal hero in Jaskier's heart.

The moment Zelest finally allowed himself to stop trying to please others and embrace who he is instead - the moment he stopped being a potential threat to Jaskier to instead adopt a protective role towards him - I think Jaskier genuinely fell in love and connected with him in the puppy-like way he often does with people.

All the unconditional love, acceptance, understanding, and admiration that Zelest had spent his whole life searching in his father's eyes, he finally received from Jaskier - the boy he used to have fun tormenting - instead.

And then, the sea witch took him, Jaskier lost him, and the grief really hit him!

Zelest was both loved and mourned by a person that had every reason to hate him, while the one person he'd devoted his whole life to only wished him dead.

A part of me really wishes that Zelest would have been given a happier ending - one where he'd have had the chance to experience a life free from his father's toxic influence, and free to fully figure out who he is - but life is often unfair, sadly, and rarely about what one deserves.

So while, in the presence of someone that he perceives as a (potential) threat, Jaskier has been known to be very effective when it comes to the art of throwing salt on the biggest exposed, bleeding wound he can find...

(Ex:

Zelest: Not being "good enough" to be worthy of his father's love and recognition.

Radovid: Yearning for a sincere connection with someone that can see and love him for who he is, rather than who he needs to pretend to be to keep himself safe at court.)

...it seems that, when that person ceases to be an immediate (potential) threat to him, and Jaskier's given the chance to take a good glimpse at the reasons that pushed them to say and do those stupid things, then Jaskier's ability to forgive, love, and care for them is incredibly huge.

But confusing...

So, so confusing...

Poor Radovid...

Although I do admire how fast he can recover!

[mbat]

ROOOOOOOSEEEEEEE

they could never make me hate you rose quartz

[sspiderj]

karen wheeler defender till the day i die

[ostwitchsheart]

Why did my brain randomly dump story lore on me. Do you really want me to make a sad one piece ripoff

[tiredsadpeach]

Losing my fp is gonna fucking hurt but I just idk I can’t find a way this is gonna end well so I’m coming to terms with it

[phantomsies]

𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙 • 𝖆.𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

your biggest fan soon becomes your biggest obsession….

black onlyfans creator!reader (fem descriptions), nerdy!armin, public sex/public masturbation, squirting, mentions of toys, exhibitionism, throatfucking, cumshot

📝: I wanted to go a completely different direction with this but a) it’s no longer kinktober and it would’ve much better suited that and b) nerd!armin just scratches an itch in my brain I can’t quite put my finger on. So enjoy! 🫶🏾 (also, I AM SO SORRY THIS SHIT IS SO LONG 😭😭 I don’t intend on headcanons being this length but I can’t shut the fuck up.)

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

nerd!armin had been a dutiful subscriber of (y/n) (l/n)’s or as the world knew you, (performer name) for quite some time. He’d faithfully watched your content, never missing an upload to your sites and shamelessly scrolling your Twitter.

nerd!armin preferred your videos over others because they were so unique. Always willing to push the envelope by shooting in unconventional spaces; your car, public bathrooms and even dressing rooms..a polar opposite to his shy, bashful nature. In a way, he was jealous but also aroused..

from your long acrylics, fluffy lashes, colorful hair that changed from video to video and of course, the beautiful, dark brown complexion that radiated underneath the sun or ring lights, nerd!armin was obsessed.

nerd!armin would lie in bed after a long study session, classes or even a hard day at work..mindlessly stroking his cock in one hand as he held his phone in the other, eyes glued to the screen whilst you performed those lewd acts.

shoving those dildos in and out of your tight cunt, those pretty pink walls and plump brown lips sucking on that silicone toy..stretching yourself open all for his pleasure. A jeweled butt plug shoved into your ass and cream oozing down onto that gorgeous skin and the leather of your seats as you worked yourself into countless orgasms..mewling and begging for the would be viewer to keep fucking you..

“Fuck, I’m about to come, daddy..you’re gonna make me squirt.” Crying out as nerd!armin jerked himself even faster..subconsciously responding back without a single other person being in the room. ”Squirt for me, baby. Come..” Whimpering before exploding with a load of his own..

despite only being an intern, nerd!armin was well off from his freelancing tech work and although it didn’t leave him much room for socializing, he would tip you amicably on all the new content, as well as leave kind, respectful, encouraging words. It wasn’t something you saw often in this field.

it also didn’t take nerd!armin long to realize that you never featured a partner in any of your content like some girls eventually did. Only the various assortment of toys gifted to you by supporters. Which only further fed his delusions when you made a mess and glared into the camera, batting those doe brown eyes before saying “..look at what you made me do..that big dick feels so good..”

nerd!armin, who had only been with one woman sexually in his entire life and didn’t date often, could only dream of being with a girl like you.

so it came as no surprise when you announced that you would be opening a contest to film with one of your subscribers for the first time, nerd!armin leaped at the chance! The thought of getting to fuck the woman he’d hopelessly fawned over excited him.

nerd!armin nearly fainted when he got a DM on OnlyFans one day to see that he had won, asking when he’d like to arrange the meetup.

nerd!armin was understandably nervous on the day you two came face to face..but felt as ease when you continuously reassured him and even made sure that both of you had been tested, as well as protection.

“You’re so cute..it’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for supporting me..” your gentle voice sent a shockwave of butterflies soaring through nerd!armin’s stomach as you wrapped him in a tight hug…and of course, a tightening in his pants upon laying eyes on his favorite creator. But that was merely the beginning.

nerd!armin found himself blushing when you slowly traced circles all over his skin, examining the single tattoo on his forearm and complimenting the smell of his cologne as the two of you sat alone in the bedroom of the designated filming space of your spacious home. Impressed by the bookshelves full of old literature he passed on the way in.

“Mmmm..you’re nervous, aren’t you?” “…I guess you could say that.” “Well don’t be, I’m going to make sure we have a good time, I promise..”

nerd!armin had no idea just how true you were to your word when less than ten minutes after the camera came on, you were on your knees, tongue extended and a wide smile on your face as he towered over you.

nerd!armin could hardly contain himself when eventually, those glossy brims were now encompassed around his cock. Slurping noises emanating around the room, along with his adorable cries…sloppy drool and gag spit spilling from that wet mouth and onto the pulsating head, shaft and those swollen balls. Disregarding the fact that your pretty face had become a disheveled mess.

“Oh my God…that feels so good, beautiful. Your mouth feels fucking amazing..” “You wanna come for me, baby?” “..yes! Drain me, please..” pathetically pleading whilst relentlessly fucking your throat.

nerd!armin unabashedly spent days, practicing his stroke on a translucent flesh light, feeding it deep thrusts and stuffing it with an ungodly amount of cum, examining your videos like study material..in hopes of gaining some stamina against you.

but nothing could prepare nerd!armin for the sheer sensation that being inside of you brought upon him.. however, he wasn’t the only one caught off guard..especially when he’d gently tug your head down and force you to watch as he glided into that narrow hole.. a move he’d learn from his tapes.

“It’s so big..damn..” “I told you..” giggling to yourselves as your gazes met and he’d begin to move.

nerd!armin almost felt compelled to believe that you were faking your moans like other pornstars so often did…but that misconception was cleared up when your eyes began to trail back, legs began to tremble and a slight bulge formed at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Yes, you stretching the fuck out of this pussy, baby..right there!..” “Am-am I doing a good job?” “You fucking me so good, please don’t stop.”

nerd!armin nearly lost all composure when you all but pushed him away, only to shower him in a stream of your juices. Only increasing as he tapped that swollen tip against your quivering folds.

nerd!armin didn’t last more than five minutes after that powerful climax and began dry heaving as his own neared. Ushering you back to your knees to paint those pretty features and tits with his load.

nerd!armin was convinced that once the cameras shut off, you’d put him out for nutting too quickly. Surely a woman of your caliber would never deal with that again. But yet again, he was proven wrong when you smiled up at him, flicking your tongue across your lips before posing a question. “So..where should we should film next time? We gotta do this more often..”

nerd!armin had found himself the newest and sole object of (creator’s name) affection!

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends?

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.

Warnings: some wine sipping, gossiping, angst, miscommunication, friend fighting, jealousy (but no one realizes), az being defensive and blind

Word Count: 5k

(Completed) Series Masterlist | Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”

The words tasted as false as they were, and you grimaced the moment they slipped out, already bracing for the look Mor would throw your way. True to form, she didn’t disappoint, her expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.

A defeated sigh escaped as you accepted the glass of wine she offered, watching as she filled her own nearly to the brim.

“You’re better than me, then,” she hummed, settling back onto the couch across from you. “Because I don’t like her.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t like many people nowadays.”

She shrugged, casual as ever, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “True. I’m not exactly lining up for any peace medals, am I?”

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your chair. “I just… have this odd feeling about her, you know?”

Mor tilted her head, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Oh, I know. She drags Az around on a leash.”

You were tempted to say something about the irony in her words—remind her, in a loving manner, that she might've been guilty of that once upon a time, too. But you decided against it. She wasn't wrong.

You swirled the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid move in slow, mesmerizing circles. The feeling wasn’t new; it had been there since the first time you’d met her. Azriel’s new girlfriend Selene was perfectly fine—charming, even. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Like a faint hum in the background of a quiet room, just irritating enough to notice but not enough to prove anything was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

You glanced up, finding Mor’s bright brown eyes sharp and focused on you, the lazy humor of a moment ago gone.

“I doubt he’ll listen,” you admitted, resting the bottom of your glass on your thigh. “He didn’t listen to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Mor raised a brow like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed in response. “He’s been so weird about his love life. Gwyn didn’t work out. Elain’s probably the happiest out of all of us. Maybe he’s treading lightly.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you weren’t convinced.

Azriel had changed in small, almost imperceptible ways since everything had settled—since everyone had paired off and fallen in love. Everyone except you. And him.

You were fine with your situation, content in the quiet steadiness of your life. Azriel wasn’t. You knew it. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. So much of his self-worth was tangled up in whether he believed himself worthy of love. And the absence of it—of a solid, undeniable love in his life, of a partner, of a potential bond—seemed to weigh on him. To him, it wasn’t just an empty space; it was a failure.

You’d almost go as far as to say he’d become desperate, living in the shadows and watching his brothers experience loves so profound they might as well have been plucked from stories meant to inspire poets and dreamers.

Mating bonds were rare. You reminded yourself of that often. Your family was just an anomaly, their luck skewed impossibly high. But logic wasn’t enough to soothe Azriel, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from chasing it. He was obsessive. Stubborn.

Nothing you said or did could change his perspective.

Mor’s voice pulled you out of your head again. “Speak of the devil,” she sang out. “Hi, Elain.”

Your gaze snapped up to the doorway, finding Elain standing just beyond the archway. She looked like a spooked deer, frozen in place with that polite smile you’d come to recognize as her default around company she hadn’t fully warmed up to yet.

“We were just talking about Azriel’s unfortunate romantic history,” Mor said smoothly. You glanced at Elain for her reaction.

It had taken time for that particular history to fade. Maybe it was appropriate to joke about now, but you personally would’ve waited a few more years before bringing it up so flippantly. Mor, however, had little patience for such niceties.

Elain’s expression didn’t shift beyond a faint flicker in her eyes, and you realized how much her composure had improved over the years. Then again, it had been a while since she and Lucien had found each other for good—long enough for their bond to solidify and for them to leave for the Day Court after their mating ceremony.

A twinge of jealousy sparked in you before you brushed it aside.

