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readwritealldayallnight · 1 month ago

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(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight’ series)

The newlyweds hold each other close, bodies swaying in time with the music that plays through rented speakers in the dance hall, their loved ones gathered around to watch their first dance.

Every guest in attendance is sporting a smile as they gaze upon the happy couple, some even have tears brimming close to their lash lines, threatening to spill over. There is no doubt that today is a day every in attendance will remember for a long time.

You and Simon however…

Well, the two of you are happy for the newlyweds, of course, no doubt about it. You’re very grateful that your sister included you in her wedding party. But when one of Simon’s large hands happened to slip into yours when the DJ asked everyone to gather around the dance floor to watch the couple’s first dance, he hardly had to give you much of a tug to steer you towards one of the darker corners of the decorated space.

Turning to face you, he offered you his extended hand along with a raised brow in question. Slipping your smaller hand into his bare palm, both of you pointedly ignoring the spark that shot through your nerves at the slight touch, you allow him to hesitantly pull you closer and closer, until there isn’t any air left between your bodies, your figures moulding together as though you were simply chunks of clay on a pottery wheel, two separate pieces becoming one.

Instinctually, as though the two of you have held each other like this countless times beforehand, your arms snake around his neck while his large palms come to land on the small of your waist, the room too dark for you to see how his hands hold the slightest tremble to them

Simon can’t recall if his hands have ever shaken while on duty, and if they have, it was in the very early days of his career, too long ago to even be remembered. His confidence in himself and his abilities too strong to allow for any nerves to seep through and put a tremble in his steady hands. With you however…

When it comes to you, Simon finds himself in uncharted territory, in unfamiliar waters. He doesn’t have anyone on comms to tell him how to do this, no briefing to go over the plan, no Captain giving him orders he can follow to a T like the good soldier he is. For someone who had become so used to working solo for years, he’s finding himself at a constant loss when it comes to pulling the trigger with you.

But now, with your smaller body held so gently but firmly in his strong arms as you sway together to the melody, no one else aware to the private moment you two are having in the shadows, he can’t imagine going on any longer without this being his reality. No more pretending, no more charades, he wanted the real thing. And that alone terrified him more than any RPG or close combat fight ever had.

As the night wraps up, Simon hangs back and watches you hug your sister and new brother in law, watches you bid your goodbyes to fellow friends and family members, watches you fetch a coat for an older aunt who’d misplaced it, watches you ruffle your young nephew’s hair as he sleeps on his mothers shoulder, watches you spin and stroll and saunter about the space leaving everyone you interact with wearing a smile, all while he thinks to himself, wife wife wife wife wife wi-

My wife

If you would have asked him, he planned on blaming the slight breeze outside during your walk from the venue back to the car, as to why he removed his blazer and draped it over your shoulders. But like everything else that happened between the two of you, you didn’t question it, instead choosing to enjoy the warmth that the jacket emanated, along with the lingering smell of Ghost clinging to the fabric

Nor did you have anything to say when you felt his pinky finger brush yours once, twice, three times before he was threading his thick, calloused fingers together with your softer ones, each of you silently relishing in the others touch

As he did every time the two of you happened to drive together, he opened your door for you, still holding onto your palm as he helped you in. Tonight however, unlike any other time, instead of shutting the door and coming around to the drivers side right away, Simon instead grabbed ahold of the seatbelt before you had a chance to, slowly reaching over you to buckle you in, your cheeks warming at the gesture

The drive back to base was quieter than usual. Already known for being a man of few words, you had grown accustomed to the way you apparently brought the fearsome Lieutenant out of his shell for you and you only. You occasionally filled the otherwise comfortable silence with comments about the wedding, remarks about the decor, complaints about the music choice, joking about how much fun you’d had introducing everyone to your husband, all while he sat quietly in the drivers seat

Though his ever stoic expression did not betray his inner thoughts, his mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to open his mouth and just say what he wants to say. He remembers learning somewhere that car rides are often a useful environment for having difficult conversations, as it is easier to talk and let things out without having the pressure of someone watching you, and you looking back at them.

He has to do it. He will do it. If he doesn’t do it now, when else will he ever work up the courage to say what he’s been feeling since the very second he laid eyes on you and knew who you would be to him

“-honestly though, I don’t think anyone was expecting my uncle to start dancing like th-”

“Love, can I-” Simon interrupts you, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he takes a steadying inhale and braces himself. You glance at him for a moment, not minding that he’s cut you off, as you’d been wondering what was going on in that head of his, almost able to hear the gears turning in his brain as he drove. “I need to say somethin’.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t-” He can’t help but take another deep breath, unsure of how to go about this. “I don’t know how to-”

This time, it’s you who cuts him off, when you shift in your seat and reach a delicate hand out to rest on his bicep, offering the slightest squeeze of reassurance. He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to glance down at where your hand lays on his muscle, feeling as if his he’s been shocked where you touch him, even with the clothing separating your skin from his, the simple gesture giving him just enough confidence to say what he needs you to hear

“I don’t have much to offer you, love.” He begins by saying, his death grip on the steering wheel loosening more and more every second he feels the weight of your hand still resting on him, letting him know you’re there. “My job- it’s dangerous. I know you know that, but I haven’t a family member left alive because o’ what I do. I haven’t a single friend outside o’ my own bloody task force. I’ve got a small flat in the city I only see maybe five times out o’ the year. I don’t- I don’t have much, love.”

Simon takes another breath, grounding himself as he feels your thumb stroking his arm through the fabric of his button-up, still listening to him, still here with him.

“But if I had you, swee’heart. If I really had you, had you as my wife,” he has to stop to clear this throat, his emotions seeping through into his words. “If I had you as my wife, I’d have the whole world. That’s all I want. All I need.”

It’s your turn to stew in silence for what in actuality is only a few moments, but for Simon it feels like an eternity and a half, every possible worst case scenario he’d ever thought up flashing through his mind with every passing second you don’t say anything.

“Wait,” you finally reply, the storm in his head halting at the sound of your voice. “Simon, do you- are you- are you saying you like me???”

That… that was not what Simon was expecting you to have to say after all that

“Er- yes.”

“Simon!” You squeal, the gentle hand on his arm now swatting at him repeatedly. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?! I had no idea!”

Were it anyone else, Simon would be downright bewildered with how truly and utterly blind you’ve been these past few months, only now putting two and two together as to his true feelings for you. But because it is you, he can’t help the light chuckle that slips free from between his lips

“You know what, you’re right lovie. I should’ve been more clear.” He says, only half-joking.

“But wait, I- I don’t understand. You- isn’t there someone else? I mean- I helped you pick a ring for someone-”

You watch as Simon readjusts his grip on the steering wheel so that he’s driving with one hand, the other reaching across to the glove compartment in front of you, pulling it open to reveal nothing out of the ordinary; the car’s starter manual, a flashlight, an extra pair of gloves, a ring bo-

A ring box

But not just any ring box

You know it as soon as your eyes land on it, and you can’t help the gasp that comes out of you, even this late at night in the darkness of the car with shadows whooshing past constantly, you recognize that box right away

You helped pick it out after all

“It’s your ring, love.” You hear Simon whisper, his outstretched hand hesitantly reaching out to smooth over your knee, recognizing that things are starting to make sense to you after all this time. “It could only ever be for you. There is only you.”

Your trembling fingers pull the box from its hiding spot, bringing it to rest in your palms on your lap, cradling it as though it were the most precious thing you ever held

You don’t realize that Simon is pulling the car over to rest on the curb, until you feel the parking brakes being put on, your eyes finally glancing up to meet his own steady gaze. Gaze locked with yours, he slowly reaches out to pluck the box from your hands, tilting the top open to reveal the very same piece of jewelry you’d unknowingly chosen for yourself. But your eyes never drift down to catch the diamond sparkling in the light, instead staying directly on his, something much more precious and priceless unfolding between the two of you

You’ve known Simon for months now, have spent countless hours talking, laughing, getting to know each other more deeply than anyone else has known you in years. In all that time, never once did you question his mask, nor did you ever ask to see what was underneath, respecting that it was part of what made him him

Now however, your eyes widen as you watch his fingers slip beneath the ear loops of his simple black medical mask, before he slowly brings it down, revealing a scarred, pale, vulnerable, and handsome face beneath

The gesture is not lost on you; Simon is truly baring himself completely to you, no more hiding behind jokes or masks or anything

“Love,” he begins, clearing his throat once more before he asks the most important question of his life. “Would you make me the happiest man alive and marry m-”

You’ve cut him off again

But not with your words, nor your reassuring touch

No, this time you cut him off by reaching forward to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you, lips meeting in a passionate crash that feels as though time has stopped and the earth stands still, a feeling that leaves you certain that no one else on the surface of the earth has ever felt something as deeply, as world shattering as this

You’re finally kissing Simon

Simon is finally kissing you

Pulling back for air, you don’t dare go any farther than where you can lean your forehead against his, each of you panting, with grins stretching across your kiss-swollen lips

“Take that as a yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” You laugh along with him, your shared breaths warming the others reddening faces. “Just wait until we tell everyone!”

Simon isn’t sure how to break it to you, that you might just in fact be the last person to find out about this

If you’ve made it this far into the series, I wanted to say thank you so so so much for reading and thank you for your patience between uploads!!!

This will not be the last part to Wife at First Sight- I’m hoping to make one last NSFW part to wrap it all up, but I wanted it to be separate from this upload in case anyone wasn’t wanting to read the 18+

- M 🫶🏻

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lalunanymph · 6 months ago

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KITTEN, BEHAVE ☆

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ there are consequences to teasing your biker boyfriend...

⋆｡°✩ semi-public s/ex, fem!reader, biker!sylus, reader wears a skirt, reader's a nasty gal <3, undertones of dom/sub (sylus is one kinky mf), finger sucking, finger gagging, petnames (kitten, baby), fucking on his bike (hehe), c/um countdown, unprotected s/ex (wrap it up babes), sylus matches our freak perfectly, based on this thot i had

⋆｡°✩ dawn says: i've been a nasty girl ive been a nasty girl nasty nasty (sorry zayne)

Sylus isn’t one to find beauty in the mundane but the wind whipping past his frosty locks and your arms wrapped tightly around him makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine.

“Kitten, are you alright?” he calls over the lashing breeze.

His leather jacket is ridiculously thick, but even through the material, he can feel the heat of your cheeks seeping through.

You always flush whenever he calls you your favorite pet name, and Sylus forgets that just like a kitten, you can be just as playful.

A slender hand tipped with French nails slides down his torso, leaving blistering heat in its wake. The thin compression shirt he’s wearing under his jacket can barely fight off the warmth of your palm bleeding past the material and onto his skin.

His heart doubles in speed, and in response, he revs the N-907 Ultrabike, its wheels kicking up more dirt and dust. Linkon City speeds into a blur, White Coves’ beaches in the distance and to his right, Bloom Forest spreads her velvety green arms open for adventurous outdoor lovers to play in.

Your hand trickles down his abs, stealing his attention back to your whims, and he smirks behind his visor when he feels your dainty, pretty little palm resting on the front of his pants.

Looks like the little kitten wants to play a dangerous game.

Two can play the same.

Sylus pretends to ignore you, and he can tell it only frustrates you more when he remains stone cold and unmoving; a statue you’re trying to thaw.

Your free hand creeps under the hem of his shirt, and thank fuck the wind is too loud because a groan slips past his clenched teeth—it would be absolutely embarrassing if you heard it. His mind works doubly hard to focus on not crashing the bike, maneuvering it down the winding steep roads.

“I thought you said you wanted to take me for a ride,” your voice touches his heated ears, innocent and alluring.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, kitten?” He tilts his head back slightly and hears your snort.

Your antics will never cease to amaze him. Whatever possessed you to be bold also eggs you on to be audacious. Your hands travel further up his shirt, pressing right onto his broad pecs and you smirk when you feel the bike wobbling slightly under his control.

“Kitten,” he hisses. “Stop it.”

But, you don’t listen to him. You never do.

This insolent prey. He tries his damndest not to buck his hips when you start to rub his bulge, merciless with your teasing. Your other hand reaches up to his neck, where his favorite leather collar sits prettily on his defined clavicles, and tug on it, earning another hiss.

The bike skids to a stop and you’re not sure how you ended up pushed against the pillion seat, Sylus looming over you. He kills the engine and kicks down the stand, the sudden deafening silence exacerbating your heavy breathing.

“Wait,” you squeak, and he shakes his head.

“No more waiting. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Looking around in a panic, you notice that he’s parked the bike under a secluded shade of trees, next to an empty strip of road.

This was the same route you took to the edge of the N-109 when you were given the mission to retrieve Sylus a few months ago.

“Familiar, isn’t it?” He reads your mind with a dark chuckle.

Those ruby red eyes bore into yours with the grace of a predator provoked, and you, his favorite prey, will finally get what you’ve been asking for.

“I think it’s high time we recreated some memories from the first night we both saw each other,” he drags his palm up your bare thigh, making you shiver. “It’s a good thing you’re in a pretty little skirt, kitten,” he hums, pushing the hem of your leather mini skirt—a gift from him—out of the way.

Sylus inhales sharply when he notices the micro thong you’re wearing which barely covers anything, his nostrils flaring.

“Insufferable.”

“Sy,” you whine, unsure what he's waiting for. It's never like him to play with his food.

The press of his bigger body on top of yours cages you to the pillion seat, the friction burning when he unceremoniously drags you closer to him.

Those intense eyes seem to devour you, and for the first time since you’ve been together with him, you see a shadow of his villainous evil in them.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Is this what you’ve been begging for?

Sylus wraps a hand around your throat in broad daylight, not caring for morals or decency when he squeezes. Hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head, regret streaming in for how you teased him earlier.

“A-ah—” you choke lightly. “Was jus’ tryna play around.”

Sylus ignores your whimpers, a bored look on his face as he loosens his fingers, letting you suck in a wheezy breath.

“Little hunters never learn their lessons, do they?”

He smirks unexpectedly.

“Remember that night you tried to tame me during our interrogation? In the end, I was the one who had you screaming, didn’t I, kitten?”

You did remember—of course, you did.

The shine of your boots spreading his kneeling thighs apart. Leather collar around a pale strip of throat you just wanted to suck on and leave a mark. His smug leers, those glowing ruby eyes that shone like dying embers when he finally snaps off the handcuffs you placed him in and pins you to the ground for a taste of your own medicine.

As much as you hate to confront the truth, it stares you down with an impassive face and dark eyes—a truth that breaks the delusion that you were the one in control when it came to Sylus.

He touches your thighs, spreads them further. Bright sunlight speckles through the trees, casting webs of shadows across his crooked nose and high cheekbones.

