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asgard23 · 1 day ago

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Surprised | One-Shot

Warnings: Descriptive Cheating, Unwilling Cucking, Smut, Threesome, Insecurity, infertility. Written from Nat's POV. **This is probably one of the most unhinged things I have written thus far. I don't know what came over me LOL.

Also Nat’s not an avenger in this for whatever reason 🤪

Natasha stared at Bucky, her boyfriend, as her nerves spiked, while he fidgeted, his gaze pleading. They were curled on the sofa. “Look, Nat,” Bucky began, “you know how much I love you. And you know we’ve tried new things before, right?” He paused, clearly bracing himself. “I was thinking… Y/N moved back, and she’s… well, she’s amazing. And you know, we’ve always had a good dynamic, she and I. And I was just thinking… maybe… maybe we could… include her?”

Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. A threesome. With Y/N. His best friend. And they weren’t strangers to threesomes, either. She and Bucky had explored that territory before, with both men and women. It was usually fun, a way to spice things up, to explore new boundaries. They had three rules for threesomes:

Always use protection.

Never leave hickies or marks.

Never ignore each other.

Nat liked that about her relationship with Bucky. But this… this was different from the other times. This was Y/N. She pushed it down and dismissed it as paranoia, the insecurity of a girlfriend who’d seen too many relationships crumble. He was her Bucky. But the thought that he might like her had always been a whisper at the back of her mind.

She suppressed the urge to snap and shut the idea down immediately. Could she deny him this? Was her own insecurity worth sacrificing his happiness? Besides, Y/N was gorgeous.

So, she agreed. She pushed the knot of jealousy deep down, plastered on a smile, and said, “Sure, baby. Could be fun.” She tried to sound enthusiastic, convincing herself it was true. She wanted to please him. She wanted to be enough. And perhaps, a part ot her thought, seeing them together like that, in such an intimate setting would finally dispel her fears. It would prove that he chose her, not Y/N.

He’d lit up like a Christmas tree, his face breaking into a shit eating grin. He’d spent the rest of the week bouncing with excitement, planning the night with thoroughness that bordered on obsessive. It was unnerving, to say the least. For so many reasons.

︶︶︶︶༉

The first time Natasha met Y/N, it had been at the welcoming party for Y/N’s return. Y/N had just moved back to New York after four years running a specialized recovery operation for SHIELD assets in Europe. Bucky had talked about her for weeks leading up to her arrival.” Y/N’s coming back! You are going to love her, babe! “ Nat had tried to be enthusiastic, but apprehension had already begun to form in her stomach.

“So you must be the girlfriend I hear all about,” Y/N had said, holding out a hand. Her nails were polished a deep red, complementing her (S/C) skin tone. She was exactly how she imagined this mysterious woman to be. Annoyingly beautiful.

Natasha had taken the offered hand. “Only good things, I hope,” she’d said awkwardly, trying to sound light, even as a chill made its way to her skin.

Throughout the evening, Natasha watched as Bucky and Y/N fell in sync, like two peas in a pod, for most of the night. They traded inside jokes, declaring a shared history she wasn't a part of. Y/N would lean into Bucky when she told a story, her hand sometimes resting lightly on his arm, and Bucky would chuckle, his gaze only lingering on her. It wasn’t overtly flirtatious, not in a way Natasha could point to and call out, but it was there. An unspoken tension that made her feel like an outsider looking in. She’d tried to interject but found herself feeling increasingly awkward, a third wheel, even though she was Bucky’s girlfriend.

Later, Y/N had excused herself to the bathroom. Natasha’s eyes followed her, noting the confident swing of her hips, and the way she had heads turned. When Y/N rounded a corner, out of sight, Natasha turned to Bucky, only to see him still watching the empty space where Y/N had been, practically checking her out. He snapped back to attention when he felt Natasha’s gaze.

“So you guys seem to have great chemistry, babe… why did you guys never get together?” Natasha asked, her tone tighter than she’d like it to be. She tried to sound casual a but the question was loaded with her own rising insecurity.

Bucky shifted almost guiltily, crossing his face. “Well, she’s always had a boyfriend, and she went away to college right after high school. Then the SHIELD gig took her overseas for years. The timing was just never right, I guess.” He shrugged, a little too dismissively.

Natasha’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t known what she was expecting, but she certainly hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t reassuring her, wasn’t saying there was nothing there, only that circumstances prevented anything from happening. So if she had given him a chance, would he take it? Natasha swallowed, the lump in her throat making her gulp.

From that night forward, Natasha’s already present insecurities had intensified. She was capable and sexy. That’s what apparently attracted Bucky to her. But privately, she often felt insufficient. This feeling was magnified by one particular painful fact: she was infertile. Bucky had always spoken of wanting a family someday, a house with a yard, kids running around.

He’d told her countless times that he was “fine” with it, that she was enough, that they could adopt if they wanted to, but a part of her didn’t truly believe him. She saw the wistful look in his eyes when they passed a young family, the way he’d light up around Clint’s kids. What if Y/N, with her beautiful, fertile body, represented something Natasha couldn’t give him? Those thoughts plagued her relationship ever since Y/N came back into Bucky’s life.

︶︶︶︶༉

The days leading up to the threesome, Nat saw a different side of her boyfriend. Bucky was practically buzzing with an energy she hadn’t seen in weeks. Every time his phone lit up with a message from Y/N, her stomach twisted. He was planning. He was excited. More excited than he usually would be for these things. Sure, before he enjoyed having the attention of two women. Even from men, and of course, his lovely girlfriend. But for Y/N, he was elated.

Finally, the night arrived. Nat was in a haze of anxiety, trying to convince herself that this was a good idea, that she was doing it for Bucky, that she wasn't a jealous, insecure mess. They had spent the afternoon tidying the apartment, lighting candles, and arranging pillows. Bucky had insisted on the “relaxing prelude”, wine, a movie, just easing into the atmosphere. But you could tell, just by the way he kept glancing at the clock, at the door, how utterly thrilled he was. He barely settled on the couch before a light knock came abruptly.

Bucky was up in a flash, a wide grin stretching across his face, a look she realized hadn't been directed at her in a while. He threw open the door without a second's hesitation, and there she was. Nat had to admit she looked beautiful. She wore a cute, slightly sheer blouse and a denim skirt that showed off her legs.

“I come bearing gifts,” Y/N said, as she lifted up a bottle of deep red wine. Bucky’s favorite, Nat noted, the detail stinging more than it should. Y/N's gaze lingered on Bucky longer than Nat liked, a shared smile passing between them that felt like a secret whispered over Nat’s head.

Nat swallowed as she forced a smile. "Y/N, so glad you could make it,”

Y/N’s smile widened, not quite reaching her eyes as she stepped over the threshold, already moving towards Bucky. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," she chirped, and without a moment's pause, she reached out for Bucky, her hand resting on his arm.

Bucky chuckled. "Perfect timing, as always. You want to open this, or should I?" He took the bottle from Y/N, his fingers brushing hers, and the simple contact made Nat’s eye twitch.

"You do the honors, Buck," Y/N said, her eyes still locked on him. "I'll grab some glasses." She turned, finally, her gaze flicking over Nat with a brief glance, before heading towards the kitchen as if she already knew the layout of the apartment better than Nat herself.

︶︶︶︶༉

The third glass of wine tasted like vinegar in Natasha's mouth. She watched, her knuckles white around the stem, as her boyfriend leaned across the coffee table, his gaze locked onto Y/N like she was the only one there. They’d barely finished pouring the wine, barely an hour since Y/N arrived, and the air was already thick with a tension Natasha had not signed up for. Bucky hadn’t even pretended to watch the movie previews; his eyes kept straying, his knee bouncing with restless energy directed at his best friend. Regret pricked at Natasha’s insides.

"Soooo..." Bucky finally tore his eyes from Y/N’s laughing face, turning to Natasha for the first time since Y/N arrived. "You ready, doll?" he asked.

Natasha’s throat tightened. Ready?

Y/N grinned, biting her plump lower lip in a gesture Natasha instantly knew that drove Bucky crazy. "Oh, I’ve been ready since you texted the idea, Buck" she purred, her eyes sparkling as they met Bucky’s.

Natasha forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. "Yeah… okay," she managed, her voice thankfully steady despite the tremor in her hands. She hated how eager Y/N sounded.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He stood, reaching first for Y/N’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, then turning to grasp Natasha’s with noticeably less fervor. He led them wordlessly down the short hallway to his bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing Natasha in with the suffocating reality.

Bucky walked straight to the edge of the bed. He sat down heavily, legs sprawled wide open in a blatant display of dominance. His eyes, hooded and dark with intent, scanned both women standing before him, but lingered longest on Y/N. He began unbuttoning his dark Henley, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

"Why don't you kiss each other?" Bucky commanded, his voice a low rasp. It wasn’t a question; it was an order.

Y/N suddenly became shy, her gaze dropping to the worn carpet. Forcing her thoughts to the back of her mind, Natasha closed the small distance. She cupped Y/N’s chin firmly, tilting her face up. Before hesitation could paralyze her, Natasha pressed her lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was stiff, unfamiliar, lips meeting lips with little warmth. But beside them, Bucky groaned, deep and guttural. Natasha heard the distinct rustle of fabric as he shoved off his clothes completely.

Fueled by Bucky’s reaction, Natasha deepened the kiss slightly, her tongue darting tentatively against Y/N’s. Y/N responded, softening, her hands finding Natasha’s waist. Bucky surged up from the bed, moving behind Natasha. His hands felt impersonal as he peeled her fitted black top over her head, then made quick work of her bra clasp. Cool air hit Natasha’s skin, followed by the heat of Bucky’s palms sliding over her bare breasts. He squeezed, his thumbs brushing her nipples, but his attention wasn’t on her.

"Take her clothes off, Nat," Bucky instructed, as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. Natasha glanced at him. He was completely naked now, his impressive erection jutting up proudly, thick and flushed. Precum glistened at the tip. Natasha’s eyes darted to Y/N, who was staring at Bucky’s cock, her lips parted, swallowing visibly. Another sharp pang of jealousy hit her.

"Go slow," Bucky commanded again, his eyes fixed not on Natasha undressing Y/N, but on Y/N’s face. His right hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, his gaze hungry as he watched Y/N’s reactions.

Natasha’s stomach plummeted, but she obeyed. She reached for the hem of Y/N’s blouse, pulling it up and over her head. Underneath was a lace bralette. Natasha unhooked it with numb fingers, letting it fall away. Bucky’s pumping hand sped up, his breathing growing heavier. Y/N’s breasts were better than hers, and Bucky’s rapt stare felt like a physical violation.

Once Y/N stood in just her panties, Bucky was off the bed again. He moved past Natasha as if she were furniture, closing the distance with Y/N. He framed her face with both hands. "Beautiful," he breathed, spoken with reverence Natasha had never heard directed at her. Then he kissed Y/N.

It wasn't a kiss Natasha recognized. It was hungry and passionate. Bucky’s hands sliding down Y/N’s back to cup her ass, pulling her flush against his naked body. He kissed her with an admiration, a desperation that made Natasha feel invisible. He hadn't kissed her like that… ever.

As if suddenly remembering Natasha existed, Bucky broke the kiss, leaving Y/N breathless and flushed. He turned, grabbed Natasha’s hips, and kissed her too. It was fast, his lips mashing against hers, devoid of the fire he’d just shown Y/N. It was over before Natasha could even react. Bucky suddenly grabbed both women around the waist and propelled them backwards onto the bed. Y/N giggled, the sound grating on Natasha’s ears.

Before Bucky could descend on Y/N, Natasha acted. Pushing past the hurt, she shoved Y/N flat onto her back and lowered her head between Y/N’s spread thighs. She pressed her mouth against the damp lace of Y/N’s panties, licking roughly through the fabric. Y/N gasped, arching off the mattress, her hands immediately tangling in Natasha’s red hair. "Oh God, Nat!" she moaned.

Natasha angled her hips back, presenting herself to Bucky, silently demanding his attention. She felt vindication when his hands settled on her hips. He got the memo. But he didn't kiss her neck or whisper praise as he usually did. Instead, his fingers slid roughly between her thighs, finding her wetness.

Two fingers plunged inside her without preamble, stretching her, curling against her inner walls. Natasha moaned into Y/N’s core, the sensation familiar but hollow without his passion. She focused on Y/N’s gasps, trying to lose herself in the act.

But she missed the reaction of Bucky. His fingers moved inside her mechanically, his gaze fixed not on her, but over her shoulder, locked onto Y/N’s face. He was watching Y/N’s reactions, listening to Y/N’s moans, timing his thrusts to Y/N’s gasps. Y/N stared back at him, her eyes glazed with lust. That Natasha missed.

After a few more pumps inside Natasha, Bucky pulled his fingers out with a wet squelch. His hand slapped Natasha’s ass hard, causing it to sting. He pulled her body away from Y/N. Natasha stumbled sideways onto the mattress, blinking away the sting in her eyes as much as the one on her skin.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He positioned himself between Y/N’s thighs, hooking her knees over his arms. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside Y/N. Deep. Unprotected.

No. No, this couldn’t be right. They always used a condom. Always. That was one of their rules.

Natasha’s eyes widened in horror. "Bucky!" she gasped, scrambling onto her knees. "A condom!"

Bucky’s response was a ragged, embarrassingly loud groan that shuddered through his entire frame. He didn't pause. His hips pistoned, driving into Y/N with deep, punishing strokes that made her cry out. "Huh? Oh fuck..." he gasped, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes glued to where his cock disappeared into Y/N. "...Babe, sorry." He didn’t sound sorry. He didn't stop. Not for a second. He couldn’t even pull out?

He leaned down over Y/N, his chest pressing against hers. "You'll give me this, won't you?" he pleaded to Nat, but against her lips, his voice with a need utterly unfamiliar to Natasha. He didn’t truly care for his girlfriend's answer. Y/N, a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, slid her hands over Bucky’s sweat-slicked abs.

"So good!" Y/N panted.

Bucky kissed her again, while his hips slammed relentlessly into her. Natasha watched, frozen, as her boyfriend fucked his best friend with a passion she'd never inspired. Bucky then braced himself differently, tucking his feet under his knees. He sat up, pulling Y/N’s hips higher, changing the angle. His thrusts became piston-like. Y/N screamed, her back arching off the bed, her eyes rolling back.

"Thank you!" Bucky suddenly roared, his head snapping towards Natasha. His eyes were wildly desperate. "Thank you for letting me fuck her! Fuck! Thank you!" Then his gaze snapped back to Y/N, his hands flying to her bouncing breasts. He squeezed and kneaded them, pinching her nipples hard, making her cry out. One hand slid down her trembling belly, his thumb finding her swollen clit. He rubbed tight, fast circles.

Y/N shattered. "BUCKY!" she screamed, her entire body locking, thighs clamping around his waist, inner muscles visibly pulsing around his cock buried deep inside her. Her orgasm was violent.

Bucky watched her come apart. "Oh fuck," he gasped, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Oh, I'm gonna cum... gonna cum deep in this perfect pussy..." He slammed home one final, brutal time, his body locking rigidly over Y/N’s. A groan tore from his chest as he emptied himself inside her, pulsing, flooding her unprotected depths. He collapsed onto her, shuddering, his face buried in her neck, whispering words Natasha couldn't hear. She just watched, frozen in place, a silent observer in her own bed, as he spilled inside Y/N.

“She didn’t cum,” Y/N said, catching her breath pulling Bucky’s head up slightly. Nat felt mortified. He hadn't even remembered she was there, let alone the crucial detail of her own satisfaction in this… You know threesome. Y/N then pushed Bucky off of her and climbed towards Nat. At this point, Nat didn’t even want to do this anymore. She wanted Y/N to leave. She wanted to be alone with Bucky, to understand what had just happened. But Y/N crawled towards her and gently pushed her down, spreading Nat’s legs.

Nat couldn’t help the reluctant moan that escaped her lips as Y/N’s warm, wet mouth descended, her tongue beginning to eat her out. It was good, technically. Y/N knew what she was doing, twirling her tongue expertly on Nat’s clit, sending electric jolts through her. But the pleasure felt… distant. Her eyes were fixated on Bucky. The entire time, he was getting hard again. She noticed him bite his lip, a familiar tell, before he crawled behind Y/N again. He got hard again? Usually, when Bucky came, it was hard for him to get hard again so quickly. But he was doing it now. For Y/N. Why? That why only caused Nat to feel even more insecure about herself again.

She watched as her boyfriend grabbed Y/N’s hips, pulling her onto her knees, and then, without hesitation, he shoved his face between her legs. Y/N let out a moan, a sound of pleasure that resonated in Nat’s own pussy as the vibrations from Y/N’s body, pressed against her, added to her reluctant pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. Out of a sudden, surge of jealousy, Nat grabbed a handful of Y/N’s hair and shoved her face deeper into her pussy an attempt to reclaim some control of some part of this experience.

Nat watched, her vision partially obscured, as Bucky began to fist his cock frantically. He ate from Y/N’s asshole to her clit with wild abandon. Y/N moaned wildly and uninhibitedly, and Nat could tell Bucky wanted to hear those noises unrestricted.. He got on his knees, his eyes gleaming as he shoved his cock inside Y/N, fucking her with his own cum as lube for the second time that night. Y/N screamed, a piercing cry that vibrated inside Nat’s hole, still being stimulated by Y/N.

Bucky grabbed Y/N’s hair pulling her head back and making her arch her back while he fucked her relentlessly, not caring that Nat hadn't cum yet, not caring about anything but the woman beneath him. Y/N made eye contact with Nat, her eyes unfocused, glazed over, as she was getting completely destroyed by her boyfriend. Nat watched as Bucky fucked her with such focus, such clear and undeniable pleasure, that it soured her further, curdling in her stomach.

“You’re gonna make me cum again, Buck!” Y/N yelled, causing Bucky to smirk. He fucked her harder and faster driving her to the edge. Y/N, still focused on him, then sloppily inserted two fingers into Nat as she tried to maintain her balance while being fucked brutally by Bucky. Nat watched as Y/N’s eyes went crossed, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her body bucked and seized.

She watched as they both came together, a synchronized release, and how Bucky came inside of her again, completely lost in Y/N.

Y/N then began to fuck Nat with her fingers and suck her clit, that forced an orgasm out of Nat. It was intense, almost painful in its forced nature. But as soon as Nat’s body shuddered with release, Bucky pulled Y/N in for a deep, lingering kiss, his lips still shiny and wet from their shared pleasure.

Then, as if Nat were an afterthought, he turned his head. His eyes, still hazy with lust, found Nat’s lips, and he gave her a quick, almost dismissive peck. “Thanks, babe,” he mumbled, his voice already fading into weariness. And then, without another word, he rolled off Y/N, pulling Nat down with him to lie next to him.

“Let’s go to sleep, baby,” Bucky murmured, already half-asleep, his arm slung loosely over Nat’s waist. He didn't even care if he got his own girlfriend off. This has never happened in other threesomes before. Bucky always made sure she was satisfied, always checked in. He didn’t seem to care about anything but the lingering warmth of the woman next to him, the woman he’d just so thoroughly enjoyed. Nat just stared at the ceiling, naked and burning.

She watched Y/N, all sated and content, pull herself into her boyfriend’s side under the covers. She snuggled close, her head resting on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky, in his slumber, turned over and pulled her impossibly tighter, burying his face in her hair. Nat forced herself to lie down, pulling the sheet up to her chin, her back turned to both of them.

︶︶︶︶༉

To be honest, Nat wasn't surprised when she woke up later, in the dead of the night, to the sounds of moans and the movement of the bed, the headboard knocking faintly against the wall. Not after last night's performance. Nat turned around, a single tear escaping her eye as she watched.

Bucky was on top of Y/N, her lying on her stomach, one leg casually kicked to the side, her ass covered in cum. A tell-tale sign they had been at it for a while, long before Nat had even stirred. Y/N’s head turned slightly to look at him, her mouth an ‘o’ shape as she moaned under him. Bucky leaned over her, his hands balled into fists on either side of her head, his hips driving into her with heavy, ball-deep thrusts that resonated through the mattress.

She could see the thickness of Y/N's cream on his cock and some dripping onto the white sheets of their bed. The sound of skin slapping skin was aggressive, almost animalistic. He fucked her with a vigor she had never seen. He never responded to her in such a way.

Nat couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears streamed down her face as she watched her boyfriend have no regard for her or for the space she occupied on their bed. He looked at Y/N as if she were a goddess, as if she were his entire world, his eyes glazed over with a passionate intensity Nat rarely saw aimed at her anymore. A tremor shook her to get up. Nat shakily rose up from the bed. They didn't seem to hear it, or if they did, they didn't care. She stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Yet, she could still hear their moans, faint but still present, seeping through the thin wood. With trembling hands, she turned the shower on, letting the hot water stream over her body, hoping it would wash away the humiliation. She clutched her arms around herself, trying to figure out how she should react to this.

"It's just a threesome," Nat whispered to the steam, trying desperately to comfort herself. She stood there, unmoving, until the water finally turned lukewarm, then cold. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave the small sanctuary.

Hours crawled by. She sat huddled on the floor, wrapped in a large bath towel, knees drawn to her chest. The house remained silent, no longer filled with the sounds of....her. She listened intently, straining to hear any sign that Bucky might be looking for her or might realize she was missing from their bed. But there was nothing. No calls or soft knocks on the door. Her heart tightened at that.

Then, just as the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky outside the small bathroom window, she heard the click of the front door closing. Finally. She left.

Nat slowly uncurled herself. Her limbs felt stiff from hours of immobility. She wrapped the towel tighter around her shaking body. The floor felt icy beneath her bare feet as she pushed open the bathroom door, stepping into the now quiet apartment.

The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air. Her eyes widened, focusing on the kitchen. At the stove, Bucky stood. He was humming while flipping bacon in a pan, a picture of a man more than satisfied. His back was to her, oblivious. He even swayed his hips slightly to an unheard rhythm. He never danced.

"Hey, babe," he said, without even turning. He flipped a piece of bacon, then finally glanced over his shoulder, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Breakfast is almost ready! I was just thinking of making us some eggs too—"

His words trailed off. That stupid grin faltered, replaced by confusion as his eyes landed on her. He saw the shaking and her tear-streaked face.

"What's wrong, babe?" he asked, his tone losing its cheerfulness, the spatula clattering onto the counter as he dropped it and took a step towards her. His brow furrowed in confusion.

Nat’s lip trembled. She stared at him, the sight of his apparent obliviousness enraged her. "What's wrong? Bucky? Really? What's wrong?" Her voice was hoarse from the crying. "I was like fucking chopped liver! What the hell was that?!"

Bucky stopped a few feet from her, his hands hovering awkwardly. "What are you talking about, Nat? Last night? We had a great time... didn't we? I thought you were into it." He says, still looking utterly bewildered.

"Into it?" Nat practically scoffed, her voice rising now. "I mean... You didn't even care if I came! You just... you just went off with her! Like I wasn't even there! I was in the bed, Bucky, right there! And you practically ignored me for half the night, then you just... You just kept going with Y/N after I fell asleep! Or after I pretended to fall asleep, because I couldn't bear to watch you practically worship her!"

His confusion slowly morphed into defensiveness. "Whoa, whoa, Nat, that's not fair! We were all just having fun. Babe, you know how these sorts of things go. They can get... intense. I got carried away, okay? I wasn't trying to ignore you, I was just... being in the moment."

"You were on her, Bucky. You were looking at her like she was the only person in the room! And I was right there! I heard you. You didn't even notice I was gone from the bed this morning, did you?"

He winced, finally looking a little guilty. "Okay, look, I'm sorry about that, babe. I really am. But Nat, it was just sex. You know that. Y/N's my best friend, she's amazing, but it was just... a kinky night. Nothing more." He took another step, reaching for her, but she flinched away.

"Then why did it feel like you completely forgot about me? Like a prop for your fantasy with her?" Her voice trembled.

"No! Never!" Bucky insisted, finally closing the distance between them and gently taking her shaking hands in his. "Nat, come on, you're my girlfriend. You're the one I love. Y/N is a good friend, that's it. It was just a wild night. I was into it, she was into it, you were into it at first, too, right? It was just... explosive. Sometimes that happens. It doesn't mean anything about my feelings for you. It's just physical."

"But it felt so... personal," Nat whispered, barely audible.

"Natasha, look at me," he insisted, his thumbs stroking the back of her hands. "There is no connection like that with Y/N. Not like I have with you. What we had last night was a one-off thing, a bit of fun between friends, for us. It was for our enjoyment, all three of us. If I got too focused on her for a moment, I am truly sorry. I genuinely didn't mean to make you feel excluded. I was just... lost in the moment, you know how it gets."

Could it be true? Could she have misread it? Her heart ached for him to be right, for it to be just a misunderstanding, a moment of passion that got carried away, meaning nothing more than what he said.

"Are you... are you really sure?" she mumbled. "You really don't feel anything for her? Like... romantically?"

"Absolutely not," he said immediately. " Y/N and I are just friends. We've known each other forever. But you're my girl, Nat. You're the one, babe." He took a step closer, looking her in the eyes.

She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. The alternative was too painful to contemplate. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was overreacting, letting her insecurities get the better of her. He chose her. He was making breakfast for them. He was apologizing.

Nat finally nodded. "Okay," she whispered fragily. "Okay, Bucky. I... I believe you." A part of her still harbored doubt for his words, an image of him on top of Y/N briefly flashed in her mind, but she pushed it down, deep, deep down. She wanted this to be true more than anything. She would make it true. If he said it was nothing, then it was nothing. It had to be.

︶︶︶︶༉

Things between Nat and Bucky had not been the same since that night. Bucky was on his phone more often, smiling at the screen. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off between them. He'd been distant, coming home later and later, and spending more time on his phone than ever before. Nat tried to tell herself it was the base. Being an Avenger, the workload never really lightened; missions piled up. Of course, he’s tired. Of course, he’s glued to his comms. But the knot in her stomach tightened with each passing day.

Bucky had been gone for three days on a mission, so he'd said, without so much as a text. Nat paced around her apartment anxiously. She picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over Bucky’s name. Don’t be co-dependent. Trust him. He’s a soldier. But the truth was, she wasn’t trusting the soldier; she wasn’t trusting the man. She was trusting her gut, and it screamed, Call him.

The line rang, and when his voice finally crackled through, it was strained, rough around the edges, like he was holding something back, or holding something in.

"Nat... hey."

"Hey, babe," Nat said a little too desperately. She tried to inject all her longing into those two words. "I've missed you."

A beat of silence, then a faint rustling, like sheets shifting. Followed by a muffled hum from somewhere in his background, a sound that wasn't Bucky. Nat’s blood ran cold. The phone felt like ice in her hand. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Yeah. Me too, Nat. Just… been a crazy few days. Really slammed." His words were rushed. The rustling came again, distinct this time.

"Oh. Okay. Good to hear your voice, though," she managed, although she felt absolutely sick. She wanted to demand the truth. But she couldn't. Not over the phone, not without proof.

"Yeah, you too. Look, I gotta go, I just… landed. Need to debrief," he stammered.

"Right. Be safe. Love you," she whispered, but he’d already hung up….

Tonight was the annual Stark charity gala. Nat resolved to push her insecurities aside. I’m not going to be that girlfriend, she thought. She wore a skin-tight black dress to feel confident, but as she and Bucky entered the gala arm in arm, she couldn’t shake the gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. Y/N is going to be here.

The atmosphere was buzzing, with chatter swirling around, but Nat felt disconnected. She spotted Y/N across the room, a vision in a backless dress that hugged her every curve. Bucky’s eyes lingered on Y/N, a sparkle in his gaze that ignited jealousy within her. Why can't he look at me like that?

“Hey, you good?” Clint nudged her playfully, pulling Nat from her thoughts. She plastered on a smile, but she couldn’t help but glance back over at where Bucky and Y/N were chatting, their heads leaning slightly together as they exchanged laughter. It was as if they were pulled into their own universe.

“I’m fine,” she said reluctantly.

While Nat mingled with Vision, and Rumlow, Bucky, and Y/N seemed to vanish into the crowd. Just when she thought she would call it out, Y/N strolled back into view 30 minutes later, but the look Y/N shot her was strange. It made Nat feel things she would not wish on her worst enemy.

“Everything alright?” she asked Y/N, casually trying to probe.

Y/N flashed a perfect smile. “Of course! Just... catching up with Bucky."

Natasha felt her chest tighten as she forced herself to respond. “Glad to hear it!” She wished she could believe it.

Later that evening, as they entered their apartment, she noticed that Bucky hadn’t made a move to kiss her the way he usually did. Instead, he melted into the couch, eyes glued to his phone.

After that, she decided she wouldn’t be the insecure girlfriend who just stayed home, waiting. No, not Nat. She decided to dress up, choosing a new dress that se bought just for her man, then grabbed Bucky’s favorite take-out. She was going to surprise him at the office.

She ascended in the private elevator. The higher she went, the more the general office chatter faded. It wasn’t until she stepped out onto Bucky’s floor, turning down the familiar corridor to his private office, that she started to hear sounds. A familiar groan. Her stomach clenched. And then, unmistakable, Y/N’s moans.

Nat slowed, the moans grew louder, more desperate, intertwined with the slap of flesh on flesh. She knew that sound. Knew it well. Dread wrapped around her. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, the plastic bag with the takeout slipping slightly in her grasp. The sounds amplified with terrifying clarity now.

She pushed the door open. Bent over her boyfriend’s desk was Y/N. She was facing the door, her hips thrusting back with each powerful stroke from Bucky behind her. Her eyes were closed, a blissed out expression on her face as she moaned, her head thrown back. His hands were fisted in her hair, pulling her head back further, exposing the delicate line of her neck. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist, her blouse open, displaying her breasts, spilled and heaving with each thrust.

“This pussy is mine, yeah?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, a sound yet again that Nat had never heard from him before. He watched Y/N, utterly absorbed in her. “Gonna breed this pussy, gonna get you fucking pregnant,” he grunted, slamming into her again.

Pregnant. The word was like a blade that sliced through her mind, a reminder of everything she could never be. Y/n only moaned in response.

They didn’t notice Nat until the plastic bag slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor.

Both of them froze. Y/n’s head snapped up, her gaze locking with Nat’s. Bucky’s eyes, still glazed with lust, followed hers. Nat could tell they were on the very precipice of climax. Unluckily for her, Y/n, caught in the sudden shock, instinctively thrust back onto Bucky, causing him to groan, with a reluctant and mind-blowing climax, all while looking directly into his girlfriend’s horrified eyes.