“We’re just gossiping in general. Want to join us?” you asked, gesturing to the chair beside you. Plush and inviting, it mirrored the one you sat on. “Unless Lucien is waiting for you upstairs?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Lucien’s still with Feyre, catching up,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What are you drinking?”

Mor reached for the bottle on the table, plucking it up and turning it in her hand to read the label.

“Something good and expensive,” she replied, with a half-hearted air of indulgence, before tilting her head at Elain with a faint grin.

“It’s from Rhys’s rather gluttonous collection,” you said, sensing Elain’s hesitation. “It won’t be missed at all.”

She smiled at that. “I’d love some.”

“There are a lot of glasses in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the wood door with ornate carvings. “Grab whichever one you’d like.”

Mor sat up straighter, scooting herself back into the pillows behind her. You hummed, impressed, at her ability to hold both her full wine glass and the bottle without so much as a wobble.

You hadn’t spent much time with Elain one-on-one. Emissary duties had kept you busy during the years the Archeron sisters had adjusted to their new lives. But you liked Elain, from what you’d seen. She had a kind heart. She also had a sharp humor that surfaced at the oddest moments, usually when she and Lucien were whispering in corners, conspiratorial before seamlessly rejoining whatever social event they were at like they’d never left.

Elain returned and sat down with her chosen glass—a delicate crystal piece that gleamed in the soft light. Mor went to fill it instantly. 

“Can I ask why you were discussing Azriel’s romantic life?” Elain asked. Her voice was smooth, certain. No hesitation.

It didn’t faze her anymore, you realized—being such a strange, pivotal turning point in Azriel’s past experiences. She’d made peace with it, the way immortality seemed to demand. Time softened the edges of even the messiest situations, turning them into stories you could recount with startling detachment. Almost humorous, really.

Because how else could you explain being casual about the fact that your best friend had almost allowed his pride—and arrogance—and, somehow simultaneously, his insecurity—to lead him into a blood duel over Elain’s affections? A blood duel.

But now, it was just… something to write off. A distant memory, softened by the years and Lucien’s easy confidence. Lucien was better than you. You would’ve held that grudge against Azriel for many more years—long enough to make it a point of pride. But then again, Lucien had won everything he wanted in the end. He had the girl, the bond, the certainty that whatever lingering rivalry Azriel might feel was entirely one-sided.

It wasn’t important enough for Lucien to waste any more energy on.

You exchanged a glance with Mor, who arched a brow, clearly just as amused by Elain’s openness.

“Y/n doesn’t like his new girlfriend,” Mor said.

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t either.”

“True,” Mor agreed easily. She looked to Elain. “We don’t like her.”

“For clarification,” you said firmly, “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mor laughed, sipping her wine with an amused grin.

Your face fell flat. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied breezily. “But if you get a bad feeling about someone, that’s usually dislike.”

You resisted the urge to scowl, already turning over the guilt in your mind. You didn’t want to be that person—the kind who dismissed another female off the bat. Maybe your gut was wrong this time. Maybe her smile had reached her eyes, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe her tone hadn’t been as assessing as you remembered, and you were projecting. You wanted to like her. You wanted to be happy for Azriel.

But he didn’t seem happy. He seemed distracted. Busy. Not himself.

And not the kind of busy you’d seen before—the methodical, obsessive focus he funneled into work or training. This was different, scattered in a way you couldn’t quite pin down. It had made sense in the beginning, when things were new and exciting, but now it was starting to feel uncomfortable. He’d started missing things—small things at first, like sparring sessions or those late-night conversations you, Mor, and him would have when you couldn’t sleep. Then came the bigger things. He’d stopped being able to review external court updates with you, even when those meetings were critical for your diplomatic roles.

Azriel had always been the one you could count on. Out of everyone, you considered him your closest friend—even more than Mor, though you’d never admit it out loud. But now it seemed like every time you made plans, Selene needed him more.

And then there was how fast it was all moving. Too fast. At a recent family dinner, she’d casually mentioned that she and Azriel could move in together—offhand, like it was the most obvious next step. Something about leaving the townhouse behind, creating a space with décor that matched her aesthetic. Azriel had just stayed quiet, looked at her like she’d just proposed the most brilliant idea in existence.

You noticed he did that. The way he looked at her. The way he’d looked at Elain and Gwyn back when they were seeing each other. It weirded you out—that tendency to put the people he saw as romantic interests on a pedestal, as though they were flawless. As though they were something he didn’t deserve.

You knew where it came from. That deep-rooted insecurity that even centuries hadn’t managed to erase. He didn’t see it, the way he wore himself down trying to prove his worth to people who, for the most part, had already accepted him. But you saw it. You always had.

And it made it harder to like Selene. To trust her intentions. Maybe that was unfair, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was just taking—taking all the parts of Azriel that used to be all of yours to share, and twisting them into something else. Something that didn’t include his family.

Still, you wanted to try. To let go of the gnawing irritation in your chest and convince yourself it didn’t matter. If she made him happy—truly happy—then none of it should matter. You were adamant on ensuring that you didn’t turn into the stereotypical overbearing female best friend.

Elain tapped her glass lightly. “Lucien doesn’t like her.”

You blinked back into reality. “Really?”

She nodded, a beat passing before she added, “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

Mor leaned forward, grinning like she’d been handed a stack of gold. You almost wished Amren was here to bask in the moment. Amren didn’t like Azriel’s girlfriend, either. Maybe your family really was as unwelcoming as people claimed. Or maybe Selene simply brought out another level of scrutiny. The thought of either option made you feel bad— gross. 

“Why?” Mor asked.

“She was dismissive toward Lucien. And,” Elain hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, “She seemed… entitled, I suppose. Especially with Azriel. Like she expected him to accommodate her every whim.”

You frowned, turning over her words. “I’m sure she was just nervous. We can be an intimidating group. Maybe she just needs time to settle in. We just want Az to be happy, right? So, if she makes him happy, then I’m absolutely fine with her.”

The silence that followed was thick. For a moment, you wondered if you’d said something wrong. Something weird.

“Are you?” Elain asked, her tone sincere.

“Are you?” Mor echoed at the same time, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shot Mor a glare, but she only raised her brows and sipped her wine again, infuriatingly unbothered. Exhaling, you willed yourself to meet Elain’s gaze.

“I am,” you said, trying for conviction. “Really.”

Elain pursed her lips. Her gaze shifted to Mor, lingering longer than you liked, and then back to you.

“Alright,” she hummed. “I guess I was wrong.”

You stilled. Elain reclined deeper into her seat, accepting a refill from Mor. Her wine glass remained only half-full compared to yours and Mor’s.

Curiosity burned. You leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What do I mean about what?”

“You said you guess you were wrong. What does that mean?”

Mor’s gaze bored into the side of your face. Any second now, you were sure she’d make some quip about how bothered you were. But you weren’t bothered. Just curious.

Elain swirled her wine, watching the light catch the liquid. “I’m not sure. Things feel off. Like something’s coming. Az needs help with it, I think.”

You froze. “Off? Like—how?”

She hesitated, thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But I feel it. In my chest. My visions sometimes do that. That’s why I asked.”

Well, that unsettled you. You glanced at Mor, whose amused grin had fallen into something more contemplative.

It seemed you might need to have a conversation with Azriel after all.

“I don’t like that,” you admitted, your nose crinkling. 

“I think I heard him get back earlier. Go talk to him,” Mor said, her tone gentler now, though a hint of mischief lingered in her eyes. You didn’t read too much into that. Mor’s eyes tended to be expressive. She also tended to be mischievous when her blood was primarily red wine. 

“Okay,” you said. “Maybe just to check in.”

Elain nodded. “Just to check in,” she echoed, almost reassuring.

“Have fun,” Mor added, her grin returning just enough to be annoying, but not enough to distract you from the unease curling in your chest.

You didn’t respond, instead taking another slow sip of your drink. The glass clinked softly as you set it down on the table before you made your way upstairs.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mor turned to Elain. “Did you really feel something that unsettling?”

Elain let out a laugh. “No,” she said lightly. “I completely made that up. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Mor’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Seconds later, her head tilted back in a laugh just as vibrant as it was unapologetic.

“Genius,” she declared, raising her glass in mock salute.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The walk upstairs was quiet.

The townhome, in general, was quieter nowadays. Aside from the times others came to visit—like Lucien and Elain—only you and Azriel lived here full time.

When you reached Azriel’s bedroom door, your steps faltered for a moment. There was a hesitation in you that hadn't existed before. You raised your hand to knock, but the action felt more awkward than usual. It made you sad, momentarily, that you hesitated. You never second-guessed yourself with Azriel. You wanted to tread carefully in this new era of his life, though. You didn’t want to overstep, to become a nuisance. But whatever this was—whatever had unsettled Elain enough to mention it—you needed to know. Azriel had always been a constant for you, and if something felt “off,” you wanted to understand why.

Your knuckles rapped lightly on the door. “Az?” 

Inside, you heard the shuffle of movement, followed by his low, familiar voice. “Come in.”

You didn’t see Azriel immediately, but the smell of soap and the damp air told you that he recently showered. Shadows slithered across the floor, comfortable and excited, exploring the familiar confines of his room.

You greeted the tendrils as you usually did, letting them brush against your legs as you flopped onto his bed. The bed, like everything else in his room, was simple: plain black sheets, no extravagant pillows, just the bare necessities. It used to drive you mad, the emptiness of it all.  But what was in his room spoke volumes—— bare walls except for a dagger mount on one side, a small uncluttered desk with a well-worn sharpening stone. 

Azriel exiting the bathroom pulled your attention, your eyes settling on him as he rubbed his wet hair thoroughly with a towel. He shook his head slightly, wet curls bouncing onto his forehead, and met your gaze. His eyes flicked to where you lay, scanning your body. He nodded toward your feet.

“C’mon,” he almost whined. “No shoes on the bed.”

You looked down at yourself, grimacing as you realized that your shoes were, indeed, on his clean comforter. A simple set of house slippers, so nothing entirely too dirty, but it had completely slipped your mind. Very comfortable shoes, you noted, maybe you’d get Feyre a pair as a solstice gift.

“Oh whoops,” you said with an apologetic smile. “My bad, clean freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the quirk of his lips anyways.

For a moment, the old sense of comfort settled over you. But then, a thought crept in—the thought that maybe you shouldn’t lie on his bed like this anymore. It had been fine before, but now… now it felt different. He had someone else in his life. It wasn’t weird, exactly, but it was a little inappropriate.

You sat up straighter.

“Did you and Mor grow tired of rehashing the same centuries old gossip?” He teased.

You snorted, watching as his shadows flitted above his shoulders. They were amused, laughing in their own way. “Never,” you responded, pushing yourself off his bed. You were drawn to the otherside of his room, to the simple dresser against the wall. “Elain joined us this time.”

Your back was to him, but you had a feeling that the momentary silence, the stillness that you felt, was a knee-jerk reaction from Azriel—something reminiscent of embarrassment, shame, or guilt at her name. But all he responded was, “Oh?”

“I like her,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kinda wish I spent more time with her…”

You paused, your words trailing off quietly as you took in the small details before you. 

Azriel’s dresser had always been the one surface he decorated, not because he cared for decoration, but because it was the only surface large enough to hold anything. Over the years, it had become a quiet testament to the things that mattered to him: a mix of Solstice and birthday gifts, trinkets you’d both collected on missions and trips. You liked seeing what had changed, what had been added. It gave you a glimpse into where Azriel had been, who had been with him. 