Sylus takes his time to peel your thong off, and you bite down on your lip to muffle a whimper.

“What? Don't tell me you're all shy now?”

He snorts in amusement at your attempts to be innocent, prying your lower lip free, stroking the curve of your plush mouth with his thumb until you relent and suck on his digit docilely.

While you’re not inexperienced when it comes to such carnal submission, it’s the first time you’re doing it outside of the bedroom where anyone could stumble upon the both of you.

The thought makes your thighs tense and your needy pussy clench down on thin air, something that Sylus doesn’t miss.

“You like this, huh? Being slutted out so publicly… it turns you on to be so open to me.”

He continues to push his thumb around your mouth; pressing down on your gums, flicking the tip of your tongue, inspecting the ridges and juts of each pearly white tooth. Intentionally drawing out your humiliation.

Satisfied with the oral inspection, he removes his thumb, swiftly stuffing your protests with two thick fingers.

“You say ‘no’, but I can smell that sweet little cunt getting wetter,” he murmurs, flitting his dark gaze right to your folds flushing readily with need; right to that cleft which houses his favorite hole.

Lewd doesn’t begin to cover how Sylus can treat you in bed. Outside the sheets, he’s content to play the role of your partner and friend, tagging along on your adventures and explorations.

But the second he has you trapped in his bed, he becomes a different person.

Meaner. Assertive.

Downright cruel.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He goads, locks of silver hair falling across his damp forehead. Sweat dews across your chest, and you feel the heat of shame rising in you.

Sylus, I was just joking, you try to argue, but he’s not hearing it.

“Didn’t seem like a joke when you were pawing at my cock earlier, kitten,” your lover hums, unable to take his half-mast red eyes off of you.

He slots a hand between your thighs, and you swallow a cry when he drags your thong to the side, spreading your wetness around roughly with his thumb. Sylus rubs tight circles on your aching clit, forcing you to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Ssh,” he whispers when you give a tiny, choked cry. Sylus takes this chance to nuzzle your neck, inhaling your scent like a starved man. “We don’t want anyone to find us out, don’t we, kitten?”

Evil, evil man. You bite on the inside of your palm to keep quiet when he lifts one leg to wrap around his narrow waist, effortlessly tugging his zipper down and freeing his cock.

“One single sound and I will stop, do I make myself clear?”

There’s no choice but for you to nod. Sylus doesn’t waste a single second once he’s got you all nice and wet for him, grasping the base of his girthy and veiny length, stroking it a few times to make sure he’s hard and ready for you.

The thick tip breaches past your tight ring of muscle, and you bite down on a sharp gasp, squeezing your eyes close.

His breathing is getting heavier, and he curses the second he bottoms out in your tight heat.

The bike begins to shake with every clean stroke, his thrusts making your toes curl and heels dig into his back. Luckily, the pillion seat is wide enough to accommodate your shaking bodies; never imagining for a single second that your lover would be boldly fucking you on it in the middle of a dangerous zone.

But, Sylus has always been like this—addictive, painful.

Dangerous.

How he fucks you is no different.

The blunt head touches the deepest spot inside of you, and you’re helpless to do anything but cling onto him like second skin, muffling your whines into his broad shoulder.

“Looks like the little kitten is enjoying her cream,” he murmurs, trailing his gaze down your body taking him so well.

The veins on the back of his hands stand out, drawing your attention to him dragging the front of your blouse down, tucking your bra cups under your heaving breasts.

Sylus’ mouth wraps around one turgid bud, sucking it till it’s shiny with his spit and throbbing from oversensitivity.

He repeats the same motion on your neglected nipple, savoring your hitched breaths and muffled whines.

Your thighs start to shake, and you turn your head to the side.

Look at you, he coos and grabs your chin, forcing you to gaze at the spot between your thighs where he’s fucking into you. Look at how well you’re taking me.

You’re so wet that droplets of white are trickling down your inner thighs, frothing into stickiness where his cock is rutting shallowly inside of you.

“Sy,” you moan softly, eyes glossing over with tears of pleasure.

He loves how needy and pathetic you look for him with your swollen, parted mouth and tight nipples just begging to be pinched or flicked.

A furrow creases between his brows, drops of sweat trickling down his jaw.

You surprise him by leaning forward, flattening your tongue and lapping it right up, shameless in your desire for him.

“Naughty girl,” Sylus purrs, his red eyes darkening to an impossible black until you’re sure not a shred of your sweet boyfriend remains. Two thick fingers part your mouth open, sliding down your welcoming throat until he’s knuckle-deep in you.

Sylus chokes you out as his other hand trails down your body towards your clit, rubbing the flushed nub until your hips buck and you cry out; a master at bringing your body closer to the pleasurable brink.

The tears beading in your lash line finally freefall down your face, triggering his devilish satisfaction.

Returning the favor, Sylus licks them clean, chuckling cruelly at the arousal turning you cross-eyed.

He loves it when you look this fucked out, and one day when you’re comfortable enough, he hopes you’ll relent to him taking a picture of that messed up, pretty face for his safekeeping.

Baby, you gurgle around his fingers. I’m close…

Yeah? He goads. Gonna break for me? Come on this cock? Make a mess? Fuck—do it baby. Mess me up. Make me feel so good because that’s all you’re good for, huh?

He grits his teeth, fighting back the cresting pleasure, needing you to come first.

Come on, baby. Come with me. Five… four… three… that’s it, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you. Don’t come until I reach zero. Fuck—that pussy’s so tight. Two… one… fuck, fuck.

High strung keens are escaping past the cracks of his fingers stuffed in your mouth, your entire body shaking violently that Sylus thinks you’re being wrecked by an internal earthquake.

Zero. Zero. Fuck, baby. Come for me. Come on, give it to me. Give me that sweet cum. Yeah, that’s it, that’s it—

He grunts, his patience breaking, flooding inside of you in waves of heat; filling you up to the brim.

In this moment of weakness where anyone targeting him can put a bullet right through his head, Sylus thinks that if he dies right now, he would do so happily in your arms.

His forehead gently thumps onto yours and you must be as fucked up as him because you push his hair back, scratching his scalp lightly.

Your sculpted, 6’2 menace of a lover who’s seen death and destruction since the day he could speak, groans and nuzzles your cheek like a weak puppy. With every version of Sylus that you have seen before, this will always be your favorite one—where he’s comfortable enough to kiss you affectionately, bringing you down from the high.

He hums. “Satisfied?”

Sylus would never say he loves you out loud—that’s not in his nature.

But, his actions scream louder than words when he adjusts your rumpled clothes and gives you a peck on your cheek.

“Do you still want to visit that mad scientist or should we scrap it for another day?”

The implicit invitation tempts you.

A boring lecture or a whole day spread out on my sheets, kitten?

“Let’s go home,” you choose the latter, and Sylus tries his hardest to hide his smug smile when you refer to his penthouse as your own home.

“Of course. But, for the sake of not violating any more public decency laws, you better keep your paws to yourself until we get home, kitten.”

Proving your disobedience and your unwillingness to learn your lesson, you sink two fingers under his collar, dragging him close enough for your lips to touch.

“That depends on if you can get us home fast enough, Sy.”

He takes it as a challenge, a grin touched with a hint of lunacy splitting across his face.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“No, I—”

He pulls you into a kiss, devouring your breaths until your lungs are filled with nothing but him, him, him.

His fingers in your hair, an arm wound tightly around your waist so his favorite prey can never escape him. Sylus breaks off the kiss, ruby eyes like two bloody pools when he stares at your warm cheeks and puffy mouth.

“You should know I always—always—win our petty bets.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated luvs <33

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, or translate to another site

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moonlightwritingf1 · 16 days ago

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The Tension Between Us | LN4

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n, shy and reluctant, has been resisting Lando’s advances for months. After accidentally flashing him at a gathering, their tension builds, and Y/n eventually gives in to their chemistry.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 4.7k

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

“Lando, please, stop looking at me like that,” Y/n said, her voice a mix of exasperation and something softer she couldn’t quite name. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to shield herself from the intensity of his gaze. But it was too late. He had already seen it—the way her cheeks flushed, the way her breath hitched when he leaned in just a little too close.

“Like what?” Lando smirked, his British accent curling around the words like a tease. He tilted his head, his eyes filled with desire never leaving hers. “Like I can’t believe how fucking beautiful you are?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, why did he have to be so relentless? Six months of this—six months of him showing up unexpectedly, sending her texts that made her heart race, and saying things that left her speechless. And yet, she still refused to let herself believe it. Lando Norris, F1 driver, Monaco resident, and the man who could have anyone he wanted, was pursuing her. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be real.

“You’re such a flirt,” she muttered, turning away to grab her drink from the coffee table. They were at a friend’s house, some casual gathering she hadn’t expected him to show up to. But of course, he had. He always found a way to be where she was.

“I’m not flirting,” Lando corrected, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer. “I’m stating facts. You’re stunning, Y/n. And honestly, I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

Y/n’s grip tightened on her glass. Pretending? What was he even talking about? She wasn’t the one pretending here. She was the one trying to keep her feelings locked away, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped every time he smiled or the way her skin tingled when he brushed against her. Meanwhile, Lando was… well, Lando. Confident. Charming. Persistent.

“You don’t have to pretend anything,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “But you also don’t have to say things like that just because—”

“Just because what?” he interrupted, stepping even closer until they were almost touching. His cologne—something subtle and expensive—wrapped around her, making it hard to think straight. “Because I mean it? Because I’ve been trying to get you to see that I’m serious for six months now?”

Y/n swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Lando…”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “Do you really think I’d waste my time chasing someone I didn’t want?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, there was a loud crash from the kitchen. Startled, she jumped, her drink slipping from her hand. The glass shattered on the floor, and instinctively, she bent down to start cleaning it up. She bent down to pick up the shards, her movements quick and flustered. The loose, flowy blouse she wore—soft and barely clinging to her frame—shifted with the motion. The neckline dipped lower than she realized, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing but skin. Her breasts, bare and exposed, caught the light as the fabric slipped away.

Lando froze. His breath hitched, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. The room seemed to shrink, the noise of the party fading into a distant hum. He didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t look away. The curve of her breasts, the softness of her skin—it was all so unexpected, so utterly captivating.

Y/n straightened abruptly, her face burning as she realized what had just happened. She clutched the edges of her blouse, pulling it back into place, but the damage was done. Lando’s gaze lingered, heavy and unapologetic, before slowly lifting to meet hers.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the party. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, trying to secure it, but her hands felt clumsy, betraying her nerves. She glanced up at Lando, who was staring at her with wide eyes and a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.

“Well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the couch. “That’s one way to get my attention.”

“Shut up,” Y/n hissed, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the spilled drink. But as she moved, she could feel his eyes on her, hot and heavy, and it made her heart race in a way she couldn’t ignore. She stood up abruptly, tossing the napkin onto the table. “It was an accident, okay?”

“Sure it was,” Lando said, his tone teasing but his eyes still dark with something she couldn’t quite name. He took a step toward her, his presence overwhelming. “But you know what? I’m not complaining.”

Y/n glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. How could there be when he was looking at her like that? Like she was the only person in the room. No, the only person in the world.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he shot back, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, sending a jolt of electricity through her. “But seriously, Y/n. Why do you keep pushing me away?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. Because she was scared. Because she didn’t believe someone like him could truly want someone like her. Because the thought of letting him in terrified her more than anything else.

But before she could answer, the sound of laughter from the kitchen broke the moment. Lando sighed, dropping his hand and taking a step back. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he promised, his voice soft but firm.

Y/n nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. And as she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she should take the risk. After all, Lando had spent the last six months proving he wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was time she stopped running.

---

Later that night, after most of the guests had left, Y/n found herself alone with Lando in the living room. The air between them was thick with tension, and she could feel his eyes on her as she sat on the couch, nervously playing with the hem of her shirt.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?”

Y/n’s head snapped up, her cheeks heating once again. “Nothing happened,” she insisted, though her voice wavered.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. And my imagination just decided to conjure up images of your—”

“Lando!” she interrupted, her face burning. But despite her embarrassment, there was a part of her that felt… bold. Empowered, even. He had been chasing her for months, and maybe it was time she stopped holding back.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked over to where he was sitting. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You want to talk about it? Let’s talk.”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m all ears.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her bare chest to him. Lando’s jaw dropped, his eyes locking on hers with a mixture of shock and raw desire.

“Now,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “What do you want to say?”

The room seemed to shrink as Y/n stood there, her chest exposed, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Lando’s eyes flicked down for a moment, lingering on her bare skin before snapping back up to meet hers. His smirk had faded, replaced by something far more primal.

“You really know how to make a man speechless,” he said, his voice low and filled with a warmth that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/n swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of herself. “I… I didn’t mean—”

Before she could finish, Lando reached out, his hand searing against her hip as he pulled her sharply onto his lap. She gasped, her hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance. His grip tightened, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other slid up her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

“Don’t” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, “don’t try to take it back now.”

Her heart was racing, her body betraying her resolve as she felt the heat radiating off him. She should push him away. She should stop this. But she couldn’t. Not when every part of her was screaming to stay close.

Lando’s hands moved slowly, almost reverently, over her skin. His fingertips trailed along her side, sending goosebumps in their wake, before sliding up to cup her breast. She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushed over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is this. About touching you. Making you feel good.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her nails digging into his shoulders as he leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. She wanted to speak, to say something—anything—but words failed her. All she could do was hold on as he explored her, his touch igniting a fire she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

His mouth traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along her collarbone before latching onto her breast. Her head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue swirled around her nipple, sucking gently but relentlessly. Heat pooled between her thighs, her body arching instinctively into his touch.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice shaking.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with need. “Tell me you want this.”

It wasn’t a demand—it was a plea. And in that moment, Y/n knew she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Not when every fiber of her being was crying out for him.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Lando’s face before he claimed her lips in a searing kiss. It was hungry, desperate, full of all the pent-up desire they’d both been holding onto for months. His hands roamed her body, claiming every inch of her as if he couldn’t get enough.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, and it only fueled her own need. The world outside this room ceased to exist. There was only Lando—his touch, his taste, the way he made her feel completely and utterly alive.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless. He rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers trailing down his jaw. “I think I might have some idea.”

Lando chuckled softly, his hands moving to her hips. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

Before she could respond, he stood, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. She let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him as he carried her to the couch and laid her down gently. His body hovered over hers, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Let me show you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

She nodded, her voice catching in her throat as he kissed her again, his hands exploring every inch of her body. His touch was deliberate, each movement designed to unravel her completely.