Nat stood, rooted to the spot, shaking so violently she thought her bones might splinter. She didn’t know what to do. She watched, mesmerized by the horror, as Bucky pulled out of Y/N. Y/N winced, as Nat’s eyes focused on his softening cock, glistening with Y/N’s cum, before he buckled up.

Bucky slowly approached Nat, his arms raised slightly, like he was approaching a scared, feral cat. At least he has the decency to look guilty.

“Look, Nat, I’m… I’m sorry you had to catch us like this,” Bucky said.

That’s what he’s sorry about? Nat thought, a bitter laugh dying in her throat. Not that it happened, but that she saw it? She glanced back at Y/N, who was now casually fixing herself up, adjusting her skirt, buttoning her blouse, smoothing her hair. So unconcerned, like she hadn’t just played a starring role in the destruction of Nat’s relationship, like she hadn’t just murdered Nat’s self-esteem. Y/n was about to walk out, slipping past Bucky, when Nat’s voice caused her to pause.

“Do you not even feel guilty? You homewrecker?” Nat spat venomously. Her heart broke all over again when she saw Bucky instinctively move, stepping in front of Y/N, shielding her from Nat’s wrath.

Y/n paused behind Bucky, her eyes scanning across Nat’s face. There was a hint of guilt, but it left as soon as it arrived.

“It was always gonna be me, Natasha,” Y/N said, irritatingly calm. “You were there for him when he needed it.”

Nat blinked at her words spacing out whatever else she had to say. Always gonna be me. She was right the entire time. Bucky’s words be damned. She had been a placeholder.

“Listen, Nat,” Bucky began, his voice apologetic, “we haven’t been working out for a while. You know that.”

Nat stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time, stripped bare of all the love and trust she’d poured into him. He was a coward. She looked past him to Y/N, who met her gaze with that same, infuriatingly serene expression. The one that said, I won.

Nat didn’t say another word. She turned on her heel, leaving the smell of takeout and betrayal behind her. She walked out of that office, out of that building, and out of their lives without looking back.

And after the breakup, Nat couldn’t say she was even surprised when she got a wedding invitation eight months later in the mail from Bucky and Y/N. She wasn’t surprised when she heard, three months after that, from the team, that Y/N was pregnant. And she certainly wasn’t surprised when Bucky and Y/N were still together 10 years later, their perfect little family unfolding as if it had been promised.

Because deep down, she knew. She had always known. They were meant to be together. And she had simply been in the way.

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cosmicrhetoric · 2 years ago

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im trying to exit my hater era re: YA like i have better things to do with my time but by simply being brown and following some book accounts i have been getting nonstop press for that book that's being marketed as like desi fantasy watched jodha akbar jashne bahara once enemies to lovers dupatta caught on some white boy's wrist shyamalan era firebending book and let me tell you. you couldn't pay meeeeeeee

#omg. wait i googled this was the book with the really really rough diaspora character names #literally i get it. im diaspora myself i get how certain aesthetics can drag you in but u let a girls dupatta get caught on some blonde boy #don't want it to show up in the tag so i don't want to mention the title but there's only so much desi ya fantasy out there #a friend of mine who isn't a big reader and her fantasy enthusiast bf read it and like actually genuinely hated it tho #like both of them and they never agree on lit

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f1fantasys · 3 months ago

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Hi Love! Im thinking of reader x Lando, reader needs reminding that Lando has only eyes for her and not Magui like the media and Magui have said? Reader acts bratty about it but Lando can see that it's just hidden insecurity and needing reassuring. Maybe possibly alittle spit play? And possibly Lando saying something like 'I've only ever done you raw, noone else knows how it feels to have me dripping down their thighs' or something like that? Rough as too and squirting too?

Thankyou so much 💓

What about her?

Warnings - filthy smut, minors DNI, fingering, oral sex, spit play, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum play, swearing, use of the word slut

A/N - hope you enjoyed this anon!

You had been hooking up with Lando for close to a year now. It wasn’t planned, but rather a drunken night leading to more nights spent together during race weekends, and before you both knew it, it was the new norm.

Nothing was ever labeled, it wasn’t exclusive. You were both young and had agreed to see others, as long as you were both clean.

Recently though, it was becoming harder and harder to see how Lando’s friendship(?) with Magui seemed to resurface. They were seen out more and more, especially back home in Monaco every other other weekend, and although you had no right to, hell, you didn’t even plan to, the feeling of jealousy was slowly creeping in.

You’d never once felt jealous about seeing lando hooking up with others during the course of the year, but something with the way he was when pictured with Magui hit slightly different. He had that effortless smile, corners of his lips tugging upwards as his body language seemed so easy, so comfortable, standing closer to her than you’d have liked him to. Often, your mind spiraled as to what they did behind closed doors. Did he kiss her like his life depended on it, like he did with you? Do that thing with his tongue around her nipples and on her clit? Were his calloused fingers thick through her hole? Did fuck her like he fucked you? Hard and rough? Or better? Or was he slow and gentle with her? Did he make her cum multiple times through the night? That was something you definitely got the night before a race. And then did he finish inside her, or on her tits?

You had it bad, in case you hadn’t noticed.

You hadn’t seen Lando for 3 weeks now, your job permitting you to work from the MTC rather than being present at the triple headers, and everyday you willed yourself not to over think things, not to make this a bigger thing than what it was. You tried to be your usual self in front of him, but without really realizing it, you were in fact distancing yourself. Your texts were less frequent, and your calls, often FaceTiming to get each other off, were quick, not the usual catch ups you both were used to.

Lando had told you to come spend the weekend with him in Monaco before the next double header started. And being desperate to see him, you’d agreed before giving yourself a chance to over think things.

You found yourself in his apartment, waiting for him to come home as once again he gossip pages on instagram were having a blast, dissecting every picture ever of Lando and Magui, pin pointing every detail as to why they were sure to be in a relationship.

Too lost in your thoughts, you jumped in your seat on the couch when the door opened. Lando walked in, looking exhausted, but beautiful as ever. His face lit up when he spotted you, the biggest smile gracing his face and he let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

You too, butterflies waking up in your tummy at the sight of him, let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

‘Fucking finally’ he said softly, walking up to you and wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you tightly, taking in a deep breath as his face hid in your hair. You did the same, hugging him back equally as tight as you stood on your tippy toes, your fingers playing with the curls on his head.

‘Well done on both wins Lan, you deserve them’ you said, knowing he was beating himself up over the fact that he wasn’t even in the points for the third race, McLaren fucking up his strategy once again.

He pulled back, eyes shades darker making your chest heave with anticipation, too many thoughts taking over your mind in a matter of 10 seconds - Lando, how hard he was on himself, his relationship with you, Magui, everything came rushing up as you feared you’d said the wrong thing.

‘Don’t wanna talk about the race. Just want you. Please’ he said, eyes softening but still holding a bucket of lust in them.

You could feel a part of you self withdrawn compared to how you were when he first walked through the door. All of a sudden the pictures of him and Magui were at the forefront. But another part of you was relieved, he still wanted you, your body. You craved him as much as he craved you.

‘You have me’ you whispered, not sure what the hell you meant by that but before you could contemplate any further, Lando crashed his lips to yours, kissing you with such force that all the air was knocked out of your body, his tongue quickly sliding into your mouth as his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

You whimpered at the feeling of his hard on, grinding yourself against him as you pulled back to take a breath, his hips moving down to your neck as you let out shallow gasps, clutching your body to his front.

Soon both your clothes were on the floor, Lando hoisting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. At the minute, the room seemed too far away, and so you hissed as he set your ass down on the cool kitchen counter top, stepping between your legs. He continued attacking your neck as your hands found his girth, giving him a few pumps before he sent you a warning. ‘Nights’ gonna fucking end early you carry on, love.’ He said, pulling your hands away and placing them on your boobs, then pushing your upper body down to lay on the counter.

You followed his steps, massages your breasts as desperation took over your body as he finally spread your legs wider apart, leaning his weight onto one of them, while the thumb of his left other hand left a hot trail from your thigh all the way to your dripping cunt. You looked down at him, seeing the way his tongue wet his lips, eyes focused on the task at hand as he let this finger linger where you needed him the most.

‘Look at you, dripping for me like this’ he murmured.

Your back arched as he slid his thumb through your slick folds, breath hitching when he leaned forward to let a hot strip of spit drop down his mouth down to your core.

‘Fuck Lan, please’ you begged, body getting jittery with impatience.

‘Gonna take my time with you, got you to myself for a whole 48 hours babygirl’ he said softly, still concentrating on his actions as your body writhed under his hold.

He spat another lot of spit on you, making you jump at the contact before he finally, finally found your clit, giving it just the right pint of pressure, eventually sinking his middle finger through your hole.

You gasped, a guttural moan leaving your body as he set a quick pace, adding in a second finger as your hands found his hair, pulling at it harshly. He was nudging your G-spot repeatedly, not going easy on you one bit.

‘Fuck me. Yes Lan’ you praised his name, shutting your eyes as you knew it would take him long to make you cum.

It was when you felt his tongue on you though that had you trembling in his arms. Your fingers still clutching his hair tightly as you came all over his face and hands, lewd moans filling the room.

Lando pulled back, his own chest heaving and he licked his lips and fingers clean of your juices. You watched on as he took his dick in his hands, spitting down on himself this time, spreading it all over before he pulled you back to the edge of the counter, one hand holding your one thigh open, while the other lined himself up at your entrance.

You sat up, bracing your hands on his shoulders, but not before giving him a sloppy kiss, tongues battling each other as he slid into your cunt with a single thrust.

Breaking the kiss for air, he hid his face in your neck, his breath hot, sending shivers down your sweat clad body as he started to move, pulling out almost completely before ramming into you again and again, obscene moans leaving both your mouths.

Your nails scratched a path down his back, making Lando hiss at the feeling as he sped up his pace, your foreheads now resting against each others’, breaths mingling.

‘Fuck I missed this tight little cunt of yours, takes me so fucking well’ he moaned, fingers pinching at your nipples as you wrapped your legs around his middle, making hit you deeper.

As high as you felt, those pictures were still lingering at the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away, and without really realizing it, your whole mood changed, body stiffening and Lando was quick to notice the change.

He slowed his movements, still continuing to thrust into you but gentler this time. He cupped your face, worried he might have been hurting you. You, on the other hand, weren’t even phased by his slowing down.

‘Babe?’ He questioned. But your focus was clearly somewhere else.

‘Y/n’ he said, pulling out of you completely, seriously losing his shit because what did he do so wrong? He wondered. It wasn’t until he slid out completely that you came back to reality, eyes widening.

‘Huh?’ You asked, completely oblivious, and looking down to see Lando’s softening dick as he cupped himself, both your faces flushed.

‘You zoned out. Did I hurt you?’ He asked.

‘I-no. I’m sorry I-we can go again’ you said, already trying to take him into your hands and line him up, but he ever so subtly stopped you.

‘We’re not going again y/n, what’s up?’ He asked, knowing there was something bugging you.

Your cheeks heated up at his question, you really didn’t feel like having this conversation right now., watching as he walked over to the pile of clothes to slide his boxers on.

‘No nothings wrong. Just tired. Busy’ you said softly, suddenly feeling too exposed.

‘You know I can always tell when you’re lying right? I’m right here. Talk to me. One second you’re letting me fuck you then the next your mind is a million miles away.’ He said, helping you into your own clothes.

‘I’m ok. Promise’ you said, giving his lips a quick peck and jumping off the counter.

You were glad he didn’t push you, just needing some more time to think things through and make sure you weren’t over reacting to the whole situation.

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on the couch, a slight tension in the air but your bodies glued together like they belonged there.

Going to bed was awkward as fuck. Normally before sleeping, it would another round, or lando eating you out, with you blowing him as well. Not tonight though. A few words spoken, and lando spooned you from behind, giving you a few kisses on your neck.

…

At some point in the night, you stirred, eyes shooting open as confusion took over your body. You took a few seconds to gather your whereabouts, while Lando’s arm around your waist tightened.

You shifted, wanting to turn around to face him, when you felt it. His hard on pressing against your back, throbbing.

While your mind was still fuzzy with lots of emotions, your cunt had other ideas. Sliding down your panties as best you could, you pushed one leg forward, lining lando up perfectly, before sinking backwards, letting him slide through your pussy with ease.

You moaned, louder than you’d intended to, when Lando’s hands instinctively took a hold of your waist, holding you ever so tightly as he thrust himself back before plummeting forward again, slamming himself into you. He leaned forward, leaving open mouthed kisses along your back and neck, letting out his own grunts which you were sure you cum just from listening too.

‘Fuck Lan, please don’t stop’ you pleased, knowing you both needed the release you failed to follow through with earlier.

Before you knew it you were flat on your back, Lando hovering above you as the moonlight shone on his face beautifully. His eyes were dark, full of lust.

He carried on with his pace, hard, raw, when he spoke, voice soft compared to the dirty he was doing to you.

‘Wanna tell me what’s got your thinking so hard?’ He asked, leaning down he peck your forehead.

You hesitated, but something in the way he was handling you right now, something about him told you it was okay to say it.

‘I-‘ 68) started, then turned your head to look away.

Lando was quick to bring his hand up to your face, turning it back towards him.

‘Don’t shut me out, tell me’ he said softly, still thrusting in and out of you but at a brutally slow pace now as your walls clenched painfully around him.

You looked him in the eyes, a single word spilling out before you could stop it.

‘Magui’ you whispered.

He stopped his movements completely, but didn’t pull out.

‘I’m fucking you and you’re thinking of her?’

‘Do-do you like her..like that?’

‘Fuck me. Like her? I spend all of one afternoon with her, now and then, couldn’t give a flying fuck about feeling anything towards her’ he said, face contorted in shock, disgust even.

You don’t know where you found the confidence from, but you weee glad you did.

‘I see the pictures. You look..happy together, a- and what about the other gir -‘ you started but he cut you off. ‘Happy? Yeah she’s an acquaintance, but whatever. I’m fucking happy when I with YOU’ he said very matter of fact, quickly catching on to what you were trying to say.

You started quiet, trying to shift to create some friction because you weee going to fucking explode.

‘Y/n, baby look at me’ he said sternly.

You did as you were told.

‘Her, them, mean fuck all to me. Baby you’re the only one I do raw. Do you think I let them feel me like this’ he started moving again, slowly still, ‘fuck them like I do you? Do you think I cum deep inside them and then let it drip down their thighs like I do yours?’ He asked, pace quickening with every word he said.

‘Oh and get this. I’ve not once fucked her. The others were a means of distraction because I couldn’t have you. Used to close my eyes and imagine it was your cunt i was fucking’ he said, making your breath hitch as the butterflies when ballistic in your stomach.

Fuck this man and his way to make you feel this way, you thought.

When you kept quiet, albeit a few moans as he was now pinching your clit, he leaned down, whispered into your ear. ‘It’s you baby, always has been. Just say the fucking word and it’s only me and you’ he said, nibbling on your ear.

His words alone through you off, your climax hitting you hard as you shook underneath him, lewd moans leaving your lips as you gushed your cum all over his dick, warm sheets of it already messing your thighs and his.

‘Ah, fuck me y/n’ he murmured, somehow picking up his speed, chasing his one high now.

Somehow, in your fucked out state, you managed to say what you’d been eager too since he’d told you he’d never fucked Magui. ‘I want you Lan, all of you’ you whispered.

He pulled back, eyes staring into yours with a darkness you don’t think you’d seen before.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you said, a single tear running down your cheek.

Lando was quick to kiss the tear away, you heard him mumble a ‘thank fuck,’ more to himself. Then, he was a man possessed.

‘Gonna let me cum in you, as always, yeah?’

You have no idea what you do to me baby, I’m gonna fucking ruin you tonight.

‘Gonna fuck you like you’re only my slut now, yeah? No one else’s?’

‘God, Lan, give me your cum. Please’ you pleaded, already feeling another orgasm approaching.

‘Gonna let me fill you up? One day make a fucking baby together?’ He asked, voice rougher than ever.

That one thought - the one that had you thinking about him fucking a baby into you - that was enough to send you crashing again, violently so as you spewled your warm cum all over, creating a right mess with your trembled body and obscene grunts, clutching on to Lando’s shoulders as tight as you could.

He didn’t slow his pace on bit. His voice was shaky as he spoke. ‘Made you mine and made you squirt with minutes. Only my fucking love can do that’ he said, with each thrust getting sloppier and sloppier.

And then he let go. Ropes of hot, sticky cum shooting out his dick while he pushed it deep inside you, filling you up to the brink, his words borderline pornographic with pure filth leaving his mouth as his hips bucked into yours.

Eventually he slowed his movements, and normally he’d stay inside you for a few moments while his dick softened, but this time, breath heavy, he pulled out quickly, groaning, strong arms placing your legs high on his shoulders as he lifted your body up, you cunt coming up to level with his face.

‘Lan’ you questioned, not knowing where this was going but breath hitching when he spat spit directly onto you core, licking his lips when he saw your glistening pussy, messed with a mix of your cum, his cum, and his spit.

He used his fingers to already the sticky mixture, making a right mess of you before he man handled you to stand, going down on his knees as he spread your legs.

‘Baby look,’ he said.

‘Your dripping with my cum’

You looked down to see, already trying to squeeze your thighs shut at the sight.

‘No one’s felt you like this?’ You asked teasingly.

Lando stood up, vaporing your face with more force than necessary but not enough to hurt you.

‘No one. Only you my love’ he said, before kissing you filthy.

…

THIS PIC? HELLO?

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #lando norris #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut

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flux1563 · 3 months ago

Text

First time ft ningning.

Performance after concert part 2

Words : 3k

Tags : first time creampie, squirt

Ningning's fingers flew over the keyboard of her phone, typing out a message that sent a thrill through her body. "721," she typed, her heart racing. It was a simple code, one they had agreed upon during their frantic whispers backstage. She hit send and waited, the anticipation building with every second that ticked by. The walls of her hotel room felt like they were closing in, the silence only broken by the distant murmur of the city outside. She had never felt so alive, so...desperate.

Her phone buzzed, the notification lighting up the otherwise dark space. She grabbed it eagerly, her breath catching in her throat as she read his response. "On my way," it read, simple and to the point. The knowledge that he was coming for her, that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him, was intoxicating. She couldn't help but touch herself again, her fingers slipping under the elastic of her panties to stroke the swollen flesh that was already begging for his touch.

Ningning's room was a stark contrast to the glamour of their onstage personas. The hotel had tried to make it comfortable, but it was just a temporary cage for her desires. She paced back and forth, the plush carpet muffling her steps, her mind racing with every possible scenario that could unfold once he arrived. Would he be gentle, or would he take her roughly? Would he whisper sweet nothings in her ear, or would he growl his demands?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft knock at the door. She froze, her heart hammering in her chest like a drum. She knew it was him. With trembling hands, she made her way to the door, her breath shallow. She peered through the peephole, confirming his presence before unlocking and opening the door.

Y/N stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space before landing on her. He looked like a predator, his gaze hungry and intense. "I got your message," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "Your pussy's starving, is it?"

Ningning nodded, her voice a breathy whisper. "Yes," she admitted, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "I can't... I can't stop thinking about you."

Y/N stepped closer, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek gently. His thumb stroked her cheekbone, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he leaned in, claiming her lips in a kiss that was both possessive and tender. Ningning's eyes fluttered closed as she melted into his embrace, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

The kiss grew in intensity, his tongue delving into her mouth to dance with hers. She could feel his cock pressing against her, hard and demanding. She moaned, her hand moving to grip his shoulder for balance as she lost herself in the kiss. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life, the taste of him, the feel of him, it was everything she had ever craved.

Y/N's hand trailed down her body, his fingers skimming over her curves before finally reaching the hem of her dress. He pulled it up, the fabric whispering against her skin as it revealed her nakedness beneath. Ningning had followed his instructions to the letter, not wearing any panties in anticipation of his visit. The cool air of the room kissed her exposed flesh, making her shiver with desire.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers finding her slick folds. He teased her opening, his touch feather-light, before slipping one digit inside. Ningning gasped, her body tightening around his finger. He began to pump it in and out, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to explore her.

The room was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the faint squelch of his finger in her wetness. She could feel the tension building within her, a coil tightening with every stroke. He watched her in the mirror, his eyes dark with lust as he worked her body. She could see the smug satisfaction in his expression, the knowledge that she was his to play with.

"I'm cumming," she gasped, her voice a strangled cry of pleasure. "I'm gonna squirt all over your hand."

Her words were a siren's call to him, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers once again as he thrust two fingers deep inside her. He could feel her pussy clench around him, her body tensing as she approached the precipice. His thumb found her clit, rubbing it in fast, firm circles that sent her over the edge.

With a strangled moan, Ningning's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she squirted all over his hand. He watched in the mirror as her juices spilled out of her, soaking the bedspread beneath them. The sight was almost too much to bear, his own cock straining against his pants as he felt her come around his fingers. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so raw, and he knew he needed to be inside her.

He pulled his hand away, his fingers glistening with her arousal. Ningning's eyes were glazed with pleasure, but they snapped into focus as she felt the coldness of the room once again. "Y/N," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea. "Take me."

He didn't need to be asked twice. He turned her around, pushing her towards the large window that looked out over the glittering cityscape. The cool glass pressed against her bare skin, sending another shiver down her spine. He stepped behind her, his pants dropping to the floor with an impatient thud. His cock, now freed from its confines, stood tall and proud, ready to claim her.

He positioned himself, the tip of his cock nudging at her entrance. She could feel him, hot and hard, and she pushed back against him, eager for more. He didn't disappoint, sliding into her with one smooth stroke. She gasped, the feeling of fullness almost too intense as he filled her up completely.

He began to thrust, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that matched the pulse of the city outside. The lights from the buildings painted their bodies with a kaleidoscope of colors, turning them into living art against the dark glass. Ningning's hands gripped the edge of the windowsill, her knuckles white as she tried to keep herself upright.

With every thrust, she could feel the pressure building again. The sight of their reflection, her body impaled on his cock, was almost too much to take. She felt like a whore, a slut, and she reveled in it. The fear and shame from earlier had been replaced with a fiery lust that consumed her.

"Look at yourself," Y/N growled, his voice low and guttural. "Look at what a good little slut you are."

Ningning obeyed, her eyes locking onto their reflection in the mirror. She watched as he pounded into her, his hand coming around to squeeze her breast, his other hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her head back. She could see the desire in his eyes, the need to dominate her, to claim her in every way possible. And she loved it.

Her orgasm was a crescendo, building and building until she couldn't hold it back anymore. With a scream that was muffled by the glass, she came again, her body shaking with the force of her climax.

His grip on her hips tightened as he watched her pussy spray against the window, the fluid leaving a misty trail in the cool air. Her juices slid down the pane, creating a slick mess that only served to heighten his arousal. He didn't stop, his thrusts growing more erratic as he watched her lose control.

"Fuck, your cock is fucking big," Ningning gasped, her voice a mix of wonder and pain. "It's reaching so deep, I never imagined—"

He chuckled darkly. "You're so tight, Ningning," he groaned, his hips pumping into her. "But I'm gonna cum inside you, baby. You're gonna feel me fill you up."

Ningning's eyes widened in the mirror, a mix of fear and excitement dancing in their depths. "Y/n, no," she protested weakly, her voice trembling. "It's not my safe day."

He didn't care. He was too far gone, too consumed by the desire to claim her completely. "Shut up," he grunted, his hips moving faster, his grip on her hips tightening. "Just squirt for me, Ningning."

Her body responded to his command, her pussy clenching around his thick cock as she felt another orgasm building. She watched in the mirror as his face contorted with pleasure, his eyes never leaving hers. He was a beast, taking what he wanted without thought for her comfort, and she found herself craving more.

His grip grew tighter, his thrusts more frantic. Ningning felt a strange thrill at his loss of control, at the power she had over him. She leaned back into his embrace, her body moving in time with his, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice trembling with need, "I'm...I'm gonna...ahh..."

Her words were lost as another orgasm ripped through her, her pussy spasming around his thick shaft. She could feel him swell inside her, his own climax approaching. "Yes," he grunted, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "Take it all, Ningning."

He slammed into her, his movements growing erratic as he neared the edge. Ningning's body was a live wire of pleasure, her orgasm still pulsing through her as he picked up the pace. "I'm going to cum," he snarled, his teeth clenched with effort. "I'm going to fill you up."

Ningning's eyes widened in the mirror, a mix of fear and excitement flickering in their depths. "Y/N," she panted, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, not inside me. It's my fertility window."

But he was beyond the point of reason, driven by a primal instinct that overruled all other considerations. He thrust into her harder, his cock swelling and pulsing with the promise of his release. She could feel the warmth of his seed building, the pressure growing with every stroke.

"Ahh, it feels so good," she gasped, her words a blur as she tried to hold on to reality. "My womb so full."

His eyes met hers in the mirror, his expression a mix of pride and satisfaction. He pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices, and she watched as his semen dripped from her swollen pussy. The sight was almost too much, sending her over the edge once more. She collapsed against the window, her legs trembling uncontrollably.

He stepped back, watching her with a smug smile. "You're mine now," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "Mine to use whenever I want."

Ningning's eyes filled with tears, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. "Y/N," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Why didn't you listen to me? If I get pregnant, my career will be over."

He smug smile faded, and he reached into his bag, pulling out a small plastic bottle. "Look at this," he said, holding it up for her to see. "Contraception pills. I've been taking them for a while now, just in case."

Ningning's eyes widened in shock. "You what?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from their passionate exchanges.

"I've been taking contraception pills," Y/N repeated, his voice soothing despite the harshness of his earlier actions. "You're safe, Ningning. I would never risk your career like that."

Ningning looked up at him, her eyes still blurred with tears and lust. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Y/N."

He stepped closer, his hand cupping her cheek gently. "You don't have to thank me," he whispered, his thumb brushing away the wetness. "You're mine, and I take care of what's mine."

Ningning's heart fluttered at his words, and she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her at the thought of being claimed by him. She leaned into his touch, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Fuck me again, Y/N," she murmured, her voice needy and wanton. "I want to feel you come inside me until the morning light."

His cock twitched at her words, already hardening with desire. He knew he shouldn't push her, not so soon after their first encounter, but he couldn't resist. He pulled her back towards him, his mouth capturing hers in a fierce kiss. His hands found her hips, lifting her effortlessly onto the table once more. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He slid his cock back inside her, feeling her warmth and wetness envelop him once again. He began to move, his hips pistoning in and out with a ferocity that took Ningning's breath away. She threw her head back, her eyes closing in ecstasy as she felt him fill her completely. "Oh, god," she moaned, her voice muffled by his kiss. "It feels so good."

Her words only served to spur him on, his thrusts growing more intense. She felt her pussy clench around him, the pleasure building once more. "I've never felt this way before," she admitted, her voice a whisper against his lips. "It's like nothing I've ever known."

He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "You were made for this," he said, his voice a dark promise. "For me to fill you, to claim you."

Ningning nodded, unable to find the words to argue. Her body was singing with need, and she knew she would do anything to feel this way again. Anything to keep this secret between them.

Their eyes remained locked in the mirror as he drove into her, his movements growing more frenzied. She could feel her orgasm building, could see the tension in his face as he approached his own. "Come inside me," she begged, her voice a desperate plea. "Give me your cum."

He groaned, his eyes closing as he reached his peak. He could feel her pussy spasm around him, her walls tightening as she reached her own climax. He gave one final, powerful thrust, and with a roar, he emptied himself into her.

Their bodies remained joined for a moment, both of them panting and trembling with the intensity of their shared release. Slowly, he pulled out, the evidence of their union spilling onto the dressing room floor. He took a step back, his eyes still on her.

Ningning slid off the table, her legs wobbly. She reached down, her hand cupping her still-throbbing pussy. "It feels so empty," she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of longing and despair.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her. "You're addicted," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "And I'll be here to give you what you crave."

Ningning looked up at him, her eyes filled with a strange mix of fear and desire. She knew she was in too deep, that she had crossed a line she could never uncross. But she also knew that she didn't want to go back. This was a dangerous game they were playing, but she was ready to play it to the end.

"I've never felt so...full," she whispered, her hand still cupping her pussy. The warmth of his cum inside her was a constant reminder of their illicit encounter. "It's like...I'm complete."

His eyes lit up at her words, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek. "You are," he murmured, his voice a soft promise. "You're mine, Ningning. And I'll keep filling you until you can't take it anymore."

He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a gentle kiss. For a moment, she lost herself in the softness of his touch, the tenderness that contrasted so sharply with the roughness of their earlier passion. When he pulled away, she was left breathless and aching for more.

"But now," he said, his voice firm, "you need to rest. You have a concert tomorrow, and I want you at your best."

Ningning nodded, her body feeling both exhausted and alive with energy. She watched as he pulled on his pants, his cock still half-hard from their encounter. She couldn't help but want to reach out and touch him again, to pull him back into her embrace.

But she knew she couldn't. There was a line, and they had already crossed it. For now, she had to go back to being the professional idol, the untouchable star. Until the next time.

With one last lingering look, he opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, the sound of his footsteps fading away. Ningning was left alone in the dressing room, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of their passion. She took a deep breath, willing her legs to stop shaking. She had to get dressed, had to pretend that nothing had happened.

But she knew it wasn't that simple. Her heart was racing, her pussy still spasming with the remnants of her orgasms. She could feel his cum slowly leaking out of her, staining her underwear and the dress she hadn't even had the strength to take off. She had to clean up, had to hide the evidence.

With trembling hands, she grabbed a wipe from her bag and tried to clean herself up as best she could. The coldness of the fabric against her overheated skin made her gasp, sending fresh waves of pleasure through her. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. This couldn't happen again, she told herself. But she knew it was a lie even as the words formed in her mind.

Once she was as presentable as she could manage, she slipped her shoes back on and made her way out of the dressing room. The hallway was empty, the buzz of the stage a distant memory. She headed back to her own dressing room, her mind racing. How would she face the others? How could she pretend that everything was normal when she felt like she was walking on air?

But she had to. For the sake of the group, for the sake of her career, she had to push these thoughts aside. She had to be the Ningning they all knew and loved, the one who was always ready with a smile and a joke, the one who never let anything get her down.

When she reached her dressing room, she took one last deep breath before opening the door. The others were there, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. "Are you okay?" Winter asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

Ningning forced a smile, her voice steady. "I'm fine," she said, "just a little tired. I'm going to lie down for a bit before tomorrow's rehearsals."