Lately, there had been more—more trinkets, more oddities that stood in stark contrast to the weapons displayed elsewhere, the ones mostly hidden away in his closet. A macaroni necklace from Nyx. A horribly made clay version of him you’d created during a drunken pottery night with Feyre, Mor, and Amren.

But now, the dresser was foreign. The once familiar surface had been wiped clean, replaced by delicate perfume bottles, jewelry that looked too fine to be his, and a candle that smelled—oddly—like the puke of a flower faerie. Some of it was new. Most of it was hers.

Azriel’s presence had vanished from his own furniture entirely.

“Huh.”

“What?” Azriel asked.

You glanced over your shoulder. “I see you’ve decorated more.”

Azriel tilted his head, and a few of his shadows slithered down his body, crossing the room to pool around your ankles. “I guess,” he said. “Selene said my room needed more life.”

You leaned forward, brushing your fingers along the ceramic jewelry dish, the cool surface sending a strange chill through your skin. The shadows flickered over your hand, almost as if they were inspecting it too. They moved with purpose, then slowly obscured it, hiding it from view.

You frowned, confused.

Azriel, still silent, was rifling through his closet. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as he moved, but he said nothing. The shadows returned to his side as you turned to look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Now, Azriel barely spared you a glance.

“Yeah. Meeting Selene,” he replied simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Azriel turned his head and properly held your gaze. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded with a casual wave of your hand, but Elain’s words echoed in your mind. You cleared your throat. “Well, actually, no. I was hoping I could talk to you.”

He frowned, standing up straighter, his wings flexing with the motion. “Is it something serious?”

You paused, carefully filtering through your words. “No, just something that’s been on my mind.”

Azriel studied you, doubt flickering in his hazel eyes. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was reading you too easily. He probably didn’t believe you, not entirely—but he nodded anyway. His lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “Raincheck then?”

You mirrored his smile, though it felt thin. “Yeah, sure. We can talk tomorrow, once we’re back from the Hewn City.”

Azriel stilled. The way his gaze dropped to the floor and lingered felt like a guilty dog, an animal caught in an act forbidden. “Shit,” he said, his tone cautious. “I can’t go.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. “Seriously? Az, Rhys is expecting an update.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere enough. It didn’t matter. “But you can handle it on your own, you know this.” 

“Are you serious?” you said, the hurt slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t want to deal with Keir alone.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Rhys, but Selene’s been wanting to—”

“Never mind,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You forced a smile. “Have fun tonight. And tomorrow.”

Azriel scanned your face. After another moment of silence, he sighed.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Selene.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened instantly. He looked away, his tongue running across his teeth as he shook his head. “Not you too. Don’t be like this.”

Your frown deepened, offended by the immediate shift in tone. “Be like what? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

He met your eyes again, his stare almost challenging. “We both know what you’re going to say.”

“Do we?”

“First Mor, then Nesta, and now you.” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “Should I be concerned that the females in my life are so quick to rally against my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms to mirror his pose. “Well, yeah, Az. Maybe you should be.”

He rolled his eyes, the shadows at his feet flickering with the motion. “Fine. What do you want to tell me, then?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue. Azriel had always been good at looking through you, unraveling thoughts you hadn’t fully formed yet. And now, under the weight of his sharp gaze, you felt exposed.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Something flickered in his expression, quick and fleeting—too fast for you to decipher. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt unreadable, like he’d drawn a curtain between himself and you. “Really?” he asked, his tone tight, almost incredulous.

You faltered, a small thread of doubt weaving its way through your resolve. Was he happy? Would he even tell you if he wasn’t?

“Yes, really,” you replied, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “You’ve been distant lately. Running around at her beck and call. None of us know her. I want to understand what’s going on with you. I want to understand her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, his gaze hardening.

“I want to make sure this is the kind of relationship you want,” you finished, quieter now.

The room fell into silence, heavy and still. Azriel watched you as if he was turning your words over and over in his mind. You waited, unsure of what to expect—if anything at all.

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship I didn’t want. Can we drop it, please.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What a strange, dismissive answer. It bothered you— bothered you more than anything he’d ever told you before. 

“Az, I just don’t want you to change who you are for someone. You don’t need to cater to her every whim.”

His expression darkened, shadows curling tighter around his boots. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she asks.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the scoff that slipped out. Azriel had never been so clipped with you. “That’s not the definition of a boyfriend. That’s the definition of a bitch.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flaring in irritation. “Excuse me?”  His voice cut through the room. “Do you really think I’m some incompetent love-sick loser?”

“I think you stop seeing flaws in the people you love.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you’d anticipated. A small part of you wondered if “love” was the word Azriel would use to describe his feelings for her. Another part worried that he didn’t correct you.

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he snapped. “I can clearly see that you’re being unfair. Quick to judge, much like Mor. That’s a flaw.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, “You know what I meant. The people you’re infatuated with—”

“Where is this sudden concern coming from?” he interrupted, his shadows now beginning to curl between you like restless mediators, unsure where to settle. “Are you trying to cause issues?”

Something ran hot through your body.

“Seriously? I’m talking to you about this because I care. Because Elain had some cryptic feeling about you—”

“Elain is involved in this conversation, too?” His voice dripped with frustration now. “Gods, Y/n, should I send word for Gwyn while we’re at it? Get her opinion?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You took an authoritative step forward.  “I’ve never judged you. I’ve always tried to support you and your messy love life, no matter how complicated. Don’t you trust me, Azriel? As a friend?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows flickering uncertainly, still deciding whether to retreat or rise.

You gestured around the room. “Look at this place. You’ve erased all traces of your family—of you, of us. Where did you even put—”

“Oh, gods.” Azriel’s voice broke through, and for a moment, you thought he might crumble. His wings folded, and his hand dragged across his face, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in. “She was right.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel met your gaze, his eyes hesitant for a heartbeat before turning sharp. “About you. Selene said you were jealous. That you had feelings for me.”

The words hit like a slap, and your world tilted on its axis. “What?” you asked again, your voice breaking on the word. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he had misspoken.

“I told her she was wrong. But now…” He let the sentence hang in the air, searching your face for something that maybe wasn’t even there.

“Now, what?” Your voice rose, tinged with anger. “You think I’m here because I’m jealous? Because I have some… crush on you?”

His wings flared slightly at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know. It’s just—why else would you care so much about this?”

Your stomach twisted, a deep, cold ache settling there. “Why else?” you repeated, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because I care about you, Azriel. Because you’ve been my friend for centuries. Are you seriously confused about this?” 

For a moment, Azriel’s expression faltered, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “I didn’t ask you to care about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped, stepping closer. “That’s what friends do. But you’re standing there, letting her perception of me—someone who doesn’t even know me—warp your judgment. You’ve known me longer than that. Or at least, I thought you did. And the fact that you’d entertain this—” You stopped, shaking your head. “It’s insulting.”

Azriel said nothing. He just stood there, shadows now curling tighter around him. 

You had no idea how this conversation had gotten away from you, no idea how it turned into this—where this defensiveness, this anger, had come from. This wasn’t Azriel. Loyal, overly so. Impulsive. Protective. 

Or maybe it was. Maybe that loyalty was directed at someone else now—someone who clearly saw you as something threatening. You’d never been on the other side of Azriel before. Never thought you’d see the day. The realization hit like a slap to the face, leaving you shocked, stunned, a pit opening in your stomach that felt too deep to climb out of.

“You know what? Forget it.” You stepped back, the fight draining out of you all at once.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Really? That’s it?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

You turned for the door, hand on the handle, but paused. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and pointed, a petty jab that felt equal parts satisfying and hollow. “Make sure to lock this door when you leave—I’d hate to accidentally stumble back in and throw myself at you.”

Azriel stiffened, his wings snapping taut behind him. For a brief second, you thought he might say something, anything. But he didn’t.

You closed the door behind you with a heavy thud.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: no one tell them they probs have feelings for each other bc they’ll probably fight you (also elains moment is so self indulgent bc i would totally be making shit up based off my powers. like yeah actually you can’t be mean to be :/ powers are saying you’ll die if you are)

Part Two

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows

azriel tag list 🫶🏻:@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits @honethatty12

[pomegranatesarchive]

cute funny looking child | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary; the one where yn becomes obsessed with a cute funny looking child she stumbled across on pinterest. only to find out that the “cute funny looking child” is now a full grown formula one driver.

liked by charles_leclerc, and 715,529 others!

yourusername: i found this cute funny looking child on pinterest, then started crying because he’s just so cute

view comments below!

user1: girl what

user2: there’s medical terms for people like you

user3: no i get it

user4: he's actually so cute

user5: these pictures look old...what if this child is grown now??

user6: imagine scrolling through instagram and you see someone calling you a "cute funny looking child"

user7: this is too funny

user8: am i the only one who knows thats max??

user9: NO I DO TOO!!!

user10: us and charles LMAO

user11: he liked this and said nothing 😭

user12: not his childhood photos, not his problem

user13: how are yn and charles friends but she doesnt know what max looked like as a child?

user14: she knows nothing about f1, she's only friends with charles and thats it 😭

user15: what medical condition do you have?

user16: but…why?

user17: you have issues

user18: i don’t think this reaction is normal…

user19: babe that’s max verstappen??? formula 1 driver??? rich GROWN millionaire???

user20: millionaire you say 😏

user23: i see you didnt take your meds today

yourusername: i’ll have you know that my medication ran out so HA

user24: you might wanna ask for more

user25: yeah because this? not normal!

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 716,019 others!

maxverstappen1: recharging, done ✅

view comments below!

charles_lelcerc: what a cute funny looking child

maxverstappen1: ?

charles_leclerc: nothing…

user21: HE KNOWS

user22: it’s even funnier that charles 100% knows about the ‘cute funny looking child’ thing and just chose to not tell yn it’s max 😭

user23: yn will never live this down

user24: this is going to haunt yn for literally ever

user25: i PERSONALLY will never let her forget

user26: such a cute funny looking child

user27: max has got to be so confused rn

user28: is that a cute funny looking child i see???

user29: cute funny looking child max!!!!

user30: why is no one talking about how good max looks??

user31: i am. HE LOOKS GORGEOUS

danielricciadro: 😍😍

user32: you are handfeeding the shippers

user33: please, he IS the shipper

user34: cute funny looking child

user35: I AM SO CONFUSED BY THESE COMMENTS? WHAT IS GOING ON

user36: so basscialy

user37: what happened was

user38: many years ago

user39: it was a dark and gloomy night

. . .

. . .

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 619,916 others!

yourusername: this f1 thing is fun!

view comments below!

user40: you lucky son of a bitch!

charles_leclerc: can’t believe you went to a race for HIM 🤮 but not me…

yourusername: i didn’t go for HIM! i went because was invited!!!!

charles_leclerc: IVE INVITED YOU SO MANY TIMES AND YOU ALWAYS SAY NO

yourusername: LEAVE ME ALONE

user41: is ‘him’ MAX???

user42: it has to be

user43: YN AND MAX SHIPPERS ARE LIVING

maxverstappen1: you said you would post more baby pictures of me 😕

yourusername: you’re right in front of me? talk to me?

maxverstappen1: i want everyone to know that we’re on a date!

yourusername: we are?

user46: HUH

maxverstappen1: yes? i asked you on a date and you said yes?

user44: GIYS????

yourusername: i thought this was a friend thing…

user45: HWAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

maxvertappen1: do all your friends buy you flowers when going out to eat?

user46: YOURE RIGHT IN FEONT OF RACHOTHRT??? STOP THIS?

yourusername: no…

maxverstappen1: exactly! now do you want dessert?

user47: i can’t…i’m sick to my stomach…i cannot

user48: what just happened

user49: i wish i knew

user50: okay so that just happened! now what?