As his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, Y/n’s breath hitched. “Lando…”

“Trust me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck. “I’ll take care of you.”

And she did. In that moment, surrounded by him, she trusted him completely. When his fingers found her core, she gasped, her body arching into his touch. “Oh god…”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice achingly soft. “Let go.”

And she did, her world shattering into a thousand pieces as he brought her to the edge and pushed her over.

Lando pulled back slightly, his breath uneven as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Y/n lay there, her chest rising and falling, trying to steady herself after the intensity of the moment. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek as his lips curled into a soft smile.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You okay?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing as she tried to meet his gaze. “Yeah… I’m more than okay.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her briefly again before pulling away. But instead of resuming where they left off, Lando reached for her shirt, which had been discarded earlier in the heat of the moment. Gently, he slipped it back over her head, covering her with care. She blinked up at him, confused.

“Lando?” she questioned softly.

He sat back, running a hand through his messy curls before meeting her eyes again. His expression was warm but filled with a new resolve. “Get your stuff.”

Her brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because we’re leaving,” he said simply, standing up and offering her a hand.

---

Lando’s hand was warm against hers as he led her out of the party, fingers intertwined tightly, as if he were afraid she might slip away. The cool London air brushed against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through her body. She glanced up at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

“Where are we going?” Y/n asked, her voice trembling slightly. She already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

He turned to her, that mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “My place,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Unless you’d rather not.”

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. This was Lando Norris—charming, confident, and everything she never thought she deserved. But the look in his eyes, the way he spoke to her like she was the only person in the world, made it impossible to say no.

“I… I want to,” she admitted softly, her cheeks flushing.

His grin widened, and he pulled her closer, his free hand resting gently on her waist. “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

The car ride to his apartment was a blur. His hand never left hers, his fingers occasionally tracing patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. He kept stealing glances at her, his gaze lingering on her lips, her neck, her hands—anywhere he could touch, anywhere he wanted to touch. And every time their eyes met, the tension between them grew thicker, more intoxicating.

When they finally arrived at his building, Lando led her inside with an urgency she hadn’t expected. The elevator ride felt eternal, the silence heavy with unspoken words. She stood close to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm, and when he shifted slightly, their bodies pressed together, her breath hitched.

As soon as the doors opened, Lando tugged her toward his apartment, unlocking the door with practiced ease. He stepped inside, pulling her with him, and the moment the door closed behind them, he turned to her, his hands cupping her face.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “But I’ve waited too long to kiss you again.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, urgent and demanding. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. He tasted like mint, intoxicating and familiar, and she couldn’t help but lean into him, her body humming with need.

His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips, and he pulled her closer until there was no space left between them. She could feel the hardness of his chest against hers, the warmth of his body seeping into her skin, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes dark with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

She swallowed hard, her heart racing. “I think I have some idea,” she teased, her voice shaky but playful.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and then he was kissing her again, softer this time, more intimate. His hands wandered, exploring every inch of her as if memorizing her shape, her curves, her reactions. And when his fingers found the hem of her shirt, he paused, looking at her with a question in his eyes.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, he lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up. His eyes widened for a moment, taking in the sight of her exposed skin, the curve of her breasts, the way her nipples hardened under his gaze.

“Third time tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Still just as fucking breathtaking.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. There was something about the way he stared at her—like she was the only thing that mattered—that made her feel bold, unashamed. She arched her back slightly, letting him see more of her, and watched as his jaw tightened.

“You like what you see?” she asked, her voice low, teasing.

He let out a rough laugh, his hands sliding up her sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin just below her breasts. “Like? Y/n, I’ve been obsessed since the first time I saw you. But this…” His thumbs grazed her nipples, and she gasped. “This is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”

His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. She reached for him, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush, her bare chest pressed against his shirt. He groaned, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his palms warm and firm.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained. “How much I’ve thought about touching you, tasting you…”

She bit her lip, her hips instinctively grinding against his. “Then stop talking and show me.”

A wicked grin spread across his face, and before she could react, his mouth was on her neck, sucking and biting in a way that made her knees weak. His hands never left her breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling her nipples until she was gasping for air.

“Lando…” she moaned, her fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his lips trailing down to the curve of her breast. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “God, I want you so much.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard, and she cried out, her body arching into him. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in her body alight with pleasure. His free hand slid down to her jeans, popping the button open with ease, and she knew there was no turning back now.

He kissed her again, deep and passionate, his hands roaming freely now, teasing and tempting every part of her. And when he finally lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom, she knew there was no turning back.

The room was bathed in moonlight when he laid her down on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. He stripped off his own shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his chest, and she reached for him, eager to feel his skin against hers.

“I want you,” she confessed, her voice trembling but steady. “All of you.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You have me,” he promised, his hands sliding under her hips to remove her jeans. “Every part of me.”

As their clothes fell away, leaving nothing but skin and desire between them, Y/n realized she had never felt more herself than she did in that moment. With Lando, she wasn’t hiding, wasn’t pretending. She was just her, and that was enough.

And when he finally joined her on the bed, his body pressing into hers, she knew this was only the beginning.

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he reached the curve of her shoulder. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch like he was memorizing her. She arched into him, her fingers clutching at his back, nails lightly scraping against his skin. He groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through her.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His lips continued their descent, leaving a trail of fire down her chest until they reached the swell of her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak before taking it into his mouth. Y/n gasped, her head falling back against the pillows as pleasure shot through her.

His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he moved lower. He kissed a path down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel before he settled between her thighs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with hunger, and she could feel his breath ghosting over her most sensitive area.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling. She knew what he was about to do, and while the thought sent a thrill through her, she couldn’t wait. She needed more. Now.

He grinned, that mischievous glint in his eye she had come to adore. “Patience, love,” he teased, his fingers brushing lightly over her inner thigh. “I want to taste you.”

Her heart raced, but she shook her head, her hand reaching down to stop him. “No,” she said, her voice firmer than she expected. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Right now.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Someone’s eager,” he said, his tone playful. But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze or the way his breathing had quickened.

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his eyes, her own filled with determination. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” she reminded him, her voice low but steady. “And now… I need you. All of you.”

His smirk softened into something more tender, and he leaned up to kiss her. It was slow, deep, and full of promise. “Then you’ll have me,” he whispered against her lips. “But don’t think I won’t make you beg for it later.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hands moving to his shoulders as he positioned himself above her. Her heart pounded in anticipation, her body already aching for him. When he finally pressed into her, she gasped, her head dropping back against the pillow as pleasure coursed through her.

Lando paused, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in shallow pants. “You feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. He kissed her deeply before beginning to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge.

Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as her nails dug into his back. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the soft moans escaping her lips only spurring him on. Every touch, every movement, felt like electricity surging through her veins.

“Look at me,” Lando commanded, his voice husky but gentle. She opened her eyes, meeting his intense gaze, and found herself completely lost in him. In that moment, there was nothing else—no doubts, no fears, just the two of them, consumed by each other.

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted, his pace slowing slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “In the best way possible.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a warmth spreading through her chest. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied before capturing her lips in another searing kiss. His movements became more urgent, his hips driving into her harder, faster, until she felt herself teetering on the brink.

“Lando,” she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m so close…”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding. “I’ve got you.”

And then she was falling, stars bursting behind her eyelids as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name, her body trembling as he followed her over the edge, his own release shuddering through him.

For a moment, they lay there, still connected, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Lando brushed a kiss against her forehead, his arms holding her tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice light but affectionate.

She swatted his arm playfully, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “Only for you,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing again.

He grinned, that boyish charm that always made her heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “Because I plan on keeping you very needy.”

Y/n laughed softly, but her heart was racing for an entirely different reason now. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, and she realized she couldn’t hold back any longer. If she didn’t tell him now, she might never find the courage.

“Lando,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. His thumb brushed against her cheek, his eyes searching hers as he waited patiently. “I… I need to say something.”

“Go on,” he encouraged gently, his gaze softening.

She took a shaky breath, her hands resting against his chest. “I don’t know when it happened, but… I’ve fallen for you. Completely. I kept telling myself it was just a crush, that it would pass, but it hasn’t. And it won’t. I care about you so much, Lando, and—”

Before she could finish, his lips were on hers, silencing her words with a kiss that left her breathless. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his own emotions shining brightly in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, brushing his nose against hers. “Six months. Six painfully long months where I’ve done nothing but think about you. Wanting you. Yearning for you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you.”

Her eyes filled with tears at his confession, and she reached up to frame his face with her hands. “I wish I’d told you sooner,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Hey, none of that,” he said softly, kissing away the tear that slipped down her cheek. “We’re here now, aren’t we? That’s all that matters.”

She nodded, her heart swelling as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Lando,” she whispered, her words barely audible.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady and sure. “So much.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped up in each other and the overwhelming realization that they were finally on the same page. No more hesitations, no more holding back—just them, and a future they couldn’t wait to explore together.

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oncasette · 2 months ago

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𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: 1.1k

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check.

or the one where jj spills his feelings for his best friend.

a/n: i haven't seen s4 and i don't know if i'm going to, but here's this jj fic since i was feeling up for it? question mark? it's all fluff.

masterlist

“Done in there?” JJ calls from where he’s no doubt spread out on your bed. You can’t help the small laugh that trickles out of you as you open the door, still facing the mirror as you finish up your skincare routine. In the corner of the mirror, you catch JJ’s reflection fiddling with a lighter.

“Don’t burn down my bedroom,” you say. He looks up at you, catching your gaze in the mirror. He flips the spark wheel. A small flame erupts, already being bullied down by the high setting on your ceiling fan.

“What? Don’t trust me?” he smirks.

“Not even a bit,” you chirp, setting all of your creams and oils back into your medicine cabinet.

He sets the lighter down on your nightstand.

“Comfy?” you giggle, watching as he snuggles down further under your plush duvet. You’re glad you made him change, not sure you’d ever get the dirt and sweat from his clothes out of your sheets. He nods, humming. You feel his eyes tracking your movements as you shut the bathroom light off and slide under the covers beside him. It’s almost instantaneous that JJ molds to your side, pushing up your arm in order to lay his head against your shoulder, nose in your neck. You do your best to ignore the way your stomach flutters a bit.

JJ had always been touchy with you. You like to think that he does it with everyone, that that was just his nature. You’d seen him sling an arm around Pope at the Boneyard, tug Kiara into a hug, spin her around, even, kiss John B on the cheek in some of his more emphatic moments. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he was with you. The lingering touches, the snuggling, the sleepovers, the kisses against your temple. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been out on the HMS without him putting his hat on you. It’s friendly enough for you to brush off, for the most part. For you to push it all down and justify his actions when the rest of the pogues prod you for information.

It’s moments like this, though–alone, away from prying eyes–that you allow yourself to pretend. Just a little.

You bring up a hand to his hair and run the tips of your nails across his scalp. He purrs, curling closer into you and you feel his eyelashes brush your skin as his eyes close.

“‘S it raining?” he mumbles into you. His hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for the hand not currently in his hair. Slowly, nearly leaving goosebumps beneath his fingers, he intertwines his fingers with yours. There’s no way this is platonic. Right? Your brain screams at you.

“What?” you hum, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

“Rain. From the sky. Outside.”

You look at the window.

“Yeah. Yeah, J, it’s raining.”

He smiles, kissing the skin already beneath his lips. That’s new.

“I like the rain,” he chirps, voice surprisingly drowsy for how energetic he’d been before you’d left for your shower.

“Do you?”

He nods, humming. “Makes everything slow down a bit.”

“I didn’t think you liked slowing down,” you say, your fingers moving down from his hair to ghost over his back.

“I like slowing down when I’m with you,” he shrugs. You feel him shudder slightly when your nails gently scrape across his shoulder blades. “Plus, I look sexy when I’m all drenched like that.”

You snort and smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” he scoffs, head snapping up to glare at you pitifully.

“Smug bastard,” you laugh. He winks as his lips curl into a fittingly smug smirk.

“You love it,” he says. His hand squeezes yours, still held tight in his grasp. You don’t respond in words, instead opting to squeeze his hand back. You feel his heart rate jump against your ribs. His eyes flicker between yours. The smirk slowly drops into something a little less cocky. Something a little softer. Warmer. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. It’s only when his gaze moves down to your lips that your own breath stutters. That definitely can’t be platonic.

He whispers your name so quietly you almost don’t hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so close.

“I think I love you,” he says. What.

“I love you, too, J,” you say, pasting on your friendliest voice to try and ignore the way his breath is now fanning over your face. He smells like the gum he’d stolen from your car.

“No, I mean…” he clamps his eyes shut. “I do love you, like that, like a friend. Of course I do, you’re my best friend-”

“John B’s your best friend,” you cut him off, because there’s no way this is actually happening.

“Listen, just… I,” he drops his head against your sternum, frustration seeming to roll off of him in waves.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” you say softly.

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he grunts.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Pretending.

“Pretending?” you ask, placing a hand on his cheek to pull his gaze back up to yours. You smile softly at the way he nuzzles into your palm.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he asks. His eyes are closed, his nose pressed against your thumb. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You need more than these clipped comments. Stupidly, something deeper in the back of your mind can’t settle for even the chance of you misconstruing this. Of being wrong.

“Obvious about what, J?”

“I already told you,” he whispers. He just barely kisses the pad of your thumb.

“Tell me again,” you beg, holding your breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Good? That’s all you have to say? I’m pouring my heart out here, baby,” he huffs and your heart nearly stops altogether. A bewildered giggle slips out of you.

“That’s good because I… uh,” you swallow. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t answer this time. He slides up the last couple of inches to press his lips against yours. His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, bringing your mouth even harder against his. His other hand squeezes yours for dear life.

You’d kissed him before. On New Year’s Eve at the stroke of midnight. But, that had been a quick, chaste peck between friends and you’d been able to blame the fireworks behind your eyelids on the holiday, and this. This was different. Much, much different. There were sparks tingling down to the tips of your toes. You pull back when you can no longer justify ignoring your need for oxygen and nearly whine when JJ chases your lips.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice is hoarse.

“You said that,” you giggle, brain still a little hazy.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to get me to stop saying it now,” he says. His body weight is almost fully pressed onto you as he ducks his head to place short kisses against your neck. Your fingers find his hair again, combing through the silky strands. You mentally thank him for stealing your shampoo.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic

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bywons · 3 months ago

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MORE THAN PRETEND 愛｡ fake relationship

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you

𝑜𝑓 ܃ fake bf!enhypen x f!r 2739 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons fluff fake dating au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 skinship kissing jealousy suggestive? ｡｡｡／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა wow this could've been better, i rushed a lil TT but hope you guys enjoy ^^ !