They nodded, accepting her excuse without question. They had all been there, pushing themselves too hard, too focused on their performances to take care of themselves. They didn't need to know about the other reason for her exhaustion, the one that had her feeling more alive than she had in months.

The rest of the night was a blur, a mix of restless sleep and vivid dreams of Y/N's hands on her body, his mouth on her skin. She tossed and turned, her pussy aching for his touch once more. But she knew she had to save her strength, had to be ready for the concert tomorrow.

When she finally fell into a deep sleep, it was filled with visions of their next encounter, the promise of even more pleasure to come. And as the sun began to rise, she knew that she had to prepare for the day ahead. She had a concert to perform in, and she couldn't let her personal life interfere with her professional responsibilities.

With a heavy heart, Ningning climbed out of bed and took a quick shower, the hot water washing away the evidence of their tryst. She dressed in comfortable rehearsal clothes, her body still feeling the ache of his touch. She took a moment to look in the mirror, her eyes searching for any signs of what had transpired the night before. But all she saw was the same bright-eyed, smiling idol that had captured the hearts of fans around the world.

The rehearsal was grueling, but she pushed through it, her mind wandering to the promise of the evening. Y/N had texted her earlier in the day, his messages filled with the same possessive hunger that had consumed him the night before. She felt a thrill of excitement and fear with every buzz of her phone, the anticipation building with every passing hour.

As the sun set, the venue began to fill with fans, their excitement palpable. Ningning took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. The stage lights were hot, the music was loud, and the choreography was demanding. But she had always been a pro, and she wasn't going to let anything ruin her performance.

#aespa smut #kpop smut #ningning smut #aespa ningning #girl group smut #male reader

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novvabee · 3 months ago

Text

A Real Good Time

um... i am shocked I even wrote this. so this is like the longest fic i think i've written and it is by far the nastiest, horniest thing i've also ever written... you're welcome i guess?

Summary: poly!marauders x reader x rosekiller, the marauders share reader with Barty and Evan...

CW: MDNI!!!!!! smut!! idk everything man, you tell me. smoking, swearing, voyerism, sharing?, overstimulation, masturbation, (cumplay?), oral, unprotected sex, choking, smacking/spanking, roughness?, reader is a brat. oh this is also not proofread

word count: 4.3k

“What’s ours is yours.” Sirius said boastfully to your friends lounging on the floor of your dorm. You gaped at your boyfriend, not believing what he just said.

Barty threw his head back in laughter, Evan smirking at you. You looked down quickly, slightly embarrassed by the whole situation.

The whole conversation had been so abrupt and derailed faster than you could stop it.

You had your friends over for a fun evening in your dorm. You all mostly played games and chatted, you could all find fun no matter what, so it didn’t really matter what you got up to as long as you were all there. It was especially easy in the boys’ room, the massive space filled with squashy and fluffy sofas, armchairs and beanbags, half of which they stole from the common room.

The evening turned quickly into night which turned into the early hours of the morning, and one by one, all of your friends cut out and headed to bed. Lily and Marlene were the last to leave, leaving only Barty and Evan now. They too said they would head to bed, but wanted Remus to roll them a joint they could all share before they left.

The boys enthusiastically agreed and Remus started rolling.

You don’t know how the topic of sex was introduced, Sirius made a comment to Barty along the lines of “You’re just leaving so you can wind up in Rosier’s bed.” Which then made him reply with “Careful, or I might just take Y/N along with us when we go and show her what a real good time looks like,” as he made grabby hands for you.

You chuckled and swatted his hands away, hoping a blush wasn’t creeping across your cheeks for them to see. The thought of that…

Remus finished rolling the joint and lit it, the room becoming hazy with smoke. “Is that something you'd be interested in, love?” he questioned you. He had a tone of curiosity laced in his voice mixed with something familiar to you, excitement at the thought. Shit, maybe you were blushing, because how did he sense that from across the room? Both Sirius and James perked up at this.

It’s not like you hadn’t thought about Evan and Barty in that way, in fact, Barty was the first crush you ever had. But ever since you started dating your boys, no one else interested you at all.

Sure the boys could share, they shared you didn’t they? But you never thought that they would be interested in sharing you with others.

“W-what,” you stuttered.

Remus passed the joint off to Evan who was looking at you with intrigue, and waltzed over to where you sat cross legged in an oversized armchair. “We can share,” he said, motioning to Sirius and James. “In fact, this is something we’ve talked about before, we just didn’t know if you would be up for it.” Was the weed making him that much bolder? To say all of this in front of Barty and Evan?

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but ultimately failing. You looked to Sirius and James for reassurance, but they were no help, giving you the same lust filled eyes that you were receiving from Barty and Evan now.

The air in the room suddenly felt too thick to breathe, all you could do was stare up at Remus.

His gaze softened on you for a moment. “Baby, if you say yes, we would love to watch our pretty girl,” he explained softly to you. “But if you say no we’ll just tell them to fuck off and have you ourselves, does that sound alright?”

You smiled slightly, the tension easing a bit. Then you nodded up at him, “It is something that interests me.”

He smiled down at you, placing his palm on your cheek which you happily nuzzled into.

“Wait, so you’re saying you want to watch us fuck your girl?” Evan asked, amusement written all over his face.

“That’s what we’re saying,” James affirmed.

“What’s ours is yours.” Sirius said, causing Barty to laugh and Evan to eye you up and down. “For tonight.”

Evan made his way to where you were still perched in the armchair, taking your face in his hand. The action was so like what Remus had just done, but it couldn’t feel any more different. Remus’s hand was soft and gentle, while Evan’s was rougher, gripping your jaw tighter and squishing your cheek into a pout, forcing you to look up at him.

“You sure about this doll?” He asked quietly. You did your best to nod for him but this made him tsk. “None of that, words.” he demanded.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you replied, his grip making it a bit tough to respond but you managed.

“Good,” he hummed.

Barty then made his way over as well. Both the tall men eyeing you down, you felt smaller than ever under their gazes.

Maybe it was because he wanted to hurry this along, or maybe he was taking pity on you, but Barty held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated but placed your hand in his as he pulled you to your feet, his grasp surprisingly gentle. He pulled you up and in between his and Evan’s bodies, both encroaching on your space.

Barty tilted your head up to look him in the eye. He looked so calm right now, a direct contrast to his usual demeanor. Maybe he could sense the nerves radiating off of you, so he was making it easier, making you more comfortable. He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, the act so unsensual to the moment, but felt like just what you needed. You cracked a smile up at him.

“There she is,” he hummed in response, taking your face in both hands. He leaned in again, this time kissing your jaw, then down to your neck. You relaxed, your head falling back and right onto the shoulder of Evan who had copied Barty’s movements, beginning to kiss the other side of your neck.

You peeked over to your boyfriends, all lounging on the sofas across from you, James falling into the armchair you had just vacated. You were looking to see any sign of hesitation, any sign that they weren’t comfortable with this, but the looks on their faces told you there was nothing to worry about right now. James had a look of awe in his eyes while Remus was relaxing into the sofa and getting comfortable, waiting for the show to begin. You couldn’t quite place the look that Sirius had, somewhere between amusement and thrill of a challenge in front of him.

This was their way of saying ‘go ahead, relax, have fun.’ So fun you would have.

You felt Evan’s hands begin to wander from behind you, feeling his way slowly from your hips to your waist.

A single thought continued to bounce around your skull as the two boys sucked harshly at your jaw and neck, a thought that you couldn’t shake. You smiled to yourself, if it was a show your boyfriends want, then it was a show they would get.

You moaned out and entangled your fingers into Evan’s wavy locks. You gripped his hair and this seemed to encourage him as he chuckled against your skin, the heat warming the entire side of your face, then nipping at the spot.

You whimpered and moved your hips back, just enough to brush against Evan. He gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you impossibly close to him.

“I love the noises she makes,” Barty mused, now smirking down at you. He took the bottom of your shirt and lifted it slowly, you not stopping him at all. He lifted it over your head and pulled it off of you finally, throwing it over to your boyfriends. Evan took this time to unclasp your bra, letting it pop open before sliding it down your arms and letting it fall to the floor. You took a deep, steadying breath as Barty smiled softly down at you. You took the initiative and slid your shorts down your legs, stepping out of them and leaving you only in your panties in front of them.

He took your wrist in his hand before falling backwards onto the couch across from your boyfriends, pulling you down with him.

You squealed as you landed on top of him, giggling the whole way down.

Barty adjusted himself on the couch as you made your way down his legs, making sure to keep your eyes on him the entire time. He looked heavenly and you didn’t want to miss a moment of his expressions as you unbuttoned and pulled the zipper down on his jeans.

You struggled a bit on purpose and looked up at him with a faux pathetic expression to get him to help you. He leaned forward to place yet another kiss on the tip of your nose before sliding his jeans down for you. You pouted up at him and tugged at the waistband, wanting to get him to do all the work for you.

“Awe,” He cooed, “not used to putting in some hard work yourself?”

You frowned and slipped a finger in his waistband, pulling back and letting it snap against his abdomen. He snatched your wrist in his hand, amused but clearly growing frustrated by your actions.

“I'll help this once,” he said, the most stern you had heard him this entire time, “But be a good girl, yeah?”

He slid his boxers off, his dick already red and leaking. He was big, probably the same size as Sirius. You looked up at him and smiled.

Before moving any further, you looked to your boyfriends to check that everything was still alright. Both Sirius and James already had their hands wrapped around their cocks, lazily tugging and watching you. You smiled again, turning your attention to the cock in front of you.

You started by licking Barty from base to tip, just like how Siri showed you all that time ago. You gave him a few licks which earned you a small groan and you giggled at the sound, peaking a look up at him, his head thrown back and shirt riding up his toned stomach.

You took his tip fully in your mouth, giving it a little suck, intent on taking your time and working him up, but Barty being Barty had it down your throat with one quick thrust. It made sense, you hadn’t seen Barty sit still for all of three minutes in a normal situation. You gagged a little at the intrusion, but quickly recovered, fitting as much of him in your mouth as you could, then using your hand for the rest.

“Good girl,” He praised, head still thrown over the edge of the couch.

You sucked again and again, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you could, setting your own pace.

You felt Evan’s fingers trace the outline of your core over your panties, the fabric no doubt soaked through. He used his thumb to rub your clit in small circles.

You moaned at the feeling, the vibrations making Barty moan as well, the sound utterly sinful. Barty pulled your hair off of your face and into a makeshift ponytail, disregarding your set pace and fucking your throat at his own instead.

Evan picked up on this and rubbed your clit in rhythm to Barty’s thrusts. You choked out another moan, eyes watering as you tried to catch little breaths in between Barty’s ruthless pace.

Evan’s hands gripped your hips again, placing himself behind you. He was getting impatient, you could tell by his movements. He didn’t even try to pull off your panties for you, he just pulled them to the side and continued his ministrations to your clit.

Barty’s breathing became uneven and shallow, you looked up at him through your lashes and could see how good you were making him feel. His brows were pulled tight together and his mouth was open slightly, letting out whines and breathless moans. It was nothing compared to the noises that James makes, but for now it would do.

Before you could even think, you felt the tip of Evan’s dick tracing up and down your dripping core. The action made you gasp around Barty’s dick. You wiggled your hips the best you could, trying to feel more of Evan and test the waters.

You heard Evan chuckle behind you, felt his hand leave your ass and swat down. This made you jump, Barty’s dick managing to hit the back of your throat without a warning. You whined as Barty moaned.

You pulled off of him for a moment, intent on complaining to Evan that he made you choke, but before you could turn your way around and get him in your line of sight, he slammed himself into you.

This made you jerk forward, your cheek pressed to Barty’s abdomen. “Ugh, why’d you stop, pretty?” he asked you.

You weren’t able to answer him due to the way Evan was pounding into you. You were trying to catch your breath in order to moan, but the pace that Evan had set made you almost forget how. You dug your nails into Barty’s thighs under you, hoping it would ground you somewhat. Barty hissed in pain above you, but made no move to stop you.

Evan was sliding in and out of you so easily, so quickly, you had no time to even think about anything except how good you felt.

You caught a glimpse of your boyfriends across from you, Sirius’s mouth now around Remus who was looking you dead in the eye and smoke falling from his parted lips. On any normal occasion, this sight would be enough to push you over the edge, but now, it somehow drew you back into reality.

You moaned, the sound filling the space and mixing with Evan’s groans and James’s breathless sounds from the other side of the room. Every noise borderline pornographic.

Barty gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. “Feel good, pretty girl?” he asked, a smug grin cut across his face.

“Y-yes,” you moaned out, remembering to play it up a bit for your voyeur boyfriends.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Evan chuckled, keeping up his pace. You were slightly caught off guard with that question, trying to focus on an answer. Impatient, he reached down to pull your hair, giving it a tug until you were eye to eye with Barty who smirked and tilted his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

“R-remmy-y and Siri.. a-and Ja-amsie.” you replied. Although Evan was fucking you, you would never betray your boys. You were wholly theirs, and they were yours.

“Is that so? Then how come we’re the ones getting to use it now? Huh?” he teased.

“Cause they’re just s-so generous. Helpin’ out t-the less fortunate ‘n a-all” you replied, still finding a way to brat off. This probably made Sirius prouder than ever. At least just because it wasn’t him you were mouthing off to.

“She really does have a mouth on her doesn’t she?” He asked Barty and without warning flipped you onto your stomach, continuing his brutal pace. You had to hand it to them, they were trying their hardest to break you, but you couldn’t be broken. Not when you won the lottery not once but three times over in Sirius, James, and Remus.

“Fuck!” You cried out and arched your back, this new position had Evan hitting your sweet spot over and over in the most perfect way. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt yourself barreling towards the edge.

Evan pulled out and stood from where he was kneeling behind you. “Switch with me.” He ordered Barty.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Barty answered him, excitement dripping off his words.

You panted hard, using this time to try and fill your lungs. Now that it was Barty’s turn to fuck you, you knew you were going to be in for a ride. If that is the level of stamina that Evan had, you didn’t think you were prepared for Barty.

Barty hovered over you, smiling down with amusement and lust. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked with fake intrigue. You don’t know why but this annoyed you. Your face must have shown signs of this annoyance because he leaned down and whispered, “At least be better for me than you were for Evan, yeah? No one likes a brat.”

You rolled your eyes in response.

You felt a sharp sting at your thigh from where Barty smacked you. This one hurt more than the warning swat that Evan gave you, his red hand print already imprinted on your skin. The shock wore off after a moment and what Sirius would like to call ‘brattiness’ set in.

How dare they, they aren’t your boyfriends. They don’t get to dictate your mood or attitude, especially when they’ve been so self serving up until now, no even allowing you to cum yet. Not even making you cum.

You opened your mouth to make your thoughts known, but Barty seemingly had run out of patience with you. He gripped your throat and pushed you back onto the sofa, squeezing this fingers on either side of your neck and sending a fuzzy feeling throughout your entire body. You whimpered and gasped, struggling to breathe with your head hung over the end of the cushions. Evan made great use of this, cock shoving past your parted lips and down your throat with no warning, the same way Barty did.

You would have panicked, not taking a deep enough breath before Evan’s entire length was cutting off your airway, if it weren’t for Remus and Sirius doing basically the same thing when punishing you sometimes.

Evan set his own pace, thrusting deep into your throat each time. Barty took this opportunity to push into you as well, taking you inch by inch. You heard both Evan and Barty groan out at the feeling of you around them.

Evan pulled out slightly for you to breathe, which you quickly took, thankfully swirling your tongue around his tip and making his hips buck back into your mouth.

Barty was moving agonizingly slow, making sure to fully fill you before pulling almost completely out and starting again. You jerked your hips up, signaling for him to move, to do something. He chuckled.

“Seems like you’ve got a brat on your hands,” He said over to your boyfriends. This was the first time they were verbally acknowledged since starting.

Sirius chuckled, “Trust me, we know.”

Barty halted all actions which made you jerk yet again, becoming frustrated with the lack of movement.

“Is that, why you wanted us to fuck her?” Evan asked, “Wanted someone to finally tame her?”

You rolled your eyes at this, slightly grazing Evan’s cock with your teeth. Not hard, or a lot, just enough to get your message across. He replied with a particularly rough thrust down your throat again, making you choke and gag.

“Oh please,” James chimed in, “She would break you before you even got close to taming her.”

“It's true,” Remus laughed at the thought of Evan and Barty actually trying to ‘tame’ you, something that not even he could really do.

Barty hummed with delight. “Well, what does princess have to say about that?” He asked.

Evan gave you another thrust before pulling out and letting you speak. You coughed as you caught your breath, your throat becoming sore with all the abuse.

You looked him in the eye, remembering the fact that you still hadn’t cum yet. You thought this was supposed to be a fun experience. You remembered what he had said, bragged to your boyfriends earlier.

“I thought you were supposed to show me what a real good time looks like.” you spat.

Barty blinked at you before smirking.

He didn’t bother answering you, just lifted your hips up off the couch and snapped his hips into yours. You let out a high pitched scream, not expecting this at all.

Finally, you knew how to get what you want, and in most cases, that just means a snide comment or bratty behavior. Works just as well on Evan and Bart as it did on your boyfriends, who knew.

You heard Sirius snicker, the brattiness amusing him.

You had every right to be worried before, Evan’s pace was brutal, Barty’s was ruthless, cruel. He was hitting so deep inside of you that your moans raised in pitch with each thrust.

Evan followed in Barty’s lead, lazily reaching down to where you and Barty connected and rubbed small circles over your clit again. The feeling overwhelming you, back arching even in Barty’s hold on you.

You thought you would return the favor, taking Evan in your hand and pumping his cock in time with Barty fucking you. His eyes fluttered shut and a line appeared between his brows, muttering a small “Fuck,” under his breath. You didn’t know his body well at all, but you would say he was probably close.

Between Evan’s skilled fingers and Barty hitting your cervix over and over, the painful pleasure was what you were seeking, finally tipping you toward the edge of climax.

Barty’s fingers were sure to be bruised into your hips as he kept his grip and fucked you as if you weighed nothing, just a doll for his pleasure.

Evan swatted you again, this time making contact with your sensitive bud. You threw your head back and cried out as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Barty kept his pace and so did Evan, both intent on letting you ride it out with their help.

But that wasn’t the case at all, even as you came down off of the high of your orgasm, their pace didn't falter. You whined and tried to squirm away from them, but Barty gripped you harder, pulling you back. Evan didn’t halt either, in fact his fingers were working faster than before.

“W-wait, wait please,” you stuttered, trying your best to get them to let up for a moment. You were trying hard to wiggle your way out of their reach, but it was no use, all you could do was take what they were giving you.

The moans that were coming from you were the same as the ones coming from your boyfriends, you knew they were ready to cum from the way they all sounded. You wanted it to be them fucking you stupid right now, but watching them watch you was adding so much to your arousal, these images of them would be burned into your brain for the rest of time and you hoped you were providing the same for them.

“F-fuck, fuck,” you heard James whine, catching the sight of him just in time to see him come undone, white ropes of cum landing in his abs and thighs.

You moaned at the sight, your Jamesie looking so dirty and breathless, all because of you. And all you really had to do was look pretty.

This pushed you over the edge again, vision going hazy and feeling hot all over, shaking and trying to push Evan’s hand away from you. To your surprise he actually obliged, removing his soaked hand and moving it to grab your throat and squeeze. His other hand went down to his own throbbing cock, jerking himself off above your face.

You made a breathless sound, Barty, finally becoming sloppy in his thrusts, groaned out “Fuck, I’m close.”. Your whole body felt limp and tired, but his final thrusts into you were deep enough to make you see stars.

You cried at the overuse of your cunt, Barty pulling out in time to cum all over your stomach, Evan doing the same, releasing on your chest. Your body a sticky hot mess from Barty and Evan. You panted hard, your body tired from the whole night.

Sirius and Remus made their way into your view, both fisting their own cocks with need, both breathless and on the edge.

Sirius came first, his beautiful moans prefacing his cum landing over both Evan and Barty’s, mixing with the rest of the fluid across your torso.

This left Remus. You looked up at him, scrambling to your knees and opening your mouth for him. He let out a small chuckle before throwing his head back and releasing a throaty moan.

You licked the underside of his dick as he came in your mouth, the liquid quickly filling up your mouth and dribbling out the sides, down your neck and chest.

“Fuck,” you heard multiple boys say at once.

You swallowed what made it into your mouth and giggled, taking in everyone’s satisfied states.

Evan and Barty dressed and joked with your boyfriends about how it’s unfair they kept you to themselves all this time. They asked if you were alright about a thousand times, Sirius telling them they would take care of you from here. You all bid your goodnights and Barty and Evan finally left for bed.

You were happy to be all alone with your boyfriends now, James having cleaned you up and gave you one of his shirts to wear. You cuddled into bed with them, feeling more grateful for them than ever. Sure the sex with Barty and Evan was fun, but no one knew you like your boys did, no one could make you feel like they did. No one could measure up to the pleasure you felt, nor the safety afterward.

This late night became the early morning that led you to see the sunrise as you dozed off in your boyfriends arms.

i-... idk what to even say here. here ya go.

613 notes · View notes

velvetvisionsaurora · 12 days ago

Text

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 20: Hidden Pages

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the trees as you and Yeosang made your way down a narrow side street in one of Seoul's older districts. The buildings here were different from the gleaming skyscrapers and modern structures that dominated most of the city—older, with character etched into their weathered facades and stories hidden in their architectural details.

"It's just around this corner," Yeosang said, his voice carrying a note of anticipation that made you smile. You'd never seen him quite this animated before, his usual quiet composure brightened by genuine excitement about sharing this special place with you.

As you rounded the corner, he gestured toward a narrow building squeezed between a traditional tea shop and a small art gallery. The bookstore's exterior was understated—a simple wooden door with glass panels, a modest sign in both Korean and English that read "Hidden Pages," and large windows that offered glimpses of towering bookshelves within.

"This is it," Yeosang said, pausing at the entrance. "It doesn't look like much from the outside, but..."

"But the best treasures are often hidden in plain sight," you finished, looking up at him with warm eyes. "Just like some people I know."

The compliment made color rise to his cheeks, and he ducked his head slightly before pushing open the door for you. A soft bell chimed as you entered, and immediately you understood why this place was special to him.

The interior was a book lovers dream—floor to ceiling shelves packed with books in multiple languages, cozy reading nooks tucked into corners, and that distinctive smell of aged paper and ink that seemed to permeate everything. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, and warm light from vintage lamps created an atmosphere that felt more like a private library than a commercial bookstore.

"Welcome back, Yeosang," came a gentle voice from behind the main counter. An elderly man with kind eyes and wire-rimmed glasses looked up from the book he'd been cataloging. "And you've brought a friend."

"Mr. Park, this is Y/n," Yeosang said, his hand finding the small of your back as he guided you forward. "Y/n, this is Mr. Park, the owner. He knows more about books than anyone I've ever met."

"A pleasure to meet you," Mr. Park said with a warm smile. "Any friend of Yeosang's is welcome here. He's one of our most valued customers—always finding treasures that others overlook."

"I can see why he loves this place," you replied, already enchanted by the atmosphere. "It feels magical."

"Books have a way of creating magic," Mr. Park agreed. "Please, explore as much as you'd like. The poetry section is upstairs, along with the café. And Yeosang knows where to find all the hidden gems."

As Mr. Park returned to his cataloging, Yeosang turned to you with an expression that was both proud and slightly nervous. "Where would you like to start?"

"Show me your favorite section first," you suggested. "I want to see what draws you here."

Yeosang's face lit up as he led you deeper into the store, past sections of contemporary fiction and bestsellers, toward a quieter area in the back where the shelves held older, more eclectic collections.

"Philosophy and poetry," he explained, gesturing to the carefully organized shelves. "But also some rare editions and first prints. Mr. Park has a talent for acquiring books that you can't find anywhere else."

You watched as he moved through the stacks with the easy familiarity of someone who'd spent countless hours here. His fingers trailed along the spines of books with gentle reverence, and you found yourself captivated by this side of him—passionate, knowledgeable, completely in his element.

"This one," he said, pulling a slim volume from the shelf, "is a collection of translated Korean poetry from the early 1900s. The translation work is incredible—it manages to preserve the emotional resonance of the original while making it accessible to English readers."

He opened the book to a page he'd clearly marked before, his voice taking on a different quality as he read a few lines aloud. The words were beautiful, but it was the way he spoke them—with such care and understanding—that made your heart flutter.

"That's beautiful," you said softly when he finished. "You have a lovely reading voice."

"I used to read to my sister when we were younger," he admitted, closing the book but keeping it in his hands. "She said poetry sounded better when I read it aloud."

The small personal revelation made you want to know more about his family, his childhood, all the experiences that had shaped the thoughtful man beside you. But before you could ask, he was already moving to another section, eager to show you more treasures.

"And this," he said, reaching for a higher shelf, "is a first edition of—"

His words cut off as he stretched upward, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of toned stomach. You found your eyes drawn to the lean muscle there, the way his body moved with unconscious grace. When he noticed you looking, a different kind of heat entered his gaze.

"Sorry," you said, not sounding sorry at all. "You're just... very nice to look at."

"Y/n," he said quietly, your name carrying a warmth that made your pulse quicken.

"What? I'm just appreciating the view while you reach for books. It's called multitasking."

Yeosang laughed, a genuine sound of delight that transformed his entire face. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you replied with a playful smile, stepping closer to him. "But please, continue. I'm very interested in... rare books."

The way you said it, with that slight emphasis and the mischievous glint in your eyes, made his breathing catch. There was definitely a new energy building between you, something flirtatious and charged that made the quiet bookstore feel intimate and full of possibility.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping slightly as he pulled the book from the shelf, "this particular volume is quite... special. It requires very careful handling."

"I can be very careful," you assured him, moving close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "When something is worth taking care of."

Yeosang's eyes darkened as he caught your meaning, the book momentarily forgotten in his hands. "Are we still talking about books?"

"Are we?" you countered, looking up at him through your lashes.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you crackling with tension and possibility. Then Yeosang cleared his throat softly, glancing around the store.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual, "we should continue exploring. There's so much more I want to show you."

"Lead the way," you replied, though you made sure to brush against him as you moved, enjoying the way his breath hitched at the contact.

The next hour passed in a delightful haze of literary discovery and increasingly bold flirtation. Yeosang showed you rare manuscripts, beautiful art books, and hidden alcoves filled with volumes on obscure subjects. You found yourself drawn not just to the books, but to watching him—the way his eyes lit up when he found something particularly interesting, the gentle way he handled even the most worn volumes, the quiet passion in his voice when he explained why a particular work was significant.

And he seemed equally captivated by you—your genuine interest in his explanations, your thoughtful questions, the way you laughed at his dry observations about some of the more pretentious literary critics whose works lined the shelves.

"You know," you said as you browsed through a section of vintage travel guides, "I never expected to find book shopping this... stimulating."

Yeosang, who had been reaching for a volume on the top shelf, paused and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. "Stimulating?"

"Intellectually stimulating," you clarified with mock innocence, though your smile suggested otherwise. "All this talk of rare bindings and... careful handling. It's very educational."

"I see," he said, climbing down from the small step stool he'd been using. "And here I thought you were just being a diligent student."

"Oh, I'm very diligent," you assured him, stepping closer as he descended. "I always pay close attention to my teachers."

The way you said 'teachers' made his eyes flash with something that was definitely not scholarly, and you found yourself backed against the bookshelf as he moved closer.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "And what have you learned so far?"

"That you have excellent taste," you replied, your voice equally quiet. "In books and... other things."

"Other things?"

"Places," you said, gesturing around the intimate bookstore. "Atmosphere. The way you choose to spend your time with someone special."

Yeosang's hand came up to rest against the shelf beside your head, his body creating a small cocoon of privacy around you. "Someone special?"

"Very special," you confirmed, looking up into his dark eyes.

The moment stretched between you, charged with possibility. You were acutely aware of how close he was, the way his scent—clean and warm with hints of bergamot—surrounded you. His eyes dropped to your lips for just a moment before returning to meet your gaze.

"The café upstairs," he said softly. "Would you like to see it?"

"I'd like to see everything you want to show me," you replied, the words carrying layers of meaning.

Yeosang's smile was soft but held an edge of something more intense. "Then let's go up."

The narrow staircase to the second floor was tucked away in the back corner of the store, barely wide enough for two people. As you climbed ahead of Yeosang, you could feel his presence close behind you, the warmth of his body and the way his breathing had become slightly uneven.

The upstairs café was even more intimate than the bookstore below—small round tables scattered among more bookshelves, soft lighting from table lamps, and large windows that looked out over the quiet street. Only a few other patrons were present, all absorbed in their own books and conversations.

"Corner table?" Yeosang suggested, nodding toward a small table tucked between two tall bookshelves that would offer relative privacy.

"Perfect," you agreed, following him to the secluded spot.

As you settled into the comfortable chairs, Yeosang caught the attention of the café server and ordered tea for both of you—something called "poet's blend" that he assured you was exceptional. When you were alone again, the atmosphere felt different. More intimate, more charged with possibility.

"This place is incredible," you said, looking around at the combination café and library. "I can see why you love it here."

"It's peaceful," Yeosang agreed. "A place where you can think, or read, or just... exist without the noise of the outside world."

"Is that what you do here? Just exist?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "When the schedules get overwhelming, or when I need to process something complex. I come here and let the quiet settle into my mind."

You reached across the small table and took his hand, enjoying the way his fingers immediately intertwined with yours. "Thank you for sharing it with me. For letting me into this part of your world."

"Thank you for wanting to see it," he replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles across your knuckles. "I wasn't sure if you'd find it interesting."

"Yeosang," you said seriously, "watching you talk about something you're passionate about is one of the most attractive things I've ever experienced. The way your whole face lights up, the way you handle the books like they're treasures... it's beautiful."

Color rose to his cheeks again, but he didn't look away. "You make me feel like the things I care about matter."

"They do matter. You matter."

The server arrived with your tea, providing a brief interruption to the intensity building between you. But as soon as you were alone again, the charged atmosphere returned.

"This is delicious," you said after taking a sip of the aromatic blend. "Complex. Layered."

"Like you," Yeosang said quietly, his eyes holding yours over the rim of his teacup.

The simple compliment sent warmth spreading through your chest. "Is that your professional opinion, Professor Kang?"

"My very professional opinion," he confirmed with a slight smile. "Though I may need to conduct further research to be completely certain."

"Research?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of research?"

"Extensive research," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that made your pulse quicken. "Thorough investigation. Very... hands-on methodology."