. . .

here’s this before i disappear for a couple of weeks (maybe months?) i apologize but schools been keeping me busy AND i have books on wattpad that take up most of my time! im hopeful ill be able to post maybe once a month? nonetheless i hope you enjoyed this :)

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Barista who is the “poster boy”of the coffee shop he works at. It is honestly deserved: he has a pretty face, a charming smile and a playful yet sweet attitude. He is especially popular among the girls…who he keeps rejecting. He is just not looking for something casual, you know? He dates to marry, not to be someone’s eye-candy.

Yandere!Barista who, one day, sees you walk into the store. Is that a Corroded Coffin shirt you have on ? He loves that band! This is what he tells you when it is your turn to order. What do you mean he looks too much like a goody two-shoes to be a fan? Alright, Miss “I am so dark and edgy”, what do you want to order? Black coffee? The banter goes on until he has to shoo you away, with an amused smile, as the other people in line are starting to get impatient.

Yandere!Barista who glances your way every chance he gets. Not only are you fun to talk to, but you also look really cute. Sometimes, between orders, he gets to converse with you. He eagerly returns your small wave when it is time for you to leave. As he goes to your table to collect the receipt, he finds your cup still there. On it, there is a small doodle of him along with your number. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he brings a hand to cover the side of his face. He is definitely keeping that cup.

Yandere!Barista who saved your number under “Cutie <3”. The more you text each other, the more you hang out together, the more he becomes obsessed. It is honestly starting to scare him. The other night, he had your cup in his hands to look at the doodle. Next thing he knew, he had his lips where yours had been when you were drinking from it. It flustered him so much, he threw the cup in the trash bin afterwards…only to go get it back five minutes later…He is asking you out on a date for sure next time he sees you.

Yandere!Barista who does your coffee with trembling hands. He really doesn’t want to do this, but you didn’t leave him a choice. Today, on your usual table, you are sitting with a man other than him. He can’t possibly lose the only person who took the time to get to know him beyond his looks. The drug should work in about fifteen minutes, five minutes after closing time. This should be perfect, you always wait for him to close the shop and walk home together. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this…You will be happy at his house, you will be happy with him. It is with a heavy mind and painful heart that he gives you your order.

Yandere!Barista who you got pinned against the wall of the storage room, one hand beside his head and the other one holding your cup. He is as white as a ghost. He keeps looking around. He is sweating all over. This couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly know- You firmly grab his jaw and turn his face towards you. “Drink”, you say coldly. What are you gonna do to him after he becomes unconscious? Will you report him to the police? Will you hurt him? He closes his eyes tightly as you bring the cup to his lips. The moment it reaches them, you drop it on the floor and replace it with your lips. His eyes open in shock as you give him a small, tender kiss. “That was my cousin, idiot”, you tell him affectionately. You look at him for a couple more seconds before putting on your bag. He is still frozen in place as you add: “Tomorrow, 6pm, at my house. Alright?”. You leave before he can answer.

Yandere!Barista who slides down the wall until he is sitting on the floor. All that is left of him is a blushing, quivering mess. With shaky fingers, he touches his lips; a small whimper involuntarily comes out his mouth. He is about to combust. He feels so weak, he can’t get up. You scared the shit out of him, but that was so hot ahh…He didn’t know you could be this assertive. And that kiss…he buries his face in his hands and groans. Kissing you is all he has ever dreamed of, yet he stayed still like a dumbass when it finally happened. He is so lame-you make him so lame. Guess tomorrow would be his chance to redeem himself.

[marylxvrr]

" THE KING'S OBSESSION "

read part 2 here

𐙚 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 — a ruthless ruler who commands loyalty from all, yet becomes a desperate, obsessive mess when it comes to you, willing to destroy kingdoms just to keep you by his side . . .

𐙚 Trigger Warnings: Obsession, power imbalance, emotional. manipulation, implied captivity, and threats of violence.

You kept your head down, your hands trembling as you scrubbed the grand marble floors of the royal palace. Just another nameless servant in the king's vast estate, you worked tirelessly to keep your place in a world that cared little for someone like you.

The rumors about King Adrian were whispered in hushed tones among the maids. He was ruthless, ruling with an iron fist, but his charm was undeniable. His mere presence could silence a room, his sharp green eyes piercing through even the bravest of souls.

You had only seen him from afar—until the day fate crossed your paths.

It happened when you were carrying a heavy vase filled with fresh flowers, your arms straining under its weight. You misstepped, the vase slipping from your grasp and crashing to the floor. The sound echoed through the grand hall, and your heart dropped into your stomach as you realized King Adrian himself had just entered.

He paused, his eyes landing on you. You froze, breath hitching as you knelt, frantically gathering the shattered pieces.

“I-I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you avoided his gaze.

“Leave it,” he said, his voice low but commanding.

You stopped, your hands stilling. Slowly, you dared to glance up, meeting his piercing green eyes. His expression was unreadable, his gaze intense as it swept over you.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Y/n, Your Majesty,” you whispered.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Y/n,” he repeated, as though savoring the sound of your name. “How fitting.”

---

From that day on, you felt his presence everywhere. The king would linger in the halls where you worked, his gaze burning into you. At first, you tried to dismiss it as your imagination, but the gifts began to appear.

A necklace of pearls left on your cot. A fine dress, far beyond anything a maid could afford, folded neatly on your small bed. The other servants whispered, their envy thinly veiled, but unease churned in your chest.

One evening, a royal attendant summoned you to the king’s chambers. Your heart pounded as you stood before the massive double doors, anxiety tightening your throat.

When you stepped inside, Adrian was seated by the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand. He looked up and smiled, motioning for you to approach.

“You’ve caught my attention, Y/n,” he said, setting the glass down. “And I am not a man who lets go of what he desires.”

Your breath hitched. “Your Majesty, I’m just a maid—”

“You’re mine,” he interrupted, his voice firm and unyielding. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. No one else will ever have you.”

You stepped back, fear curling in your stomach. “Your Majesty, please. I don’t belong in your world.”

Adrian rose from his chair, his imposing figure towering over you. “You belong to me,” he said, his tone soft but laced with steel. “Whether you realize it or not.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you shook your head. “I can’t… I can’t be what you want.”

He stepped closer, cupping your cheek in his hand. His touch was deceptively gentle, but the obsession in his gaze was unmistakable. “You already are,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.

You flinched, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. “There is no escape from me, Y/n. You will stay by my side—whether as my queen or my prisoner. The choice is yours.”

Your voice cracked as you whispered, “Why me?”

His smile darkened. “Because you’re perfect. Because you’re mine. And I will destroy anyone who tries to take you from me.”

[pseudowho]

The Watchmaker

Newly employed as the assistant to a renowned watchmaker, you soon discover how deeply his obsessions run.

Warnings: 18+, boss/assistant relationship, mutual longing, loss of virginity, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, hand job (m!receiving), creampie, gentle manhandling (consensual), breeding hints, gentle period-drama Nanami snippety-snaps and becomes unhinged, two desperate people getting far too sexy over timepieces and pots of tea

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It was unusual for a lone young woman to be lodged and apprenticed by a single man; and, yet, it came to be, when you alone passed the Watchmaker's interview.

You approached on dry cobblestones, to a handsome, deep shop, with glossy black and gold railings and doors. Your corset felt heavy with the city's summer humidity; the river held the heat like a simmering pan, and its heady stench threatened to consume you. You were used to being without a chaperone, but your modest dress and poor accompaniment drew more wayward glances in this part of the city.

You hurried into the shop, a brass bell above the door tinkling your arrival. Nobody came to greet you. You followed the voices to the back, the eyes of many timepieces following you, their ticking as whispers and gossip in your wake. You came, in time, down tiled steps to a workshop, warm and bright and full of men...naturally.

A single, cursive note graced a sign before the only remaining workbench.

Repair the clock.

Such meagre instructions for a sought-after job. In golden lamplight, a pile of cogs and a loose-handed clock face glimmered like dragon hoard. You cast your eyes, stroking your corset and heavy skirts. You nodded once, and reassured yourself, only once.

"You can do this."

The Watchmaker, a tall man whose broad shoulders and thick hands did not suggest one with a delicate touch, neither agreed nor disagreed; he simply watched, silently observing you like the many faces of his timepieces. You set to work before your audience. The Watchmaker came and went, seeking to observe the half-dozen men competing alongside you.

And, in time, half a dozen sweating young men failed one, by one, by one. The Watchmaker's disgust was apparent, and his sneers soured one, by one, by one, until the last young hopeful curdled like milk before him.

When the Watchmaker came to you, you and your box of gold were not at your station. He frowned, kept company only by muted ticks and tocks. He followed your trail, out to his walled garden.

The test would have been considered a 'trick' only by those who were angry that their lack of respect for precision and accuracy had been identified. You, who could not fathom such sloppiness, found an honest solution.

"A sundial?" The Watchmaker rumbled. You felt a rush of heat from fingertips to toes, untouched by such a voice before. Smoothing your skirts again, and finishing your adjustments to hide the heat in your cheeks, you nodded.

You had fashioned your clock face and myriad small clock pieces to form a glimmering sundial. You had positioned it just so, and confirmed its position with the time shown on your own, battered pocket watch.

The Watchmaker circled you, with narrow eyes that may contain humour were they not so scrutinising. He was impeccably tailored, you noted; a high, crisp collar and rolled back white sleeves revealed enough throat and forearm to make you sweat. An exquisite navy waistcoat nipped his waist only marginally more than his tied apron, and he hummed at your sundial.

"Not what I'd call accurate."

"I disagree. While it may not be very precise, it is accurate. The cogs for the clock couldn't be set in such a way as to make the seconds correct. They were always just out. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He almost smiled; his eyes certainly did. Nodding, and not one for hyperbolic praise, he bowed, instead.

"Nanami Kento. I would be privileged to offer you the role as my apprentice."

The earth formed a springboard, launching you to heaven, and it wrenched the breath from your lungs on the way. Checking yourself before you babbled over with incredulous tears, you choked out an answer on a sloppy curtsey.

"Even though-- even though I'm a woman?"

A scoff. "I don't see how that's relevant."

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Mr.Nanami sought your constant presence.

A natural timekeeper, himself, he sought the company of those like him, who would not expect him to partake in social niceties and small-talk. It was no wonder, then, that he became a Watchmaker, whose many-natured friends had the same face but twice a day.

While Nanami Kento was normally at peace in ticking solitude, the many hands and ceaseless seconds had eventually, as the years went by, begun to grind into an aching loneliness.

You felt it, as summer crisped to autumn, and frosted to winter-- his desire for your company. The way his obsession bloomed to include you alongside his timepieces. The way he lingered in doorways while you handled the customers' repairs. The way he seemed breathless when your smile sent another happy patron on their way. The way he would flinch if you brushed past him.

And god, how it burned you. Eyes downcast in reverence could not remain so for long, so magnetised were they to him. His silences were rarely cold, but rather, simply those of one who held his tongue until he had something to say; a far cry from the men you knew, who sought to usurp the monarchial peace through vocal domination.

Learning such craft at Mr.Nanami's thick, calloused hands, required intimate proximity; he would have to lean around you, at points, with his chest to your back. He moved your hands within his, teaching you the dexterity needed to repair a tiny watch with surgical precision. He leaned like this around you now. You could barely breathe.