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s always been the cool, nonchalant type—someone who can laugh off pretty much anything with that easygoing smirk of his. so, when one of your guy friends throws a casual arm around your shoulders during a group hangout, you expect heeseung to ignore it or joke in to the gossip, at least that's what he should do since you're not his real girlfriend. instead, he goes silent, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watches the interaction with a clenched jaw.

the shift is subtle, but you know him too well. he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, but the way his gaze follows your every move is unnerving.

“you good?” you ask, stepping closer after the gathering got over, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. his eyes snap to yours, and for a second, something almost dangerous flickers behind them before he masks it with a tight-lipped smile.

“yeah, i'm good.” his voice is flat, the usual playful tone gone. “didn't know you two were that close.”

you arch an eyebrow, tilting your head. “what, jealous?” you tease, hoping to break the tension, cracking him a smile.

heeseung lets out a humourless chuckle, his gaze sliding back to where your friend was standing. “of him? please.” the words are dismissive, but there’s a sharp edge underneath. heeseung finally pushes off the wall and closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours as he dips his head down, his hand slowly caressing your upper hand. “but just so you know,” he murmurs lowly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that only you can hear, “i’m your boyfriend, even if it’s fake. he doesn’t get to touch you like that.”

before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. the way he holds you is different—no teasing, no joking, just a raw, simmering intensity that makes your heart race.

PARK JONGSEONG

calm and collected are two adjectives that can define jay the best, a total gentleman— a perfect choice to play your fake boyfriend, the best fake plus one for your uncle's wedding. but tonight, at the party, you see his mask slip. it’s subtle at first—the way his eyes harden when he spots you talking to some random guy by the drinks table, swiftly turning his head away. he doesn't think much of it until the guy leans in closer, saying something that makes you laugh.

that’s when jay moves. he’s at your side in an instant, so swift you down even realise his imposing presence as he slides an arm around your shoulders. “hey,” he says, his voice light but his grip firm. “who’s your new friend?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanour. “oh, uh—a family friend,” you answer, a tight lipped smile, but jay’s gaze doesn’t leave the guy’s face.

“right.” his smile is strained, more of a baring of teeth than an expression of friendliness. the guy glances between you and jay, looking a bit uncomfortable before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

as soon as he’s gone, jay pulls you closer, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging in ever so slightly, your back hitting his chest. “next time,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, hot breath travelling softly down to your neck, “just tell him you have a boyfriend—me.” his voice is low and intense, vibrating through you.

your heart skips a beat. “jay, it’s not—”

“real? yeah, i know,” he cuts you off, turning you to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, darting across your face real quick, resring on your lips. “but i don’t care. i don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you,” he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, “even if this is just pretend… you’re mine.”

SIM JAEYUN

the party is loud, laughter and music filling the air as you stand awkwardly by the punch table, watching jake from a distance. he’s talking to someone, a girl with long hair and a smile that lights up her face. his ex. you bite your lips, feeling a dull ache in your chest. it's silly—you’re not even really dating, but seeing him so at ease with her, leaning in to listen, his familiar grin in place, makes your heart clench, makes you feel it was you making his heart flutter instead.

they look like a perfect couple. a real couple, with real feelings for each other.

you turn away, trying to shake off the pang of insecurity by getting out of this place. but before you can slip out of sight, a familiar voice stops you.

“hey, what’s with the long face?”

you glance up, startled to find jake standing right in front of you, concern etched in his features. “n-nothing,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “just —felt out of place, i guess.”

jake’s gaze softens as if he can see right through your flimsy excuse. he steps closer, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a worry line that you hadn’t realised had formed. he leans in ever so close, “is it because of her?” he asks softly, nodding back toward his ex. when you don’t respond, he leans in, his eyes locking with yours. “you know she’s just the past, right?”

“but you looked so happy, jake! and we're not even—” “i’m only yours, you hear me?” he whispers fiercely, his fingers tightening around your waist, pulling you into him. “fake or not, you’re the one i want to be with.” his voice is low, almost pleading. “i’m not going anywhere.”

warmth blooms in your chest, melting away the doubts. and when he kisses your forehead gently, it’s like the final seal on his promise.

PARK SUNGHOON

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving just you and sunghoon in the small, enclosed space. his shoulders brush against yours, a stark reminder of how close you’re standing. you glance up at him nervously, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. why does he look so annoyed? he hasn’t said a word since you two left the event.

you press the button for your floor, stealing another look at him. he’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, but you can tell something’s different today. his jaw is clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, tension radiating from him.

it hits you then—he saw you talking to that guy earlier. your colleague from work, who’s been too friendly lately.

the elevator jolts slightly as it begins its ascent, and the silence stretches. you clear your throat, shifting nervously, taking a quick glance at his side profile, “sunghoon, about earlier—”

“does he always touch you like that?” his voice is low, cold even, cutting through the still air like a blade, face away from yours, looking straight ahead.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

he turns to you, stepping closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “your ‘friend’ at the office,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing, leaning his head down as he loosens his tie. “he seemed too comfortable.”

you feel a flicker of heat rising in your chest—he’s jealous. But why? “sunghoon, it’s not—”

“i don’t care what you think it is.” his hand reaches out, gripping the side of the elevator wall beside your head, caging you in. his breath hitches as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. “we might be pretending, but i don’t like it when anyone else looks at you that way. you’re mine.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. your heart pounds as you try to process the sudden shift in his demeanour, the unspoken intensity in his eyes, the impossibly fast heartbeat of yours.

“we’re not real, remember?” you manage to whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into the space between you two.

“then tell me,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. his fingers brush lightly against your waist, the touch sending shivers down your spine. “why does it hurt so much seeing another guy looking at you?”

you stare at him, mouth dry, as his eyes drop to your lips.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispers, “please..” a desperate plea from his lips as his hands control itself to not pull you in, but you don't wait, and close the gap between your lips. and he pulls you closer, bodies clashing against each other as the kiss escalates. he smirks into the kiss, you're his for real now.

KIM SUNOO

it’s pouring rain, and you’re soaked to the bone, standing under a bus stop shelter that does little to keep you dry. you mentally curse yourself for forgetting your umbrella, shivering as the cold wind cuts through your drenched clothes. just when you think your day can’t get any worse, a familiar car pulls up beside the curb, headlights cutting through the downpour.

the passenger window rolls down, and there he is—kim sunoo, your ‘fake’ boyfriend, his brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and concern. “get in before you freeze,” he calls out, voice muffled by the sound of the rain.

you don’t need to be told twice. you scramble into the car, teeth chattering as you tug the door shut behind you. the warmth of the heater engulfs you instantly, and sunoo’s jacket is shoved into your hands before you can even register what’s happening. “you’re going to catch a cold,” he scolds, his voice laced with worry as he glances at your shivering form, “why didn't you call me?”

you blink up at him, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “i … i didn’t want to bother you.”

sunoo sighs, leaning closer until you can see every droplet of rain clinging to his hair, every crease in his usually cheerful face. “idiot,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with something you can’t quite name. “you’re never a bother to me.”

your heart skips as he reaches out, brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers. his hand lingers, thumb tracing your chilled cheek softly.

for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he reaches over, wiping a raindrop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, the gesture so gentle it makes your heart skip. “do you know how worried i was? pretend or not, i don’t want to see you like this,” he murmurs, his hand lingering near your face.

before you can respond, he leans over and tucks the jacket around your shoulders, pulling you close until you’re huddled against his chest and neck. “you’re mine to worry about,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then one on the bridge of your nose.

in that moment, under the sound of rain and the warmth of his embrace, it doesn’t feel like an act anymore.

YANG JUNGWON

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. the plan was rather simple—show up together at the dinner, play the perfect couple in front of his friends, and go home as usual. but then the storm hit, trapping you at his apartment afterward, the rain pouring down outside in heavy sheets, drenching the city.

jungwon sits beside you on the couch, the dim glow of the lamp casting shadows across his sharp features, and you force yourself to look away. his jacket is discarded on the floor, sleeves rolled up as he runs a hand through his damp hair, frustrated by the turn of events. he looks too handsome right now.

it’s quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“looks like you’re stuck here,” he says, leaning back casually, but there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore. you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to stay calm, but the warmth of the apartment and the intimacy of the moment is starting to make you nervous.

“i'll crash on the couch,” you mutter awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, but jungwon’s eyes are on you, piercing, like he’s studying every inch of your face. he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he moves closer, his knee brushing against yours, you shiver.

“you don’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through you. his hand rests lightly on your knee, but it’s enough to make your heart race. “you can take the bed.”

before you can respond, jungwon cups your chin gently, turning your face toward his. his touch is soft but firm, like he’s been holding back for too long. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch, as his as well.

“we don’t have to pretend all the time, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something real, “it's getting so hard for me…”

your heart skips a beat, and suddenly the fake relationship feels far too real. “jungwon, what are you saying?” you ask, your voice trembling as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, hands falling down to your waist to pull you closer.

“i'm saying,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours, “that i want to kiss you, but in a real boyfriend way, and love you too while at that.”

the rain continues to fall outside, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart as his lips brush softly against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotions, before it quickly melts to an intense one. he pulls away slightly, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers, “stay with me tonight… for real.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with riki, of all people—the energetic, mischievous older brother of your best friend. when he overheard you venting about your annoying ex constantly showing up at your favourite hangouts, he had put up a sly smirk and volunteered to be your fake boyfriend.

“think of it as a win-win. i get to mess with people’s heads, and you get a human shield. plus,” he had said, winking playfully, “it’ll be fun.”

you should’ve known that riki’s idea of ‘fun’ involved way more than you’d bargained for.

tonight, at your favourite late-night café, you spot your ex walking in, scanning the crowd. you freeze, heart thudding. before you can react, riki slides his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. his scent—a mix of citrus and something else uniquely him—makes your pulse spike. it’s only for show, you remind yourself. except … he’s suddenly so convincing.

“hey, baby, you okay?” riki’s voice is loud enough to catch your ex’s attention, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath tickling your ear. “you’re all tense.”

you fight the shiver that runs down your spine. “stop playing around,” you mutter, but he just smirks.

“i’m not playing,” he murmurs back, eyes twinkling. his gaze flicks toward your ex, who’s now glaring at you both, and riki’s grip tightens around you possessively. “i told you i’m the best at this.”

the next thing you know, riki’s turning you slightly in his arms, cupping your cheek in a way that looks so natural it makes your heart skip. the café lights catch on the gleam in his eyes—intense, focused. your ex is staring daggers at him now, but riki pays him no mind. instead, his thumb brushes your jaw softly, his face hovering inches from yours.

“relax, would you?” he murmurs, but his voice has lost its teasing edge. there’s something almost… protective in the way he’s watching you.

“riki —” you start, but he cuts you off by leaning even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me handle this.”

before you can process his words, he pulls you flush against him, his eyes never leaving your ex’s face. then, with a cocky grin, he dips his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

you freeze, heart pounding. when he finally pulls back, his gaze meets yours, unreadable. “there,” he says softly, still holding you close. “you’re mine now. got it?” and from the look on his face, you’re not entirely sure he’s pretending anymore.

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels CLICK ME

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yeyinde · 5 months ago

Text

stalker!Simon decides to have a little fun with his favourite camgirl.

the message comes up halfway into your "show."

it's a boring night. slow. you wear a lingerie set one of your viewers sent in beneath a silk robe, all in a pretty pastel pink—cliche, but it works; an uncomfortably disgusting version of hair theory unfolding in front of your eyes—and discreetly chug wine when you twist away to grab a new toy. a series of pale pink vibrators, nipple clamps. mundane depravity for what's shaping up to be a lacklustre night.

but the money that pours in from these little shows (adult version of classic party games—hide and seek, would you rather, truth or dare) is one step closer to erasing your debts. student loans. car payments. rent. you smile so wide it aches, and put your best face on when you blink, coquettish and coy, at the camera where nameless, faceless men throw money in a ring for a scrap of your attention.

tonight's game is Simon Says. and it's supposed to be normal. boring.

but a message from a viewer named Simon (in a sea of many who cheekily changed their usernames to match the theme of the game) stands out.

Simon says... go lock your door.

you blink. between all of the Simon Says touch yourself for me baby, pull your shirt down, lemme fuck you for real it sticks out. a change in the routine.

you huff, pouting. "already did that, Simon. c'mon, gimme something else to do, honey."

another one pops up. Simon says... you shouldda got a dog.

your brows furrow. "that's not part of the game, Simon. i'm gonna move on—"

Simon says... open your door.

he's paying you handsomely. dropping coins, large amounts of money, for each message to shoot to the top. little superchats. why he isn't taking advantage of it and paying you to do something sexy, something lewd, unnerves you. your heart starts to race, thudding against your ribs almost painfully.

it's fine, you think. he's just a creep. a loser. "uh huh, not part of the game, Simon. i'm afraid i'm gonna have to cut you off—"

you block him. they don't normally get under your skin like this. ever. at all. even when they throw random names in your dms, hoping one of them happens to be yours, and try to blackmail you to your fake friends and family. it doesn't bother you as much as this. as him. get a dog. how absurd.

the next series of chats pass without the same odd comments. take your bra off, but leave the robe on. act coy, like you don't want to—

creeps, you think, in their own right. but. paying ones. so, you smile. stiff. uncomfortable. grinning so wide it hurts. pretending to ignore the strange unease growing in your guts. your eyes sliding back to the superchats saved in a glowing log. let me in. a troll. whatever. it's nothing. nothing. you'll drink wine after this, scrub your skin raw in the shower and buy yourself something pretty with the money these greasy losers threw your way—

Simon says... let me in.

you feel your heart in your throat. it can't be him. you blocked him. you have mods to keep trolls out of your chats, but wonder—hopefully—if maybe it failed. maybe they found your stream are just being weird. strange. but when you check, the filters are on. he's a registered user. paid the premium to watch you. to get an invite to your special game nights. it makes it worse, you think, that he paid to be here. to do this.

your hand shakes. you block this user, too, ignoring the discomfort churning inside your chest. the fear spiking along the nape of your neck. hair raising. there's a prickle on your skin. the feeling of being watched

no. it's fine. you're fine—

"ah, what else should i do, Simon?" you ask your viewers, pulling on another smile. one that hurts. aches. wobbles around the edges. you'll end the stream in a few minutes. order Thai food. drink yourself stupid. take the day off tomorrow. use this creeps money and waste it. blow it on something stupid. dumb. laugh about it with your friends.

your shoulders dip. the tension easing. you're fine. you're at home. the door—

you locked it. right? you definitely, absolutely, locked it when you brought in the package from the delivery driver. the massive, hulking man who loomed in your doorway, too wide, even, to fit inside, and growled out in a low, brassy timbre: sign 'ere. you took the pen, pretending he wasn't drilling holes into you with his gaze, eyes liquid in the dark. intense. wanting. and then scurried inside—

back pressed against the door, hands wrapped around the lingerie set.

you glance at the chat. "which Simon bought me this cute set? i'd like to thank them personally," you murmur, forcing your shoulders to drop. it's fine. you live in the middle of nowhere. no one is coming to your door.

there's no takers in the chat. you shift on the chair, licking your lips. "it's really cute, Simon. a perfect size, too, and i just—"

something catches your eye in the corner of the monitor. a movement. a slight shift. a whisper of fabric. you tilt your chin, peering into the hazy black reflection.

what you're looking at doesn't make any sense. your bedroom door is open. a curtain of black drapes over the wall where the pale strip of light doesn't reach.

the washroom light is still on, a yellow spill illuminating the hallway, but nothing is there. no one is in the hall. but you know you closed your door. you always do when you stream. your heart trips over itself. leaps to your throat. you almost choke on it—

another bubble pops up. Simon says... hey. uh, who is that guy behind you?

there's a ringing in your ears. your hair stands on end. something moves again. the black mass wasn't a shadow. it moves. takes shape. the covered head nearly reaches your ceiling, body filling the entirely of your room. massive. a mountain you remember thinking. a fucking mountain, you texted your friend. thighs the size of tree trunks—

a hand reaches out, grabs hold of your power bar. thick gloved fingers curling over the button. in the bluegreen glow of your computer screen, a man steps out.