The academic language delivered with such obvious double meaning made you laugh, but it was breathless laughter that carried heat. "I do appreciate thorough research methods."

"I thought you might," he said, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "I'm very dedicated to my research."

"How dedicated?" you asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I believe in exploring every possible angle," he replied, his own body language mirroring yours as he leaned closer across the small table. "Leaving no stone unturned."

"Very admirable," you breathed, acutely aware of how close your faces were now, how his eyes had darkened with unmistakable desire.

"Y/n," he said softly, your name carrying a question and a promise.

"Yes?"

"I think," he said, his gaze flicking around the café to confirm that your corner table was relatively hidden from view, "that I'd like to begin my research now."

"Here?" you asked, though your tone suggested the idea was more thrilling than shocking.

"Just a preliminary investigation," he assured you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "To determine if further study is warranted."

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but preliminary.

Yeosang's response was immediate and intense. His hand tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, the careful control he usually maintained slipping away in the face of his desire for you. The small table between you became an obstacle as you both strained to get closer, the need for contact overwhelming rational thought.

"This table," he murmured against your lips, "is very inconvenient for research purposes."

"Terrible design flaw," you agreed breathlessly, your hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer despite the physical barriers.

Yeosang glanced around quickly, then stood and held out his hand to you. "There's a section in the back," he said quietly, his voice rough with want. "Poetry. Very quiet. Very... private."

Without hesitation, you took his hand and let him lead you away from the table, leaving your tea forgotten as you moved deeper into the maze of bookshelves. The poetry section he mentioned was indeed tucked away in the back corner, surrounded by tall stacks that created a sense of complete seclusion.

The moment you were hidden from view, Yeosang turned and pressed you gently back against the bookshelf, his body caging you in as his mouth found yours again. This kiss was different from the tentative exploration at the table—hungrier, more desperate, full of all the desire that had been building between you throughout the afternoon.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the lean muscle beneath his soft sweater, while his fingers traced along your jawline, your neck, everywhere he could reach. The taste of tea lingered on his lips, mixed with something that was purely him, and you found yourself addicted to the combination.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your mouth, his hands framing your face as if you were something precious and rare. "I've been wanting to touch you like this all afternoon."

"Then don't stop," you breathed back, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him down for another deep kiss.

Time seemed suspended in your hidden alcove among the poetry books. Yeosang's mouth moved against yours with increasing urgency, his careful composure completely abandoned as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you. His hands had found their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, while yours mapped the strong lines of his shoulders and back.

"Y/n," he gasped against your neck, having moved to trail kisses along the sensitive skin there. "We should... people might..."

"Let them," you replied recklessly, your head tilting back to give him better access. "I don't care."

The declaration seemed to snap something in him. His mouth returned to yours with renewed intensity, and you could feel the full force of his desire in the way he held you, kissed you, breathed your name like a prayer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your clothes slightly disheveled and your lips swollen from kissing. Yeosang rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

"That was," he started, then seemed to lose track of his words.

"Research?" you suggested with a breathless laugh.

"Very thorough research," he agreed, opening his eyes to meet yours. The heat still burning in his gaze made your pulse quicken all over again. "Though I think I need to collect more data."

"I'm always willing to contribute to scientific advancement," you said solemnly, though your smile was anything but serious.

"Good," he said, leaning down to press one more soft kiss to your lips. "Because I have a feeling this research is going to require multiple sessions."

"I look forward to it," you whispered back.

Reluctantly, you both began the process of making yourselves presentable again—smoothing rumpled clothes, finger-combing disheveled hair, trying to look like you'd been innocently browsing poetry rather than making out among the verses.

"Should we head back downstairs?" Yeosang asked, though he seemed reluctant to leave your private alcove.

"Probably," you agreed, equally reluctant. "Before Mr. Park wonders what happened to us."

As you made your way back through the café and down the narrow staircase, Yeosang's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both intimate and claiming. When you reached the main floor, Mr. Park looked up from his work with a knowing smile.

"Find everything you were looking for?" he asked innocently.

"And more," Yeosang replied, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Thank you for the recommendation on the poetry section. Very... inspiring."

"Poetry has a way of moving people," Mr. Park agreed with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he wasn't entirely naive about what had transpired upstairs. "I hope you'll both come back soon."

"We definitely will," you assured him, meaning every word.

As you and Yeosang stepped back out onto the quiet street, the late afternoon sun painted everything in golden hues. The air felt different somehow—charged with new possibilities and the lingering heat of your encounter among the books.

"So," Yeosang said as you began walking back toward the main road, "how did you find your first visit to Hidden Pages?"

"Educational," you replied with a mischievous smile. "I learned a lot about... poetry."

"Poetry," he repeated with a laugh. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you said, echoing your earlier flirtation.

Yeosang stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression serious despite the heat still simmering in his eyes. "Y/n, I want you to know that this—today, sharing this place with you, being with you like this—it means everything to me."

"It means everything to me too," you replied sincerely, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Thank you for trusting me with something so special to you."

"Thank you for making it even more special," he said, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your palm.

As you continued walking, your hands linked and your hearts full, you couldn't help but think that Hidden Pages had given you more than just a glimpse into Yeosang's world—it had given you both a perfect afternoon of discovery, connection, and the kind of romance that belonged in the pages of the poetry books you'd been kissing among.

"Next time," Yeosang said as you reached the main street, "I'll show you the rare manuscripts section."

"Next time," you agreed with a smile that promised more adventures, more discoveries, and definitely more research among the stacks.

–––

The ride back to the house was thick with tension that had nothing to do with Seoul's evening traffic. Yeosang sat in the driver's seat with white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel, his usual calm composure nowhere to be found. You could feel his alpha energy radiating from him in waves—controlled but barely, like a carefully banked fire that was threatening to break free at any moment.

Every time you shifted in your seat, his eyes would flick to you and then quickly back to the road, his jaw clenching with visible effort. The afternoon at the bookstore had awakened something in both of you, and the confined space of the car was making the sexual tension almost unbearable.

"You're very quiet," you observed, your voice coming out softer and more breathless than you'd intended.

"Trying to concentrate," Yeosang replied, his voice rougher than usual. "On driving. And not pulling over."

"Pulling over for what?" you asked innocently, though the heat in your gaze suggested you knew exactly what.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't tease me right now, Y/n. I'm barely holding on as it is."

The raw honesty in his voice sent a thrill through you. This was a side of Yeosang you'd never seen—his careful control slipping, his alpha nature more prominent than his usual thoughtful restraint. The combination was intoxicating.

You reached behind your ear and slowly, deliberately, peeled away your scent blocker.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Your natural jasmine and vanilla scent flooded the small space, but now it was laced with something else—the unmistakable sweetness of arousal that had been building all afternoon. The combination hit Yeosang like a physical blow.

His foot pressed harder on the accelerator as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes flashing gold for just a moment before he forced them back to brown. "Y/n," he said, your name coming out like a warning and a plea. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you know how you make me feel," you replied simply, watching as his alpha senses processed the full impact of your unfiltered scent. "How the afternoon made me feel. How right now, sitting next to you, knowing what your hands feel like, what you taste like..."

"Fuck," he breathed, the curse unusual coming from his typically composed lips. The car swerved slightly as his concentration wavered, and he had to grip the wheel tighter to maintain control. "You're going to make me crash."

"Then drive faster," you suggested with a smile that was pure temptation.

Yeosang's response was to press the accelerator further, the city blurring past as he navigated the familiar route home with newfound urgency. His alpha scent was getting stronger too—musk and cherry blossoms now mixed with something darker, more primal. The combination of your scents in the enclosed space was creating a feedback loop of desire that had both of you breathing hard by the time he pulled into the driveway.

He'd barely put the car in park before he was turning to face you, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Inside," he said, his voice carrying unmistakable alpha command. "Now. Before I do something very inappropriate in this car."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were both out of the car and moving toward the house with quick, purposeful steps, the tension between you so thick it was almost visible. Yeosang's hand found the small of your back as he guided you to the front door, the possessive touch sending electricity through your entire system.

The moment you stepped through the front door, Wooyoung bounced up from the couch where he'd been sprawled with a gaming controller, his face lighting up with excitement.

"You're back! How was the bookstore? Did you find anything good? Did Yeosang bore you to death with poetry quotes?" He was already moving toward you with his arms outstretched, clearly intending to pull you into one of his enthusiastic hugs.

But before he could reach you, a low growl rumbled from Yeosang's chest—playful but unmistakably possessive.

"No," Yeosang said firmly, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. His voice carried an authority that none of them had heard from him before, alpha dominance bleeding through his usual gentle demeanor.

Wooyoung stopped mid-step, his eyes widening with surprise and interest as he took in Yeosang's protective posture and the obvious tension radiating from both of you. "Oh," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face as understanding dawned. "OH. Well then."

Without giving anyone time to comment further, Yeosang was guiding you toward the stairs, his hand firm and possessive on your hip. "We'll be upstairs," he announced to the room at large, his tone suggesting that interruptions would not be welcome.

"Have fun!" Wooyoung called after you with barely contained glee. "Don't break anything important!"

"Wooyoung," came Seonghwa's exasperated voice from the kitchen doorway, clearly having witnessed the entire exchange.

"What? I'm being supportive! Very encouraging!"

You could hear the others beginning to gather in the living room, drawn by Wooyoung's dramatic commentary, but Yeosang was already pulling you up the stairs with single-minded determination. His room was at the end of the hall, and he led you there with the focused intensity of an alpha who had finally reached the end of his restraint.

The moment his bedroom door closed behind you, the atmosphere changed completely. Gone was the careful politeness of the bookstore, replaced by something raw and hungry that made the air itself feel electric.

Yeosang turned to face you, his back against the door, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—possession, claim, the need to make you his in every way possible.

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice low and rough, "what you've been doing to me all afternoon?"

"Tell me," you replied, stepping closer to him with deliberate slowness.

"The way you looked at me in the bookstore. The way you listened when I talked about the books, like what I had to say actually mattered. The way you let me kiss you among the poetry..." His hands clenched at his sides as if he was fighting not to reach for you immediately. "And then in the car, removing your blocker, letting me smell how much you want me..."

...Yeosang barely got the words out before the last of his restraint shattered. He surged forward, hands catching your face and waist at once, yanking you into a kiss so fierce it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—wasn’t even patient anymore. After an entire day of holding back, his need seared through every motion.

He tasted every gasp, every whimper, his scent filling the bedroom now that your own was free—jasmine and vanilla tangling with the deep, heady undercurrent of his alpha arousal. His hands slid into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your throat.

“Yeosang—” you breathed, but your voice broke as his lips traced the line of your jaw, down your neck to the fluttering pulse there. He grazed his teeth lightly over your skin, drawing a shudder from you.

“You know what you do to me?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a growl in your ear as he pressed you back until your knees hit the edge of his bed. “You turn every word, every look, into a promise I can’t keep—unless I have you. All of you.”

You flushed with heat, arousal sparking sharp and urgent through your veins. “Then take me, Yeosang. I’m yours.”

That, apparently, was the last thread holding him together.

He gripped your hips and lifted you easily onto the mattress, his body caging you. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, eager to touch, to feel the racing heart and tense muscles beneath. “Too many clothes,” you muttered, and Yeosang was already stripping his sweater off, baring pale skin and lean strength.

He helped you tug off your own shirt, pausing only to dip his head and press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, wherever he could reach. His hands were everywhere—urgent and reverent all at once—thumbs brushing the curve of your ribcage, fingers splaying at your back.

Your scent was thick in the air now, sweet and unmistakably needy. Yeosang paused, just for a heartbeat, and buried his face along your neck, inhaling deeply. A shiver ran through him. “God, you smell perfect,” he whispered. “Drives me out of my mind.”

You arched into him, whimpering when his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin below your ear. “I want you to lose control,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I want you to show me what you feel.”

He growled again, edging on feral. “Be careful what you wish for, Y/n.”

There was no more patience then. He pushed you gently but insistently down onto the bed, shedding his own clothes with quick, deft movements while peppering every bare inch of you with kisses—soft at your throat, sharper across your hip, soothing at your stomach as your breath came in panting gasps. His scent—cherry blossom and something spicy, something only you could coax out of him—wrapped around you, dizzying.

His hands found the waistband of your pants, hesitating just enough to flick his eyes up and get your breathless, urgent nod.

“Yes. Please, Yeosang, I want—”

He slid them off in one smooth motion, his palm following, caressing down your thigh, tracing upward until he found the heat between your legs. His fingers brushed your slickness, his eyes darkening further when he realized just how badly you needed him.

He spread you open, gentle but relentless, gaze raking over you as if committing you to memory. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, voice full of awe and something primal. “All for me?”

“All for you,” you gasped, hips canting toward his touch.

Yeosang leaned down, mouth hot and insistent as he kissed you again—capturing your gasp as he finally slid a finger inside you, then another, curling just right as his thumb circled your clit. You spasmed against him, back arching, and he groaned, the possessive alpha edge unmistakable now.

“I’m going to make you come for me,” he promised, voice thick and desperate. “Right here, before I claim you. Before you feel all of me.”

All you could do was nod, already spiraling—his fingers, his scent, his everything making your body vibrate with need. You clutched his biceps, nails leaving marks as you chased the edge. Yeosang’s free hand fisted in your hair, holding you steady as his touch grew rougher, more insistent, dragging pleasure out of you.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged, breath hot against your ear. “Let go for me. Show me you’re mine.”

You came hard, a rush of heat and light flooding your senses as you choked out his name. The noise Yeosang made was almost a snarl, and he kissed you through it—deep and hungry. His hand gentled, easing you down, stroking you as your body trembled, melting under his touch.

When the aftershocks faded, you opened your eyes to see him watching you with tender, worshipful awe—and desperate, unspent hunger. You reached for him, pulling him down, needing him closer.

“Your turn,” you whispered, voice hoarse with want. “Claim me, Yeosang. Make me yours.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift, sure movement, he positioned himself over you, pausing just long enough to look into your eyes—searching, pleading for any flicker of doubt.

There was none. You lifted your hips in invitation, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushed into you, slow but deep, a groan dragged from his chest that sounded like relief and possession and reverence all at once. The fullness of him, the heat, the feeling of being connected in every way—body, scent, heart—was almost too much.

Yeosang pressed his forehead to yours, shuddering as he bottomed out, holding still to let you both adjust. Then he began to move, hips rolling, every thrust pushing you tighter together, your scents mingling until the entire room felt heavy with belonging.

You clung to him, hands in his hair, his breath stuttering against your lips as he whispered your name—over and over, words breaking, dissolving into animal need.

He fucked you with abandon, claiming each gasp, each moan, as his due, marking your neck and chest with his mouth. As you knotted together, bonded in sensation and want, Yeosang finally surrendered, losing himself in you, in everything you offered.

And when you shattered beneath him again, he followed, his body locked against yours, his heart pounding out a rhythm that perfectly matched your own.

Afterward, Yeosang just held you—arms wrapped tight around your trembling form, his forehead still pressed to yours. His scent was all over you now, and yours on him, and there was nothing left hidden between you.

“Mine,” he whispered, voice still ragged, dizzy with love and shock and awe.

“Yours,” you breathed, smiling, blissfully.

Next>>

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trashytracktales · 3 months ago

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My love….i need some ANGST. Like make me cry….then make me wet 😱😅

IM SORRY ITS BEEN ONR OF THOSE DAYS and your posts always make the day better.

Final call | LN⁴

📞 summary ──── Lando thought that ending things was the right decision. But he never really let go. When one final, desperate call pulls her back into his orbit, old wounds resurface, anger and longing collide, and the lines between love and heartbreak blur.

📞 pairing ──── Lando Norris x (she/her) ex!reader

📞 rating ──── explicit

📞 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, Lando struggling with withdrawals from his usual life, drunken texts, heavy angst and arguments, swearing, heartbreak, power struggles between both characters, smut, fingering with teasing and edging, unprotected sex, praise, desperation, overwhelming pleasure leading to emotional vulnerability, begging, multiple orgasms, post-sex tenderness, crying (I need to touch some grass fr fr).

📞 word count ──── 12.8k

📞 date ──── Mar. 30, 2025

📞 a/n ──── Been working on this for over a month now. It feels like a fever dream, I have no words. Enjoy whatever this is and I apologize in advance 🤧

IT IS A random Saturday night during the winter break, and Lando would rather stay home. But he’s spent the last two months buried in the same routine; rinse and repeat. It’s been easier that way, keeping himself too busy to think, and too exhausted to feel anything else.

This time around, his friends have been quite insistent, pushing him to get out of his self-imposed isolation.

“Come on, mate,” said Max, his frustration evident in every word he uttered, even through the speaker, “One night won’t kill you. Everyone is expecting you to be there.”

“Why would they?” asked Lando, not particularly interested in Max’s answer.

“Because I told them you’ll come. Now, don’t make me a liar, and get your athletic physique up. I’ll get to yours in five.”

Lando tried to argue at first, but Max wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, eventually, after what felt like ages of back-and-forth, he caved, mostly out of morbid curiosity.

Now, standing in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by laughter and music, he wonders why he agreed, after all. When he’s not in the mood to party or to be around people in general, everything is suddenly way too loud, too annoying, and nothing satisfies him. The air is thick with a weird combination between spilled liquor and various perfumes, adding to his irritation.

Avoiding to make a scene, Lando shifts awkwardly, nursing a drink, half-listening to whatever story Connor is animatedly telling. He feels bad when he realizes that he hasn’t seen most of his friends since the breakup, but he knows they’ve only been giving him the space he needed, waiting for him to bounce back.

But Lando hasn’t. He’s just gotten better at pretending things are going the right way. Fake it until you make it, or whatever.

“Landooo,” Max says suddenly, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Look who I ran into!”

Lando turns and his eyes lock on her, her alluring presence catching him off guard.

“This is Eva,” Max continues, “An old friend of mine.”

He can’t help but think how effortlessly beautiful she is, all bright eyes and easy smiles, with the kind of confidence that makes people gravitate toward her instinctively.

“Hey,” the girl says, offering him a playful smirk. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of Max’s imagination.”

Lando forces a chuckle. “Yeah, well. I haven’t been… around much.”

Eva tilts her head, taking him in. “That’s a vague answer.”

Max claps a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “He’s just being mysterious. It’s part of his charm, you’ll see.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but plays along. He knows what Max is doing, but he doesn’t call him out on it.

Because maybe Max is right. Maybe he should try.

And so he does.

He engages in conversation, letting himself slip into the rhythm of it. Eva is funny and easy to talk to. She makes it effortless, steering their interaction in a way that keeps his mind from wandering. As the night progresses, they end up dancing, and hands are suddenly everywhere while the music envelops them like a protective dome.

At some point, he offers to buy her another drink, and she smiles, nodding at Lando’s initiative.

“I’d like that,” she admits, her eyes sparkling under her eyelashes.

They weave through the crowd toward the bar, and as they wait, she leans in a little closer. It’s subtle at first — a touch to his shoulder when she laughs, then her fingers grazing his bicep. Lando notices it, but he doesn’t react. Not until he feels her fingertips brush against his hand. At that, he looks down and sees the way her small hand lingers against his, making his chest tighten.

She’s watching him with anticipation in her expression, waiting for him to do something. Anything. To respond, to take her hand in his, to let this moment be what it’s supposed to be.

Lando closes his eyes for a fraction. Then he pulls his hand away. Eva’s face doesn’t fall, but something shifts in her eyes; the spark goes away, being replaced by something Lando can’t quite decipher. Confusion, perhaps? Understanding, maybe? Pity, for sure.

She nods, taking a step back, putting distance between them. “Right,” her voice is light, but unbothered. “Cheers for the drink, Lando. I should get back to my friends.”

Lando swallows, guilt gnawing at him. “Eva, it’s not that I don’t—”

She stops him with a tiny smile hanging in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. It was fun meeting you, hope to see you around. Have a nice night.”

And with that, she’s gone.

He watches her disappear into the crowd, debating going after her or scanning the place to find someone else.

Finally, Lando turns back to the bar, giving his head a little shake.

Well, that went well.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go and signals for another. The liquid burns his throat, but it’s still not enough. He needs more, now that he’s alone. Just for tonight.

As Max said, it won’t kill him.

A few minutes later, Lando returns to his people with another drink in hand. He looks much more relaxed, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s still there, somewhere, lost among the lonely nights spent in his apartment, buried under the lies he told his friends just to be left alone.

Max spots him first and frowns, “Mate, where’s Eva?”

Lando shrugs, “I think she didn’t like my bucket hat.”

Max squints in his direction, clearly unimpressed. “You didn’t even try, did you?”

He did, but won’t bother explaining that to Max. It’s not the time nor the place and, taking a slow sip of his new drink, Lando doesn’t answer, ending the conversation there.

HIS PLACE IS drenched in darkness, exactly how he left it, when Lando stumbles in. He kicks off his shoes haphazardly, muttering a curse as one skids across the floor.

So, Max’s plan hadn’t helped; nothing ever does. He had laughed at all the right moments, sipped at overpriced drinks, and told himself he was having fun. But the ride home had been silent, his thoughts crashing against him like a lost boat against the waves in the middle of a storm.

His friend offered to stay over, but didn’t insist when Lando told him he was okay; two months of pretending he was.

Two months of convincing himself he made the right choice, that he needed space to figure out who he was outside of them. He told himself he needed to be alone and focus on his work, because the aftertaste of the last season still lingers. He wants to see his dream manifesting before his eyes, and he knows that comes with a set of sacrifices. He is ready, but how far is he willing to go? What else is he willing to give up?

Because all he’s done in her absence is slowly descending into madness.

With a defeated sigh, Lando collapses onto the couch. His head falls back against the cushions, just as his phone starts buzzing into his pocket. He doesn’t need to check it to know it isn’t her. She hasn’t reached out since the day she walked away, her face crumpling in defeat as she whispered, I can’t keep fighting for something you clearly don’t want.

The memory of her face still haunts him, because he knows now, just as he knew then, that he should have fought harder. He wishes he had at least tried. Although he also knows it wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, because the mental state he was in at the time would’ve made everything worse for both of them.

Without thinking too much of it, his thumb finds her little icon, and before he can stop himself, Lando starts typing.

10:24 PM: Hey, you up?

10:24 PM: Sorry.

10:26 PM: Can we talk?

10:30 PM: You ever think about us?

10:35 PM: Forget I said anything.

10:39 PM: No, actually, don’t. You were everything. You ARE everything.

10:39 PM: I may be a little bit drunk, but I fucking miss you, baby…

10:41 PM: I don’t miss you because I’m drunk BTW. I just miss you.

10:41 PM: All the time.

10:45 PM: Was I ever enough for you? Like, in general… do you think we could’ve made it work?

10:47 PM: God, I hate you for making me question myself like this.

10:58 PM: I don’t hate you. I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you.

11:59 PM: Remember when we went to Lake Como and got lost trying to find that little café? I think about that all the time. It started raining, and we both got sick, then we stayed in bed for a week.

11:08 PM: Are you happy?

11:10 PM: Please, say something.

11:10 PM: I know I ended this, but don’t ignore me.

11:10 PM: Please…

On the other side of the city, she’s sitting across from a man who could be plucked from a brochure for Monaco’s elite. His posture oozes confidence and he’s immaculate, from the tailored suit to his charm that has her smiling politely but distantly. He’s nothing like Lando, and she noticed that from the first date. That’s the reason why she agreed to go out again. And again.

Now, she’s four dates in, and she tries to convince herself she could get used to seeing this man as something more. But it’s not that easy when all he talks about is crypto currency and boats.

Suddenly, her phone starts buzzing, a succession of vibrations that she tries to ignore at first.

Once.

Twice.

Three-four-five-six-seven times.

When it keeps going, she excuses herself to glance at the screen, and her stomach twists as she sees his name. What freaks her out at first is that only now she realizes that she never changed his contact name, and LANDO ♥︎ now occupies both the entire size of her screen and her entire mind.

“Is everything okay?” her date asks, his voice cutting through her haze.

She blinks, confused, “I’m sorry, yeah,” she says, a wave of heat crawling up her chest and neck. “I forgot to put it on silent.”

A deep ache settles in between her lungs as she touches the icon to silent her phone. She wishes she could do that to her brain right now, because all of a sudden, her entire world starts spinning faster.

It’s the first time he’s reached out since he ended things. For her, this is monumental. But she shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t even be tempted to read whatever nonsense he keeps typing out. But then another message comes through, begging her not to ignore him, and something about the desperation in the rapid notifications makes her break.

“Excuse me,” the girl says quickly, pushing her chair back as she gets up, ready to head towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Somehow, she knew the quiet won’t last forever, but she kept hoping that Lando was happy, even without her. She hated him for a few hours after he broke up with her, but all the hatred faded away the next morning, when she woke up in an empty bed, trying her best to understand his decision.

She did, eventually. And she accepted it. More than that, she respected it, because she knew that Lando would do the same for her.

Rage.

She put in so much work, and now it’s all for nothing.

She exhales heavily, gripping the edge of the sink before finally, finally unlocking her phone, not so surprised to see more texts flooding the screen.

11:12 PM: I just wanna talk, I swear.

11:12 PM: Can I call you?

11:12 PM: Just once, please.

11:13 PM: I miss your voice.

Her heart breaks a little, but before she can overthink it, she presses that call button herself, and Lando picks up on the first ring. There’s silence at first. Nothing but his uneven breathing and the faint hum of the muted background noise.

Then, she hears his voice, rough and slightly slurred, “You called.”

She closes her eyes, trying her best to control her trembling hands. “Only to tell you to stop texting me, Lando. I am busy.”

A pause. Then a slow, shaky inhale, followed by Lando’s curiosity, “It’s almost midnight on a Saturday night, how busy are—” he stops himself as if realizing something obvious, his next words dripping in disappointment, “Oh, you’re busy,” he continues, but this time his voice changes to nonchalance. “What am I interrupting?”

She presses her lips in a thin line, bringing her fingers to her temple. “None of—”

“Are you with someone?”

Her throat tightens. “None of your business,” she finally manages to say.

His heavy breath crackles through the speaker. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She doesn’t confirm it. Doesn’t deny it. Just exhales slowly, wishing she would disintegrate into thin air before the conversation gets to an end.

To break her silence, Lando makes a noise, something caught between a bitter laugh and a sigh. “How boring is he? Be honest.”

The girl blinks, letting out a dry laugh. “Excuse me?”

“The guy you’re with,” says Lando, “How boring is he? Does he talk about taxes and golf? I bet he fucking sucks at golf.”

“Lando, how drunk—”

“Does he make you laugh?” his voice drops, softer now, but unsure. “Like I used to? God, I miss your laugh.”

She grips the sink tighter, warning him, “Stop that.”

Silence.

Then, in true Lando fashion, he blurts out something completely ridiculous, “And I miss you.”

Her stomach flips. Painfully.

He shouldn’t have this right. He broke up with her. He was the one who argued in detail why they should break up and stay that way. Him. But hearing his voice again, after all this time, she realizes how easy it is to fall back into it. Into everything they had.

“I do,” Lando insists, “I really fucking miss you, baby. Do you miss me?”

The words hit like a sucker punch.

Yes.

She bites her lip, willing herself not to break. “No,” she ends up saying.

“No,” he echoes. And for once, he sounds completely sober.

She swallows hard, forcing her voice to stay steady as she repeats, “I am busy. Goodbye, Lando.”

And before he can say anything else, before she lets herself feel too much and tell him the truth, she hangs up. With a heavy heart, she presses the phone against her chest, eyes shut, trying to breathe through the emotions crashing over her.

Breaking up with someone when you still love them is like throwing yourself into a bottomless pit. You don’t know when or if the fall will ever end, you have no idea whether or not you’ll be alone on the other side if it does end, and you certainly don’t know if you’ll make it there alive. They had their problems, of course. Everybody does. But for the first time in their relationship, Lando’s goals didn’t include her, and she had to make peace with it.

Inhaling deeply, she looks back at her reflection then she steels herself, smoothing her dress, and wiping at the corners of her eyes.

THE SECOND SHE hangs up, her words brand themselves into his brain, and for a while, he’s terrified that he’ll go mad, because they won’t stop replaying in his head like a broken record.

Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando.

Goodbye.

The finality of it slams into him, sucking the air from his lungs, and all the light from his eyes.

He can’t do anything but stand there, phone still pressed to his ear, as if maybe she’ll change her mind and call back. As if this is just a silly test, some cruel joke played by the universe to see how much more he can take before he completely breaks.

To his horror, the line stays dead, and the realization settles in too quickly for him to process, a dull ache spreading through his chest like poison ivy.

She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t soften, didn’t give him anything to hold onto. And maybe it’s better this way, but how easy is it to close the door on someone like that?

For the past two months, he told himself that if he ever needed her — really needed her — she’d be there for him. Because he knows her, and he knows that no matter how much time passed, no matter how many miles stretched between them, she’d still be his person.

But now, the truth is staring Lando in the face. And it looks like him. She’s gone for good, and he has no one to blame but himself.

His jaw clenches, his hold tightening around the phone so hard he might break it. The room feels too big, too empty, too goddamn quiet to the point it gets too much. With an angry exhale, Lando hurls his phone across the room, watching it smashing against the wall before clattering to the floor, the sound slicing through his ears like a gunshot.

With a deep sigh, he drags his hands down his face, fingers digging into his skin as if he can claw the frustration out of his body.

What did you expect? he asks himself. Then, he laughs. A dry laugh, deprived of real amusement.

At that time, space was what he needed, but she was never something Lando needed to escape. She was his anchor. His safe place. And now, she’s out with some other guy, probably smiling in that adorable way she does when she’s trying to be polite but isn’t actually interested.

Or maybe she is interested. Maybe she is moving on.

The thought nearly guts him.

Pushed by fear from behind, Lando forces himself to move, pacing the the living room while he runs a hand through his hair, irritation simmering beneath his skin like an annoying itch he can’t scratch. His heart is racing, thoughts spiraling faster than he can control. The only time he felt like this before was when his car slipped from his grasp back in 2021 at Spa. He knew he had to brace for impact, and knew his time was limited to do so. The difference now is that he can’t even brace himself, because the impact already took him by surprise.

This can’t be it.

After a moment, he crosses the room and picks up his phone. It has a little crack across the screen, but it’s still functional and, in his foolishness, he takes it as a sign to start typing again.

11:59 PM: Fuck your goodbye. You’re really just going to pretend like I don’t exist?

11:59 PM: After everything?

12:01 AM: Such a fucking liar.

12:01 AM: You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything. That you don’t miss me at all.