"You were not wrong. Though not strictly right, either," he murmured in your ear, his breath grazing over your cheek. His hands held the tools in yours, using your body to perform miracles. You felt faint, flushed, hot against his body, and breathed a shaking breath, quiet in your frustration so as not to disturb the sleeping cogs.

"I want to be perfect, I-- I need it--"

An amused hum, used to your angry tiny mechanics. "You are perfect, thank you. Now let us make the pocket watch match."

As your hands worked in tandem, and another impossibly tiny cog found its home, you gasped in delight, relieved, and not thinking.

"Ah, yes, Kento, we--"

Mr.Nanami stiffened behind you. You backpedaled.

"Ah-- I mean, Mr.Nanami-- I'm so sorry--"

He did not seem upset, though his ears reddened as he stepped away from you. He murmured again, unused to being perceived.

"No, no-- it's quite alright-- I use your given name, after all."

With his face flat but his eyes alight, when you looked up at him in wary apology, he sought to reassure you with a smile.

"Really, please-- please do call me Kento."

"It feels...wrong."

"I...would not seek to make you uncomfortable. It is entirely of your preference."

Your heart drowned out the whispering whirrs of the room. You heard the tap of Mr.Nanami's feet as he ascended the workshop stairs, and blurted out.

"--Kento, I'll...I'll call you Kento. Please."

A pause. Another silence. Kento's voice tightened with something altogether more intimate.

"I fear I shall get used to it far too quickly."

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Too long were you lingering in your respective doorways, before bed. Too sweet, were the shared evenings in a firecrackle sitting room. Too electrifying, were the hands that met to pour just one more cup. Too intentional were the slim-eyed stares that burned down to the very bones of you.

If you died, and committed your body to science, the ghost of you would be unsurprised if a surgeon found Nanami Kento's name scored across your ribs; for nobody else could access that cage to your heart and soul.

Nobody else could warm you, during Winter fairs on the frozen river.

Nobody else could take your hand, to help you down the stairs at the Timepiece Exhibition.

Nobody else could still you with a look, or teach you with such few words, and this was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

Your peak hit you in a burst of static. You clasped your hand over your own mouth, as if it would sell you out for your filthy crimes. Still, you arched in your bed, your toes curling against the sheets, bucking up into nothing in waves. Clarity did not hit you after, for it had already hit you during, and had done nothing to still your fingers.

Rolling over, and pressing your face into your pillow after the ecstasy had passed, you held your breath. It was too quiet.

Your eyes sprung open. The muffled bustling you had heard from the bedroom next door, had stopped. You weren't sure when. The silence was deafening...until movement started again, more clipped than it had been before. You could feel him, moving with irritation, a prowling beast in a cage.

It was over an hour before Kento's own hand travelled down his belly, to grasp himself with whispered curses and pleas of your name. Long enough, he hoped, for you to be asleep. Long enough, he hoped, that he could hide this rampant obsession that was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

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"I should think I'll be home for tea. Inspector Aberline's grandfather clock again. It has stage fright, I fear, for how often the Inspector stares at it."

Kento's words, from hours before, rolled through your mind again and again. The smile you had sent your final patron of the day on his way with, slipped away, for you saw the lamplighter beginning his rounds on the cobbles outside. The sun had already set; he was late, tonight. You'd have offered him a lantern, but without Kento beside you, you felt you would need its warmth and light more.

Your eyes flickered to a package on the desk. It was imperative, Kento had said, that this was delivered to the customer today. 'Today', as a concept, was growing increasingly more abstract as it threatened to expire.

You saw the deep, dark circles under Kento's eyes, in your mind's eye. He had not been sleeping well. He needed the rest. You could not bear to see him overburdened.

Taking a deep breath, and undoing your apron to replace it for your heavy coat and gloves, you tucked the package under your arm, locked up to the tune of the tinkling bell, and stole away through the night like a thief in the dark.

Clacking across cobblestones, and trying to diminish the noise of your boots upon them, you walked for what felt like miles. Though you were sure you were safe, in this part of the city, the darkness turned shadows into beasts of great renown.

Spring-Heeled Jack stalked you from the shadows. You clutched the package closer, walking faster, breathing harder--

"What the hell are you doing out here, at this time of night?"

You squealed, and flattened against a red brick wall. Kento, imperious and huge in a heavy brown overcoat, glowered down at you with unbridled rage.

"The package," you squeaked, brandishing it as a shield, "you said-- said it needed to be delivered--"

"And it is not your place to take it upon yourself to do so. Returning to find you gone, out delivering a bloody package, while there's a killer on the loose? Extraordinary." The coldness that Kento reserved only for others, now directed at you, was a bitter sting.

Still; Kento held out his arm, stiff. His lip curled when you did not immediately take it. He grew frosty as he waited, and you slipped your arm into his, to a mollified grumble.

"Come," Kento rumbled, arresting you in a hold so intimate against his side, "let us not waste a journey. The customer isn't far from here. It shall give you time to think about your foolish choices."

You felt furious tears prickle behind your eyes. Like a dog with a bone, Kento struggled to let his anger go, and you snapped up at him, "Give it a rest. You're not my husband--"

"--yet, if it would allow me any sort of say over your safety, perhaps I should be your husband." Kento had frozen, looming over you. Your belly twisted, your face hot. You turned aside, chastised like a child.

"I'm no girl," you whispered, venomous, "I can take care of myself--"

"In a world that places no value on women, why should you ever feel safe? Out here, instead of in my--"

It was Kento's turn to redden. His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped upon the package. You felt righteous anger bubbling over, and rolled the dice, in a stabbing final gambit.

"In your what, sir? In your workshop? In your arms? Or in your bed?"

Kento's stony impassivity was tested, but remained steadfast even against your snapping. But you knew him, now; you saw how his chest hitched, heard his knuckles crack, and caught the faintest flare of his nostrils. Ducking his head for a moment, and dramatised by lamplit shadow, he stepped in just once to whisper above your ear.

"You forget yourself. I am your mentor, and you are my assistant, and--"

"--and I've had enough of you pretending that's all we are--"

"--and it's hard enough not bursting into your room at night when I hear your fingers drag my name from your mouth, so if you will be so kind as to cease and desist, I will not have to press you against this damn wall to hold your tongue with my own."

His hissing reproach doused the argument with ice water. Numb-footed and stunned, you walked through treacle, as Kento dragged you to deliver the package. Your chest was still thickened by mortification by the time you approached the Watchmakers' familiar iron railings.

You found yourself pressed inside, hearing the door bolted with force. Kento's hands softened as they removed your coat from your shoulders.

"Bed," he snapped. Kento turned his back to you to light a waxdrip candle. White shirtsleeves billowed from the shoulders of his waistcoat, and he checked his pocket watch as if it would give him the answer. You reached one hand out, to bunch in the back of his waistcoat, as if a child, and he snapped again.

"Alone."

You flinched. You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. You swallowed hard, rolling the dice again.

"I hear you, too. In your room at night. The walls are thin."

"So is my patience, young lady, I will not tolerate--"

"You treat me like a girl to distance yourself from me, but pleasure yourself to my name? Please. You can make a fool of yourself but don't make a fool out of me--"

Kento spun with a growl, lifting you by the waist to drop you upon the counter. You squeaked, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself when he closed the gap between you.

"Do not act as if you know," Kento whispered, low and slow, "what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring. Do not act as if you know what it means to be reduced so, that I must spill myself onto my belly every night, to preserve your virtue.

I do not blame you, naturally-- it's my burden entirely-- but if you add one more ounce to my shoulders with that incorrigible little mouth of yours, I'm afraid your virtue shall be...under threat."

You couldn't deny the heat pooling between your thighs, now, trapped as it was by Kento's taut body. You couldn't deny your craving for such fabled bliss.

"How does it feel," you whispered, your hand creeping up the buttons of his waistcoat to stroke the silk of his cravat, "Kento? How does it feel? Do you use your hand, or--"

An agonal little choke broke past Kento's high collar. His eyes begged you to stop him. You felt his long fingers twitch on your waist.

"Do not ask me--"

"Please," you whispered again, just as desperate as him, "please, I need to know, I can't keep living life in the dark--"

"My hand," Kento choked out, his chest barrelling with the weight of his breaths, "I use my hand. But even in the dark, I can't seem to convince myself that it-- that it's--"

You felt him falter, and you begged him, your tugging loosening his cravat enough to see his throat bob behind it. Kento whined, begging in kind. His face twisted, as if the thuds of pleasure lengthening his cock were hurting him. The torture was sweet; you felt it, too.

"Don't make me say it," Kento pleaded, nose to nose and nuzzling from side to side, "I can't take it--"

"You can-- you can take me--"

"--you don't know what you're saying--"

"--I do, Kento, please--"

"--don't know what you're sacrificing--"

"--you wouldn't," you pressed, feeling his hands moving against his wishes to unbutton the back of your dress, "you wouldn't sacrifice me, I know, so just--"

Kento groaned, a sound so sinful, just to feel your dress release and slip down over your shoulders. Pinching the ends of your sleeves, with his fingertips grazing your palms and inner wrists until you shivered, he pulled. A gossamer shift of white ghosted over your skin.

"So many layers, upon a lady," Kento murmured against your lips, "like unwrapping a gift."

He sounded drunk, and the honeyrich pools of his eyes had darkened. You couldn't pinpoint the moment his resolve had crumbled, but crumble it did, with the tick-tocking eyes of many upon you. Kento grazed his fingers against your lips, ordering in a whisper.

"Open." You didn't have to, your jaw already slack as promise burned you at the edges. Kento swiped his thumb and forefinger across your tongue with a groan, and reached out, snuffing the candle between them.

What dim light there had been, died. None that breathed would hold court or witness to what Kento was about to do to your virtue.

"This will not happen only once," Kento murmured against your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you until you mewled. He cursed to hear it, becoming more unhinged by the minute. "I will take your maidenhood as a lover, but take your hand as my wife. You cannot refuse."

You could refuse-- you knew you could, in absolute safety, but such refusal would take his mouth from you with immediate effect. His hands would cease their insistent glide up, and up, beneath your skirts. He would stop rutting forwards against nothing, with each whimper that left your lips. He would no longer drag your bodice down with his teeth, to suckle at the plump swell of your breasts.

You nodded, breathless, your hands shaking against the buttons of Kento's waistcoat. He grunted as it fell open, and your hands settled upon his waist. His graze against your neck was more insistent, now, and sloppier; hungry, open mouthed kisses that suckled the salt from your skin. Occasionally, you heard him murmur, begging to you, or to his god, or to himself, for any sort of release.

Overtaken by need, you finished unbuttoning his trousers, and tangled your fingers in his hair, instead.

"Don't know what you're doing," Kento mumbled, drunker by the minute, "going to ruin you, I-- I'll ruin you-- I'm no sensible size for a virgin--"

"So you suggest I find some other man?" You panted, "You suggest I find someone smaller--"

"They don't fucking deserve you," Kento spat, forcing the last of your skirts up to grind himself at your core until you whined. With your corset untied, Kento tossed it to the floor behind him with disdain, and yanked the final layer down to free your breasts.

Shuddering, he gripped his cock to restrain himself.

"Divine," Kento whispered, ducking to nuzzle against the tips of your breasts, "I have to-- please allow me to--"

Without waiting for an answer, Kento lapped your nipple into his mouth with a groan. Suckling until you pleaded his name, with hot bursts of pleasure to your core, Kento's hands reached the crest of your thighs, and groaned to find more layers in the way.