"glad y'liked it, pet." the deep, brassy drawl sends shivers down your spine. you try to scream, mouth opening wide to choke it out, yell for help—

your chat bubbles up, feverish in their excitement. you skin through the messages, stomaching churning as it clicks in your head. their rabidness isn't about saving you, but—

(omg he's gonna fuck her pron??? we're getting pron????? no fucking wayyyyy god i wish it were me—)

this isn't a fucking bit, you morons, you want to howl. call the fucking police—

but he gets there first. two strides. it happens in a blink. the screen goes back and he's on you in seconds.

you're not even sure how someone so big, so heavy, could move that quietly—

"ah-ah, none o'tha' now," his hand curls around your neck, tight. choking. you try to fight but he just huffs, breathing in deep, chest expanding across your spine as his other hand snakes around your waist, trapping you against a corded forearm. he bends down, nuzzles his jaw into your crown. coos:

"Simon says... turn around for me pretty girl, an' be good, now. went through all this trouble t'find you. think i deserve a little reward—"

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley/reader #ahhhhh i woke up outta a dead sleep to write this im sorry

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xoamiiren · 4 months ago

Text

FORGIVE AND FORGET , ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 silly arguments

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, they try to ignore you after a petty dispute. PAIRING. sulky bf!enha x sorry gf!reader GENRE. fluff WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, post argument, petnames

authors note ୨୧ they’re all whipped for (y/n) 🧸

─────────

HEESEUNG

The silence in the apartment was thick, almost suffocating. You had been tiptoeing around it for hours, trying to ignore the gnawing ache in your chest. But as time passed, the weight of Heeseung's absence, even though he was just a few rooms away, became unbearable.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You took a deep breath and left your room, determined to make things right.

The soft glow of the gaming room greeted you as you stepped inside. Heeseung sat at his desk, headphones snug over his ears, fingers deftly moving across his controller. His eyes were glued to the screen, but you knew him well enough to see the tension in his posture—the slight furrow of his brows, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.

You approached quietly, trying to gauge his mood as you stood behind him. The sounds of an in-game explosion filled the air, and you pretended to be interested, your gaze lingering on the screen. But it was no use—Heeseung didn't acknowledge you, his cold shoulder a sharp reminder of the earlier argument.

Enough was enough.

With a small sigh, you reached out and gently turned his chair toward you. His eyes flickered with surprise, but his expression remained stubbornly neutral, his gaze sliding away as if you weren't even there.

You didn't let it deter you. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to the other side. When he continued to ignore you, you moved closer, placing tender kisses along his jawline, silently pleading for his attention. Heeseung turned his face away, his resistance wavering but still there.

A faint smirk played at the corners of your lips. You weren't giving up that easily.

You lowered your lips to his neck, brushing them against his skin, feeling the slight shiver that ran through him. He tensed, but you could sense the walls he'd built around himself starting to crumble. You pressed on, kissing the warm skin of his collarbone, peeking out from the edge of his hoodie.

Heeseung's breath hitched, and you felt his resolve begin to melt away, his shoulders relaxing as he subconsciously leaned into your touch. Still, he tried to hold onto his anger, his hands gripping the controller as if it were the last line of defense.

But you knew you'd won when his character faltered on the screen, losing the match in a flash of red. He let out a frustrated sigh, finally meeting your gaze. The anger in his eyes had softened, replaced by something warmer, something that spoke of surrender.

Without a word, Heeseung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down onto his lap. The tension between you dissolved in an instant, replaced by a comforting sense of closeness.

"You’re impossible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and affectionate as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

You chuckled softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you settled into his embrace. "But you still love me."

Heeseung grip tightened around you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I do."

JAY

Jay had been avoiding you all day. When you tried to cuddle him in bed that morning, he rolled right out, leaving you alone with the cold sheets. When you tried to sit and listen to him play his guitar, he sighed, put it away, and left the room without a word. Now, he was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair falling into his focused, hard eyes as he chopped vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t stand the silence anymore. With a determined shuffle, you made your way into the kitchen, standing beside him. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the room, but all you could focus on was the distance between you two. You watched the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands moved with precision, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Finally, you groaned softly and latched onto him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Jay," you whispered, but he didn’t respond. You squeezed tighter, hoping to break through the barrier he had put up.

"Jay…" you tried again, sliding your hands up under his shirt, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t see it, but his breath hitched, and a blush crept up his cheeks.

"I'm sorry…" you muttered, voice filled with genuine regret. The sound of chopping stopped, and the room fell silent. Slowly, Jay turned to face you, his expression softened, the hard edges of his irritation melting away.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, baby,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm embrace.

The tension dissolved as he held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The argument felt like a distant memory as you found comfort in each other's arms, the quiet kitchen now filled with the warmth of forgiveness.

JAKE

You knock gently on Jake's door, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. No answer. A pang of guilt twists in your chest as you slowly turn the handle and peek inside. Jake is curled up on his bed, his back to the door, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a warm hue across the room.

Taking a deep breath, you slip inside and quietly close the door behind you. The bed dips slightly as you crawl in beside him, but he shifts away, his silent rejection a small but painful sting. You try to wrap your arm around his waist, hoping for just a little closeness, but he pushes it off with a huff, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

You sigh softly, rolling over to face the opposite direction, feeling the heavy weight of the silence between you. The minutes tick by slowly, each one a reminder of the distance that shouldn’t be there.

Just when the silence starts to feel unbearable, you feel Jake’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you back toward him in a tight embrace.

His breath is warm against your neck as he whispers, voice tinged with frustration and affection, “I can’t! I can’t stay mad at you…”

A soft giggle escapes your lips, the tension in your chest easing as you lean back into him. “I’m sorry, Jake…”

He squeezes you a little tighter, his voice softening, “I know, love. I know.”

In that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the petty argument fades into the background, leaving only the warmth of your connection, stronger than ever.

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon could outlast anyone in the silent treatment game, and right now, he was proving it. It was day three of his cold shoulder, and you were growing more frustrated by the hour. Unlike him, you couldn’t stand to let an argument linger for more than a few hours, but Sunghoon? He was the Ice Prince, and he wore that title with pride.

This morning, you decided to take matters into your own hands. If words wouldn’t thaw him out, maybe a more direct approach would. After he left for a bit, you took the time to get dolled up, wearing the dress you knew he adored, with your hair perfectly styled and a hint of his favorite perfume lingering in the air.

When Sunghoon returned, you greeted him with a soft smile, hoping to see some sign of forgiveness in his eyes and admiration for his pretty girlfriend. But instead of acknowledging you, he glanced your way, then walked straight past you and out to the balcony with a book in hand.

Your frustration peaked. You had tried everything—apologies, subtle hints, even this!—and yet he still acted like nothing had happened. As you watched him settle into a chair outside, calmly opening his book, you finally snapped.

You marched out onto the balcony, snatching the book from his hands with a huff.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression…expectant? Surprised. Then, to your utter confusion, he smirked and let out a quiet laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you demanded, feeling your anger and confusion mix.

He leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. “I forgave you two days ago... I just wanted to see how long you could go like this. Impressive, love.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. “You mean—”

Sunghoon shrugged, his smirk widening. “I knew you wouldn’t last as long as me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Hoon… that’s so stupid.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone softening as he reached for your hand. “But it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

Rolling your eyes, you sat down beside him. “Next time, just tell me you forgive me, okay?”

“Alright,” he chuckled, pulling you close.

You handed him his book back, and together, you settled into a comfortable silence. As you leaned against him, the tension finally faded away, replaced by the warmth of his presence. Reading together, the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you on that peaceful balcony.

SUNOO

You hesitated outside the bathroom, listening to the faint sound of Sunoo humming softly as he went through his nightly skincare routine. You knew he was still upset, but you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked when he was focused, even if he was giving you the cold shoulder.

Gathering your courage, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, hoping to join him for the last part of his routine, a ritual you both cherished. However, the moment you entered, he pulled off his sheet mask with a swift motion.

“I’m finished,” he mumbled, his tone clipped, before he brushed past you, leaving the bathroom.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the silent treatment as you watched him walk away. Not willing to give up, you followed him into the living room where he was already curled up on the couch, surrounded by an array of snacks, ready to watch his favorite drama.

You crept closer, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, before softly asking, “Can I watch with you?”

Sunoo shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly, but you noticed how he scooted over to make room for you. It was a small gesture, but it gave you hope. You pouted softly as you settled beside him, the space between you feeling like a chasm.

The drama played on the screen, but the tension between you both was hard to ignore. The silence stretched on, making the atmosphere even more awkward.

Finally, Sunoo turned to you, his gaze serious and alittle sad. “I didn’t like what you did, baby… it wasn’t nice.”

His words were gentle, but you could hear the hurt behind them. You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, apologetic kiss, “I know, Sun… I’m so sorry.”

He looked at you for a moment, searching your eyes, before finally softening. His arm slipped around you, pulling you closer as he let out a small sigh.

“Just don’t do that again, okay?“

You nodded, snuggling into his side, relief washing over you as he pressed play on the drama. The warmth of his embrace and the familiar sound of the TV made everything feel right again. The argument was forgotten as you both got lost in the show, the comfort of being together making the night feel perfect once more.

JUNGWON

Jungwon was upstairs in his bedroom, the soft sound of pencil on paper the only noise breaking the silence. He was hunched over his sketchbook, eyebrows furrowed as he worked on a drawing—something he often did when upset. And right now, you were the reason for his frustration.

You took a deep breath, hesitating outside his door before gently pushing it open. His gaze flicked toward you for the briefest moment before he returned to his sketch, pointedly ignoring your presence. The tension in the room was thick, making your heart ache with guilt.

Stepping fully inside, you spotted a stack of scrap paper on his desk. An idea sparked, and you grabbed a piece, quickly doodling a tiny strawberry with a smiley face and little arms, dancing cheerfully across the page. In a small speech bubble, you wrote, "Jungwon, I'm sorry, and I love you."

Gathering your courage, you crumpled the paper into a ball and, with a playful smirk, tossed it at his head. It bounced off lightly, causing him to pause. Jungwon glanced over at the crumpled paper before picking it up and smoothing it out. When he saw the doodle, the corners of his mouth twitched, fighting back a smile.

He scribbled something on the paper before tossing it back to you. Unfolding it, you found his response: a doodle of a sulking Jungwon with crossed arms and the words, "You better be."

You giggled, grabbing another piece of paper. This time, you drew a tiny version of yourself with big puppy dog eyes, holding a sign that read, "Forgive me?" You sent it flying toward him.

Jungwon caught it, his resolve cracking as a small laugh escaped him. He grabbed his pencil again, quickly sketching a doodle of the two of you, now with a heart between your cartoonish figures. He added a note: "Only because you’re cute."

You beamed, heart swelling with relief and affection. Without thinking, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. “I really am sorry, Jungwon,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his.

He finally turned to look at you, his expression softening. “I know,” he said, his voice gentle as he pulled you into his lap. “But next time, don’t make me wait so long to forgive you.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Of course not.”

He smiled, pulling you close as the two of you settled into a comfortable cuddle, the earlier tension melting away as you both laughed about your silly doodles. The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

NI-KI

Ni-ki’s usually playful and laid-back demeanor was nowhere to be found as he sulked in his room, still miffed from your earlier argument. But you had a plan—you knew just how to get him to forgive you. When you found him playing music on his speaker, you flopped beside him on the bed, flashing a smile.

“I like this song,” you chirped, hoping to break the ice.

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Instead, he quirked a brow and hit the next button on his phone, the song switching immediately. You suppressed a grin at his pettiness but refused to give up. It was later in the day when he moved on to practicing dance moves in front of his mirror, you tried to join in, matching his rhythm with exaggerated precision.

He stopped mid-dance, a sigh escaping his lips as he grabbed his water bottle and headed out of the room, leaving you standing there with an amused expression.

The final act of your mission came when you found him sprawled on the couch with headphones on, eyes closed. Without hesitation, you gently flipped onto his chest, resting your head there and closing your eyes. You felt his body tense beneath you, but he didn’t push you away.

After a moment, he grunted, pulling his headphones down around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, unable to resist any longer.

“You’re annoying as hell…” he muttered, voice laced with defeat.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, snuggling closer, knowing you’d won him over.

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eraenaa · 4 months ago

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Prince's Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: What proceeded as Prince Aemond had made you his whore.

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Maltreatment, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 2,789

Prequel: Virginal Whore

“Have you now learned your lesson?” The prince asked, smirking as he saw your hopeless eyes and your bounded arms and legs. It was a last resort he had come to; the past moon, all you did was try to escape him, and Aemond could not stand for anyone getting in between him and what was his. You whimpered as you felt his touch on your bare waist. He had bound your hands with a silk cloth that was tied to the bed frame, and no amount of tugging or thrashing could free you from the shackles of the prince.

You looked quite ravishing even in your frantic and desperate state— perhaps even more so, the prince thought. Your face was scarlet as pearl tears ran down your cheeks, lips swollen and crying out for release, your chest heaving as you tried to be freed. Aemond could no longer control the surge of unbridled desire coursing through him; it was harder to reign in his depravity when he knew you were his. “Please, please, I beg you, my prince— release me— kill me! Whatever it is… just let me go,” You cried as your dignity could no longer stomach being the prince’s whore.