12:04 AM: I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you, alright? But I swear to god, I never stopped caring about you.

12:04 AM: Not for a second.

12:07 AM: It’s so stupid, but tell me to move on, and I will.

12:08 AM: Tell me you don’t love me anymore, and I’ll leave you alone.

12:48 AM: Please, don’t leave me like this…

12:48 AM: We can find a way, I know we can.

12:53 AM: No one will ever know you like I do, you know that, right?

12:53 AM: He doesn’t know how you hum when you’re nervous or how you always steal the blanket in your sleep, does he?

01:23 AM: Got it.

01:23 AM: If you ever meant what we promised, just know that this is my final call.

The moment he sends the last text, Lando knows he’s got only one chance to make it right. And maybe he took it too far this time, but he’s also at peace, knowing he did everything he could to catch her attention.

Their worst fight ever, before breaking up, nearly ended them right there and then. They were on the verge of walking away, but when all the anger settled and the silence stretched between them, they both realized neither wanted to lose the other. So, they needed a way to say it. A final chance to make things right.

A final call.

A desperate ‘I need you’. No games, no pretending. If one of them said it, the other showed up, no questions asked.

But the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into his darkest hour.

HER KNUCKLES ALMOST leave marks against Lando’s door from how aggressively she’s knocking. She is relentless, angry, and insistent, like she wants to break through it at all costs.

Behind the door, Lando frowns, pushing himself off the couch where he’d been slumped, after the realization hit him. But when he swings it open, his heart nearly flatlines.

She’s standing there, chest heaving and eyes wild with fury, with her tears still fresh on her face. Before he can say a word, she pushes him hard, forcing him a step back as she storms inside. The door slams shut behind her, the sound ringing through the silence of his empty apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Lando?” her voice cracks, her chin trembling under the weight of her furious words. “Are you actually serious?”

Lando barely has time to react before she shoves him again, her palms pressing into his chest with all the force her adrenaline generates.

He stumbles back, blinking at her in shock.

“You’re such a coward!” she yells, “This is so unfair, you know?” her voice wavers, but her anger doesn’t falter. “You have no right to do this to me. None.”

Lando swallows hard, his mind scrambling to catch up. But too much is happening too quickly, and he doesn’t get the chance, before she interrupts him right when he’s about to speak.

“No. You’ve said enough, now I’m talking,” her breath is ragged while pointing a finger at her chest, her whole body shaking with rage as she glares up at him. “You don’t get to pull me in just to push me away. Again and again. You don’t get to decide when you love me and when you need space. And you sure as hell don’t get to use your last call just to make me drop everything for you. Because of course I will, and you know it!” she says, laughing at herself in disbelief. “That’s so fucking selfish, especially when I know you don’t even mean it, and you’re just too fucking pressed that I’m moving on without you.”

His stomach twists. “I do mean it.”

“Oh, really? Then why do you do this?” she asks, her voice breaking as she shoves him again, weaker this time. “Why? One second, you’re in love with me, and the next, you want to be left alone. And now you’re dragging me back in like I don’t have a choice, like I don’t have a life outside of you.”

Lando flinches, guilt settling deep in his bones. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“You don’t know what you want,” she accuses, her voice trembling in frustration. “Because if you did, you’d know how ridiculous you’re being right now. You can’t do this to people who love you, Lando. You can’t just… fuck with my peace like this just because you’ve had a rough night. I’ve had plenty of those myself!” she loses it, turning around only to take a break from seeing his face.

Her words hit Lando like a freight train, but she doesn’t even realize what she’s just said. She’s too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, too exhausted from holding herself together. But Lando heard her loud and clear: she still loves him.

He takes a step toward her, thinking that she’s done with pushing, but when she suddenly turns around, she starts hitting his chest again, enough to pour out all the anger, all the irritation, and all the heartbreak she’s been carrying like rocks in her pockets.

Lando just stands there, letting her, because he knows he deserves it.

Finally, she lets out a shaky breath, her hands falling limply against him. Her forehead presses into his chest as the fight drains from her completely, and a sob wracks through her. Instinctively, Lando’s arms move on their own, pulling her into his tight embrace.

He wraps himself around her, his grip firm but careful, like she might slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. Her tears soak into his shirt, and for the first time in months, the floor stopped moving under his feet, and Lando can breathe again.

They stay like that for a long time. No more words. No more yelling. Just the sound of their breathing, and their hearts beating in sync. Lando’s hand is gently moving up and down her back, and she hates how safe she feels with his scent enveloping her from every direction.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she sniffles and pulls away just enough to wipe her cheeks.

Her fingers brush lightly against his damp shirt, letting out out a humorless laugh. “I probably ruined your stupid shirt. There’s make-up all over. Sorry.”

Lando shakes his head, his hands still resting on her waist. “That’s okay.”

She scoffs, stepping back to free herself from his embrace. Next time she looks up at him, her eyes are still glassy, but there’s something softer in them now. Then, quietly, she says, “He was boring, by the way.”

She walks past him without another word, heading straight for the couch, just like she did a thousand times before.

Lando turns to follow her, his mind slowly starting to catch up.

She’s here.

She came.

He hesitates for a moment before he enters her personal space again, watching as she sinks into the couch, exhaling silently as if she’s trying to steady herself. She rubs the mascara smudges beneath her eyes, and the sight twists something deep in his chest, realizing that he did this to her. Again. And he hates it. Hates knowing that he’s the reason she looks so lost, with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Hates that she showed up at his door furious, but now she just looks tired. Most likely of him. Of their situation. Of running in circles that he’s designing with the sole purpose of torturing her.

Still, as Lando lowers himself onto the couch beside her, a strange sense of normalcy settles over him. They’ve sat like this countless times before, curled up together watching movies, falling asleep tangled in each other, making love, and sharing lazy conversations over takeout. He can still picture her lying here in one of his hoodies, laughing at some stupid joke he made, eyes bright and full of adoration. But tonight, the space between them is foreign, like a chasm neither of them knows how to cross.

He exhales, raking a hand through his curls. At least, her words sobered him up, his thoughts clearer than they’ve been in months.

“I met someone tonight,” Lando’s voice cuts through the silence.

Her heart drops in her stomach, but she turns her head to look at him. Her expression is unreadable, however, Lando can see the way her fingers tighten on her thighs, like she’s bracing herself.

He swallows. “If you need a reason why, this is it. Max introduced me to her,” his tone is quieter now, a bit uncertain. “I think he was trying to… I don’t know. Set me up, maybe.”

She nods once, a short, clipped motion. “And?”

“I tried,” he admits. “I really did. She was nice. We had a few drinks together.” Lando huffs out something that’s almost a laugh but lacks any real amusement. “I even thought that maybe it could work out. I hoped it would work out.”

She doesn’t say anything, but looks at him with empty eyes and dry lips.

Lando sighs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “But then she tried to hold my hand and…”

A beat of silence.

Another deep sigh.

He lifts his head just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye before continuing, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend,” he adds, voice faint, like the confession is physically weighing on him. “It felt so wrong.”

She turns her face away, staring at the opposite wall, her jaw clenched. She understands him, of course she does. Because that’s exactly what she was doing before her phone was flooded with his texts — pretending. Faking it. Settling for something that, deep down, was so utterly wrong.

Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

He watches her profile, trying his best to understand what’s going on inside her head, what she’s thinking, and if she’s warring with her own heart, just like he did for the past two months.

Finally, Lando leans back against the couch. His fingers drum restlessly against his knee when he starts speaking again, “Do you like him?”

She stiffens. “What?”

“The guy you were with tonight,” he says, studying her closely. “Do you like him?”

The girl rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together. “You are so incredibly stupid, Lando.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I still want to hear you saying it.”

She hesitates, “I don’t know. He’s nice.”

It’s Lando’s turn to roll his eyes now, “Nice.”

She gives him a sharp look. “Yeah, nice. Like the girl you met? What is wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. But when she keeps staring, he forces himself to continue, picking at the lint on his pants, only to avoid her piercing eyes. “It’s just… you never went for nice.”

Her expression flickers between annoyance and something else he can’t quite name.

“You don’t know me like that anymore,” she warns him.

Lando lets out a quiet breath, “People don’t change that easily,” he says it like he talks from experience. “I’d still be able to recognize you blindfolded.”

His words almost knock the wind out of her. She tilts her chin up, trying to hold onto her anger, but it’s slipping through her fingers like sand. Especially when he speaks so soflty, no bitter trace behind his voice. It’s just a fact.

“I don’t know about that,” she whispers.

“I do,” he says, getting closer to her side of the couch.

She takes a breath in, exhaling slowly. “You walked away, Lando. It was your choice. What changed?”

Instead of looking back at her, Lando’s picking now at the skin of his thumb with his nail, until he feels the blood under his fingertip. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“For who exactly?”

His chest tightens. “It was for you too,” he says in a defensive tone. “I couldn’t be what you needed. It took me years to finally be competitive, and I barely had time to breathe outside work, let alone be someone you could rely on. There was so much noise around me, I just couldn’t put you in second.”

She shakes her head, her expression caught between irritation and heartbreak. “You didn’t have to change anything for my comfort. I know what racing means to you. Knowing you were there was enough for me.”

He swallows, guilt pressing heavy against his ribs. “Not enough. I didn’t want to drag you down.”

Her lips part, a flash of disbelief crossing her face. “Do you even hear yourself?” she gestures wildly, “You were never dragging me down. I was so happy for you, Lando. Still am,” she blinks rapidly, trying to push down the emotion rising in her throat. “But you decided I was an inconvenience.”

Lando closes his eyes briefly, his fingers curling into fists. He knows she’s right. He knows. But back then, he had convinced himself that letting her go was the only way to keep her from ending up hating him. Now, she’s standing next to him, looking at him like she doesn’t know whether she wants to scream or sob.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all he can say. And then, “I just... missed you.”

Out of instinct, she makes herself smaller on the couch, raising her knees to her chest.

“I tried to act like I didn’t, but I was miserable,” Lando adds, “Everywhere I went, I was looking for you. Waiting for you.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head again. “Spare me, won’t you?”

“I’m not saying this to change your mind,” he defends himself quickly. “I just need you to know. Because it was eating me alive.”

Her arms loosen around herself, her posture softening just a fraction. “Do you think I wasn’t miserable too?” her voice cracks on the last word. “You said I was pretending you didn’t exist. Do you really think I just walked away and simply forgot about you?”

Lando stares at her, taking in the way her lower lip trembles, the way her eyes are shining with new, unshed tears.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Stupid, stupid,” she repeats.

She’s still mad at him. But she aches to be closer, to touch him, to bury her face in his chest and just breathe him in. Just for a moment. Just long enough to pretend that everything is okay again.

Cautious, Lando lifts a hand like he’s giving her time to pull away. But when she doesn’t, his fingers brush against her hair, gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch is light, barely there, but it still gives her chills. Then, without thinking too much of it, she leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

A tear slips down her cheek, and before she can wipe it away, Lando’s thumb does.

“I’m sorry.”

She lets out a quiet sob, and that’s all it takes for Lando to pull her into his arms without hesitation. She melts against him, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt, pressing her face back against his chest as she lets more tears out.

Lando buries his face in her hair, whispering all over again, as if that will make her believe him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tears are threatening his eyes too, but he closes them before they can escape.

He feels the warmth of her breath against his collarbone and, once again, he’s terrified. He would rather her push him away, rather her scream at him, tell him she hates him, hurt him back. Because all this silence is unbearable. It swallows him whole, and tells him everything he’s too afraid to admit: that he drained her, emptied her out until there was nothing left to give.

He’s about to apologize again, but then he feels it in the way her fingers, still curled into the fabric of his shirt, twitch slightly, and the weight of her head is pressing deeper into his chest — she fell asleep. As soon as things went quiet, she slipped under, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the time of night and everything to do with him.

A lump forms in his throat as he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. He shifts carefully, moving just enough to lean back fully, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible. But unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come easy for him.

HER PALM RESTS against his cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into hers. Every exhale of hers tickles his jaw, and it feels like muscle memory, the way her body molds into his, the way he instinctively holds onto her even in sleep.

Lando doesn’t stir. He never does. He’s always been the type to sleep through anything — alarms, thunderstorms, and morning light flooding the room. Even now, he’s dead to the world, his lips slightly parted, his arm wrapped lazily around her waist.

But his phone vibrates on the coffee table, and that’s what wakes her up, the sound cutting through the stillness. She barely registers it at first, burying her face against his chest, but when it buzzes again and again, she groans softly.

Disoriented, her breath deepens as she takes in her surroundings: the familiar scent, the heavy weight of Lando’s arm, the warmth of his body against hers. And then, all of it crashes down on her. Last night. Every whispered apology, every push, every tear, every way she let herself slip back into him like she never left.

Suddenly, a wave of panic wakes her up for good and, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she tries to muffle the sob that threatens to escape. She can’t cry again; she’s way too exhausted for that. But her body betrays her, stiffening next to him as his weight becomes suffocating.

Luckily, the continuous buzzing takes her out of it and, reluctantly, she finally reaches for Lando’s phone. The screen lights up with a crack across it, and lots of notifications. It’s 1:04 PM, and a text from an unsaved number catches her attention first:

Hey, Lando ;) This is Eva. Max gave me your number, said you weren’t feeling well last night. I’d like to see you again tonight if...

The rest of the message is cut off by the lock screen, so she lets the phone drop back against the glass of the table, swallowing past the tightness in her throat and slowly turns onto her side, facing him. Lando looks so peaceful like this. His curls are messy, his face slack with sleep, no frown decorating the smooth skin of his forehead. His eyebrows are a little fuzzy, so she gently styles them back into shape with her thumb.

She missed their lazy mornings more than anything. The way the concept of time never seemed to exist when they were wrapped up in each other, away from anything that could potentially come in between them.

Her hand is still weak as she presses her palm to Lando’s chest. His heartbeat thrums beneath her fingertips, steady, warm, alive. That’s why she came here in the first place: for him. And in the clear daylight, she realizes that the familiarity between them can’t be reversed. Last night was a lot, but she can’t let herself fall into it again, no matter how badly her body wants to stay curled into him.

She brings the same palm to her chest then, trying to put some distance, but Lando stirs instinctively. His arm pulls at her waist, his fingers twitching against the fabric of her dress, unwilling to let her go even in the hazy blur of waking up.

His body recognizes hers before his mind does; the warmth, the normalcy of having her there. Then, reality creeps in, dragging him back into consciousness. And with it comes the dull ache pressing against the inside of his skull, the dryness in his throat, the remnants of last night staining his entire body with exhaustion, guilt, and shame.

“I feel like shit,” he speaks against her shoulder, voice raspy from sleep. His head is pounding, his stomach unsettled, but her scent is the only thing guiding him to something steady. He breathes it in, eyes still closed, and continues, “I need a greasy burger for breakfast.”

“It’s past one,” she says quietly.

Lando groans, rolling onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes. He can feel her presence, but even though her body is so close to his, he starts to feel the tension. The distance. He realizes it the second she moves again, getting in a sitting position, ready to leave the bed. Leave him.

Lando’s eyes snap open, desperate to catch a glimpse of her, even as the sunlight nearly blinds him. Her hair is messy, hands resting against her lap. Her dress is all wrinckled and drapes over her frame, making her look small in a way that destroys him. Like she doesn’t belong to this moment, like she’s already halfway out the door.

“I should go,” she says the words that he was so afraid of, and it feels like a knife to his ribs.

“You should stay,” he insists. “We can get something to eat, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

She presses a palm against her forehead, realizing the gravity of the situation. Giving him false hope won’t help anyone.

“No, thank you. Falling asleep was already bad enough.”

Lando clears his throat before speaking again, slightly unsure, “Was it, though?” he asks and, in return, she shoots him a warning look. “I know, I’m sorry.”

However, she’s no longer angry with him. She exhausted the last of her strength last night, and now all that’s left is the bitter taste of what could have been.

“Is that the only thing you’ll say now?”

He licks his lips, throat still dry as if he drank sand. “Yes. Until you forgive me.”

It was meant to be lighthearted, a little joke, and a weak attempt at softening the weight pressing down on both of them. Based on past experiences, she always forgave him. So why should now be any different, right? But when she doesn’t react, when the silence only thickens, he realizes how fucking stupid that was.

She blinks once, twice. Her gaze flickers away, “Your final call,” she says quietly, “Did you do it because of that girl? You got scared because you liked her more than you thought you could?”

Lando’s heart stalls for a second, caught off guard by her inquire. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, I was scared. But not of her,” he stops, thinking of it. The frown comes back, and it looks like the thought gives him a headache. “I was scared of falling back into something I couldn’t fix. Still am. You and me… we’re not easy, you know?” he lets out a small, bitter laugh, almost self-deprecating. “We’ve never been easy. And I’m just so tired of fucking things up.”

She doesn’t think much about her actions lately. She wasn’t thinking last night when she left her date in a rush, and she certainly isn’t thinking now, as she turns her body to face him.

“I don’t understand you anymore, Lando. The only thing I do understand is that you pushed me away just so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. Because you couldn’t handle me, is that right?”

Lando winces. The weight of her words hit him harder than any punch. “No, it’s not right. I just didn’t know how to fix… me,” he says it for the first time out loud, his voice breaking on the last part; surprisingly, it’s not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would. “I didn’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

She scoffs, “And now what? You think one drunken night is enough to put you on the right track? You think you know what you want just because you’re afraid of losing something that’s no longer yours anyway?” the girl asks, watching as his facial expression changing in pain. “I’m sorry, Lando. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I need answers.”

His voice is barely a whisper as he replies, “The only answer I can give you is that I didn’t know how to be what you needed at the time. Is that so hard to believe?”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away. “It is,” she agrees, “Because you never asked me what I needed. Not once. You just did what was best for you. And now…,” her voice trails off before moving her eyes on a random point on the floor, “You’re not showing me anything. You can say that all you want, but how do I know you won’t push me away again? I need to know you’re here, that you’re really here.”

Lando reaches for her then, almost instinctively, his hands determined as he cups her face. “I am here,” he whispers, leaning in, his breath shaky against her skin. “You’re just too stubborn to let me back in. And I get why,” he rushes to say as he feels her tensing under his touch. “But, please. Let me fix us. Please.”

Neither of them speak for a while after that. She’s so close to him now, she can hear both of their heartbeats, the weight of every single second hanging between them like lead from a strand of hair.

She is hesitant, but she pulls him in first, her lips barely brushing over his. Even though it’s a featherlight touch, her close proximity ignites something highly flammable in Lando. He stills, his breath caught in his throat, his hands curling into fists as if holding himself back, too afraid to take it any further too fast.

Just as he leans in, just as he starts to close the little gap, slowly, she pulls away. The loss of her, even for a second, makes his patience snap and, without giving her the chance to build another wall between them, he reaches out, fingers threading into her hair, pulling her back to him, this time with purpose.

She doesn’t resist — can’t, really.

His forehead presses against hers and neither of them move, trapped in the space between knowing and doing. His grip tightens against her jaw, thumb stroking over the edge of her cheek, his breath hot against her parted lips. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid lingers in the air, and it’s suffocating. She exhales shakily, closing her eyes for a moment, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers splayed over his heart, feeling the way it pounds beneath her touch. And then, as if her body betrays every ounce of hesitation in her mind, she fists his shirt and pulls him back against her.

They crash together, and the world tilts within a second.

Their lips meet in a clash of want and desperation that knows no border of sanity. His hands are suddenly everywhere, cradling her face, threading through her hair, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She presses into him, her nails scraping against the back of his neck, anchoring herself to him like she’s afraid he’ll slip away any minute. Like he’s going to change his mind again, and tell her to leave, because he needs to be alone.

But he won’t. He never will again. The taste of her floods his senses, familiar and intoxicating, making his body buzz with excitement as he deepens the kiss. He breathes her in, trying to make up for every second he’s spent without her.

She wants him, and she’s aware that things could go exponentially wrong after this, but she’s already broke the rules the moment she crossed his threshold last night. She shifts against him, pressing closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. He stirs slightly, humming, his arms automatically locking around her, helping her sit on his lap.

Her lips brush against his jaw, trailing down the column of his throat. She’s barely even touching him, but she knows he feels it, because she hears the way his breathing stutters, the slight twitch of his fingers against her hip. She smiles, shifting again, innocent, except not at all, because her thigh suddenly drags over his, pressing just enough to feel the growing heat between them.

Lando lets out a sleepy grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “What the hell are you doing?” his aroused voice is exactly how she remembers, rough and deep, and able to send shivers down her spine.

She hums, pressing another kiss to his collarbone. “Nothing.”

Lando chuckles, his hand sliding to grab her waist, fingers lazy but firm. “No, I think you’re doing something.”

And, whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause to think.

She lets out a dry laugh, edged with sadness and a hint of accusation, “Always making me ache, aren’t you?” she asks, pressing her lips against his ear, while positioning herself above him, helping Lando get rid of his shirt. Soon enough, her fingers are dragging down his stomach, nails grazing lightly at his abs. “It’s like it turns you on to see me in pain, isn’t it?” the girl sighs, brushing her hips against his in a way that makes him curse under his breath.

His fingers dig more into her waist, his patience thinning by the second. “You know that’s not true,” his voice sounds so angelic, that she actually believes him for a second because of it. “I’m sorry you can’t trust me anymore. But there’s nothing I hate more than to see you hurting because of me.”

She nods, giving him the impression that his words have the power to make her weak. In reality, she’s just curious to find out how sorry he really is.

“You’ve said that about a hundred times already,” the girl reminds him, “How bad, though?” she tries to push the limits, mostly to see if there are any, the words slipping from her lips like something delicate and filthy all at once. “Bad enough that you’ll drunk text me again? To see if I come running to you? Again? To say you’re sorry a hundred more times, hoping I’ll let you fuck me in whatever position you want, for as long as you want just because I feel for your sorry ass?”

His nostrils flare as he exhales in disapproval, “Stop that shit.”

“Why?” her voice sounds overly seductive, but somehow, he knows it’s just a trap. “Isn’t sex your answer to everything?”

There you go.

Lando’s jaw tenses as the words continue to leave her mouth, unforgiving, each one winding around his self-control like a vice. His fingers twitch on her waist, the weight of her straddling him making it impossible to think straight. She knows exactly what she’s doing, pushing, teasing and testing the waters of his restraint.

And fuck, it’s working.

Her dress has ridden up her thighs higher, exposing smooth, warm skin that begs to be touched, and his hands find their way there without permission, fingertips pressing into her like he wants to make sure he’s not just dreaming, and she’s actually there.

“Not trying to fuck my way back to you, if that’s what you mean,” Lando disagrees just as he lets his fingers drift higher, watching the way her breath becomes more uneven. “But won’t back down if it works, either. So what does that say about you? That we’re just the same?”

She puffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. Just a lot of tension, coiled so tight between them that something is bound to snap. Soon.

“We’re so not,” she argues, tilting her head slightly, her lips so close to his that he can taste her breath. “I actually have the balls to stay when things get tough.”

Her unfiltered comment it’s all it takes.

Lando moves in a blur, gripping her hips and flipping them over in one swift motion, pressing her into the couch as a surprised gasp leaves her lips. He hovers over her, his body fitting perfectly between her open thighs, hands braced on either side of her head. The sudden shift has her looking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, and chest heaving in anticipation.

In this position, Lando looks at her like he’s trying to figure out what to do to her, aware that the changing in dynamics favors him. His hands find the hem of her dress, fingertips teasing the edge as he watches her reaction, giving her a chance to stop him — or to take back her words, whichever comes first. But she does neither. Instead, she lifts her hips, a silent plea, and that’s all the permission that Lando needs.

He peels the fabric up, savoring the way her body is revealed inch by inch. His mouth finds the newly exposed skin along her ribs with the speed of a man starved, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her torso, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Lando can feel her shiver beneath him, her fingers tangling into his curls, tugging just enough to pull a string of sweet noises out of him.

“I won’t be able to stop if we—” he murmurs against her skin, a last sliver of hesitation buried underneath all the want.

She cuts him off by cupping his jaw, guiding his face up so he has no choice but to look at her. “I won’t ask you to,” she assures him, lifting her hips up once more to meet his, feeling how hard he is against her. The contact is like a drug she’s been deprived of for too long, and now that she has access to him again, her mouth starts moving before wiring to the rational side of her brain, “I wanna do laundry together later.”

Despite what he’s just said, Lando does stop, watching her intently. Because he knows that she means more than just laundry. For starters, it means she’s staying. It means she’s letting him try. It means the weight in his chest that’s been suffocating him for weeks finally lifts, replaced by something warm yet fragile, something he doesn’t dare break this time.

He has to swallow past the ache before pressing himself against her, letting her scent wrap around him like the most familiar kind of comfort.

“Yeah?” he finally whispers, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly might shatter whatever weak truce they’ve found between them.

She nods, a real smile appearing on her face, the first one in months, “Yeah,” she parrots, which urges Lando to plant another kiss on her lips, lazier this time. And she welcomes him.

Gradually, his grip consolidates around her, his teeth catching her bottom lip, and suddenly, the slow morning is anything but. Now he’s wired, wide awake, and so fucking hard.

Her hands work fast, pushing at the waistband of his pants with an urgency that makes Lando’s pulse hammer in his throat. He moves enough to help her, and then the fabric is gone, pooling somewhere on the floor, next to her dress and panties.

The feeling of skin on skin has the power to set him on fire, every inch of him hypersensitive as she drags her fingers down his stomach, nails scratching lightly against the ridges of muscle before wrapping around him for just a second, only to say hi. His breath catches, head tipping forward before he forces himself to look down at her.

“You’re a menace,” Lando points out. His voice is thick with desire as he rolls his hips against her once her hands move around his neck, dragging his length along the soft skin of her inner thigh, brushing lightly where she needs him most. He feels her shiver, her nails digging into his back for a fraction of a second before she exhales a breathy laugh.

“I had to adapt,” she says, her voice saccharine, but teasing, fingers biting into his shoulder blades.

“I can see that,” his tone is rough, but there’s something playful underneath it. He continues to move, this time with more intention, the tip of his cock catching against her slick heat.

She bites her lip, her free hand reaching up to pull him down on her and crash their lips together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, too desperate to be anything but raw. He groans into her mouth, their breaths blending together, and she takes the moment to wrap her legs around his waist, locking him against her completely, the heat ever-growing.

The easiest thing in the world for Lando is to get lost in her warmth, her scent and the way his skin vibrates with every touch of her delicate palm.

The hardest thing in the world for Lando is to stop when every nerve in his body screams for more, just to make sure she wants this as much as he does, even though it risks snapping her back to reason, forcing her to push him away all over again.

“If you don’t—”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

With that, his hand is already in motion, dragging down her stomach, pushing between her thighs. He finds her soaked, warm, and slick against his fingertips, and it makes him want to howl, knowing that he still has the same effect on her; if anything, the time spent apart only made her miss his touch more.

“Shit,” he slurs, pressing two fingers against her clit, moving them in torturous circles. “Missed seeing you this needy in the morning.”

She hums, thighs twitching. “Techincally, it’s not morning anymore.”

Lando shakes his head in disbelief, “That smart mouth,” his fingers slip lower, teasing at her entrance but never pushing in, just pressing there, feeling the way she opens up for him.

For a moment, his fingers stay right there to tease her, barely giving what she wants, what she’s silently begging for with the way her hips roll forward. Agonizingly slow, he pushes in, finding her so ready for him and so fucking tight, that Lando swears he could lose his mind just from feeling her in his hands.

The girl huffs out a breath, her frustration evident as she glares up at him, “Lando.”

“Yes, love?” he uses his fingers to press further just a little more, but never enough, feeling her walls hugging him impatiently.

She bites her lip, a flush creeping down her neck, and he knows she hates the way he’s making her ask for it.

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You win. Now stop being a dick.”

Lando smirks, dipping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, dragging his teeth along her skin before pulling back to look at her. “I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully, fingers curling lightly inside her pussy, enough to make her whimper. “I kinda like seeing you like this.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but it’s ruined by the way she starts panting when he finally, finally, glides his fingers in and out, her body agreeing with everything he has to offer. His thumb presses against her clit, rubbing her wetness against it as he watches her fall apart, her hands clinging onto him for support.

“Fuck,” she cries, head tipping back, and Lando swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Yeah, fuck,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw. Her back arches instantly, a moan spilling from her lips as her nails dig into his arms, while he’s going faster, agonizingly so, dragging his fingers in and out, feeling how her body fights to keep him in. “This what you needed?”

She quickly turns her head from side to side, fingernails scratching along the skin his shoulders. “More,” she whispers, already out of breath. “Wanna feel you.”

Lando pulls his fingers out, watching the way her slick clings to them in the rich color of the afternoon light. He blows out the breath of air he was holding, trapping her thighs in his grasp as he lines himself up, the tip of his cock dragging through the wetness pooling between her legs.

“Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you get, baby. Wanna see you drip on it,” he muses, pressing just barely inside before pulling back out, coating himself in her slick. “See how much you missed me.”

She whines, hips jerking up.

The grin on Lando’s face widens. “There you go, you beauty.”

She meets his eyes, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his kisses. Seeing her like that, squirming under him, throws Lando into a spiral. For now, he has no idea where this moment will take them. All he knows is that he wants to make the most of it, to memorize her body lines and the sound of her moans, because once the haze fades and clarity takes its place, anything is possible.

And that terrifies him.

Sinking into her feels like homecoming, and the sweet stretch is making both of them whine in unison, cling onto each other. He swears under his breath as her walls constrict around his length, her mouth falling open in a breathy gasp.

“Holy shit.”

She’s so full of him, just like she wanted, the feeling even better than she remembers.

Lando presses a kiss to her jaw, his hands holding her waist tight enough to leave faint marks behind. “Not letting you go ever again,” he says with his lips glued to her skin like he’s in a trance, voice strained as he fights to keep control of his own body.

She nods, barely able to realize what’s she agreeing on, mind buzzing with thoughts of him, him, only him. “Promise?”

Lando sighs, pulling out slowly, almost all the way before sinking back in. The sound alone — that lazy, wet, messy drag of his cock leaving her, again and again — enough to turn him into a savage man. He watches, entranced, as the evidence of how much she wants him spills down her slit, glistening and painting her inner thighs.

In answer to her plea, Lando links his pinky finger with hers, his hand covering hers entirely. “Promise you, baby. You’re fucking unreal,” he rasps.