"Buy you some more," he grunted against your breasts, gripping the fabric between strong fingers to shred it apart, "my apologies-- now, just-- oh, fuck, I--"

His fingers had slipped between your folds to glide through them. Needing to see you arch against the sudden intrusion, Kento pressed you back until you were lying on the counter, and loomed over you. You caught sight of him for the first time in minutes.

Kento was utterly dishevelled, unabashed, and too far gone. With his cravat and waistcoat hanging loose, and a long, thick swell beneath what remained of his unbuttoned trousers, he looked more debauched than your wildest fantasies. He twitched with the spurt of pre-cum that left his cock, to see you spread out before him.

Sniffing, and dragging one hand back through his parted hair, Kento scoffed at your look of glassy-eyed wonderment. His fingers curled through your lips until that sought-after arch graced his eyes, and you mewled again, your thighs clamping around his hips

"More than one of us can be reduced to a beast," he growled, circling your clit with calloused fingertips, "as you have insisted. I've taught you with these fingers before. Let us teach you something new; how it feels to peak upon the hands of a man."

"--o-oh god, oh god oh god--"

A bark of laughter, "--he won't help you now--"

"--oh, sir--"

"Try again."

"K-Kento!" You chastised through blinding pleasure. Kento chuckled again, intoxicated and made ruthless by it, and holding you flat by the belly as his hands worked miracles on your core.

"That's it-- good girl--"

The way he praised you had always brought you to a blush, but how he growled his praises while he fingered you to completion was another entity entirely.

Your hips rolled up, trying to fill the emptiness that his fingers alone couldn't. Your body was rendered base with pleasure, and nature's insistence that such passiveness should be used to leave your belly full of seed.

You could see that, too, in his eyes; an urge; a hunger that belied his gentle nature. In sudden clarity, you understood his cry of agony, from mere minutes before: 'Do not act as if you know what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring.'

"--K-Kento, I-- I don't know if I'll-- it's too much, aches-- augh--"

Your approaching peak threatened to overwhelm you, and you squirmed and begged, though you knew not what for. Kento pinned you, with one splayed hand on your belly, and whispered you on.

"That's it-- don't be afraid...shhh, now. Good girl-- that's it-- beautiful--"

You came with thigh-clamping bursts of ecstasy, so sharp and static by the hands of another, that your belly ached and cramped with the force of the spasms. Kento's fingers slowed, massaging the pleasure out of you at length, though you could feel his body growing heavy with the weight of self-restraint.

You felt yourself twitching, crunching forwards involuntarily, with little more than broken whimpers and cries as he talked you down. Though, as clarity dawned in supple bliss, you felt he may be trying to talk himself down.

"...good...that's good, that's enough, I...I am satisfied, I..."

Kento lied to himself so exquisitely, as if he didn't palm his cock with one trembling hand. As if he hadn't pulled his shirt off to relieve the prickling heat of his skin. As if he couldn't kiss you because that, oddly, would be the intimacy that broke the dam.

You broke it for him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his neck so he couldn't rear away from you. He tried, at first, with a grunt of surprise, gripping you by the waist. Feeling your lips against his rendered him dumb again, feral and nuzzling his nose to yours, like an addict in a field of poppies.

"Please-- I'm afraid I won't-- won't be gentle--"

"Bed," you whispered against his lips, "not alone."

Kento groaned again, cupping his hands beneath your thighs to lift you, and carry you up the narrow wooden staircase. He knew every shoeworn step in the dark; knew where the corridor dipped; knew the amount of steps between his bedroom door and yours, so many times had he paced between the two.

With his curtains un-drawn, only the cold winter moonlight lit the room. Meticulous, uniform possessions left meticulous, uniform shadows. The whole room smelled of Kento; of soft wax, leather and musk. In his room, in his arms as one leg flicked the door deftly closed behind him, felt like being brought home.

"If I show you how," Kento whispered, laying you on his bed, just to stalk you slowly up to his pillows, "will you...can I..."

You'd have said yes to anything. Without knowing exactly what Kento asked for, you nodded. He saw the absolute trust in your eyes, and stiffened, his eyes darkening with something more profound than need.

"Do you know what physical love entails?" He rumbled, nosing against your neck again, and depriving you of the first kiss you so desperately craved. "Do you know what it is, to be taken?"

You swallowed hard, feeling lead weights in your still twitching belly. You cursed the society that had sought your submission through ignorance.

"We...are supposed to fit together," you whispered, to Kento's satisfied rumble. Stil, it was not enough; you knew he would not continue past his insistent suckling of your throat, if you showed true ignorance, so you mumbled past your blushes.

"You...press yourself inside me, until...until you..."

"...go on."

"Until...you finish, like--like--"

"...like you did, on my fingers. Except, your completion simply fills my soul...metaphorically speaking. My completion fills you literally."

Your hand had trailed down his bare chest, reverent at his form, so different to your own and witnessed before only in fine art and statues. He didn't stop you as your hand trailed lower. He simply fixed you with a stare, that was half hope and half despair.

With rising breaths, you looked down between your bodies as you freed him. Animalistic relief twitched across Kento's shoulders, for the release from his confines. He groaned into your throat, husky in a way that made you throb. You longed to see his pleasure as he had seen yours.

Tentative, you grazed his length with the barest fingertips. Rigid, woody, hot, velvety, wet at the tip and so long and--

"Oh," you breathed, gripping him and feeling his heartbeat through his sex, and utterly unsure what you had expected, "feels...good--"

Kento breathed harshly, and had dropped onto his elbows above you, his face twisted in agony. He panted, fractious.

"Don't-- do not--"

Your hand flinched away, horrified for having hurt him, and he cursed, rolling off you to sit, strewn and messy and barely dressed, against the head of the bed. Your eyes fixed again on his manhood, heavy and twitching against his belly.

"I won't touch-- I'm sorry--"

"Don't stop," Kento emphasised, breathless, "don't...dont stop."

With a flush of heat in your cheeks, you understood the nature of Kento's agony, and it only made you hungrier. Crawling over him in the barest white undergown, to straddle his thighs and sit upon them, you reached out to grip him with one trembling hand again. Kento arched, moaning that rusty, desperate moan again.

"Show me? Like you do in...in the workshop."

"God, your hand is so sweet--" With his own hand, big enough to engulf yours, he wrapped around your grip to his length. Slowly, deliberately, and watching where your hands clasped around him with sweat on his brow, Kento used your hand to pump himself.

Feeling the glide of silk on iron made your core wetten and clench. Watching how Kento moaned, bucking into your joined fists and reaching up behind him to grip the pillows, was hypnotic. Within seconds, your hand had begun to move independently of his, stroking him with raw determination to witnessq his unravelling.

Kento groaned in time with your rhythmic strokes. His newly freed fist bunched, instead, at your hip, having rucked your slip aside to dimple shaking fingertips in the plush of your curves. You began to squeeze a little tighter at the tip, twisting a little, and making Kento see stars.

"Hah--haaaaah-- don't-- don'tstop-- better than any dream-- good girl, please, please--"

Your thumb swiped without warning across a bead of wetness that had seeped from the slit in his tip, and Kento swore, bucking hard enough to make you chirp and grip his thighs for purchase.

"--wait--wait-- I'll spill in your hand, wait--"

This didn't deter you; if anything, it spurred you on to faster and faster strokes. Kento writhed, sweating and gripping, and you watched the heavy balls beneath his length tighten up, and--

"--ungh--coming--don'tstop...unh--"

Kento's whole body tensed. His face fixed in divine ecstasy. You watched his length jerk in your fist with thick, warm glugs of sticky white seed. You stared, your new obsession making you want to stroke Kento's release between your folds, but you held him instead, feeling him rut into your fist to chase his high.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kento came back to earth, with a heavy chest. While lax, for now, something in the way he looked at you, kneeling above him and examining the way his release dripped down your forearm, told you he was barely sated.

"Always were a...a fast learner."

"Well, you always wrote me off as a child--"

"I did not," Kento huffed, a mortified, angry flush colouring his cheekbones, "I knew exactly the woman you were. I do not lust after girls. If I didn't separate you, I knew I would...I knew we would..."

You nodded. You had both fought to convince yourself against such inevitability. Pondering, and curiously disappointed in the aftermath of Kento's pleasure, you stroked his slippery length in your hand again.

"You're...still hard."

Kento's eyes flicked down, that animalistic hunger taking seed in his eyes again. When he spoke, it was low, and barely measured.

"It would not usually, but-- but feeling you above me, so close that I could flip you over and trap you beneath me, I--"

You felt your breath leaves your lungs at once. Kento winced, disgusted with himself, but you snatched it away before it could take root.

"Please-- I want that, please--"

"With all this seed, and more to come after I bury myself inside you, you will be with child within days," Kento spat, gripping your cum-slick wrists to stop you stroking another orgasm out of him. Kento froze; having been about to throw you off, he saw the look in your eyes. The look of willingness. That sheer determination that had taken you as his apprentice in the first place.

"You like that," he mused aloud, enraptured as you lifted your undergown away to reveal yourself in your entirety. With your wrists gripped in one broad hand, the other stroked down between your breasts, to settle, stroking, on the soft plush of belly just above your mound.

"You...like that? The thought of a part of me, growing inside you? The thought of me spilling myself so deep, it has nowhere to go but your belly?"

The thought made you lightheaded. Why? Why was the thought of the same sticky release that coated your hands, inside you instead, so alluring? Beast in fine tailoring a beast in fine tailoring a beast--

Kento rolled you over. The strength you always knew he had, carefully restrained by waistcoat and pocket chains, bore down upon you now. He kicked away his trousers, desperate to be as bare as you, and brought his sheets over his hips to bury you both in a warm little den. You shivered to feel his length rest on your belly and mound, so close to where you wanted him.

Kento shook his head, trying to see logic, "If I finish inside you-- you really will be in danger of bearing my child, you..."

His voice had faded, gobsmacked as you stroked your seed covered fingers between your folds, mulish and clipped.

"There," you snipped, "I've already covered myself in you, so that's that--"

"You are utterly feral, this is what I get for bringing a guttersnipe into my workshop--"

"--so you might as well just finish the deed, sir, because--"

Kento laughed, overjoyed by your fearless audacity. His lip curled, and he reached down again to stroke his sticky seed between your folds.

"You think that's what I meant by inside?" He pressed, so close to the entrance you had never sought to penetrate, "You think I meant here? No, my love...I meant here."

You squeaked to feel Kento press one thick finger at your entrance. You felt the briefest sting of resistance, felt yourself clench and buck. Kento stopped, and pressed a first kiss to your lips, so sweet that you rushed through a wildflower meadow in summer.

He stroked circles just inside your entrance, loosening you with the slick of his seed, and kissing you with an intimacy that felt so much more than all the sordid deeds you had stolen from each other so far.

"And when I say 'here'," Kento continued, his breathing getting heavier, "I meant deeper. Much deeper than my fingers could reach. In truth, I would rather break your maidenhood with my cock, than my fingers. Some...filthy little part of me, I think. I loathe it. But, since we are well past being dishonest with each other..."

"Want that, please--" you babbled, squeaking with the promise of being filled with the rod you felt dragging on your belly, "--please, do it, I need to know, need you--"

"You beg like you mean to corrupt," Kento grumbled, pressing a little harder against your entrance and shivering as you squeaked, "I was a good man before this...I think. Shhhh, shh shh...that's it...soften you up...good girl."

"Not a girl," you gasped, your voice breaking and your nails digging into Kento's shoulders. He laughed, a full, rich, deep laugh of genuine delight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his fingers were replaced by his cockhead.