Aemond hummed, running his calloused hands along your smooth, supple body, grasping your flesh that was riddled with his marks. “And why should I do that, my lady? Enough with the act… do not pretend you do not enjoy your station here. Dotted and served upon each day and pleasured by me each night. Hundreds of ladies would kill for such a station as yours,” Aemond hummed, ignoring your cries and holding down your body as he placed a kiss on your navel and upwards towards your stomach. Inhaling deeply your scent that was mingled with his. “And why should I let you go? You’re rightfully and completely mine.” Aemond stated and took your heaving tit into his mouth, your whimpers growing louder as the taut bud was raw with attention from him each and every single night.

You feel more tears stream from your eyes as your body is quick to succumb to pleasure even if your mind tries to resist it. “See how you respond to my touch… I would wager your cunt is aching for my attention, is it not, my lady?’’ The prince hummed and used his pointed nose to trace the apex of your neck, lips grazing your skin, and left a trail of blazing heat. You cried louder but your voice was useless as no one would dare to come to your aid. You feel the prince’s hand trail your thigh, inching dangerously close to your aching core that wept and longed for his touch— going against sensibilities as your cunt was as depraved as the prince’s cock. “Stop— please, I beg you, my prince,” You cried as you thrashed in his hold. Your legs were free from any restraints, and you tried to kick away the lithe yet solid figure of the prince regent, but he was unmovable.

“Beg louder, my lady; it only makes me want to ravish you more,” He smirked against your lips. Enjoying the further horror in your eyes as you realize that your desperate state was serving as an amusement for the cruel prince. Aemond was playing with you, and never had he found such pleasure in a toy before. You were the prince’s plaything— his doll— his whore. You abruptly stopped your thrashing movements and ceased the desperate pleas leaving your lips, hoping that your silence and stillness would not entice the prince, but it was moot. Whatever it is you do, the prince could not cease himself from needing you.

Aemond smirked as you quietly stared up at him wide-eyed. He hummed as his hand cupped your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and palm. “See, you want me as well, my lady. Stop denying it— do you not find it exhausting as you constantly deprive yourself of the pleasure of being completely mine?” He hummed as he circled your sore nubbin. You bit your lip as you were determined not to give him any indication of satisfaction in you, but it was useless as the sound of your arousal echoed through the chambers. “Submit to me— admit that you are mine, and both of us could cease this tiring game,” Aemond sighed as he slipped a finger into your core, your cunt readily clenching around the digit.

He waited on bated breath as he memorized each movement and reluctant sound that left your plush lips. Continuing to deny yourself pleasure. In a way, it was frustrating for the prince, even if he did find amusement in your resistance. All he wanted was for you to submit— to admit that each part of you belonged to him. Your back arched as your fingers clasped tightly around the cloth that bound them, “Do you wish to come, my lady?” He taunted as he felt your cunt spasming around his fingers. You cried in pleasure but made no reply. “If you wish for release, you know what you must do.” Aemond slowed his pleasurable actions as he saw your eyes roll back in utter satisfaction that you were stubborn enough to deny.

Aemond used his other hand to grasp your tit, pinching the pebbled flesh, and felt you squirm in search of release. “Say that you are mine, and all that you want shall be yours, my lady.” Aemond hummed as he savored the feel of your skin. You let out a frustrated cry and pulled at your restraints. A moment passed and you still did not give a response. Prince Aemond sighed, removing his fingers from your cunt, and took off his hold on your tit. You whimpered at the loss of sensation of his calloused and cruel touch. “Very well then,” he gritted as his cock painfully throbbed in his trousers. He stood and moved to exit the chambers, denying the both of you release.

As you watched the departing figure of the prince, your mind admitted defeat and forged any ounce of self-respect and dignity. “I… I’m yours!” You cried in indignation. The prince halted at his steps as he heard the words perfectly clear but still taunted you and made you repeat your submission to him. “I’m yours, my prince. I’m yours to do with as you please,” Your pride stung as the words left your lips, but nothing could compare to the ache in your cunt. “Yes, you are,” Aemond smirked and slowly made his way back to you to relieve you of your desperation.

You stared upon the ceiling as the prince’s face was burrowed in your neck. Prince Aemond was sleeping soundly, his arms around your frame and caging you in—determined not to let you go, not even in sleep. You feel yourself recoil upon your decision— your submission in exchange for fleeting moments of pleasure. It was not as if you had much of a choice. You could not live freely nor die with dignity— you had not a choice but to succumb to the prince and admit your station as his whore, and perhaps, in time, you could earn a sliver of his trust and when the time comes, flee and live all of this behind.

You barely slept that night, and when the prince woke, he was surprised to see that you were still deep in slumber. Usually, you would be the first to wake. Aemond brushed away a lock of your hair and placed tender and soft kisses upon your bare shoulder. His touch was feather light as he had no wish to wake you.

The prince offered you much-needed respite, and when you woke, it was midday. A servant glowering down at you in unmasked animosity as she held up your silk robe given to you by the prince. You stayed silent as it was growing harder to ignore the distaste held against by those employed by the prince. “Your bath is ready, m’lady,” she basically spat, and you followed her to the wet room. You shivered as the water was not at all warm, but you bit back your tongue as you did not wish to complain and give them further ammunition to dislike you. You had heard them gossiping the other day, complaining as to why they must serve you as well when you were merely the prince’s whore. You had wished to confront them— implore them to believe that you found no joy in your station and, in truth, you would rather be a scullery maid or a kitchen wench rather than be tasked to warm the prince’s bed.

You took in a deep breath as they poured piercing cold water atop your head and roughly cleansed you. They were disregarding any pain or soreness that you harbored, not at all minding the bruises left by the prince as he had his way with you. Your teeth chattered, and you felt tears prickling your eyes, yet you still bore it all. You took in a deep breath as they poured water onto you once more, the cold water making it harder for you to breathe; you had barely recovered nor took another breath as they did the action once more, and again for a third time. You felt like drowning as the two servants were relentless in pouring water atop your head, disguising their hostility towards you in the act of cleansing.

You feel your lungs tighten and your vision further blurry as you wave your hand for them to hinder their actions, but they ignore you. “Enough!” The prince roared, none of you aware that he was standing by the doorframe of the wet room, observing as they bathed you. “Can you not see your lady cannot breathe!” He roared as he noticed the scarlet on your chest and face as a consequence of your lack of air. He stood by the tub you sat upon in an instant, his angered face severing as he realized they bathed you with icy water that did nothing to calm your nerves or the ache in your body. You sat quietly with your head downturned towards the water as Prince Aemond seethed at the servants for their treatment of you. You did not know if you should hinder him from scolding the maids or thank him for defending you as you were silently being mistreated by the help.

Aemond furiously brushed away the maids and knelt by the tub you sat upon, your frame shivering and your gaze cast downwards. “How long?” He gritted as he cupped your cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin. He moved to retrieve your robe, assisted you to stand, and guided you to the warmth of the hearth. “How long?” He asked once more, and you knitted your brows. “How long what, my prince?” You feigned cluelessness. “Do not act simple with me, my lady. How long have they been mistreating you?” You bit your tongue at the irony the prince presented. Accusing his help of maltreatment when he had kept you in his room and presence against your will.

“They do no such thing—they… they do their duties,” you say, fearing that if you told the whole truth, the prince would act rashly and lead the servants to resent you further. “Do not lie; that is unbecoming of a lady,” Aemond gritted, and you shook your head. “I am no lady now… I am merely your whore. And they question as to why must they tend to the needs of a girl who is a servant as well.” You gritted, a surge of bravery coursing through your veins as the words rolled effortlessly off your tongue.

Aemond gritted his jaw as your eyes urged him for an explanation that he had none. “You are a highborn lady— how dare you even complain when I have made your stay here comfortable? What ingrate you are!” Aemond spat, and you shook your head, “I am your prisoner, my prince,” You said quietly. Your breath hitched as the prince grabbed your face in his rough hand and made you turn to him. “Prisoner or not, you are still a lady— a lady who has the blood of Old Valyria running through her veins. Mere servants will not question my orders— if I tell them to tend and serve you, they will do so with no complaints.” You held back your tongue, instead focusing on warming yourself further.

You peeked through your lashes and saw as the prince observed you. You tried to ignore his presence, but it was a task that was impossible. You chewed on your lips and sighed, “I… I thank you for your concern, but it has no place to be bestowed on a person in my station.” You muttered, still having an announce of cordiality as the prince did show an ounce of kindness even though he took advantage of his power. “You are still a lady— my actions are not brought out of kindness but rather the truth of your station.” You frowned, still disagreeing. He kept on insisting that you were still a lady, but that title was stripped from you the moment the prince burrowed himself in your cunt.

You stayed silent and returned to look upon the fire. The prince sighed and stood, moving to return to his duties for the day. “Could I make a request?” You suddenly asked before he could leave. Aemond paused by the door. “Could I at least right to my father? To inform him that I am live— it need not say where I am and what I had become… but I just want him to know that I still live.” You pleaded, widening your eyes in a plea. The prince did not speak. “Very well. I will write and send the letter myself— but you have my word; your father will know that you still live.”

You breathed heavily as your hips rolled against the prince. You atop of him with his cock buried deep inside your cunny as you both sought out pleasure. Aemond smirked as you tilted your head back, your body rocking against his and your cunt clenching tightly as a telltale sign that you were about to come. He reached to take hold of your tits, squeezing the soft flesh tightly, and the harshness only brought you further pleasure.

“See how well you take me, my lady? Look at how pleased you are… why have you been so stubborn when you know that this is your rightful place? With my cock deep inside your cunt?” Aemond breathed out; his own climax was fast coming. You only replied with a moan, taking hold of his hands that held your bosom to implore him to keep his hold there. Aemond thrusted against you desperately, “Who do you belong to?” Aemond questioned, only one answer he would accept. You could not comprehend his words, too blinded by the way the prince’s cock was hitting the spot in your cunt that made you lose all your sensibilities. “Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Aemond gritted, and each word ended with a deep thrust that finally made you hear his question.

You leaned forward with a desperate cry, “Y… yours. I’m yours, my prince.” Aemond moved his hands to cup your behind and aid your frenzied movements. “Good,” he muttered before kissing your lips as you and him found release. As the haze of your brazen fucking had settled, the prince rested in your arms, him playing with your fingers as you two began to rest for the night.

“Had you written to my father?” You asked delicately, not wanting to agitate or anger the prince. Aemond hummed, placing soft kisses on your fingertips. “I have.” He confirmed. “May I ask what you had written?” You questioned. Aemond breathed in deeply your scent before he spoke. “I had told him you are alive… that you are still here in Westeros… and you had denounced your allegiance towards my half-sister.” Your eyes widened, not expecting the prince to tell your father such things. “What?” You asked in dread.

Prince Aemond’s touch moved from your fingers to your face, cupping your heated cheeks. “And I informed him of your station here as well.” You felt like you could faint, the color in your face draining except the flush on your cheeks. “You told him I was your whore?” You questioned meekly. Aemond smirked, his face threading closer to yours. “I told him you were mine.” You could not respond because the prince had claimed your lips as he had claimed each inch of you.

Tag List: peachysunrize gelacat0413 maidmerrymint aemondwhoresworld fireydragonblood anukulee spacexdrago amanda08319 seamaiden aylasrants blackswxnn dracaryxzs trashpackbitch tomie-it-girl mamawiggers1980 chaosluvr deine-schatz

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reignpage · 6 days ago

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Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself.

This has been an incredibly wild evening.

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on.

Yes.

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly.

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways?

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows.

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51?

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all.

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest.

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say.

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again.

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body.

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his.

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy.

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision.

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong.

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all).

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes.

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression.

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic

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furuu · 3 months ago

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'm on my period too and wanted to know if i could request tiger!sukuna covering your scent with his because he's secretly afraid of potential predators stealing u from him ><

𐔌 . ⋮ You lay sprawled on the bed, limbs heavy with fatigue as dull aches throbbed through your body. It was just one of those days, the toll of your period leaving you drained and uncomfortable, seeking solace in rest. Eyes half-lidded, you sighed softly, shifting against the cool sheets, hoping the pain would ease.

But there was something else now—another presence lingering in the room.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Sukuna, his tiger-like form prowling silently in the shadows. His crimson gaze locked onto you, pupils narrowing as his lips curled into a devilish grin. You could feel the weight of his attention, the way his muscles tensed with anticipation, like a predator stalking its prey. But instead of reacting, you feigned ignorance, pretending not to notice his intent. Your body ached too much to deal with whatever game he had in mind right now, so you simply let him think you were unaware.

And then, without warning, he pounced.

In one fluid motion, Sukuna leapt onto the bed, landing with a predatory grace. The impact jolted through you, his powerful form looming over yours as his sharp claws lightly grazed the sheets. His weight settled next to you, his furred, muscle-bound body pressing against yours as he nuzzled into your side with aggressive affection. A low growl of satisfaction escaped him as he buried his face against your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

You stifled a groan, the mix of his sudden closeness and your aching body making it hard to stay still. But you didn’t resist, letting him have his moment. Sukuna, mistaking your scent for something else entirely, continued his pursuit with more intensity, rubbing himself all over you as if trying to drown you in his scent. His broad chest rumbled against your back, his strong arms wrapping possessively around your waist as his four tails curled over your legs.

He growled lowly, something primal in the sound, as he pressed his face against your hair, his tongue grazing your ear in a teasing manner. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with territorial pride. He clearly believed you were ready to mate, and that this was his chance to claim you, completely unaware of the true cause of your scent.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip, suppressing a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here you were, lying in bed with cramps and fatigue, while Sukuna, the fearsome King of Curses, thought you were in heat. His aggressive yet affectionate nature in this form was almost sweet, if not for the sheer force behind it.

Still, you allowed him to continue, not wanting to bruise his massive ego by pointing out the truth. His rough, possessive touches soon became softer, more comforting, as he curled himself around you like a protective barrier. The warmth of his fur and the steady rumble of his purring almost lulled you into a state of ease, despite the lingering aches in your body.