Waiting for her was pure torture, but the thought that this can be over before it even properly begins, forces him to still inside her then pull out entirely, his cock, flushed and soaked, resting against her thigh, leaving more of their mess behind. He grips the base, stroking himself once, careful, watching as her empty cunt clenches in his absence, her body desperate to be filled again.

“I’m so glad I got drunk,” says Lando, tracing his fingertips through the wetness between her legs. He presses a long finger back inside her, for his own pleasure, only to feel how impatient she is.

She cries out, thighs snapping shut around his wrist, back arching off the couch. “Yeah, me too,” she blinks up to him, her sincerity spurring Lando on.

He adds another finger as a reward, fucking into her deeper, his other hand stroking his cock in time with her gasps.

“We were always gonna end up here, weren’t we?” asks Lando, his hand working her faster now, watching as she writhes beneath him.

She lets out a choked moan, but can’t answer, too busy rolling her hips against his movements.

“Me, apologizing,” Lando continues, sounding so out of breath, “While you moan my name. Like always, is that right?”

“Lan,” she warns.

“Juuust like that. Look at you,” he chuckles, watching the way her body responds, getting covered in a sweaty layer of goosebumps, and the way her thighs tremble. “As desperate as ever.”

She whimpers, pushing up onto her elbows, dazed and itching to see what he’s doing to her. And the sight makes her pulse race: Lando between her legs, his fingers moving inside her, fucking her with a contrasting gentle force, while his other hand works over his cock, slick and hard, ready to stretch her all over again.

His eyes flick up to hers, dark and hungry, lips parted as he watches her descending into despair, slowly but surely. He drags his fingers out, just to press them back in, firmly, watching her body tense, making her whine louder.

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” he praises, voice subdued and teasing. “Feel it,” his strokes on himself grow lazier, drawing out the moment. “Feel me.”

She nods frantically, her thighs so close to give up from so much shaking. “Not… enough.”

Lando mewls, biting his lip as he watches her squirm, his patience hanging by a thread. “No?” he asks amused, pulling his fingers out and lining himself up again. “Let’s do something about it then. Show you how sorry I am, hm?”

He pushes back inside without any warning in one fluid motion, and the sensation wrecks both of them at the same time. She’s always so fucking tight, but soaked enough that there’s no resistance, just the messy slide of him stretching her open with every inch.

“Shit,” his voice is barely a sound, more like a guttural groan as he bottoms out, his hands finding their way back home, on her hips.

The heat of her, the way she pulses around him, has his heart racing relentlessly, and their sounds fill the living room every time they move together. Lando grits his teeth, withdrawing just halfway before thrusting back in, harder each time.

She gasps, her body craving him, like she can’t get enough. “More.”

He snarls, pace picking up, his hips snapping against hers, skin meeting skin in a rhythm that’s almost punishing. “More?” Lando asks in amazement, “You fucking take everything I give you, and you still want more?”

She nods, dragging her hands down his back, nails leaving marks that burn, but it only spurs him on, thankful she gives him something he could feel for hours after they’re done.

“Always more,” she whimpers, legs wrapping weakly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she yammers. “Feels so. Good,” she chokes on the last word, lifting her hips in desperation.

Lando is close to sobbing at this point, slamming into her, his control unraveling by the second. “Good girl. Gonna make you come so fucking hard you’ll feel me every time you blink.”

Her whines break into cries as he fucks her harder, each thrust hitting the exact spot inside her where she needs him most. His hand slips between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing her in messy circles, just to see her fall prey to the pleasure that only he can give her.

“Yes,” she nods, her body keep moving on its own to meet his. “Yes, I’m so close. Don’t stop!”

He is far too hypnotized by the way she loses it under him, demanding more and more with each passing second. Lando’s hands move then to encircle her waist, squeezing gently before sliding higher up her ribs, and finally to her breasts. They don’t rest there for too long, though, as she grabs his wrists and moves them around her neck, pulling his face right above hers. Her legs tighten tighter around him, and her palm cups his ass cheeks, pressing him deeper into her.

“That bad?” he asks her, and all she can do is nod again, speechless. “Come on, then. Wanna feel you drench my—"

Lando can’t even finish his sentence as her moans get louder, a blinding pleasure tearing through her in waves, over and over again, too intense to hold back. She cries out, back arching, body shaking she squirts, soaking both of them.

“Ah, shit. Shit shit shit!” Lando’s voice is wrecked, his hips stuttering as he watches her welcoming the euphoria.

The sight, the feel of her pulsing around him, squeezing him so tight has the power to destroy him. He barely manages a few more thrusts before he breaks, burying himself deep, groaning as he spills inside her, warmth flooding her walls. His body shudders against hers, muscles tensing, pleasure rolling through him in waves just as endless as hers. His hands are holding on to her like she’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. And right now, she is.

For them, the time stops. They just breathe each other in, their bodies locked together, still vibrating. He can feel everything, from the soft rise and fall of her chest to the tiny aftershocks still making her pussy throb around him, pulling him deeper even though he’s already buried to the hilt. It makes Lando gasp softly, dragging his lips lazily over her jaw.

His fingers brush along her side once they manage to catch their breaths. “You okay?” Lando’s voice is low, lightly dipped in concern at her sudden silence.

She nods weakly, eyes snapping open, a satisfied little hum escaping her lips. “Okay,” she breathes out, lovingly tracing her fingers along his spine.

Lando smiles mischievously, “Okay.”

Before she can register what he’s doing, he grabs one of her legs and pulls it up, resting it over his shoulder, changing the angle entirely.

“The fuck?” her inquire is startled, but it quickly turns into something else the moment he starts moving, the new position making everything tighter, deeper. Heaven.

His grin is downright devilish. “Not done,” he informs her matter-of-factlty.

To that, Lando’s hands settle firmly back on her hips, pinning her in place before he draws back and thrusts into her measured at first, the kind of stroke that leaves her breathless.

Somehow, the finish line turns into a brand new start, and all she can do is brace for it.

“Oh, my—Lando!” her stomach twists, fingers grasping at nothing, forced to cling to the cushions because she can’t reach him like this. The position keeps her wide open for him, helpless, unable to do anything but take it.

Lando hums, his grip tightening. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Spread wider for me,” he instructs. “Can you give me one more?”

She whimpers, barely able to think, let alone answer, as he starts pounding into her, his rhythm relentless. Every thrust knocks the breath from her lungs, her body struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of it, but somehow excited and so willing to push the limits.

“Please,” it’s both a cry and a plea, but she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for.

“Obsessed with those pretty noises. Just take it, baby,” he breathes, driving into her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

His grip shifts then, spreading her even wider, forcing her open until there’s nowhere for her to run. His pace slows just for a fraction, not out of mercy, but because he wants to feel every inch of her hugging him, wants her to feel how deep he is, how there’s no part of her he isn’t claiming.

And then he sees it.

Right there, in the soft plane of her lower stomach. Every time he pushes in, there’s a faint, tantalizing bulge, proof of just how deep he goes; his brain short-circuits. The sight of it has him helpless, hunger twisting tight in his gut, making his cock twitch inside her.

“Fucking hell,” his voice is nothing but raw, shattered arousal. He can’t help himself, instinctively bringing his wide palm to press down on it, applying the slightest pressure, feeling himself inside her from the outside.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando,” her moans turn high, her body jerking as if there is no such thing as too much pleasure.

“You feel that, baby?” Lando’s eyes are wild, rolling his hips a bit slower now, pushing so far inside her that she swears she can feel him in her throat. “Feel how fucking deep I am?”

She nods, tears beading in the corners of her eyes, her hands clawing harder at the sheets because it’s too much.

His forehead falls forward, resting on hers. “Forgive me.”

A simple — yet not really — plea, wrapped in something devastatingly tender. It makes her stomach flip, makes her heart ache in a way that feels too big for her body. She clenches around him involuntarily, and he groans, his grip on her hips tightening.

Her leg slides down his waist, hands instantly flying around his back, pulling him impossibly closer, her lips brushing against his jaw as she nods. “Please, Lando…”

“I need you,” he says, “Need you by my side when I win. Need you by my side when I fuck up. When I’m flying so high it feels like I’ll never come down.”

The sweat blends with the smell and the desperation behind his confession, and somehow, the moment feels endless, even though both of them know it quickly approaches the end.

“Need you when it gets too loud, when I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just noise. Need you when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. Just… need my pretty girl that knows me better than anyone,” he praises, pressing his palm firmer against her stomach, feeling the way she squeezes him from the inside. “Need to fuck you like this every day, baby. To be the one that drives you mad. Please. Please, forgive me.”

His words send a shockwave through her, a moan ripping from her throat. Lando hisses, thrusting deep again, watching the way his cock bulges against his palm, and the way her body welcomes him with no resistance.

He is right there, balancing on the knife’s edge of pleasure, and it’s almost infuriating. His whole body shakes with the effort of holding back, but he can’t tear his eyes away from where they’re joined. The sight has his stomach tensing, his cock throbbing inside her. The slick glide, the way she clenches around him every time he grinds in deep, and the way her body drags him back in with every pull out it’s fucking unbearable.

“Baby, I can’t—” she drags him deeper into the heat of her release, her weak arms pulling him impossibly closer as if she’ll disintegrate without him.

That does it for Lando, shattering whatever control he has left. His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic as the pressure in his spine explodes.

“Fuck” he groans as his release bursts inside her, hot and thick, flooding her walls. His hips jerk against her as wave after wave crashes through him, his cock pulsing with every sharp, overwhelming aftershock.

But even as his body shudders with euphoria, even as his breath stutters against her throat, his hips keep moving.

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he rasps, pressing into her with hard grinds, still spilling inside her, his body demanding more. “Fucking hell, I can’t stop.”

She gasps, over-sensitive but still achingly wet for him, her body responding to every push, every deep roll of his hips.

“I know, I know,” she says, wrapping herself around him.

“Yes? Just a little more,” he begs, “Please, just let me feel you a little longer.”

His movements slow eventually, each thrust turning sluggish, drawn out, until he can’t physically move anymore. The last of his pleasure drains from him, leaving his body heavy, and utterly spent. Finally, he collapses on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing ragged, skin covered in a generous layer of sweat. His natural scent sends her home in an instant, and all she wants right now is for time to freeze in place.

She doesn’t say anything, just exhales softly and presses a kiss to his temple, then another to his cheek, her lips brushing over his damp skin. She moves tenderly, kissing his jaw, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose. He’s still inside her, still holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

People talk about the quiet before the storm, but the quiet after is much more terrifying. It gives you time to see the destruction it left behind, and there’s nothing you can do but watch. She has always hated feeling powerless, and it’s only when she tilts her head, pressing her lips to his forehead, that she feels it. A warm, wet drop against her collarbone. Then another.

Her fingers still where they were stroking through his curls. “Lando?” she whispers, pulling back just enough to look at him, hoping that her suspicions will not come true. But that’s when she sees the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his brows are furrowed, the silent tears slipping down his cheeks.

He looks almost startled, like he hadn’t even realized he was crying. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

She cups his face instinctively, her thumb catching a tear before it can fall, just like he did last night. “Lan…” she speaks a bit louder this time, “Look at me.”

He shakes his head in response, his hands gripping her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear again, this time for more than two months.

Lando presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, feeling more tears running down his cheeks, “Tell me it’s not too late for us,” he pleads, pulling back to finally meet her gaze. “Tell me I haven’t fucked this up beyond repair.”

Beneath the surface, the pain still lingers. But much deeper down, their bond is still knotted tightly, and even though the rope is taut, ready to snap at any small gust of wind, the fact that she’s still in his arms is enough for the rope to become the binder that holds them together. She can’t name the feeling without giving him everything all at once. Instead, she just brushes her nose against his.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 11 months ago

Text

Like You Deserve (Wolverine)

Description: Y/N wants to dom Logan

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,032

Request: What about sub Logan smut?

Wade and Y/N had lots in common but one thing that stood out against the others was that they both wanted to Dom Logan ... .well Wade was never going to get the chance, Y/N made it her destiny to. Logan wouldn’t swallow his pride easy but Y/N saw the looks that he gave her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Her suit was like deadpool but sexier so her whole body was on display for him to gawk at. What better way to get Logan to agree to submission than a party?

Wade of course threw the party and Logan was trying to cut back on the drinking so he wasn’t drinking anything that could affect this experience. Y/N decided not to drink anything either so it left them as the only 2 sober people at the party. “How much you wanna bet that Wade’s gonna try to fuck Vanessa tonight?” Logan asked. Y/N looked at him, “With her boyfriend right next to her? Yeah probably.” They watched as Wade tried so hard not to flirt with her in front of her boyfriend. “Yeah I can’t watch this.” Logan cringed and stood up. Y/N stood up as well, “We can go somewhere quiet and chat.” She offered.

Her bedroom was everything he thought it would be. It was all types of movies and comics, her room smelled so nice thanks to the candle she lit beforehand. Almost as if She had planned this. “So is there a reason you aren’t drinking?” He asked her. She usually drank at parties but today she wasn’t and he found that odd. “Just wanted to take a break.” “Bullshit.” She looked at him, surprised.

“There’s an actual reason you aren’t drinking.” She sighed, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She said. He turned his whole body towards her while laying on her bed. “Hit me.” She wanted to be like Wade and actually hit him rather than tell him. “You would certainly get it out of me drunk.” She said and looked over at him. “Or you could just tell me.” She shook her head, “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me say it.” She whined.

He got off the bed, “Fine then don’t. I’ll leave.” He said and went to leave her room. “I wanna fuck you.” She blurts out. He steps dead in his tracks and turns to look at her, “That’s it?” What did he mean by that? “Well I mean that literally. I wanna fuck YOU.” “You wanna be in control?” He asked as if she was joking. She nodded and her face got really red. “Yeah as hot as you are, No.” He said and she stood up. “You won’t let me dominate you? You don’t think that would be hot?” She asked. “Our first time fucking isn’t going to be you in control. It’s gonna be pounding into you like you deserve.” He said to her.

A few months later Y/N was handcuffing him to the bed, “What was it that you said to me before we got together? You wanted to fuck me like I deserve? Well baby boy I wanna fuck you like you deserve.” She purred and got off the bed to see him. He tried to hide his hatred for being chained up.

Y/N stared at his abs and muscles that were on full display for her to see. “Gosh baby you have such a perfect body.” She said and walked and started tracing his abs. They were perfect and hairy. “I just wanna hump every inch of you.” She purrs and he tenses up at her touches and words. Her fingers travel to his hard on that was clothed. It was the only part of him that was clothed.

The second her fingers traced over his hard on he hissed. “I barely touched you baby.” She teased and gripped him. He held back a pathetic moan of need as her tiny held what she could. She leaned down and licked up his abs making his breathing heavier. “Mmm you taste so good.” She said and took off her clothes. His eyes widened at her naked body as if he had never seen it before. He had tons of times but it never failed to amaze him.

Once she was naked she took her panties that were wet and shoved them in his mouth. “Just a little taste for later.” She winks at him. She straddles his body and moves up to his abs. They were hard and perfect for what she was about to do. She gasps as she runs her wet pussy over his abs getting them wet. He watched as she did this slowly teasing him but herself too. Each time her clit touched his abs she moaned a little louder each time. He wished that he could just take a hold over her and fuck her on his abs but he couldn’t.

It was long after that she was tired of teasing herself and started humping his abs fully. Her hands placed on his chest as she got a steady rhythm going. His eyes were glued to her face as he watched her pleasureful expressions. Her body thrusted against his as she gasped and moaned. “Fuck for so long I’ve dreamt and humped my pillow just imagining your abs.” She whined as the bed shook with her thrusts. He moans against the panties at her words. She removes her panties from his mouth and puts them in hers as she continues to ride him. “Fuck baby girl you look so hot.” He groans and her head falls back. The panties fall from her mouth as her jaw drops from how close she is. “Baby please wait and cum on my cock or my face. I don’t care.” He was begging. Something she never thought he would do. His abs felt amazing but his dick would feel better. She stops her humping and throws her panties somewhere in the room.

With wobbly legs she stands up and pulls down his boxers. His hard dick is leaking at the tip and begging to be touched. He was so big and each time she was still nervous about his size. She crawled back on him and took his dick in her hand. Though her hand couldn’t wrap all the way around it, it still felt good. Fuck it felt amazing to him. Her hands were like silk and he loved the feeling of them on him. He groaned and threw his hand as she started jerking him off, “That feel good bub?” She asked, teasing him and mocking his pet name for everyone. “Fuck darlin’ your hand is amazing but you’re pussy is better.” She giggled at his words. Fucking giggled. He loved that sound more than anything.

“Or I could make you cum so many times. Milking you dry.” She said and his eyes rolled at her answer. “I have you exactly where I want you Logan. I need to take advantage of that.” Her hand was speeding up the pace. His hips bucked up until her hand as he groaned. “The first time I cum has to be in that pretty little cunt. I won’t accept it any other way.” He grunts and she laughs. “Oh you won’t? I don’t think you have much say in where you’re cumming.” She says and speeds up her hand. He was so close to his orgasm but he didn’t want to cum like that.

“No fuck please let me cum in your pussy.” He begged her. There he was again, begging her. Her hand stops, “You’re very lucky that I wanna cum all over your cock.” She says and moves to position herself. She rubs his tip all over her pussy making them both gasp. “Let me inside please.” “Impatient little thing aren’t ya Wolvy? You’ll get what you want.” He was by no means little but that wasn’t what he was focused on. She was teasing him and it was starting to hurt. Before he could beg anymore she finally took him in and oh did it feel amazing. Her pussy swallowed him whole and he loved every second of her taking him in with caution.

Her jaw dropped as he ripped her open like it was the first time. Both of them are already edged and ready to go. Her pussy was leaking around him. His eyes couldn’t leave the sight of her taking him in until he was gone. “Fuck you’re so big.” She whined and let herself adjust to him. Though he was being an impatient fuck and thrusted up into her causing her to moan loudly. He smirked at her reaction but the glare that was present on her face told him he was in trouble. “You weren’t supposed to do that Wolvy.” She said and if it wasn’t for the fact that every time they had sex she had to adjust to him she would have gotten off him.

“Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” Oh wow. The begging was one thing but to tell her to fuck him. He had lost it, truly. She let herself slowly grind on his dick and even though he was whiny and telling her to stop teasing him, she enjoyed it. “I would be pounding into you now.” He groaned and she laughed. “I have never seen you so whiny and bratty. It’s almost like that’s why I’m doing it.” She started riding him a little faster. He wanted so bad to grip her hips and drag her on his cock. She could tell that he wasn’t happy with her pace but he was deep in her and hitting spots that even without him “ramming” into her, it still felt good.

She could cum from this pace but Logan needed more. Her head fell back and she let out little moans as her hips sped up a little more but not much. “You’re so deep.” She gasped out. He started growling like an animal and she looked down at him. “Aww baby is this not good enough for you?” She asked with a fake pout and sighed. “You’re lucky that I wanna cum.” She said before dragging herself on his dick and riding him the way he wants. “Fuck yes.” He groans, loudly. She whined his name and placed both her hands on his chest. His eyes never left her fucked out face.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby.” He groaned and if she could she would roll her eyes at him. He wanted her to let him touch her. “Let me mark you baby please.” He begged and she was high on pleasure to care so she stopped and grabbed the keys to the cuffs and undid them. The second his hands were free he gripped her hips and dragged her on his cock so fast it took her breath away. “Yeah that’s it baby. Fuck you look so good on top.” He praised her and her pussy fluttered around him at that.

He chuckled, “Yeah you like that? I know she did.” He looked down at her pussy that looked so full of his cock. “Logan fuck if you keep talking like that I’m gonna cum.” She whined. “That’s the point baby.” She felt herself on the edge but she wanted him to cum first. “Logan I need you to cum first baby.” “Never. My woman will always cum before me.” He groans and holds himself back. “Cum for me darlin’ drench my cock.” She gasped and let out a loud moan of his name as she orgasmed all over him.

He bit his lip and followed right after her. “Fuck baby.” She cried as she rode out her orgasm. His eyes never left her face to see how fucking pretty she looked as she came all over him. She collapsed on his chest and he hugged her. “You did so good, baby. You made me feel so good.” He said out of breath. She yawned and closed her eyes, “I love you Logan. Thanks for that.” He smiled and kissed her head, “Love you too bub.”

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine smut #wolverine #wolverine xmen #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #hugh jackman #deadpool #ryan reynolds #x men #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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othernightslikethis · 3 months ago

Text

SPRING LOVE

3,6k words

Smut, Bf x Gf

Kim Minju x Male Reader

Ahhhh she is so beautiful 😍😍😍

As the current centre-back for Paris Saint-Germain, you’ve become the missing piece in the squad, which now sits comfortably in Ligue 1 and advances in the Champions League after knocking out Liverpool. With solid performances and impeccable skills, the press and fans don’t hesitate to call you "the new Maldini."

But none of that mattered. Not when you were with her.

Kim Minju.

She was your girlfriend. You met through mutual friends when you were both just nineteen. Back then, she was still a K-pop idol, and you were a rising star in Korean football—much skinnier than you are now. To say it was love at first sight would be... a lie. You got along well, but at the time, you agreed to stay just friends, as too many things between you seemed too different.

But everything changed after six months of deep conversations, shared laughter, and moments that brought you closer. That was when you finally confessed your feelings for each other. Your relationship was celebrated with joy, and your teammates were incredibly kind, offering advice—some of them a bit too much.

You never got to meet the members of Minju’s group, but it was never an issue. When IZ*ONE disbanded, it was a tough time for her, but you supported her unconditionally as she pursued an acting career.However, there was a moment when your relationship became fragile: when you received the offer from Paris Saint-Germain at twenty-two. The club was restructuring after the departures of Neymar, Messi, and Verratti—brilliant players who hadn’t managed to secure PSG’s long-awaited Champions League title.

You told Minju about the offer, and she celebrated with you, but both of you knew the distance would be an immense challenge. It wasn’t just moving cities—it was continents, cultures, routines. After many emotional conversations, you decided to break up and remain friends.

But that decision didn’t last long. At the start of 2025, you rekindled things, choosing to try a long-distance relationship. You agreed that if it didn’t work out, you’d part ways peacefully, with no regrets. Since then, whenever your schedule allowed, you’d fly to Korea to see her. And when she wasn’t busy filming, she’d appear in Paris, bringing a piece of home to your life in Europe.

It was hard, yes. The long nights and hectic days tested both of your patience. But every video call, every message exchanged in the dead of night, every reunion—it was all worth it. Because, in the end, no title, no trophy, no praise from the fans could compare to her smile.

That was what mattered. Her.

Kim Minju.

That was why your lovely girlfriend was there, in your mansion in France, a few days before the match against Aston Villa.

Minju had managed to carve out a break from her hectic schedule to spend four days exclusively by your side, especially to watch the game. Everything seemed perfect—the romantic atmosphere, the breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower framed by the mansion’s large window, the cosy silence of the evening... But in that moment, none of those details mattered.

What dominated the dimly lit room were Minju’s soft, breathy moans, echoing off the walls like a forbidden melody. She was lying on the sofa, completely naked from the waist down, wearing only an oversized hoodie of yours that barely covered her delicate frame. The muted light accentuated the glistening wetness on her thighs, where a tantalising slick had begun to trickle, betraying just how aroused she was. Her fingers moved with perfect precision inside herself, curling in just the right way to draw out another high-pitched sigh.

— Baby... Just like that... — She arched her back, lips parting in a mix of pleasure and frustration. — fuck, it’s not fair, ahnn... You promised you’d let me be on top today!

Her voice was a blend of complaint and provocation, but she barely managed to finish the sentence before throwing her head back, fingers clawing at the sheets as her thighs clamped involuntarily around your hand. Her eyes, usually so sweet and bright, were now darkened with desire, locked onto you with an intensity that nearly made you give in.

She was right, of course. You had promised. But the truth was, Minju was rubbish at being dominant. There was something irresistibly adorable about the way she’d try to take control, only to crumble minutes later, whimpering and writhing beneath you. It was as if her submissive nature always betrayed her attempts at command—and you loved every second of that contradiction.

— You say that like I have a choice... — you murmured, leaning over her as your fingers deepened their movements, feeling her shudder. — But we both know you prefer it this way.

Minju let out a sound between a moan and a protest, but the shiver that ran through her body and the way her legs fell open even wider were answer enough.

— Ah! No— not like this, baby...

Minju gasped as your third finger joined the other two, pressing lightly against her entrance before sliding in all at once, filling her completely. You weren’t exactly experienced with women—Minju was only your second girlfriend—but your time in Paris had granted you a few casual encounters. Minju, however, was different. She was the only one who could take three fingers. Her soft, slender frame might have been deceiving, but you knew just how well she could handle every inch of what you gave her.

— It’s too... ahn... much— she moaned, her fingers digging into your shoulder, nails biting into your skin.

You smirked, feeling how she was already clenching around your fingers, hot and tight, even as she complained.

— Bollocks. You fit just fine.

And then you began moving your hand with a firmer rhythm, three fingers sinking deep before pulling almost all the way out, only to push back in, faster this time. Minju cried out, her voice breaking into a sharp whine, and you felt her pulse quicken, her body twisting between the urge to pull away and the desperate need to press even closer.

— Fuck, stop! Stop for a bit! — she whined, but the trembling in her legs and the way her cunt pulsed betrayed her real plea: don’t you dare stop.You leaned over her, whispering against her neck as your fingers kept working, now with a curling motion that made her shudder.

— You can take three, can’t you? Want me to take one out?

— N-no! — She shook her head, eyes glazed with pleasure. Just— ahn— slower...

But you already knew she didn’t want slower. She wanted to be pushed to the edge, even if she pretended to resist. So instead of easing up, you added a slight twist of your fingers inside her, your thumb finding her clit at the same time.

Minju screamed your name, her body arching violently, and then—she fell apart.

Her muscles clenched like a fist, hips jerking uncontrollably, and you felt the warm rush of her release spilling over your fingers as she came, desperate moans tearing from her throat.When she finally stopped trembling, she was panting, face flushed, lips swollen from biting down on them.

— You... wanker... — she breathed out, still trying to recover.

You laughed, bringing your wet fingers to your mouth and licking them slowly, never breaking eye contact.

— Promise you’ll be on top next time.She let out a weak chuckle, both of you knowing full well neither believed that.

— Shut up and pull it out, come on.

Minju was still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze challenged you even as her body trembled with post-orgasm sensitivity. You obeyed, slowly withdrawing your fingers, feeling how she still pulsed around them—warm and soft. A trickle of desire dripped between her thighs, and you couldn’t resist—you ran your thumb over her, gathering some of that nectar before bringing it to your mouth, keeping your eyes locked on hers.

— Disgusting... — she murmured, but the blush creeping up to her ears and the way her legs shyly pressed together betrayed her words.You smirked, leaning over her, bracing yourself on your arms to avoid crushing her completely.

— You love it.

She tried to look away, but you gently cupped her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. — Do you really want me to stop?

Minju bit her lower lip, hesitating. You knew that expression—it was the face she made when torn between what she should want and what she actually desired.

—...No.

The answer came in an almost ashamed whisper, and it was enough to make your blood boil. You captured her lips in a voracious kiss, feeling her melt against you, her hands gripping your back as if afraid you might vanish.

When you pulled apart, she was even more breathless, her eyes glazed.

— Then show me how you want it.

Minju hesitated for a second before rolling over, pushing you back against the sofa cushions. She settled onto your lap, still wearing that oversized hoodie that only amplified her aura of perverse innocence. Her hands trembled slightly as she undid your trousers, but when she finally freed your erection, her gaze darkened with desire.

— You’re... Big today. — She murmured, wrapping her hand around you experimentally.

You clenched your teeth, feeling her heat even in that minimal contact.

— Your fault.

Minju smiled then—one of those rare, wicked smiles that only appeared when she was especially confident or aroused.

— Then I should apologise properly, yeah?

Before you could respond, she leaned forward, taking you between her lips in a slow, deliberate motion. You groaned, your hands instinctively tangling in her hair. She wasn’t the most experienced, but the way she looked up at you with those big, pleading eyes as she sucked you like you were her last sip of water in the desert—fuck.

— Minju... Your warning came out more as a moan.

She ignored you, deepening the movement until you felt her throat constrict around the head. You arched your back, muscles tensing.

— If you don’t stop, I’m gonna—

Minju pulled back at the last second, letting you slip from her mouth with an audible pop. Her face was flushed, lips glossy and swollen.

— I want you inside me.

She didn’t need to ask twice.

In one fluid motion, you pulled her up, aligning her with your length. She was already so wet that she slid down without resistance, taking you all in one smooth movement. The two of you moaned in unison—her, at the sensation of being stretched open again; you, at the unbearable heat of her tightening around you.

— fuck… — Minju arched her back, her hands gripping your shoulders. — So full…

You held her hips, helping her find a rhythm.

— You can take it. You always can.

She began to move, hesitant at first, but soon gaining confidence. You watched, mesmerised—the way her breasts swayed slightly under her hoodie, the mix of concentration and pleasure on her face, the obscenely wet sound every time she sank down to the base.

It was beautiful. It was filthy. It was Minju.And when she started losing her breath, her movements growing uncoordinated, you took control, flipping your positions in one swift motion. She gasped in surprise, but you were already between her legs, lifting one over your shoulder to plunge even deeper.

— I said you could be on top… — you growled, thrusting hard. — Didn’t say for how long.

Minju cried out, nails digging into your back, but her hips were already meeting yours. She was close again—you could tell by the way she clenched around you, by the way her moans turned higher, more desperate.

— Come on. — You ordered, rubbing her clit between your fingers. — Come for me.

She obeyed with a sharp cry, her body arching violently as the wave hit her. You held her through it, drawing out every spasm until your own back tingled, the pressure becoming unbearable.

— Inside? — You asked, already knowing the answer.

Minju nodded frantically, eyes brimming with tears.

— Inside, inside, please—

That was enough. You pulled her flush against you, burying yourself to the hilt as you came, her name spilling from your lips like a mantra.

When the haze of pleasure finally began to fade, Minju lay sprawled across your chest, utterly spent, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

— Still think I don’t let you be on top? — You teased, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face.

She gave your chest a weak slap, no real force behind it. — Prat…

Minju mumbled against you, but the satisfied smile on her lips gave her away. She was exhausted, but you knew her body would still respond to touch, always so sensitive after the first climax. Your hands slid down her back, exploring every curve, before gripping her arse firmly.

— Think we’re done? — You whispered in her ear, feeling her shiver.

She lifted her head, eyes slightly unfocused. —You still not satisfied?