"You are right," he rumbled, nuzzling his nose to yours again, "you're certainly not. At least...you won't be, in a moment." Nose to nose with you, and whispering into your mouth, Kento pressed insistently forwards, "Hold onto me."

You did, feeling a brief sting, and stretched and stretched and stretched and--...full. You whimpered, bringing your legs around Kento to embrace all of him to you. He grunted, and gasped, pulled to bottom out within you, when he had meant to take you slowly. You clung him inside you as he moved to pull out, and begged, afraid it was already over.

"Nonono-- don't come out-- stay--"

Kento bucked into you involuntarily, and groaned a godless sound, arching up and gripping the headboard, white-knuckled.

"Got to-- got to move, to-- to finish...but at this rate--Christ, you'll kill me-- god, can't-- can't finish straight away like a boy--"

If the pleasure of being locked into the warm, wet drag of your pussy hadn't almost taken Kento to the edge, the way you looked up at him with glassy adoration would. He moaned again, another certain stepping stone to damnation.

One more glance at you had Kento planting one forearm above your head, and plaiting his fingers with yours upon the pillow. He gasped, trying not to take you too roughly, and finally, whispered again.

"Hold onto me."

Smooth, and fluid, and with the barest scraps of self control, you saw stars to feel Kento drag his cock back to your entrance, only to fill you again. You felt the thickfriction drag, and its bursts of belly-deep pleasure than rendered you oddly submissive. You revelled in it; drugged, and sighing, your eyes slipping closed.

The drunken animal in Kento had returned in force.

"...feels...weird...good--- don't stop, Ken--"

"--sh-shit, won't last-- I'm sorry--"

Kento watched you in wonderment. Whatever pleasure your ripe core gave him, could not compare to that given to him by your face; your mewls, and sighs, and whispers.

You couldn't seem to whisper his name, though; it tasted so sweet upon your tongue, that you could not bear to let it go.

You could feel Kento losing his ragged self-control. Watching your face, the plush bounce of your breasts, and the way your thighs spread against your belly every time he fucked into you, was an otherworldly delight. You took it; gladly. Your pleasure built strangely-- deeper, and more powerful, and yet not quite enough.

Your fingers sauntered down your belly. In your addled, fucked-into state, you barely noticed what you were doing. Kento noticed, though, and growled, a droplet of sweat dropping from his forehead between your breasts. His thrusts deepened, harder and faster and desperate for orgasm.

"F-fuck...just like that...just like you do at night-- my name--"

"Ke...Ken--"

"My name."

"Kento," you half-sobbed, lost in his promise to fill you with the sticky cum that had dropped down your hand, "please--pleasepleaseplease--"

"--the begging, fuck, I'm-- I'm done, I'm-- ungh, fuck--"

You knew Kento must be finishing. You felt him twitching, and jerking, within the snug gripping heat of your cunt, ruined by him as per his promise. You felt the curious warm spill somewhere deep inside you.

You knew the look of bliss upon his face. Your fingers, still rolling the remnants of his seed around your clit, moved faster and faster and faster--

You arched, seconds after Kento's own peak had begun, into your own. You heard the headboard crack under Kento's grip, heard the rhythmic, fractured moans that may have been his and may have been yours, too lost were you both in oblivion.

The world may have completed one full turn. Struggling to hold himself up, Kento shook, dopey and half-asleep after filling you as he had threatened. You locked him within you, and held him like a lead blanket, nuzzling into his throat.

"Just...stay there. Stay. I like it."

"That feels...indecent," Kento mumbled into your neck. His uncharacteristic colloquialism was winding back again, and you felt the clipped man in the waistcoat and pocket chain returning to earth. You whispered, to his devilish laugh.

"How are we supposed to make watches together after that?"

"Carefully. Very, very carefully. As husband and wife."

"...oh."

[justauthoring]

Late Night Trouble

Summary: Sylus has to leave your side during an auction because of some business. Surely nothing will go wrong, right?

Pairing: Qin Che / Sylus x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,127

A/N: A little fluff piece because I'm obsessed with this man. I will get to your guys' requests soon but I was inspire for some protective Sylus after I saw a severe lack of it in the tags.

Your feet were killing you.

Absolutely aching. They had been since about an hour into arriving at this auction, but there was no quick relief in sight. Sylus had assured you that this evenings auction would be a quick in and out and you'd accompanied him under the expectation that you would be spending the majority of your night in his arms at home.

Only, Sylus was no where to be found and unfortunately, you were not at home. Something or another had gone wrong during the auction and as usual, Sylus didn't want you to have to worry about business that you had no need to. You weren't worried because you were assured and confident in Sylus' strength and capabilities to handle the situation.

You didn't find offence to him keeping you in the dark - you knew it simply came from a place of believing you were too good to have to deal with these pathetic men who attempted to betray or overthrow Sylus. It never worked out and you knew it never would.

So, no, you weren't annoyed. Or really even frustrated. You were tired, your feet hurt and all you wanted was to be in the arms of the man you love.

Taking a sip of your glass of wine that you've been mulling over since Sylus had left your side to deal with business, you eye the protocore's up for auction that evening with little interest. You have everything you need and more and these auctions have long since become dull to you over the years.

"Nothing of interest?"

Turning your head at the new voice, you raise a brow at the man who has not-so-subtly sidled up to your side. He's wearing a fancy suit that is a touch to big for him and looks entirely too out of place on him, and you let your eyes drag across him for a moment before shrugging.

"Not really," you respond dryly, turning away from him to try and make it clear that you're not interested in a conversation.

It apparently isn't clear given the way he continues to speak to you; "too good, then?" He offers, tilting his head at you. "Or have you just not been shown everything?"

Halting at his words, you take a small step back, trying to create distance. "Meaning?"

"Just that I don't think you've been shown everything on offer tonight," he smirks, eyes twinkling. "And maybe I'm the one who can."

You let out a short huff. It's clear this man has no idea who you are.

"Very smooth," you roll your eyes, "but I'm not interested."

You think that makes it obvious and you turn away, expecting him to walk off before his pride is harmed anymore. There's lots of pretty faces in the crowd tonight for him to sink his teeth in; most importantly, ones who aren't already in relationship.

Except, you don't hear his footsteps disappear and instead, there's a hand wrapping around your arm.

"Come on," the man urges, tugging you towards him to the point your head has to tilt back to look at him. Your hand quickly comes to his chest, pushing back to create distance. "Not even a chance?"

He smiles in what you assume he thinks is alluring, but it only makes you sick.

"No," you say sharply. "I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Oh?" He laughs, "who?"

"Sylus," you answer dully. "I'm sure you've heard of him."

For the briefest of seconds, the man looks somewhat unsure, a flash of fear flickering through his gaze before his eyes flitter across your figure once more and he chuckles. "You're pretty, sweetie, but not that pretty."

Offended and annoyed, you try to tug your arm out of his grasp.

"You're a prick," you hiss, "and I'm over this conversation."

His grip tightens, pinching to the point that pulls a small yelp from your lips. Suddenly, his face darkens and the disgusting charm he'd been playing up disappears for the sake of spitting out; "listen, I was trying to be nice and give you the chance you normally wouldn't be given. So why don't you be less of a bitch-"

"I promise you you'll come to regret those words."

Any fear you'd felt disappears instantly at the sound of that familiar voice. Suddenly, there's a warm chest pressed against your back and the man's grip is being pried off of your arm as the man lets out a undistinguished cry at Sylus' grip.

Relieved, you turn back to meet Sylus' awaiting gaze.

"Hello there, sweetie," he smiles warmly, deep voice rumbling against your back as his free hand comes to wrap around your waist. "Sorry I'm late."

You sink into his touch, turning into his embrace, "'s okay," you mumble.

He squeezes you against him before turning back to the man still cowering and whimpering in his grasp. "Now, what was it you said? That my girl wasn't... pretty enough for me?" Something sinister flickers in Sylus' eyes and the man without hesitation falls to his knees.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'm so sorry!" He screeches pathetically. "I had no idea."

"Except you did," Sylus corrects. "Because she told you and you chose to insult her." There's a sickening crack that follows his words and a bellowed yell leaves the man's lips as echoes of gasps and disbelief flutter amongst the crowd. "I don't appreciate you trying to tell her her worth when everyone in here should be aware she's the most beautiful woman in this room."

Cheeks warming, you squeeze Sylus's arm. "Sylus..." You mumble, embarrassed.

Sylus glances down at you, taking one look, before throwing the man to the ground. "You're lucky for tonight," Sylus spits down at him. "But count your blessings."

He turns away at that, turning towards you and you move to step with him but before you can, there's an arm slipped underneath you as you're lifted up off your feet.

"Sylus!"

Clutching your arms around his neck, you turn to him shocked.

He just smirks, sending you a look before holding you with the arm underneath your back and using his free hand to slip off your heels.

"Your feet must be killing you, kitten," he whispers to you, ignoring the following gazes of the crowd as he makes his way out of the building. "I left you standing there all alone too long. I'm sorry."

Letting your head fall against his chest, you hum; "it's okay. You came when it matters."

"Not quick enough," he denies, swinging his heels next to his side as he effortlessly carries you to his motorcycle. "You deserve to be pampered all night, sweetie."

Smiling softly, you meet his eyes; "yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, smirking. "I'll make sure of it."

[moonlightwritingf1]

Lando's Obsession | LN4

⊹₊ ˚‧₊୨୧₊‧ ˚ ₊⊹ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando has an obsession for Y/N's boobs

⊹₊ ˚‧₊୨୧₊‧ ˚ ₊⊹ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⊹₊ ˚‧₊୨୧₊‧ ˚ ₊⊹ word count ━━━━━━━ 3k

⊹₊ ˚‧₊୨୧₊‧ ˚ ₊⊹ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Based on this request.

Lando froze for a moment, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He hadn’t expected that. She had always been so reserved, so careful with her words. But tonight? Tonight, she was different. Bolder. And it was driving him wild.

“I wasn’t—” he started, trying to play it cool, but the grin tugging at the corners of his lips gave him away. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was. But can you blame me? That dress is… distracting.”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, exaggerating the way the fabric clung to her curves. “Distracting, huh? You’re lucky I didn’t call you out earlier. Every time you thought I wasn’t looking, there you were, sneaking glances like some lovestruck teenager.”

Lando took a step closer, his confidence returning in full force. “If I remember correctly, you were the one smirking every time you caught me. Almost like you wanted me to look.”

Her breath hitched as he closed the distance between them. The air between them crackled with tension, the kind that made her skin tingle and her heart race. She could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the night air.

“Maybe I did,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. “Or maybe I just wanted to see how far you’d go.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His touch was feather-light, but it sent shivers down her spine. “Careful, love. You might regret teasing me like that.”

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Or maybe I won’t.”

---

The night had started like any other date they’d been on—except it wasn’t like any other date. This was their fourth date, and the tension between them had been building steadily since the first. What had begun as shy smiles and casual conversations had morphed into something far more intense. Something neither of them could ignore anymore.

When Lando had texted her earlier that day—“Be ready by 7. Wear something stunning”—Y/N had felt a thrill run through her. She knew exactly what she was going to wear. A black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, with a neckline low enough to make Lando’s jaw drop. She hadn’t planned to be this bold, but the sexual tension between them had become too much to resist.

As soon as he’d picked her up, Lando’s eyes had lingered on her chest a fraction too long. She’d noticed—of course she had—but she’d said nothing, only enjoyed the way his gaze kept drifting back to her throughout the evening.