You sighed softly, leaning into his embrace. Even in his misunderstanding, Sukuna’s presence brought you some strange comfort. The way he protected you with such intensity, even if misguided, made the tension in your body ease just a little. Maybe letting him think he was marking his territory wasn’t so bad after all .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

#ᡣ꒰ᵔ⠀𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓅ℯ𝓈⠀𝒶𝓃𝒹⠀𝒲ℴℴ𝓁⠀.ㅤ ও #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #anime x female!reader #anime x chubby!reader #𐔌 ຼ ͡ ৯ 𝒻𝓁𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ໒꒱#𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃 :¨ ·.· ¨: ..#. . ˚˖𓍢ִ #tiger!sukuna

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saintobio · 6 months ago

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the art of loving, feat. l&ds rafayel.

pairings. rafayel, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, established relationship, 18+ tags. artist x muse, hints of abandonment issues, clingy bf!rafayel, allusions to nude paintings, fellatio, cum eating, protected sex, praise kink notes. my third l&ds boy :’) there’s a full blown sylus oneshot coming but for now, i have to write abt our cute fish! i’ll continue the jjk wips on the weekend bcos my l&ds hyperfixation is currently taking over 🤧

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who makes you the muse of his paintings. he loves how he can adore your face while turning his blank canvas into something as colorful as you. it all started when he used to sketch you when you’re not looking. and it’s a habit that he, time and time again, still does. whether you’re reading, sleeping, or simply lost in thought, he finds these moments precious and captures them in his sketchbook. he actually has a dedicated corner of you on his mo art studio, where it’s filled with paintings and sketches of his beautiful girlfriend.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who loves to paint with you. he’ll set up a canvas next to his and guide your hands, laughing together as you create something… unique. look, he’s not making fun of your painting. in fact, he’d say you’re actually very talented. “it’s not bad at all,” he’d claim, “it’s an exquisite art… if i close my eyes.” how mean! but honestly, if you were to sell your artwork, he would still be the first person to buy it.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who gets playful with paint. while you’re on the subject of ‘painting together’, you know how cheeky rafayel is, and when he dabs a bit of paint on your nose or cheeks, the light-hearted paint fight ends in messy, colorful kisses. one time, he even left a purple handprint on your bum, and giggles each time he sees it from behind.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who gets clingy when you’re busy. he’ll sulk if he feels you’re not paying enough attention to him, often wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling into your neck to remind you he’s there. he can very grumpy, too. like a spoiled brat who he didn’t get what he wants. it’s just that he dislikes the feeling of being ignored and abandoned, so the last thing you knew not to do is make him wait too long on your dates or make him feel like your mind is occupied by anything else other than him. because he’d go as far as pretending to be in a helpless situation just so you’d drop everything and run off to him. how silly!

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who surprises you with personalized art gifts. from small sketches slipped into your bag to full portraits given on special occasions. it’s his way of expressing his love, because he’s very grateful of how supportive you are when he has art exhibits. your presence calms his nerves, and he always looks for you in the crowd to find strength in your encouraging smiles.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who likes to cuddle while discussing his latest ideas. he enjoys your input and loves bouncing ideas off you. his hands like to roam around your body as he keeps you in bed all day, whispering sweet nothings into you ear and making the atmosphere warm and intimate. “i can’t help it!”was his usual excuse whenever you’d call him out for being too touchy. “sometimes, my inspirations come in the form of physical intimacy, you know!”

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who can’t resist kissing you passionately when he’s inspired. he sketches you in intimate moments, letting you lie beautifully naked in bed and with only a blanket to cover the lower half of your body, like a vulnerable mermaid looking to be held by her prince. he’ll pull you close, hands covered in paint, leaving colorful fingerprints and delicate patterns on your skin as his lips capture yours in a heated kiss. he would peel the blanket off you slowly, taking his sweet time as if memorizing every dip and curve to later recreate in his art. his touch is both tender and electrifying. and his expressions, both raw and passionate as he eyes every inch of your body.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who whispers his deepest desires in your ear. his voice becomes husky with emotions, telling you exactly what he wants, and leaving you blushing and eager to feed him the attention he seeks. he’s very needy, indeed. but most especially in bed. he’d often grab your hand, allowing you to brush it against his toned chest and down to his… aching member. it’s begging to be released, you both know it. and so when he guides your head closer to his crotch, you already know what ‘job’ you had to do for him.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who whines a lot while you’re pleasing him, but in a cute way. he’s just very vocal about it. he’s incapable of keeping his little moans whenever he feels your tongue rolling around his tip, your lips leaving open-mouthed kisses along the sides of his length. it’s like suction when you fully take him into your mouth, the image of your head bobbing to suck his cock is extremely vivid in his head. “mhm~ don’t stop.” rafayel loses his mind over it. “my darling, lover girl. you’re so pretty, my baby.” and when you’d allow him to cum inside your mouth, he’s a weak man watching you swallow every single drop.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who respects your boundaries and doesn’t push you to try things in bed that you’re not comfortable with. when you told him he can’t do you raw, he willingly obliged. so, lo and behold the huge box of condoms on his nightstand. he believes in practicing safe sex because you both aren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet. but that doesn’t lessen the frequency of your activities in bed. in fact, his beloved box of rubbers would easily run out after 2-3 weeks.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who likes to be praised when doing the deed with you. it’s just innate in him. you have to let him know if he’s doing good, have to let him hear how great he feels inside of you, how pretty he looks when you gaze down on him, and how amazing his hands are in finding your most sensitive places. “raf, you’re the best at this,” you’d moan into his mouth, the sound of skin-slapping echoing across his studio as you feel him racing through his climax, “s-so good, ngh~” he’s one to smile at your little whimpers. “yeah, you like where i’m hitting it, baby?” “haa—i do!” “thought so.”

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who wants to be displayed all over your social media accounts. it’s as straightforward as he is—he wants his face to take over your account. he wants to know that you’re proud of him and that you’re showing off your handsome boyfriend whenever you can. he also wants you to interact with his posts, leave comments, and hit the heart button. every. single. time. he gets easily sulky if sees you ignoring his cute posts about you. that’s just how he is, and it doesn’t frustrate you one bit, because he just loves being the center of your world in exchange for treating you the center of his. that was the art of loving rafayel.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #rafayel smut #rafayel fluff #l&ds headcanons

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lovesculprit · 1 month ago

Text

┈✦ Falling into Familiar

Ft. Suguru Geto

contains: nsfw content {mdni}, exbf!suguru, fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, oral (reader receiving), fingering wc: 2k

It was a pattern you told yourself you’d break. A familiar rhythm, like an old song you hated to admit you still knew by heart. It always started with a text—too intentional to be accidental, too perfectly timed to be ignored.

“I miss you.”

Three words, late at night, tugging at a string you thought you’d already cut.

You’d hesitate, just for show, pretending you had a choice. But deep down, you always knew how it would end. A short drive to his place. That slow smirk he’d give when he opened the door, hair loose around his face, in casual clothes, still the most beautiful mistake you’d ever made.

“It’s late,” you’d mutter, trying to sound unaffected as you stepped inside.

“Didn’t stop you from coming,” he’d reply, voice soft and teasing. And it wouldn’t take long—minutes, maybe less—before you found yourself tangled in his sheets again, his hands on your skin, his voice low and familiar in your ear.

You told yourself every time that this would be the last. But the truth was, with Suguru, it never felt like the end. Just another loop in the same inescapable cycle.

┆彡

Suguru's hands roam your curves, reacquainting themselves with every dip and swell. His touch is firm, almost possessive, as if he's trying to imprint the feeling of you onto his palms.

"Fuck, I've missed this," he growls against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. "Missed you."

His hips press insistently against yours, his cock hard and aching. Your bodies move together as if no time has passed. “Tell me you want this- need this- as much as I do-” he growls, his voice a rough plea.

His lips descend on your skin like he’s staking claim, each kiss and nip leaving marks you’ll secretly wish would linger longer. “Say it,” he demands, his tone dark and edged with desperation as he thrusts his hips harder against yours. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m not—” you begin, the words catching in your throat as a gasp escapes, your back arching beneath him. Your body betrays you, yielding instinctively to his touch even as your voice falters. He knows you too well—knows how you resist, how you fight against the intensity of what he awakens in you.

“Your body doesn’t lie, even if your lips do.” he murmurs, his warm breath against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He silences any reply with a searing kiss, his mouth crashing into yours with a fervor that leaves no room for protest. His tongue sweeps against yours, claiming you, branding you in ways words never could.

“You’re mine,” he breathes against your lips, the words low and reverent. “And I’m yours. Always.”

A groan tears from him as your teeth catch his lower lip, the sharp sting igniting something primal within him. His hand drifts lower, skimming the curve of your thigh before slipping beneath the thin fabric that separates you. His fingers brush against the damp heat of your core, coaxing a sharp intake of breath from you.

He feels how ready you are, how much your body craves him even if your words refuse to admit it. And in this moment, nothing else matters.

"That's it," he encourages, voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want me. How much you need me."

He rubs his thumb against your clit, the pressure just right, making you gasp and buck against his hand. He loves how responsive you are, how easily he can make you fall apart.

Suguru breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, teeth and tongue leaving a path of fire in their wake. He wants to taste every inch of you, wants to map out your body with his mouth until he knows it better than his own.

"My pretty girl" he purrs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your panties to stroke your slick folds.

Suguru's fingers slide through your folds, teasing and circling your clit before dipping lower to tease your entrance. He groans at how ready you are for him, how your body welcomes his touch like it was made for it.

"So fucking wet for me already….Bet you've been fantasising about this, huh? Thinking about my fingers inside you, my tongue tasting this pretty little cunt." his voice thick with desire.

He slips one finger inside you, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, the dual stimulation making your hips buck and your breath catch in your throat.

He spreads your legs wider as he settles between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side. He presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your clit. The heat of his breath sending a shiver coursing through you, anticipation coiling low in your belly.

His tongue glides between your folds, teasing and tasting, every movement purposeful yet hungry. He licks and sucks with an intensity that pulls soft gasps from your lips, coaxing your pleasure to the surface as though it belongs to him alone.

He savours you like a man deprived for far too long, like he’s been waiting endlessly for this moment—and in so many ways, he has. "You taste so fucking good,"

He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, his fingers joining in to stretch you open for his mouth. He devours you, worships you with his tongue, determined to make you come undone.

Suguru can feel you getting closer, your thighs trembling around his head, your hips rocking against his face. He redoubles his efforts, tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he slides two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right.

He pulls back suddenly, leaving you panting and desperate, aching for release. He crawls back up your body, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.

"Not so fast," he murmurs, voice low and teasing. "I think you forgot to tell me something." He's just as affected as you are, just as desperate for more, but he wants to hear you say it first.

He hovers above you, his bulge pressing against your skin. "Admit it," he demands, eyes boring into yours. "Admit you missed me. Admit you need this as much as I do." He rocks his hips, grinding his cock against you, teasing you.

His thumb traces the curve of your lower lip, the motion slow and deliberate. When your lips part, his thumb slips past them, pressing lightly against your tongue. A low groan escapes him, the sound thick with desire as his mind races ahead, imagining those same lips wrapped around his cock.

He leans in, so close that his breath fans across your skin, warm and intoxicating. His lips hover just shy of yours, teasing, taunting. “What’s it gonna be, pretty girl?” he murmurs, “Gonna’ tell me what I wanna hear?”

“I missed you…” you whisper, “M’still yours, I promise—”

You don’t get the chance to finish. He surges forward, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss that speaks of frustration, longing, and possession. It’s desperate, a clash of tongues and teeth, he kisses you like he’s reclaiming you, staking his claim all over again.

His hands move with purpose, skimming over your body as if to relearn every inch. His palms cup your breasts, fingers teasing your hardened nipples through the thin barrier of your shirt. His touch is electric, and you arch into him, silently pleading for more.

He wants to strip you bare—see you, touch you, claim every inch of you—until there’s no question left in either of your minds. You’re his, and tonight, he’ll make sure you remember exactly what that means.

Suguru breaks the kiss, his chest heaving as he leans back on his heels. His hands move quickly, tugging at his clothes, and when he sheds the last barrier, his cock springs free—hard, thick, and already glistening with pre at the tip.

Slowly, he wraps a hand around his cock stroking with a measured pace, he wants you to watch, to see the effect you have on him, to understand the depth of his need.

“Look at what you’ve done to me,” his voice low and rough, each word laced with raw promise. His gaze never leaves yours, holding you captive. "All yours, pretty girl. All for you."

He reaches for your skirt, tugging them down your legs along with your panties. He takes a moment to admire you, spread out before him, your glistening folds, ready for him.

"Always so perfect," he breathes, before settling between your thighs once more.

He drinks you in, committing it to memory--the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, a vision he's determined to appreciate profoundly.

He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat. He leans down to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all his feelings into it. Even if he's not always the best at showing it, he loves you and he hopes to god that you can feel it.

He pushes slowly and steadily into you, groaning in pleasure as your tight walls stretch around him. It's always like this with you, like going home. Like you were made for him and him alone.

"Oh, God, you feel so good," he breaths against your neck, rolling his hips to thrust shallowly inside of you. "So tight, so perfect."

He begins to move, maintaining a steady rhythm that has both of you gasping and moaning. His hands roam your body, touching and caressing, memorising every dip and curve.

He wanted to hear you, wanted to feel that he was doing as much to you as you were to him. He wanted to make it good for you and was determined to make you forget everything but the feel of him inside you.

The atmosphere thrummed with electric tension. The air heavy with the heady scent of sex, thick with musk, your skin mists with sweat, allowing your bodies to push against each other. Suguru's fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you still as he makes you his.

Suguru established a steady pace, rolling his hips against yours as you slowly lost yourself in the pleasure. He was not rushing, not chasing his own pleasure; instead, he's focused entirely on you, on making you feel good.

His thrusts are deliberate, each one hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He angles his hips just right, filling you completely, in the best possible way.

One hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he moves. The other roams your body, pinching your nipples, stroking your thighs, touching you wherever he can. He lowers himself, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss. He swallows your moans and whimpers, his tongue dancing against yours, battling for control with an intensity that matches the frantic pace of his hands. The kiss is filthy; the kind of kiss that tastes like sin and promises.

Suguru's pace starts to quicken, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. He can feel you tightening around him, your walls fluttering and clenching. He knows you're close, and he's determined to get you there. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you, determined to bring you over the edge first.

One hand slides between your bodies to find your clit, fingers rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He can feel you getting closer, your walls fluttering around him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Come for me," he demands, voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you come undone. Let me feel you squeeze my cock."

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue tangles with yours, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, driving you higher and higher.

With one final, deep thrust, he now pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing around you as you gush around him, coming hard as your walls clamp down around him, milking him while he thrusts into you.

Then, not long after, Suguru follows you over the edge with his own release washing over him as he buries his face into your neck, biting down to muffle his groans, spilling himself inside you, filling you completely with his cum.