You laughed, rolling onto your side to face her. —Not even close.

Your fingers found her clit again, rubbing slow circles as she writhed against you.

— Let’s try it like this. — You suggested, guiding her leg over your hip.

Minju understood what you wanted and adjusted, letting you slide back into her. She was so soft and warm inside, still sensitive but ready for more. You started with slow, deep strokes, feeling every inch of her stretch around you.

— This good?

She bit her lip and nodded, fingers clutching your arm. — Slower… just a bit…

You obliged, keeping the pace steady, but after a few minutes, she began rocking her hips against yours, asking for more.

— Fancy a different position? You asked, already knowing the answer.

She shook her head, breathless. — Want you… from behind.

You didn’t need convincing. Gently, you helped her turn, positioning her on all fours on the sofa. She arched her back perfectly, and you couldn’t resist—running your hands over her curves before lining up and sliding in smoothly.

—Fuck… You groaned, feeling her even tighter like this.

Minju buried her face in the sofa, muffling her moans, but you knew she loved it. You gripped her hips and picked up the pace, each thrust harder than the last.

— More… more… — She begged between ragged breaths.You gave in, losing yourself to the rhythm until she trembled again, her body clenching around yours. This time, you didn’t hold back—letting yourself go with her—until a wicked idea struck.You leaned down, letting saliva drip onto her even tighter hole, her arse, feeling her tense and glance sharply over her shoulder.

— Wait, what? Hang on, we’ve never done anything there! You can’t just assume I’d—

You raised a brow and smirked, pulling back and lining up against her again.

— You can take it.

— Like hell I can, you’re big, really huge! I’ll die if you—

She cut off with a gasp as the head of your cock pressed slowly into her arse.

— Relax… — you murmur, holding her hips firmly as you slide just the tip inside her, feeling her initial resistance. — Take a deep breath… like this…

Minju moaned, her fingers digging into the sofa cushions, but she obeyed, inhaling slowly as her body adjusted to the gradual intrusion. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the near-suffocating heat, and you had to restrain yourself from losing control right then. Your heart pounded wildly, as if trying to escape your chest, and the air around you felt charged with electricity.

— Does it hurt? — you asked, stopping completely to let her adjust, your eyes fixed on her face for any sign of discomfort.

She shook her head, breathless, her lips slightly parted.

— No… just strange. Keep going, but… slowly.

Her voice was a silken thread, trembling faintly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed, advancing inch by inch, each movement calculated not to startle her. Until, finally, her body yielded and accepted you fully. A rough groan escaped your throat when she was completely filled, and Minju arched her back, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise and pleasure.

— Fuck… you fit so perfectly here… — you muttered, almost breathless, the words gritted between your teeth. The sensation was indescribable—as if she enveloped you in a completely new way, tighter, more intense, as if she’d been moulded just for you.

She didn’t respond, but the flush on her cheeks and the way her muscles clenched around you said it all. You began to move, slowly at first, testing her limits, but soon found a rhythm that drew higher, more desperate moans from her. Your bodies intertwined, creating a symphony of muffled sounds and skin against skin.

— That’s it… just like that… — she whispered, tossing her head back when you hit that spot, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.

You smirked, mischievous, and repeated the motion, firmer this time, making her cry out.

— You like that, don’t you? Want me to go deeper? — Your voice was rough, thick with desire, and you felt your own pulse quicken further at her reaction to your tone.

She nodded frantically, her fingers now clutching the arm of the sofa as if it were her only anchor.

— Don’t stop… please, don’t stop…

Her plea was almost childlike in its sincerity, and a wave of possessiveness surged through your chest.You had no intention of stopping. Your hips rocked against her with increasing force, each thrust deeper than the last, until she began trembling uncontrollably, her moans turning almost tearful. The sound was intoxicating, and you leaned down to drag your tongue along her neck, savouring the salt of her sweat.

— Gonna come again? — you teased, feeling her walls clench around you. — Want to feel you squeezing me like this… all of you…

She couldn’t answer, only let out a high-pitched moan as her orgasm hit, her entire body curving as she clung to you like she was drowning. You held her steady, prolonging every spasm, until your own resistance gave way and you buried yourself to the hilt, spilling inside her with a muffled growl against her shoulder.

For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that, panting, glued together by sweat and body heat. The air around you seemed frozen in time, and you closed your eyes, committing every detail to memory—her scent, the sound of her breathing, the way your bodies fit together perfectly.You finally pulled out, and Minju collapsed onto the sofa, utterly spent, her eyes closed.

— I… hate you… — she murmured, without any conviction, her voice hoarse from moaning.

You laughed, lying beside her and pulling her against your chest. — Liar. You love me.She didn’t reply, but the small, satisfied smile on her lips was answer enough.

— You were insatiable today...

Minju breathed deeply, still catching her breath, her body relaxed and heavy against yours. You could feel her warmth mingling with yours, their skin slightly sticky with sweat. Gently, you ran your hand along her back, tracing soft lines up to her nape, where the muscles were still tense.

— You alright? — you asked quietly, your fingers massaging slow circles into the spot, loosening invisible knots.

She let out a barely-there sigh, sinking further into your embrace. — Mm-hmm… just tired.

Her voice was drowsy, and you felt such overwhelming fondness it almost hurt.You smiled, understanding perfectly. You knew that even after the high, her body would still be sensitive—especially after what you’d done. Without hurry, you reached for the hoodie that had been discarded earlier and draped it over the two of you, covering yourselves partially. The soft fabric was warm and familiar, and Minju nuzzled into it with a murmur of contentment.

— Hang on. — You got up for a moment, heading to the bathroom to fetch a damp cloth and a clean towel. When you returned, she was lying on her side, eyes half-lidded but still awake. — Come here.

Minju turned with slight hesitation, and you began cleaning her skin with gentle strokes, running the warm cloth over her thighs, her stomach, her breasts—all with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity from before. She watched in silence, but you noticed the gleam in her eyes, the wordless gratitude.

— Did it hurt? — you asked, pausing when she winced slightly as you wiped between her legs.

— Just a bit… but that’s normal, right?

She shrugged, as if trying to downplay it, but you knew every microexpression of hers.

You didn’t reply, just leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the inside of her thigh, almost paternal. — Here.

You grabbed some lotion from the coffee table and dabbed a bit onto your fingertips before applying it where you knew she’d be most tender. The massage was slow, almost therapeutic, and she let out a deep sigh, melting under your touch.

— You’re good at this… — she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut, her voice fading to a whisper.

— It’s the least I can do. — You chuckled softly, finishing up before lying back down beside her. You pulled the hoodie over both of you, creating a cocoon of warmth between your bodies, and wrapped your arms around her. — Sleep. I’ll stay here. Night.

— Mhm, night. Love you.

Her voice was so soft you almost missed it, but the words reverberated in your chest like a bell. Within seconds, her breathing slowed, her face finally relaxed. You stayed there, listening to the quiet rhythm, your fingers playing with strands of her hair as the night passed slowly. The world outside could wait.

— Love you too.

#x male reader #male reader #smut #kim minju #iz*one

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velaris-fic-repository · 2 months ago

Text

Mishaps in Babysitting

@sjmxreaderweek May 10th Prompt: Free Day

Azriel x Archeron!Reader, Nyx is a menace

“Now, you’re sure you’re alright doing this?” your sister, Feyre, asked you by the door. She and Rhys were going out into Velaris tonight for a much needed date night just the two of them.

Nesta, Cassian and the Valkyries were in Illyria with the non envied task of dealing the camp leaders. Elain had agreed to a little trip around Prythian with Lucien, who had offered to show her all the various court gardens - among other things - and so the two of them could get to know each other a bit better. A chance to get themselves on better footing, as it were. Mor had a date of her own tonight and Amren was visiting Varian in Summer.

That left you at home to watch the Inner Circle’s beloved child, your precious nephew, Nyx.

“Feyre, if you try to talk yourself out of going through me one more time, I’m going to lose it.” You offered her an easy, loving smile. “I know it’s hard to leave him, but you have more than earned this. Go, spend a night with your husband. The little guy and I will be fine. If it makes you feel any better, Azriel said he should be home soon. The two of us won’t be alone for long.”

Feyre shook her head, the pins in her hair glittering like stars in the light as she did so, “I never meant to imply that you couldn’t handle it-“

“-And,” you interrupted her, “I never said you did. Feyre, I promise everything will be fine. Let me do this.” Your face took on a softer, guilty expression. “It’s the least I can do.” You didn’t need to specify what you meant.

Feyre frowned, but nodded, “okay.”

Rhys swept around you to hold her from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Ready to go, darling?”

Feyre looked at you and finally nodded, more sure this time, “yes, I am.”

“There you go!” you said, “go out, have fun, we’ll be here when you get back!”

Rhys sent his feline smile your way over your sister’s shoulder. “He’s quite the handful on his own, you know. I’m sure I can call Azriel before we leave.”

You swatted playfully at your brother in law, “I’ll be fine! Besides-“ you put a hand over where your young bond with Azriel glowed in your chest- “if I need him, he’ll know.”

Rhys smiled.

“Nyx is smarter than his own good,” Feyre warned, “don’t let him trick you-“

“-Stop worrying! Both of you! Shoo! Out! Go! Out! Out!”

The couple laughed, sending a few more words of advice and thanks over their shoulders before leaning into each other on the lamp lit sidewalks of their beloved city. You watched them go with a soft smile before pushing off the door and walking back inside.

You rounded the corner to Nyx’s room shortly after. “Alright, Nyx what are you and your favorite auntie gonna get up to?” you teased.

You’d expected to find Nyx playing with his toys where his father had left him. In hindsight, you should have known better.

“Nyx, sweetie?”

Nothing. The room was empty aside from the entire toy box being strewn about. You carefully picked the toys up as you called out to the room, expecting Nyx to be hiding somewhere inside, maybe in the closet, where the toy box was… Hmm…

Okay, you could play this game.

“Nyx? Nyx where are you? Huh. I guess he’s not here. Welp, I guess I could at least responsibly put these toys away.” You were laying it on thick, you knew, but that was half of the fun.

You opened the closet slowly, finding the toy box tucked into the darkest corner with its lid slightly propped up. Little giggles sounded from the box, which was all you needed to know.

You crept closer and then all at once, yanked the box lid off. “There you are!”

Nyx, with his little wings tucked close to him, giggled up at you, amusement shinning in his eyes that looked so much like your sister’s.

“Gotcha!” You said, reaching for your nephew. That was, you did, until the world folded around him and you grasped nothing but thin air.

You blinked.

Had Nyx ever winnowed before? You felt like you’d have remembered something like that.

Dread spiked in your stomach for a moment until you took a deep breath, setting off into the house. This was alright, all you had to do was find him. All he had done was extend - and mildly increase the danger of - his hide and seek game.

You heard rustling in the kitchen and raced there.

Nyx, to your growing horror was spreading his little wings on top of the cabinets, perched like an adorable, little mischievous gargoyle.

“Nyx, honey, this isn’t funny anymore. You could get seriously hurt up there. Let me reach up there and pull you down.”

Nyx shook his head, “nuh-uh, auntie. I’ve got wings!”

“No! No, no, no. Nyx, sweetheart, please just stay there, I’m gonna get you down. Stay there.”

“Better idea!” He shouted in a way that reminded you so much of Cassian. He leaned forward a few times, preparing to launch from the cabinets. “Catch me!”

He launched himself from the cabinets, gliding down towards the counter. You scrambled to catch him, but there was no way you were going to make it in time.

Before Nyx could collide with anything, his descent was stopped by a hand clutching the back of his shirt. Azriel was home, and had Nyx grabbed by the scruff.

“So it looks like someone hasn’t been behaving for his auntie like he’d promised,” Azriel said, wryly.

Nyx flailed a bit but quickly realized that he wasn’t going to be escaping the strength of his uncle’s grip and quit.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Azzie” Nyx said in a sad, deflated voice.

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to your auntie.”

Nyx sent sad, remorseful eyes your way, bringing tears to your eyes as well.

“Sorry…” he warbled.

“Aww,” you cooed getting closer to him. “It’s alright little buddy. You just scared me, that’s all. We all care an awful lot about you, you know that?”

He nodded.

“We want you to be safe,” you said, “and sometimes being safe means not doing every little thing you want to do. Sometimes, a fun idea can be dangerous. That doesn’t mean never do anything fun again, just think about what could happen to figure out if it’s safe. Make sense buddy?”

“Uh huh!”

“Good,” you smiled, “now, promise you won’t winnow away from us and Uncle Azzie will let you down so we can play. Sound fair?”

Nyx nodded vigorously.

“Okay.”

The rest of the evening went by far smoother. You tired Nyx out playing and then set him to bed. You and Azriel sat leaned against each other on the couch not too far away from the little one’s room.

“Thank you,” you sighed, “for coming.”

“I felt your terror through the bond,” Azriel said, sounding about as tired as you felt, “there was nowhere in the world I wouldn’t have left to come to you.”

Your heart swelled, “Az.”

“I don’t know what is wrong with human males for you to think that isn’t the treatment you deserve,” Azriel growled.

“Thank you, Az,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“Don’t ever thank me for that again. I don’t deserve praise for what I would do naturally.”

Not having the energy for even this back and forth, you simply sighed and leaned your head on Azriel’s shoulder. His wing moved in to drape over you like a blanket as the two of you rested there.

Rhysand and Feyre came home to find you and Azriel snoring on each other. Quietly snickering, they checked on their sleeping son. Happy to see all their loved ones were safe and accounted for, they draped a blanket over the two of you and left you to sleep.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #nyx archeron #sjmxreaderweek #sjmxreaderweek2025

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criminalyapping · 19 days ago

Text

due for trouble | house hunters

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: i'm reusing gifs at this point lol sue me. also is this one boring? i think its boring. that’s okay i’ll figure out how to spice it up

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, age gap, language

< part 11 | part 13 >

‘way too big aren’t you supposed to be working 🤨’

Are the two texts you send to Jack at 10pm, lounging in bed while he works. He had just sent you yet another listing for a house.

You had told him, about a week ago, that you wouldn’t kick up a fuss if he wanted to buy a house. It had taken a lot of convincing from your friends, more aptly a metaphorical kick in the ass to let your rich boyfriend-slash-baby-daddy do things for you, but you decided to radically let go of the reigns and let him do what he wants.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’re so excited. You can’t help but think about worst case scenario hellscapes, but when you do you try and shove it down to the recesses of your brain and ignore them. You saw the weight that your hesitation and doubts caused on Jack, who has never, not once, given you cause for them. So you’re letting him buy a house, that you will move into without a fight, in order to avoid the frustration and hurt in his eyes every time you retreated from his open arms.

It doesn’t mean that you’re going to staunch your opinions on the listing he sends you, though. You’ve seen, hell, you’ve become a fixture, in Jack’s current duplex, and you simply will not be allowing him to decorate your new home alone. If you did, it would be dark and moody, with little color other than beige, navy blue, and browns. Not to mention the ostentatious size of a lot of the houses he’s sending you to consider.

You, Jack, and an infant certainly don’t require 5,000 square feet.

‘I am working’

You chuckle to yourself as he texts you back.

‘Send me a picture’ he requests.

‘naughty naughty’ you reply.

‘Not like that

Just let me see my girls, please’

You smile and fight the blush on your cheeks. You and Jack had been back to the doctor- a second time since you should have been able to find out the gender, but the baby did not want to show you - and were both delighted to find out that the baby was, in fact, a girl.

It was quiet and intimate, just like you had wanted. The ultrasound tech lit up as the moved the probe over your stomach, and had given the two of you the news with a beaming smile.

You immediately lit up with a smile, turning to look at Jack as he stood next to you. He pressed a warm kiss to your temple with a whispered “Thank you,” and as he pulled back you saw the shine of shed tears in his eyes.

So now, in between texting Jack while he works, you’re carefully curating a pinterest board for a baby girls’ nursery.

You’re thinking about a forest theme, with little cartoon animals everywhere as well as florals and vines.

You’ll see what Jack thinks the next time you see him.

You quickly snap a selfie, under no impression that you’re looking your best, and send it to Jack.

You’re laid back in bed, covers sitting below your steadily expanding baby bump, with no bra and a few pimple patches dotting your face.

Jack doesn’t reply before you fall asleep, getting a hopeful 8 hours before work in the morning, which is typical for him.

You wake up to a few more texts from him, also not unusual as he tends to send stream of consciousness messages when he’s bored on the night shift. The ones that stick out to you, however, are the ones telling you that he’ll be picking you up at 5:30 tonight to go to a walkthrough of a house.

One you haven’t seen before, a new listing, he explained, that he loves and think you will too.

You text him back to agree, telling him to get some sleep before then.

You spend the day excited, thinking about how Jack must really like the house because he’s never taken you to see one, nor refused to send you a listing with photos.

You’re still in your work outfit, barely home long enough to put down your lunch bag, when Jack appears in your door to pick you up.

“So, you really like this one?” you ask as you settle into his truck and snap your seatbelt. Under the bump, just like your OB said.

“Yeah, I think it’s perfect.” he replies excitedly.

“What makes it perfect?” you ask.

“Calm down, you’ll see in just a second.”

You cross the river, quickly moving into areas where the roads are wider, the houses bigger, and the bright lights of Pittsburgh farther away.

“How far is this from work?” you ask.

“About 25 minutes for me, 30ish for you.” he says.

“Is that with or without traffic?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

“With,” he defends, “it’s closer than you think.”

“Now, this house isn’t new, but it was recently remodeled,” he explains, “and not by one of those cheap ass flippers, the owners knew if they remodeled they could get a lot more when they sold.”

“Okay, nice.” you nod.

“I really think you’ll like it.” he says with a self-satisfied grin.

Jack pulls the car over in front of a house on the right.

“Let’s go,” he urges, getting out of the car and coming around to help you down. Jack throws his arm around your shoulder as you walk up the driveway, knocking on the front door.

A woman answers the door and greets the two of you by name, ushering you in and allowing you to explore the home.

You walk through the house, a neutral smile on your face as you observe.

As much as you try to remain neutral, Jack seems to truly know you and your tastes, and you find yourself enjoying the house, much more than any of the listings he’s sent before.

Cozy, but not small. Airy, with large windows opening up to the backyard. A nice, roomy kitchen overlooking the dining and living rooms. The primary bathroom and closet are the things of dreams - luxurious and white, shining and polished. Four bedrooms and an office, three bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs.

As much as you try to tamp down your reactions, not wanting to overly influence him, Jack can see the excitement and awe in your face.

After you have done enough touring, you and Jack thank the real estate agent and head back to the car.

“So, what do you think?” he asks with a smile.

“I liked it.” you tell him truthfully.

“I’m glad,” he grins, “I like it too. I like it the most out of all the listings I’ve seen.” he tells you.

“I agree.” you say.

“Can you see us living there?” he asks, “Can you see us coming home from the hospital with this little one,” he poses, placing a gentle hand on your bump from across the console, “and putting her in bed in this house?”

“I can,” you agree, getting choked up at the idea.

“Good,” he says, leaning over the console and pressing a firm kiss on your lips. “I’ll put in an offer tomorrow.” he grins.

“Okay,” you smile. “Do you think we’d actually be able to move in before the due date?” you ask.

You’re having a December baby, and the days and weeks seem to be flying by at high speeds.

“Maybe,” he ponders, “or maybe not. Either way, we’ll make it work, even if the timing isn’t great.”

“Well, it seems like either way, I won’t be much help in the moving process.” you scrunch up your nose in apology.

“Ahh, don’t worry, I know plenty of people to help. And I’ll hire movers.” he laughs.

He drives back into the city, dropping you off at home with a kiss.

“Get some sleep,” he urges, despite the fact that it’s only 6:30, “and I’ll see you later. I love you.” he coos, dropping a kiss on your lips and ushering you inside your apartment.

“I love you too.” you smile as you close the door.

You can’t help it then, the excitement of the afternoon hitting you all at once, and you do a little happy dance around the living room, hoping that it all goes well and you’ll have the honor of living in that gorgeous house with your gorgeous boyfriend and your gorgeous baby.

It feels much better than being scared.

tagging: @michasia24 @veggieburgerwrites @bruher @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catmomstyles3 @qardasngan @fuckalrighty @rae4725 @beebeechaos @thatssomebadhat89 @cari87 @livingdeadblondequeen @wowitsafemale @neonpurplestars89-blog @starswin @celiacallsitcausal @vinceelser @glamorizethechaos @nerdgirljen @namgification @li22ie2017 @misshoneypaper @gardeniarose13 @peachjellyy @babybatreads @spooky-librarian-ghost @foolishseven

let me know if you want a tag!!

#the pitt #the pitt imagine #the pitt x reader #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot

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orimuraa · 2 months ago

Text

• I know you wanna take my hand - LHS ↳ ┊: come over - le sserafim

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆hiding a relationship with heeseung ⨾

۶ৎ idol!heeseung x fem idol!reader┆fluff┆petnames, kisses, secret relationships┆wc 832

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: here’s the pt 2!! ik i usually suck at giving part twos but here it is!!

part 1

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

it’s been 2 months and 7 days since you and heeseung first started going out—not that you were counting or anything.

he was perfect. he knew exactly how to treat you to make you feel loved but not overly so. he also knew how to hide his love for you when you were out in public.

you knew this would be the case when you first agreed to date him. you were both part of big kpop groups, meaning absolutely no scandals.

it was nice. you would meet up with heeseung after your dance practices, finding him hunched over his computer, producing something amazing.

“hi hee,” you whispered softly so you didn’t scare him. heeseung immediately looked up from his computer at your voice.

his eyes were tired, yet they still lit up when he saw you standing in the doorway, hair tied up in a messy bun and your practice clothes still on.

“baby, hi,” he smiled, shutting down his laptop and putting it back in his bag.

“ready to go home?” he asked, noticing your lack of energy. most likely from your 8 hour dance practice heeseung thought to himself.

you nod softly, liking the idea of going home and just resting with your boyfriend.

he hands you a big hoodie to replace your sweaty one, cooing at how adorable you look in it.

“alright..i have the car parked in the garage so just keep your hood on and it’ll be fine,” heeseung says, interlocking his fingers with yours.

there was barely any staff at this time and your members had all gone home, wanting to get as much sleep as they could, so it made it easy to get to heeseung’s car without much commotion.

the car ride was comfortably silent, besides the quiet sounds of the road.

heeseung almost had to carry you all the way inside as you were too sleepy to walk.

“babyyy c’mon! let’s get you all washed up and all, m’kay? how’s that sound?” heeseung hummed, stroking his knuckles against your cheek softly.

“fine,” you pouted, your eyes barely open and you mind barely awake.

you managed to make it up the stairs without falling and into the shower—heeseung helping with 90% of it all but he didn’t mind.

once you finally got to lay down with heeseung, you sighed softly, closing your eyes and letting the aches in your body soothe.

“seungie?” you sleepily mumble, still wanting to talk to him about your day.

“yes angel?” he replied, tucking his arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest.

“i’m glad we were on that show together,” you giggle, a smile touching at your lips from the fond memory.

a beat passes.

“yeah? me too. i think about how lucky i was for that everyday,” you hear heeseung reply.

the silence stays like that for a bit—quiet yet comforting.

“do you think we should tell them? fearnots and engenes?” you manage to say, opening your eyes slowly to look at heeseung.

heeseung’s eyes are already open, full of thoughts.

“i think we should,” he smiles finally, grabbing your hand and holding it firmly. “they could never tear me apart from you.”

his words make your heart flutter, reassuring you once again that you think you’ve found the one.

“hm? how romantic,” you giggle softly, eyes turning into little crescents.

“only for you, angel,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, then your temple, then your forehead.

“heyyy what about here?” you pout, puckering your lips.

“hehe saving the best for last, angel,” he smiles, leaning in and kissing your lips.

“shall we have our managers announce the news tomorrow?” heeseung asks, settling back down at your side.

you think for a minute before nodding against his chest. “yeah that sounds good..” you yawn, clearly ready for bed.

you both let sleep take over, your bodies already drained from practice earlier.

the next morning, you already knew what awaited you in the news.

LEE HEESEUNG OF ENHYPEN AND Y/L/N Y/N OF LE SSERAFIM ARE DATING - HYBE CONFIRMS

heeseung was still fast asleep when you started scrolling through the comments, not being able to help yourself.

to your surprise, you saw only positive comments, saying things like “they make an amazing couple!” “it couple of the year!” “netizens better not tear them apart or i’ll be MAD” and it made you smile knowing you had fans that were actually happy for you and not wishing for your downfall.

as you scrolled with a big smile on your face, heeseung stirred next to you.

“angel? what’s got you smiling so much?” he asked, his morning voice very prominent.

“nothing hee, just…happy to be with you,” you smile, not being able to express how happy you were.

“shall we go on our first public date then?” he suggests, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“that sounds fantastic seungie,” you smile, ready to finally breathe freely in public with your boyfriend.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

#₊˚⊹♡𝖄ᥱȷі's 𝖂᥆rks #enhypen #engene #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heesung enhypen #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung soft hours #lee heeseung soft hours #enhypen heeseung #kpop x reader

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jtargaryen18 · 4 months ago

Text

The Arrangement

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k

Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Warnings: Drugging, age gap, coercion, loss of innocence, dub-con, explicit sex, oral (f rec), breeding kink (inferred), HEA

Your stepfather made an ill-advised wager with Arthur Shelby and when he lost the coin toss, you were are to be given to Arthur for the night. And you will be taken tonight. Just not by Arthur...

A/N: I don't know if any of you are fans of Peaky Blinders. The DH started watching it recently and I've watched it with him. My muse grabbed me and this was the result. But I find if I keep her happy, she'll let me work on my other projects so... Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

You shivered in the chilly air, wearing your best dress and wrapped in your heaviest shawl. You walked along the cobbled street, slick with rain and coal dust. You felt numb, struggling to accept the situation you found yourself in through no fault of your own.

One one side of you, John Shelby walked with his usual restless energy, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers. Though younger than the others, he had a sharpness in his eyes. There was a tension about him that betrayed the weight of the world he’d been forced to carry. His hair was slightly disheveled, his cap pulled low over his forehead. But he cast a shadow that made him look harder than his years. The dim gas light flickered across his face, highlighting a faint bruise on his cheekbone. Maybe evidence of a recent scrap, though nothing too serious by Shelby standards.

On the other side, Liam Murphy, one of the Peaky Blinders’ trusted men, walked along. Taller and broader than John, he carried himself with the calm confidence of someone who knows he can handle whatever comes next. His dark eyes scan the area as they reach the destination, ever-watchful. Dressed in the same razor-brimmed flat cap and three-piece suit as the rest of the gang, Liam looked every bit the part of a man who’d bled for the Shelbys and would again without hesitation. You thought you smelled whiskey on him, but his movements were steady and his focus razor-sharp.

Around them, the air hummed with unspoken tension. John’s energy crackled like a struck match, eager and impatient. His gaze landed on you and he cracked a smile. "Look at you. You look like a fuckin' lamb going to slaughter."

Yes, you were scared to death. But you lifted your chin, holding his gaze. "Wouldn't you?"

Both of them burst into laughter as they stopped in front of the apartment, the agreed meeting place.

"Yeah," John said. "Can't say I'd want to fuck Arthur either."

The reminder of why you were here was too pointed, too impersonal. You glanced around Small Heath, the neighborhood the Shelbys dominated here in Birmingham. It was a rough area, a working-class district, thick with the grime of industry and the weight of hardship. The narrow, soot-stained brick houses huddled together as if bracing against the cold, damp air rolling in from the factories. The sharp scent of iron and smoke from nearby foundries clung to the wind like an ever-present warning.

Gas lamps cast flickering pools of light, their glow struggling against the heavy smog that lingered in the alleyways. The sounds of the city never truly died. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle howled through the night, blending with the rattle of carts, the distant shouts of drunken men spilling from the back doors of a pub.

When the door opened, your heart lurched in your chest to see Arthur Shelby standing there in the dim light. He seemed a shadow of the man he once was, now wild-eyed and disheveled. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, his once-crisp white shirt now rumpled and stained with whiskey and the sweat of a man who'd been drinking too long and thinking too hard. His tie hung loose around his neck, the knot twisted and undone.

His hair, usually slicked back with care, was in disarray, tufts sticking up where he’d raked his fingers through it in frustration. His face was a map of old scars and fresh exhaustion. His beard was uneven, the shadow of stubble catching the flickering light. His knuckles were raw, split from a recent fight. Maybe from a brawl at The Garrison, maybe something worse.

His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. They burned with the remnants of rage and sorrow. His breath reeked of whiskey and smoke, and when he exhaled, it was slow, heavy, as if the weight of the world pressed down on his chest. When he saw you, his eyes lit up in surprise. It was like his mind was pushing the memory of why you were there through the haze of his enebriation.

"Come in," he said after studying you for a moment.

What else could you do?

Dropping your head, trying to keep your desperation and fury at bay, you walked quickly by him and into the apartment.

When John and Liam tried to push their way in, Arthur smashed a fist into Liam's face. The crunching sound made you think Arthur broke his nose. "What the fuck?" Liam yelled. "Aren't we supposed to be witnesses?"

The question sent a spike of fear through your heart.

"The hell you are!" Arthur raged at them. "Now get out before I knock some teeth out, you fuckin' bastards."

With that, he slammed the door hard and locked it for good measure.

Inside the small apartment, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and old tobacco. The walls were thin, covered in peeling wallpaper that was once floral but now curls at the edges. The floorboards creaked under the weight of every movement, betraying any attempt at stealth. Outside, heavy boots scuffed against the cobblestones, stopping and starting, keeping you on edge.

The only light inside came from a low-burning candle near the window, its feeble glow barely touching the dark corners of the room. A single iron-framed bed sits against one wall, its mattress lumpy and worn. A wooden table stands near the hearth, cluttered with an empty bottle, a playing card bent at the edges, and a knife someone left behind.

The Peaky Blinders owned these streets, and yet, danger lurks in the shadows, even for them. Every knock at the door could be salvation—or the end. This is where you were born.

You stood in the small space and waited. You had no intention to make this easy for anyone. Particularly when it wasn't fair at all how you came to be here.

Arthur swayed slightly, adjusting his stance, his grip tightening on the half-empty bottle he lifted from the small table by the window. At least the curtains there were closed. There was an eerie stillness in him, the kind that only comes before a storm. He wiped a hand down his face, inhaling sharply, trying to steady himself. The chaos inside him was still bubbling, waiting for the right moment to spill over.