They’d gone to a small, intimate restaurant in Soho, the kind of place where the lighting was dim and the music was soft enough to encourage whispered conversations. Lando had been charming as ever, making her laugh and hanging on her every word. But every so often, his eyes would drop to her cleavage, and she’d catch him mid-glance, her smirk growing wider each time.

After dinner, they’d walked along the Thames, the city lights reflecting on the water. The conversation had flowed easily, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of something else. Something electric. Every brush of his hand against hers, every lingering glance, fueled the fire burning between them.

Now, standing outside her apartment, that fire was threatening to consume them both.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Lando murmured, his voice low and rough. His hand slid down to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I want to stop.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from hers. “Then tell me to leave,” he whispered. “Because if I stay, I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself.”

Y/N’s hands found their way to his chest, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt. “Who says I want you to control yourself?”

That was all the encouragement he needed.

In one swift motion, Lando pressed her against the door, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that startled them both. The kiss was messy, desperate, filled with all the pent-up longing they’d been holding back for weeks. Y/N gasped into his mouth, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

He groaned, his body pinning hers against the door as his hands explored every inch of her he could reach. One hand slid down to grip her thigh, hiking her leg up around his hip. The other found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly, teasingly, as if giving her one last chance to change her mind.

But Y/N didn’t want to change her mind. She wanted this. She wanted him.

She broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “Inside. Now.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice.

Lando’s lips crashed back onto Y/N’s as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The hallway of her apartment blurred as he carried her toward the bedroom, their kisses hot and desperate, each one deeper than the last. She could feel the hardness of his body pressed against hers, the way his hands gripped her thighs possessively, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go even for a second.

Her dress had already been halfway unzipped, and as they crossed the threshold of her bedroom, Lando slid it off her shoulders in one smooth motion. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but her lace bra and matching panties. His breath hitched as he took her in, his eyes darkening with desire.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. He stepped closer, his fingers trailing up her sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she tilted her head back, meeting his gaze. There was something electric in the air between them, a tension that had been building since their first date—no, since the moment they met. It was finally unraveling, and she felt both exhilarated and terrified by how much she wanted him.

“Prove it,” she challenged, her voice trembling slightly despite her bold words. Her chest rose and fell with her quickened breaths, her skin already tingling with anticipation.

Lando’s lips curved into that cheeky grin she loved so much, the one that always made her weak in the knees. “Oh, I plan to,” he said, his tone dripping with promise. Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt.

His hands moved to her bra, deftly unhooking it and letting it fall to the floor. Y/N gasped as cool air brushed against her bare skin, but the sensation was quickly replaced by the warmth of Lando’s hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at her. His eyes were practically black with need as he leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, and Y/N moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him closer.

He alternated between her breasts, teasing and tasting, each lick and suck sending waves of pleasure through her. His free hand roamed lower, sliding over her hip and down to the curve of her thigh before slipping beneath the edge of her panties.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice ragged as his fingers found her core, already slick with desire. “Please…”

“Tell me what you want,” he urged, his lips still pressed against her skin, his breath hot against her collarbone.

She hesitated for only a moment before whispering, “You. All of you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, he lifted her again, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently. He stood at the edge of the mattress, his eyes raking over her body as he began to undress. His shirt came off first, revealing the defined muscles of his chest and abs, and Y/N couldn’t help but reach out to trace the lines of his torso with her fingers.

“So bloody impatient,” he teased, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm before releasing it. The rest of his clothes followed, and then he was climbing onto the bed, settling himself between her legs.

The weight of him above her, the heat of his body against hers, made her head spin. She reached up to cup his face, pulling him into another kiss as his hips pressed against hers. The feel of him, hard and ready, made her whimper into his mouth, and she arched her back, craving more.

Lando broke the kiss, his lips moving down her neck to her chest once more. “Still think I wasn’t trying hard enough?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement and desire as his tongue circled her nipple.

She laughed breathlessly, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Maybe you’re just getting better at hiding it.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin, and then he was kissing his way down her body, his hands pushing her thighs apart as he settled between them. His eyes locked with hers as he hooked his fingers into her panties, dragging them down her legs and tossing them aside.

“Let’s see how smug you are after this,” he said, his tone playful but laced with an intensity that left her breathless. And then his mouth was on her, his tongue exploring every inch of her with a skill that had her crying out his name within seconds.

Her hands fisted in the sheets as he worked her with relentless precision, his movements slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder, until she was writhing beneath him, her hips bucking against his face. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, his fingers joined the rhythm, curling inside her and hitting that spot that made her vision blur.

“Lando, I—” she started, but the words disintegrated into a moan as her climax hit, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. He didn’t stop, not until she was gasping for air, her body trembling with the aftershocks.

When he finally pulled away, he looked up at her with a satisfied smirk, his lips glistening. “Still think I’m not trying hard enough?”

She shook her head, too overwhelmed to form a coherent response. Instead, she reached for him, pulling him up to kiss him deeply, tasting herself on his lips. When they parted, she whispered, “Get up here. Now.”

With a groan, Lando obliged, positioning himself at her entrance. He paused, his eyes searching hers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips to meet him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And then he was inside her, filling her completely, and all she could do was cling to him as they moved together, their bodies perfectly in sync. Every thrust, every moan, every whispered word of encouragement drove her closer to the edge again, until she was certain she couldn’t possibly feel any more pleasure.

But then Lando shifted his angle, his pace increasing, and suddenly she was falling, tumbling over that edge with him right behind her, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

Lando collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Y/n lay there, her body still trembling from the intensity of their shared climax. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Lando turned his head to look at her, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with admiration.

Y/n blushed, her heart still racing. She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, and it made her feel safe, cherished. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, though her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. Y/n nestled into his side, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

For a moment, they just lay there, basking in the afterglow of their passion. The silence between them was comfortable, easy, like they had known each other for years instead of just a few months. Lando’s fingers traced idle patterns on her back, sending little shivers down her spine.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “Can I… play with your tits?”

Y/n looked up at him, surprised by the question but also intrigued. There was something about the way he asked it—so casually, yet with a hint of mischief—that made her stomach flutter. She smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You can.”

His eyes lit up, and he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her. His free hand moved to her chest, his fingers lightly brushing over her skin. He traced the curve of her breast, his touch gentle but deliberate.

She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his hands on her. Every touch sent a wave of pleasure through her body, making her skin tingle with anticipation. His fingers circled her nipple, teasing it until it hardened under his touch.

”God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Y/n gasped, her back arching involuntarily as his tongue flicked over her sensitive flesh. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to her core. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him close as he continued to tease her.

Lando alternated between soft kisses and gentle sucks, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every inch of her. He seemed determined to memorize her, to learn what made her tick, what made her moan.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “That feels… amazing.”

He pulled away slightly, looking up at her with a smirk. “Good,” he said, his voice teasing. “Because I’m not done yet.”

He moved to her other breast, repeating the same slow, sensual torture. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle nip of his teeth, sent her spiraling further into a haze of pleasure. She could feel herself growing wet again, her body responding to his touch like it was second nature.

As he continued to play with her breasts, his other hand drifted lower, sliding between her thighs. She gasped as his fingers found her slick folds, his touch light but insistent. He teased her clit, circling it slowly, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “I love how much you enjoy this.”

She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice shaky. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His fingers continued to move, his pace increasing as he felt her body tighten around him. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her entire being focused on the sensations he was creating within her.

And then, just as she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she felt it—the sudden tightening in her abdomen, the rush of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. She cried out, her body convulsing as she came hard, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, his voice rough with desire. “Let go.”

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, she collapsed back onto the bed, completely spent. Lando pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she caught her breath. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his fingers still lightly stroking her skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his concern evident.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “More than okay,” she replied, her voice still shaky. “That was… incredible.”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Good. Because I plan on doing that a lot more often.”

She laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I think I can handle that.”

They lay there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other’s arms, content to just be together. The world outside their bubble seemed far away, irrelevant. In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of them, lost in each other.

Eventually, Lando broke the silence, his voice soft but curious. “Do you ever think about… what this could be? Us, I mean.”

Y/n looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. “Sometimes,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But it scares me. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You won’t ruin anything,” he said firmly. “If anything, I think we’re just getting started.”

She searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity there. It was overwhelming, the depth of emotion she saw in him. But it also gave her hope, a tiny spark of belief that maybe, just maybe, she could let herself fall for him.

“Maybe you’re right,” she whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Maybe we are.”

[luviestarz]

jungkook fic recs! 💘 part 3

★ starry night (m) | jjk - @kithtaehyung (all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date.)

★ Millisecond - @kookiepleasee (Jungkook just can’t get enough of you, but is too afraid to make a move, so he just admires you from afar, every day.)

★ Home: risky birthday 🔞 - @bonny-kookoo (In which you really don't know how he talked you into this.)

★ just a little... | jjk drabble - @soft4gguk

★ "big tiddie anime bitches" | jjk - @h0neypjm (Jungkook, bless his heart, has an obsession. An obsession with big titty anime girls and the idea of you dressed as them. His birthday is coming up, what better time to fulfil his weeb fantasies than on Jungkook's special day.)

★ WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.) - @awrkive (there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so. or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.)

★ ( 전정국 ) . . . BURNING HOUR jeon jungkook - @jungqkook (there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.)

★ fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk - @whatifyoulivelikethat (He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.)

★ RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE - @rklve (your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.)

★ Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea (In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?)

★ whipped - JJK - @aquagustd (another day, another trend that you’re forced to participate in with your boyfriend. It was his idea but he somehow gets sidetracked, with his head between your thighs.)

★ campus affairs | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (you transferred to a new college during second semester and you didn’t expect much excitement out for. that’s until jungkook came along and what had struggled to be a friendship was becoming so much more.)

★ [10:29pm] | jeon jungkook - @kookssin (established!relationship, smut, mirror sex)

★ Fall Back in Love | jjk - @bukguhope (jungkook somehow grew a reputation of sleeping around on campus, leaving him lonely and inexperienced with relationships. so when you, his old childhood best friend moves onto campus, he discovers what a relationship can feel like as he finds himself falling in love with you)

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬: - @euphoricfilter (it’s not often your boyfriend calls you with a cryptic message to come over; especially when he’s meant to be at his parents’ place for the holidays.)

★ fast forward - JJK - @aquagustd (If every single person you knew was against you, it wouldn’t matter, doesn’t matter because Jungkook would be there for you. That’s why you don’t question his words when he repeats ‘I’ll be back’ one disconcerting morning, and you respond with ‘I know. I trust you.’ He’ll make you eat your words.)

★ paired & puppy-eyed | jjk - @yoon-kooks (When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.)

★ risqué ; timestamp #15 - @mercurygguk

★ LOVE ME | JJK - @wnderkoo (I guess I'm just a sucker for love.)

★ CRIMINAL ! ... halloween special - @voyter (your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.)

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - @pennyellee (You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?)

★ grumpy!jk - @awrkive (jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.)

★ MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국 - @lovieku (when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.)

★ CRAZY | JJK (Part 1) - @girlygguk (you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.)

★ metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader - @runariya

★ Closer To You - JJK (18+) - @back2bluesidex (You know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect, and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.)

★ next door - jjk - @sugaimhome (Jungkook is obsessed with you. All because of some badly designed architecture and house planning, he’d do anything for you, and when he sees you struggling to orgasm, he takes matters into his own hands... or camera.)

★ PRESSED IN THE STEAM - @97kuu (There is only so much he can handle visually of your wet, hot and exposed body in an a private onsen before his member starts craving more than simple touches and thrusts between your thighs.)