He falls onto you, both of you still floating in that lingering freshly-sated haze, in the gentle heat of soft kisses brushing along your neck—in each contact, his quiet longing for your love.

Guilt was nipping at the edges of his mind, whispering away that he is no good for you, that the shadow side of him will drag you down to his underneath. For now though, wrapped around him with your heartbeat meshing within him, it was impossible for him to care. You give him the flame deep inside him that he thought was under the ice-thick crust-many a time he was once broken.

He turned to his side, bringing you along with him so that you were snug against his chest, deliberate tenderness in the way his fingers ran along your skin. He plants a kiss on your head, savouring the faint scent of your shampoo with the musky scent of sex.

"I love you," he said, before he had any chance to grasp it. His voice sounded more subdued with the vulnerability he never allows himself to show. "Even though I shouldn't…Even though I know I’m not good for you... I love you.”

It’s selfish, he knows. A cruel indulgence. But with you in his arms, the weight of the world seems just a little lighter. You are his anchor and the thought of letting go is unbearable.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, “Just for tonight. Let me have this. Let me believe, just for a little while, that we could be something more. That I could deserve you.”

The reality will come crashing down with the dawn—he knows that. But for now, in this fleeting, stolen moment, he’s content to pretend. To lose himself in you. To cling to the fragile illusion that, together, you might make everything okay.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

#ʚɞ writings #jjk #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #suguru geto smut #suguru x reader #jjk x you #geto

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nuemanfilms · 1 month ago

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maybe sam and reader on a movie night, alone in the bunker? watching a really boring movie that sam chose, some old one like a silent film? then the reader starts teasing him like "oh, that movie is really boring, i feel like doing something else"

MOVIE NIGHT

— and you loved spending time with Sam, you did. There wasn’t anything you would do to change it. But god, the man was teasing you it seemed like. Bouncing his thigh up while you sat in his lap and continuing to be ignorant of how you shifted.

Summary You were fed up and he kept teasing, so you decided to rile him up. Finally, he snapped.

cw unprotected piv, dom!sam, doggystyle, crying, reader drools over sam, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), lots of teasing, the bunker’s empty, begging, mentions of being helpless, some plot (pwp)

a/n literally have been dragging my ass for a month, never getting in a rls AGAIN. sorry if this is bad, tried to proofread — 1k.

It wasn’t everyday that you could watch a movie — especially with being a hunter. It also wasn’t everyday to be in the bunker alone with your boyfriend without the elder Winchester’s company.

and you loved spending time with Sam, you did. There wasn’t anything you would do to change it. But god, the man was teasing you it seemed like. Bouncing his thigh up while you sat in his lap and pretending to be ignorant of how you shifted. He kept his gaze on the movie — while you struggled to even stay still.

It was beating the hell out of you.

Your lips grazed his neck, before you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his flesh. You were determined to crack him — he knew you were.

And dammit, it was working.

When your hand started to trail down his frame, along with the hickeys you were leaving on his skin — he let out a groan.

“What’re you doing..?” It sounded almost like a whisper, his voice came out strained. Sam’s hand wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against him. Your breath was heavy against his neck, almost panting.

He knew what he did, he knew he had you worked up. He just wanted to hear you say it, “Sam…” his name was like a plea falling from your lips like that. He almost let out a chuckle at the sound of the clear whine in your voice.

“No, no, say it, wanna hear you say it, baby…” He rolled his hips up against your core, a breathless whimper escaped from your throat at that. He wasn’t even touching you yet, and he already had you wrapped around his finger.

“I need you- please…” His thumbs rubbed against the skin of your hips, almost silently coaxing you into submission.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “Yeah? What do you need from me, sweetheart?” he was teasing you. Sam knew he was getting a rise out of you, so close to making you practically melt in his hands.

You let out a frustrated huff, “Damnit, Sam. You know what I need- please, fuck me…” even through your frustration, he could still hear the desperation dripping in your voice.

“Lift your hips.”

Once his practiced hand finished unclasping your bra, he tossed it to the side. You didn’t even have time to process when his fingers slid through your folds, collecting your arousal with just a single swipe. Earning a pathetic whine from you, your hips involuntarily pushing back against him in a desperate attempt for his touch again.

“God, you’re soaked… Is this how worked up I got you? Just from teasing?” He groaned softly, working on his belt to free himself as quickly as he could. The sound of the metal clinking had you squirming beneath him, your head shoved into the pillow. Your mascara was smeared beneath your eyes, your lips swollen from his previous assault on them.

When he brushed against you, sliding his head up and down your slit — you practically were a mess just from that.

“Sammy, I can’t- please, I need you inside me. Please fuck me-“ He cut you off with a rough thrust, filling you up in one snap of his hips. The air pulled from your lungs, you were salivating over how he felt. He stretched you perfectly, filled you up perfectly — god, and he believed you were practically suffocating him each time he fucked you.

“Fuck, you’re still so goddamn tight- shit, baby… really stretching you out, aren’t I?” He bit his lip to contain his noises — even if you were alone in the bunker, he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of thinking you were in charge. Because you weren’t.

You mewled, writhed beneath him, “S-So deep… mm, fuck…” your fingers went up rub at your clit. Before Sam slapped them away, earning a whimper of protest. He replaced them with his own quickly, applying more pressure.

When your hips tried to move back against his, he pulled out, and slammed back in. The cry that left you was pornographic, each moan, each gasp you let out sounded lewd. God, the way his cock slammed in and out of you only made you soak more. The creamy ring that formed around his base had his eyes nearly rolling back from the sight of how wet you were.

“You’re this fucking turned on by this? Kissing on my neck, giving yourself up like a fucking hooker… god, you really do love being helpless don’t you? I could tie you up and you’d be begging like a whore, is that what you are? a whore?” His pace seemed brutal, like he was splitting you in half with each rough stroke. His vulgar words had your eyes rolling in the back of your head, your pussy squeezing him like a vice.

You moaned at the name he gave you, nodding your head dumbly in agreement. He chuckled darkly at that, the stain of your saliva on the pillow told him just how wrecked he had you. And you were still tightening around him, your body’s response telling him not to stop.

“‘m gonna cum, Sammy- baby… ple- please let me cum, let me cum on your cock, please…” Your voice was broken, tears more freely spilling down your cheeks while he slammed into you.

How could he deny you when you were so weak like this?

“Yeah, honey… cum on my dick. Fuck yourself on it like that… that’s my girl — fuck, baby…” He let out a deep moan as he came, watching as your hips pathetically pushed back against him. God, you were trying to get him deeper when you were already swallowing him.

“Shit, there we go… all full, baby.” He panted, pulling out of you gently. The stains on the pillow were definitely going to be hard to explain. You were both too tired to care, though.

#sam winchester smut #supernatural #fem!reader #sam winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader

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theemporium · 9 months ago

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[1.7k] an early morning birthday treat for your boyfriend hours before the rest of the world needs either of you. (smut)

we are gonna ignore the fact i accidentally hit the post limit yesterday and pretend i actually posted this on his birthday

“Good morning, birthday boy.”

Oscar let out a small hum of acknowledgement, a small smile working its way onto his face but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Instead, he wound his arm around your waist and tugged you down until you were collapsing down on his chest. He sighed happily, nuzzling himself further against you whilst you wiggled in his embrace.

“You’re ruining your birthday,” you commented, trying to nudge his arm away so you could sit back up. But Oscar didn’t budge a bit.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbled, his voice still laced with sleep and his accent coating his slurred words a little thicker than normal. “I get to choose what we do and I choose sleeping.”

“That’s boring,” you retorted, twisting in his hold until you were facing him. You reached a hand out, pushing his hair back until you got an unrestricted view of his face squished against the pillow.

“I happen to like boring birthdays.”

You snorted, smiling fondly as you leaned down to press a kiss on the tip of his slightly scrunched nose. “You’re not even going to ask what I planned?”

“If it includes leaving this bed before I have to head to the track, then I’m not interested,” Oscar mumbled, letting out a sigh as your nails began to scratch along his scalp. “I’m quite happy here. Very content. Very happy birthday boy.”

“And if I said your birthday plans start in bed?”

Oscar paused for a moment. “I’m listening.”

You grinned, lightly poking his cheek until his eyes slowly fluttered open. “Hey.”

He flashed you a lazy smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Happy birthday,” you murmured before you leaned down, pressing a soft but lingering kiss on his lips.

“Definitely happy,” he hummed in response, huffing a little when you pushed his shoulder so he was lying on his back. “You’re awfully bossy this morning.”

“You like it,” you teased, throwing one leg over his body until you were settled on his lap. In seconds, his hands were on your waist like the reaction was instinctive.

“Maybe,” he replied, though the light pink painting his cheeks gave him away. His thumbs lightly swiped along your hip bones, slowly pushing the material of your (his) shirt up until he was met with bare skin. “I have to be at the track by ten.”

“It’s only seven,” you retorted.

“That means we could have had a solid two more hours of sleep,” he pointed out, his eyes still a bit bleary from sleep. He was just grateful enough that one of you remembered to pull the curtains shut last night. “You know, cuddling is good for dopamine and stuff.”

Your lips twitched. “Dopamine and stuff?”

“You woke me up five minutes ago, give me a break,” Oscar grumbled, squeezing your hips to emphasise his point.

“I know something else that would be good for your dopamine and stuff,” you said, grinning a little as you leaned down to peck his lips. “Something for the birthday boy.”

“You keep saying that but—oh shit.”

You watched his eyes flutter shut, his grip on you tightening as you rolled your hips against his. You ducked your head down, lips pressing chaste, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck as you felt his skin flush under your touch. You felt his thumping pulse pounding, could feel the way his body was reacting to you.

It was fucking intoxicating.

“Do you still wanna go back to sleep?” You questioned, your voice teasing and a little patronising as you nipped the skin just below his ear.

“Nuh uh,” he breathed out, shaking his head in response. “This is good. This is better.”

You grinned against his skin.

And maybe it was still-half-asleep brain or maybe Oscar just didn’t want to assume, but he wasn’t really expecting more. It was still painfully early for either of you to be awake right now, especially considering how late you had managed to get to the hotel. And he was honestly more than happy to have this, to have his girl on top of him. To have your hands and your lips and your pretty words. To just have you.

He wasn’t thinking about where it was leading, he was just stuck in the present moment of you, you, you.

His brain hadn’t even fully caught up until your kisses started moving lower, until a few chaste kisses along his collarbone started to move further down his chest.

“Babe,” he rasped, his head still a little fuzzy with sleep as your breath fanned over the muscles of his stomach.

“Shhh, relax f’me, Osc,” you murmured between soft kisses, fingers tugging the edge of his boxers down as the urge to mark along his v-line overwhelmed you.

“I—” But the words were lost in the back of his throat as the heel of your palm pressed against the bulge in his boxers, your lips mouthing at the sensitive skin along his hips.

His eyes fell shut, his head digging back into the pillow as he let himself enjoy every single inch of his body that was being touched by you. The way his hips bucked against your hand, the front of the fabric already wet and stained with precome as you marked pretty bruises on his pale skin. The way your body settled between his thick thighs, nails grazing along his skin until he was squirming and whining underneath you. The way every cell in his body was just so, so responsive to you.

A guttural moan escaped the back of his throat as you mouthed along his clothed cock, licking a thick strip over the fabric of his boxers as he helplessly buckled beneath your touch. He didn’t think a single thought in his head was about anything but you. He didn’t think he wanted to think about anything else but you.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs and throwing them somewhere off the edge of the bed, neither one of you all too bothered where it landed. Instead, you took his hard cock in your hand, not wasting a second before you sucked the tip in your mouth, lapping at the small beads of precome that were already leaking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed out, his hips bucking further into your mouth but your other hand kept his body planted on the mattress.

He was fucking helpess.

He was fucking helpess and he didn’t give two shits about anything other than you.

There was a vague voice in the back of his head reminding him that it was early, that they had neighbours, that those neighbours were colleagues of his. But it was a passing thought at best for Oscar as he squirmed and wiggled and writhed beneath your touch. It was a problem for future Oscar to deal with.

And it wasn’t often Oscar was vocal, not like this. But he was sleepy and caught off-guard and, fuck, your mouth just felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t help himself with the whimpers and moans he let out, your name like a mantra as it left his lips on a broken loop.

Because Oscar Piastri was a weak man when it came to you.

And when he lifted his head off the pillow to finally look down at you, he about lost whatever semblance of control he had left.

Your hands were placed on his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but the pain was biting and welcomed. Your cheeks were hallowed around his dick, a mix of come and drool leaking from the edges but it just made his stomach twist with a deep desire that he knew would haunt his fantasies for months to come. Your lips were red and swollen, your eyes were glossy and hooded and, fucking hell, the second he met your gaze, it was over for him.

His hands were gripping the sheets of the duvet beneath him as he came, the pleasure white and hot and overwhelming in every sense of the word. He felt it all over like a hot flush, dancing along his nerve endings and racing down his spine as his body bucked upwards to be closer to you, your mouth, your everything. He was distantly aware of the little whiny noises he made as he came, the ones that were half muffled as he buried his face into his pillow as his orgasm washed over him whilst you lapped at his sensitive cock.

He couldn’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed when he finally turned back to look at you, seeing you slowly lick your fingers clean from the cum that had leaked out your mouth with a huge grin on your face.

“You’re a menace,” was all he managed to breathe out, throwing his arm over his face to try and recover from mind blowing orgasm and the sight of you shamelessly tasting him.

“Happy birthday,” you replied cheerfully, crawling back up the bed until you could press a chaste kiss on his cheek before nuzzling yourself against him. “Good start to twenty-three?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I think you might’ve killed me.”

“At least you died young, pretty and satisfied,” you joked, feeling his chest rumble beneath you and it made your stomach twist with something quite like delight.

“And in love,” he added, his words a little slurred and his cheeks burning a little at his own cheesiness. But it still made you grin.

“I love you too, Osc,” you murmured back.

“I was talking about those sushi rolls we had last night, but yeah I love you too,” he murmured, letting out a short pained noise when you pinched his side. “Ow! What happened to birthday boy privileges?”

“Those ended with the blowjob,” you retorted. “You’re back to normal Oscar now.”

“Hm, that seems a little unfair,” Oscar commented as he wound his arms around your body, hugging you close to his chest like the two of you could melt into one person.

“Tragic life of being twenty-three,” you teased.

Oscar smiled. “Thank you, seriously.”

You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. “Did you just thank me for a blowjob?”

The sleepy smile returned. “Yeah, pretty sure I just did.”

“Never beating the polite cat allegations,” you said, lighthearted and sweet and joking as you leaned down to kiss him. “Never change, birthday boy.”

“Never in a million years, baby.”

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