"Look," Arthur said, "I'm truly sorry for this situation. It's nothing personal towards you, you know. It was your father and the coin toss. He--"

"Stepfather," you corrected him. Your father had been a decent man who didn't make it back from the war. Your mother had married Sean O'Grady out of necessity, to keep you and your younger brother fed. Your stepfather was as bad as your father had been good.

"Whatever," Arthur said. "He lost the coin toss and the coin is sacred to us. He promised me a turn with you if he lost."

Something like shame flashed in his eyes as he looked you over. It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. You were inexperienced with men. Your brother had started working at the factory at a young age, but you stayed home and helped with the garden, with the sewing. Your mother took in work as a seamstress here and there and that's how the Shelbys came into your life to begin with. Arthur started it, coming by to have a couple of shirts repaired, stains removed. He'd been intimidating enough but he wasn't the one who scared you the most.

Tommy Shelby.

His name alone carried weight, pressing down on your chest like an iron shackle. He was the kind of man stories are whispered about in dark corners. He never needed to raise his voice to command obedience, nor did he need to lift a hand to make someone afraid. His power was in his silence, and in the way his glacier-blue eyes stripped a person down to their bones.

You'd seen men stronger than you shrink beneath his gaze, their bravado crumbling under the quiet calculation that lurked behind those cold, unreadable eyes. He was a man playing chess while everyone else is swinging fists. And yet, beneath the tailored suit and composed expression, there lurked something even more dangerous—something hollow and broken. It made him unpredictable.

He didn't look like a man who enjoyed violence. That would make him easier to understand. His detachment terrified you the most. Men who enjoy hurting others could be manipulated, could be fed their own hunger until they slipped. Tommy killed without joy, hesitation, or remorse. He was a different kind of monster entirely.

Arthur drank straight from the bottle, the amber liquid splashing inside it. His eyes never left you and now you were shaking. You knew your stepfather wanted you married off and gone from his house, but how was this the way to do it? Was he punishing you for still living in his house?

"What are you waiting for?" Arthur asked, slurring his words. "Come over here."

"And do what?" you had to ask. "I don't know... how..."

His eyebrows shot up at that. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

You shook your head. Waves of shame and anger rushed through you. You were untried and terrified. He was drunk and seemed at a loss as to how to handle the situation. After a moment, he set the bottle back on the table and marched towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you in place for his kiss.

Instinct had you fighting him. His kiss was sloppy and wet, the liquor on his breath heavy. It made you feel a little sick. He was easily twice your size and it was nothing for him to drag you in the direction of the bed. When your back met the mattress, you closed your eyes in acquiescence. You just wanted it over with so you could go back home, soiled goods thanks to your stepfather's poor judgment. But you'd live to fight another day. At least you hoped you would.

Arthur's weight dropped onto you on the bed, but after a moment, you realized he wasn't moving. When he snored by your ear, it was all you could do not to burst into tears. Did this mean you'd have to wait for him to sober up? Would this torment be rescheduled? You didn't think you could take that.

You didn't know what to do. Carefully, you managed to roll him off you and onto his side. He didn't wake or even move as you managed to get off the bed. Hope had your heart swelling in your chest. Could you make it out of this apartment then? You could claim that the deed was done and he passed out after.

Rushing to the window, you moved the curtain just enough to see the street and it didn't look like anyone was outside the door now. Could you make it out if you moved fast enough?

With your heart flying in your chest, you unlocked the door and pulled it open. You dashed out onto the street sending up every prayer that you'd ever said that you could just make it home.

You collided with someone hard. You were shaking as his hands came up to steady you, keep you from falling. An apology was on your tonque as you glanced up to see who blocked you.

It was him.

Tommy Shelby was the one who had you, his figure a sharp silhouette against the darkness. A beat after he released you, a match flares to life, momentarily illuminating the angular planes of his face—the high cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the cigarette resting between his fingers. The glow flickers out as he exhales, smoke curling around him like a specter. In that brief moment, his icy blue eyes locked onto yours.

He didn’t look surprised.

There was no anger or raised voice. Just a cold, assessing gaze, as if he had already predicted this. As if he knew you'd run before yoou even did. He inhaled slowly as he stance shifted. His demeanor was that of a wolf considering a cornered rabbit.

“Going somewhere?” His voice is soft, all the more dangerous for its calmness.

You want to run, but your legs refused to move. The street around you seemed empty now, swallowed in shadow. But you knew he was never truly alone. Somewhere, in the darkened alleys, his men are watching.

Tommy took one step forward, slow and deliberate.

“You should know,” he murmured, flicking his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his polished boot, “I don’t like having to come after people.”

Hooking your thumb in the direction of the apartment, you said, "He's d-done."

That cool gaze moved over you, up and down before returning to yours. "Not with you. Arthur loves the ladies but I've never seen him move that fast."

You hadn't thought of that.

"Did he pass out?" he asked quietly.

Tears stung the backs of your eyes and you nodded. It wouldn't do any good to lie to him. "What happens now?" you asked, cringing under that cold gaze.

"There's still an arrangement," Tommy reminded you. "And it has to be honored."

You glanced back over your shoulder at the door wondering what he meant by that. Would you wait for Arthur to wake up? Come back another day when he was sober?

Rough fingers at your chin turned your face back to him, and you shrank away from that unfamiliar touch. When your attention was returned to him, he grabbed your upper arm and started walking, almost dragging you up the street at first. What was he going to do? Where was he taking you?

Men were walking not too far behind you now, his men. They stayed behind the two of you until Tommy abruptly turned a corner, heading up a short flight of steps. Leading you into another apartment.

The new apartment was cleaner, quiet and cold. A stark contrast to the cramped, smoke-choked rooms you just fled from. The walls are smooth, freshly painted in an off-white shade that seems almost too pristine for a place in Small Heath. The faint scent of tobacco and whiskey, mingling with the lingering traces of fresh linen and polish, told you someone actually cared for this space.

The furniture was sparse but elegant in a way that didn’t fit the rough streets outside. A solid oak table sits near the window, a glass decanter of amber liquid resting on top, two crystal tumblers beside it. A plush armchair, its deep leather cracked at the seams, faces the fireplace where faint embers glow, casting flickering shadows against the walls.

Against one wall was a proper bed. It was well-made with crisp white sheets and a thick wool blanket folded at the foot. A luxury in this part of Birmingham.

His men have left by now, their boots retreating down the hallway, leaving you alone with him. The door closed.

“You’ll be more comfortable here,” he said, and there was no mistaking the finality in his words. It wasn't a courtesy, but an arrangement.

You still didn't understand why you were here. Was he going to keep an eye on you until his brother slept it off? Or would he expect you to stay here until the deed could be done?

He hung up his cap and shrugged out his dusty black coat, hanging it up too. You heard the soft sound of a match striking as Tommy lit another cigarette, his gaze unreadable as he exhales a slow stream of smoke. Grabbing the Scotch and tumblers on the table, he filled the crystal glasses and motioning you over.

"Have one," he said.

He wanted you to drink? You'd never drank spirits in your life. You must have stared at the glass like a snake about to bite you.

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette. "Since my brother is unable to do the honors," he said, "we'll finish the arrangement here and now. Drink it. It will make it easier."

Panic threatened to overtake you. What? Arthur Shelby passed out drunk so now you were expected to fuck Tommy Shelby?

Not doing as he said seemed terrifying, so you reached for the tumbler meant for you with a shaking hand. Bringing it to your lips for a sip, you almost coughed. The drink was smooth but potent. It burned like fire all the way down to your stomach.

"Sit down," he said, using his foot to push one of the two chairs at the table back for you. You did as he wanted, taking another drink of whiskey. You felt the weight of those ice-blue eyes on you as you stiffly took a seat. "You ever been with a man?"

The man could just talk about something so personal like it was nothing more than business. It was a lot more than that to you. It took a moment for you to work up the courage to meet his gaze now, but you made yourself do it. You may have been trapped in this situation but you had to remember that you personally had done nothing wrong.

“No,” was all you said. “Never drank either. Until now.”

Tommy studied you, the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating the sharp angles of his face. “Your stepfather isn’t a wise man.”

“Or a kind one,” you murmured, the words bitter on your tongue.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, effortless yet edged with something unreadable. “That why he offered you up?” His voice was calm, almost casual, but his gaze never wavered. “Strict with you, was he? That why you haven’t got any experience?”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around the tumbler in your hands. “No. He just wants me gone.”

Tommy hummed in answer. The room feels smaller with him in it. He took the chair across from you. One arm draped lazily over the back of the chair, the other rested on his thigh with his fingers curled loosely around a half-filled tumbler. He hasn’t spoken for a couple of moments, and yet his silence is as oppressive as a threat.

His ice-blue gaze roamed over you like a weight you couldn’t shake off. It felt like he was unraveling you in his mind, peeling back the layers of fear, of defiance, of whatever fragile armor you've built to protect yourself. It felt like he could see right through you. And he enjoyed it.

The cigarette smoldered between his fingers, the red ember glowing each time he took a slow, unhurried drag. He exhaled through his nose, the smoke curling like ghostly fingers in the space between you. He wasn;t trying to scare you. His presence alone was enough.

And yet… he was devastating.

The angles of his face, chiseled and unyielding, should have made him look harsh and unappealing, but they didn’t. His dark lashes, too long for a man, cast shadows over his cheekbones. The corner of his mouth curled around the cigarette in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive but was. The controlled power in the way he moved, the effortless confidence... It drew you in even as you willed yourself to stay on guard.

He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of the liquor, the tendons in his forearm flexing beneath the crisp sleeve of his shirt. When he set it down, the clink of crystal against wood echoed loudly in the silence of the room.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and even.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, tapping ash from his cigarette, “and I’ll start thinking you’ve forgotten why you’re here.”

It was a warning.

And God help you, it was both terrifying and intoxicating. You took another sip of from your glass, welcoming its burn and warmth. You'd been unable to eat today given what was going to happen. Your entire life would change after tonight. The alcohol went straight to your head, taking the edge off of your fear. Not enough but it was better than nothing.

"If the... arrangement is settled, here and now, then I'm done?" you had to ask. "Arthur..."

Tommy took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a ribbon of smoke. His blue eyes stay locked on yours, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to look away.

"Would you prefer Arthur?”

The question landed like a blow.

Your fingers tightened around the tumbler, the burn of alcohol lingering in your throat. You struggled to find your voice. Prefer Arthur? Tommy said it so easily, like the answer didn’t matter to him either way, like it was nothing more than an idle curiosity. But the way he watched you, eyes half-lidded, you knew that wasn't true.

Your pulse quickened. Arthur was rougher, louder, and reckless. But Tommy was something else entirely.

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “No.”

Tommy didn’t react immediately. He just studied you for another long, unbearable moment before smashing the cigarette out in a small tray. “Good.”

You didn’t ask why. Something told you that you didn’t want to know.

Your heart pounded as he drained his tumbler in one slow pull, rising from the chair with smooth movements. Without a word, he reached for your glass. Carefully, but firmly, he took it from your hands and placed it on the table. Then, he offered you his hand.

Your heart started flying. A silent command. A choice that wasn’t really a choice. Despite the tension tightening in your chest, you took it. His fingers closed around yours, steady. He pulled you effortlessly to your feet, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.

It was only a few steps to the bed, but the space between felt heavily charged. Tommy took a seat at the edge, his grip still firm around your hand. When he glanced up at you, those piercing blue eyes pinned you in place. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. And still, he didn't let go.

Tommy’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly, as he studied you with a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. His gaze moved over your face, taking in every detail.

His smooth, low voice sent a shiver down your spine, when he spoke next. “Pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your stomach tightened. There was no warmth in his tone, no flirtation. It was like he’d already decided exactly what to do with you. His fingers tightened, just for a beat, before his grip loosened again. And for the first time, you realized it wasn't fear making your heart race.

You weren’t prepared for the way his other hand slid behind your neck, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine.

The only time a man had ever kissed you was Arthur’s sloppy, whiskey-soaked attempt in the other apartment.

There was no drunken sway or careless fumbling. Tommy moved with purpose. When his lips touched yours, it was a whisper of a kiss at first. There was no overpowering smell of spirits, just the faint scent of tobacco, of him. As his lips moved against yours, firmer and seeking, you tried to mimic him, afraid not to do something. You must have done something right. He increased the pressure at the back of your neck to pull you closer, and your hands landed on his shoulders, crisp linen covering tight muscle under your palms. When he deepened the kiss, you let him, and the slide of his tongue against yours gave him a deeper taste of you. His moan surprised you, and you felt that subtle sound all through your body as he continued to kiss you breathless.

It was easy for him to pull you onto the bed and roll you under him, breathless as you were. When his mouth claimed yours again, his kiss was more demanding, and his hands were everywhere. Tommy managed to pull your shawl free of you without breaking the kiss, his hands then sliding down to work the worn leather Mary Janes you wore off your feet, tossing them off the side of the bed. One hand grabbed your ankle before sliding up your leg, up to cover the globe of your ass. Panic had you jerking in his hold.

Tommy pulled back to look you in the eye, his face flushed. There was a wildness in his eyes, something raw and unchecked. You doubted many had ever seen it. His gaze searched yours, and you trembled in his hold from the sheer intensity of it.

"I'm going to have you," he said breathlessly, his weight pinning your body to the bed. Grinding himself into your tummy, the hard, heated length of him was unmistakable, even with both of you clothed. His eyes darkened in sheer determination and his hold on you tightened. "You understand?"

You nodded quickly. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

Sliding his hand roughly up your body, he smoothed his hand over your cheek, his gaze never leaving you. Tommy kept watching you as that hand moved back down to pluck at the buttons of your blouse and his nimble fingers made quick work of it. Impatiently, his hands pulled the garment free of your skirt before undoing the buttons of your camisole beneath. You couldn't stop trembling as he undid the last barrier and peeled it back to reveal your upper body to him.

His gaze was sharp, moving over your breasts with growing impatience, hunger. With a delicacy you wouldn't have believed him capable of, his fingers traced over your collar bone, over the tiny gold cross pendant of your necklace. He trailed a finger over your skin, across to one breast, using that digit to tease your nipple to a tight peak with a gentle circular touch. When his heated gaze returned to yours, he filled his hand with your breast, squeezing firmly but not enough to hurt. Tommy began kissing you again, heated and greedy now, with his hand teasing your breast before sliding down your body and beneath your skirt.

As if he knew you were about to start fighting him again, he broke the kiss to cover your breast, teasing it with his lips and tongue as his hand slid under your skirt, into your underwear. Sensation overwhelmed you, need battling fear, and your hands clutched in the bedding beneath you as his fingers teased your private flesh, the light pressure drawing new sensations from your body.

"You can touch me," he muttered around your nipple. It felt like a command. Your hands shook as they slid up to him, instinctively moving to his head. The glossy black locks of his short hair slid between your fingers as he continued to tease you relentlessly, burning you down with his mouth and hands.

Chills and pulses of unexpected pleasure had you writhing feverishly beneath him as his tongue smoothed over your aching nipple and his fingers danced in the wet folds between your legs. Your breath sucked in when he touched your pearl, and he lifted his head to savor your reaction. Whatever he was doing with his fingers, all you knew was that it would soon drive you insane. He didn't give you the speed or pressure you wanted, his touch fleeting and maddening. Your fingers clutched in his hair as he continued to delicately torture you, your legs clamped around his hand because you couldn't help it in your need. But it didn't slow his efforts at all.

When his touch stopped, you whined, an unfamiliar sound to you. In a frenzy of movement, Tommy roughly yanked off your skirt along with your underwear, your stockings. He wasn't satisfied until you were stripped bare beneath him, all of you trembling under the intensity of his stare. As he sat there next to you, taking every inch of you in, his fingers went to work with haste, undoing his tie, stripping off his waistcoat. His fingers flew at undoing the buttons of his own shirt which he pulled free of his trousers but didn't remove it.

Tommy shifted down the bed and moved to throw one of your legs over his shoulder so fast, you didn't have time to react. And by the time you did, he'd buried his face between your thighs. The flames of humiliation only burned you for a few seconds. The man's mouth covered your sex, his tongue a wicked torment that was unfamiliar and almost too much to bear. One of his hands worked to keep your folds open, your curls out of his way, as he kissed your pussy as he had your mouth. The other slid up over your tummy with pressure, holding you in place for his assault on your senses.

You accepted it but your entire body was shaking, shivering and it was impossible to stay still. Your back arched and you would have been horrified to realize that you were pushing yourself towards him, towards his mouth, wanting more, if you hadn't been so lost in the storm of sensation. What he was doing didn't make the fever better, it made it worse. It felt like fire running through your veins with raw need pooling low in your belly. When he slid a finger back to your pearl as he continued to work you with his mouth, you gasped. When his movements sped up, when his tongued traced your opening, you screamed long and loud. A wave of pure pleasure swept over you and he didn't stop what he was doing the entire time, dragging it out until you violently shook beneath him, crying and moaning as your body shivered and eased.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he moved up the bed toward you, his hands working the fine leather belt at the front of his trousers. He wore nothing beneath and the sight of his cock, angry red and larger than you expected, filled your vision as you watched him take himself in hand, working himself as his gaze roamed over you. Tommy shifted, one of his knees pushing yours apart. You let him, watching him drape himself over you. There was something obscene about the way he stripped you naked but was still mostly clothed himself.

He surprised you by stopping then, a hand smoothing over your hair and face with care. You sensed he was holding back, respecting your inexperience. You knew it meant nothing to him but he realized it meant something for you, and your heart squeezed in your chest at the gesture.

"It's going to hurt," he said, whispering against your lips. "Not for long. Hang onto me."

You did what he said, but slid your hands beneath his shirt, running your hands over the muscular plane of his damp back. Your fingers found scars, a lot of them, but it gave you a distraction from the way he lined himself up with your entrance, the smooth head of him pressing into you insistently. It felt better to bring your legs up, your knees hovering around his hips. You held your breath as the pressure built, and the intrusion of him pushed further into your body. When he met that fleshy barrier inside you that proved your claim, Tommy surged through it, and the pain was searing. It took your breath away, had tears stinging your eyes as he completely filled you. Your tender walls quivered around him, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar length of him.

With the pad of his thumb, he caught a tear, brushing it away. Then, without a word, he lowered his head, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was unexpectedly tender. As if, for once, Tommy Shelby was in no hurry to take what he wanted. He held still inside you, allowing you to adjust to him. Lost in the dizzying mix of pain and pleasure from his kisses, you found yourself clinging to the unexpected gentleness in his touch. A quiet mercy.

But the arrangement wasn’t over yet. Not until he was finished.

Slowly, he started moving inside you and it stung like fire as he thrust in and out of you. You knew you were wincing, but you'd be damned if you'd complain now. You wanted to be brave, feeling like you'd earn his respect if you were. And as he moved in and out of you, the pain lessened and dulled, easing to be replaced with more of the sensations from before. The good ones. Before long your thighs were clamped around his hips as he plunged into you again and again. Hot, reckless kisses dropped over your face and breasts as he fucked you. Your arms and legs were wrapped around him but it was more than that. You weren't just lying there and thinking of England as you'd been advised by your mother and aunts. You were riding waves of unexpected pleasure, soaring to those heights again. Your hands became claws at his back, your nails carving into his skin. Your thighs tightened around his hips as you moved with him, wanting more, craving more.

His lips blazed a path to the sensitive skin of your throat, peppering your skin with kisses and swipes of his tongue as he rode you harder. The drive of him inside of you, his hands on your breasts, fingers teasing your pearl, drove you mad. You started begging him, pleading for release from the intense experience he was drowning you in.

"Please," you chanted.

His actions pushed you higher until, with your heart racing in your chest, he sent you flying again. Your cries filled the room as the man literally destroyed you.

Tommy drove on above you and you knew he was now chasing his own end and you still held him. But it also occured to you in that moment that there was no birth control being used here, no condom or anything. You tried to steady your breathing, pushing down rising panic. Surely, a man like Tommy Shelby wouldn’t want a bastard running around, wouldn’t leave something like that to chance. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he had more honor than that.

As his movements sped up, his thrusts just shy of painful, you tensed, hoping he was going to pull out of you when his time came so there'd be no worries. Above you his eyes were closed, his mouth slack. The beauty of him in that moment made you pause as he came. When you jerked beneath him, his hands collared your wrists and pushed them into the bed on either side of your head. Holding you there, he pumped himself into you growling as he did, thrust after thrust. Truthfully, you didn't have it in you to try and stop him. As if you even could.

He'd collapsed onto you, but his weight wasn't too much as his breathe rushed with yours. Running your fingers through his hair, you tried to stay calm. Your mind couldn't help jumping ahead.

Now that the deed was done, you'd be sent back home. Everyone in Small Heath knew you'd been won in an ill-advised bet. Would other men consider you an easy mark? You couldn't count on your stepfather to protect you.

Tommy pulled himself free from you and it stung. He stretched out next to you on the bed, his finger tracing the curve of your breast. He watched you in that way of his, sharp and knowing. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

You opened your mouth, then close it. Because what do you even say to him? But he didn’t look away. And somehow, that was even worse. At the end of the day, only the arrangement mattered. His family’s honor was intact, the deal upheld. That was all that concerned him. Whatever you felt, whatever came next for you, wouldn’t change a thing. Tommy wasn’t the kind of man to concern himself with your plight.

You took the coward’s way out.

“Can I go home now?” The words left your lips, but somehow, they didn’t sound like a plea. More like a quiet resignation.

Was that reluctance you saw in his face? Something hesitant beneath the mask of indifference?

Tommy considered your question, his expression giving nothing away. But he studied you, weighing something.

With a deep sigh, he finally says, "You can."

As you start to sit up, you watched him search through your clothing on the bed, finding your simple underwear. You watch in stunned silenced as he carefully dipped them between your legs, staining the white garment with your blood. When you instinctively reached for them, alarmed by the sight of your own blood and just mortified by what he’s just done, Tommy’s gaze met yours, sharp and unyielding. Before you could touch them, he moved them out of reach, his expression leaving no room for argument.

“I’m keeping these.” The finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Why?

You were shaking as you watched him dress, dressing yourself as quickly as you could with shaking limbs. It was over now, right? Was your blood-stained underwear proof that the arrangement was met? It was distressing. He must have noticed because without a word, he stepped to a cabinet drawer and pulled out a clean, white towel, tossing it onto your lap.

"Clean yourself up," he said, already pulling on his coat and adjusting his cap with practiced ease. "I'll be back to take you home."

And with that, he was gone.

You sat there, staring at the door he’d just disappeared through, the towel limp in your hands.

Tommy Shelby was taking you home.

A short, breathless laugh escaped before you could stop it. That would scare the shit out of your stepfather. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss you.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter at all. You didn't know what the future held for you or what impact this night would have on it.

***

Tommy’s grip tightened on the wheel, the road stretched dark and empty ahead of him. The hum of the engine the only sound between them. He didn’t glance her way. No, he could feel the weight of her presence beside him, could hear the way she shifted in her seat, the tension rolling off her in waves.

This was necessary. That’s what he told himself. A loose end tied up, an arrangement upheld.

When he pulled up to Watery Lane, the headlights cut through the mist curling over the cobbled drive, illuminating the towering structure of Arrow House. The place had never really felt like home, but it served its purpose, just like everything in his world.

He killed the engine and stepped out first, running as he rounded the car and opened the door for her. She hesitated, just for a moment, then followed without a word. He could almost see the question in her mind. Why am I here?

Because he wanted her here. He wanted her. Tonight merely sealed her fate.

Inside, the house was dimly lit. Tommy didn’t break stride, already pulling off his gloves as he spotted Polly standing at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, dark eyes sharp as her gaze moved between him and her.

“Take her up,” he said simply, voice low and clipped. “My room. Find her something to sleep in.”

Polly didn’t move right away. Instead, she gave him a look, one of those looks. The kind that didn’t need words, the kind only Polly could give. What’s this, then?

Tommy exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “Not now, Pol.”

With a slow shake of her head, she turned to his girl, her expression softening slightly as she gestured for her to follow.

Tommy watched for a second longer, then turned on his heel, heading straight for the whiskey decanter. He'd knock back a couple then he'd join her in sleep.

***

The house was quiet early the next morning, but Polly was already up. Tommy found her in the sitting room, a cigarette between her fingers, an untouched cup of tea going cold on the table beside her. The first rays of sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

She didn’t look at him right away, just took a slow drag, exhaling through her nose before finally speaking. “That the girl Arthur won in the coin toss?”

Tommy poured himself a drink, even though it was too early for one. He took his time before answering. “It is.”

Polly’s gaze locked with his. “So why is she upstairs, in your room, and not with him? Or home with her family?”

Tommy didn’t answer immediately. Just swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way the light caught in it. He didn't feel the need to explain himself.

But Polly wasn’t stupid. Her eyes narrowed slightly, putting the pieces together faster than most ever could. She leaned back in her chair, cigarette poised between her fingers, a slow smirk curving her lips. “You wanted her.” It wasn’t a question.

Tommy took a sip of his whiskey. He didn’t confirm or deny anything. But Polly was already seeing through him, like she always did.

“You let Arthur think it was his idea.” Her voice was quieter now. “Tricked her stepfather into wagering her. Then drugged Arthur when the time came to claim her. You waited, knowing she’d panic, knowing she’d run. And who was there, ready to catch her?” She let the silence hang for a beat before answering her own question. “You.”

Tommy took another slow sip of whiskey before finally meeting Polly’s gaze.

She sighed, shaking her head as if tired of playing this game with him. “What are your intentions, Thomas?”

Another pause. He could lie or deflect. But Polly wouldn’t believe him, and they both knew it.

So instead, he took another drag of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and simply said, “She’s mine.”

Polly let out a breath, long and slow, before muttering, “Jesus Christ, Tommy.”

Tommy had already made his decision.

Arthur would know soon enough. There’d be shouting, maybe a drunken outburst. Tommy would hand over proof that the arrangement had been upheld, that the wager had been honored in the way that mattered. It would be enough to keep Arthur from questioning him for long.

As for the girl’s stepfather? He would be a cautionary tale. A reminder of what happened when someone gambled with the Shelbys and lost. When a debt was called, when something was taken and then never seen again. Her sudden disappearance, her absence, would be enough to send a whisper of fear through Small Heath, a warning to any fool who might ever think to challenge them again.

And in time, when the dust settled and the moment was right, he would marry her. Not because of the arrangement.

Because she was now his.

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Cillian Murphy #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x you #The coin is sacred #Dub-con #Small Heath #Tommy Shelby smut #I

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orphicsun · 4 months ago

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Ellie x reader who’ve been dating a few years, and Ellie tries to propose 5 times but keeps getting interrupted, until for the 6th time, she proposes while in the middle of fucking ?? 💕💕

content: cheesy fluff, 18+ content, scissoring, loser Ellie(ish) content FINALLYYY

Ellie was patient at her best and pacing at her worst. She didn't like rushing things that were most beautiful in development. The process of a fuzzy caterpillar emerging from its cocoon and spreading its wet wings in the midst of the entire sky for it to explore, the beauty of childhood, the process of learning a skill like art or playing the guitar. Good things took time.

Your relationship was inarguably one of the most beautiful things to ever exist. Ellie looked back at the years of change between the two of you. The honeymoon phase never seemed to wear off, still giggling as your lips smushed together in kisses soft like warm, freshly-baked cookies and getting the nervous jitters before a nice date.

You both couldn't get enough of each other through the hardships, the times when you didn't agree with each other and needed space. The challenges of when you had first moved in with Ellie and when you had to adjust to each other's lives. You were no magically perfect couple, and that is what made Ellie love the relationship even more if it were. The disagreements and the road-bumps, the stress over money or things out of your control only brought the two of you closer together, as if Ellie were a red magnet and you were completely blue. Ellie would've taken the worst with you over the best with anyone else, and that thought was what resulted in the purchase of engagement ring.

The thought wasn't on a special date or in one of the moments you were tangled up in bed together, but when she was actually in her solitude. You weren't clocking out 'till 3 pm sharp today, and Ellie was in a state of pathetic yearning. She kept random moments in her brain and stored them for times like these, when you weren't near for her to stare at and wonder how she got so lucky. It was a blurry conjuring in her head, a moment when you were folding the laundry and threw a rag at her head. And suddenly, she thought that thought. She couldn't imagine anyone else throwing a rag at her head. And so, Ellie took it upon herself to find the ring that would shine on your hand like it belonged there, something you'd enjoy looking at while sitting at your desk job 40 miles from home. Ellie wouldn't be like one of the men who bought their wife a ring that she had never shared an interest for.

Then came the 6 trials, as Ellie loved to jokingly call them. The first was a product of her own nerves—sweaty hands and a pricey, velvet box didn't suit well with the girl. She planned a date at a botanical garden and lead you through, but her never-ending adoration for you was what got her. Her inability to say no to you.

Walking up the bridge, she stopped. She tapped your shoulder, humming a small "babe.." for your ears to pick up on the nerves in her tone.

You turned around, and that is when Ellie choked. Your hair swayed in the slight, cool breeze of wind. The sunlight reflected the shine of it in certain areas, and lightened it up in others. Your eyes squinted in avoidance of sun, but your smile was bright. You were looking at her. She stuttered and stumbled like a fool until your eyes suddenly lit up and changed course of direction towards a hibachi truck on the other side of the park.

"Babe! Do you have some cash on you? I really want some california rolls." You tugged at her sleeve and Ellie was already gunning for her leather wallet in the pocket of her jeans.

The last four times were all mostly the same. A nice date like a picnic in a park she drove a while aways from home for, a reservations at a Brazilian steakhouse you rambled on about, the botanical garden (again), and her last desperate attempt was at an art museum both of you were excited for.

Everytime it was something different. The timing wasn't right, or the waiter came back with the appetizers or bill. The second garden trip was because the two of you ran into Jesse and Dina before she could even pat down the box in her pocket and assure herself that she would go through with it. Her nerves only worsened each discouragement.

The sixth trial was accidental. She had initially planned another reservation, this time at a high-end steakhouse in the urban parts of your city. It was a week away, and Ellie was living life just fine.

It was still a week away, and the two of you were in bed together late in the night. Ellie's body was pressed against yours with much intimacy, warm tits pressed together and your legs tangled underneath sweaty sheets Ellie would throw off the bed later.

"Fuck, babe. You feel so good." Ellie murmured against your neck while she indulged herself in the heat that emitted from it. She enjoyed your scent and smothering your softness in loving kisses. Her leg hitched up over yours, aligning your cunts as closely as possible before sinking down.

The moan she tore from your throat made her heart pitter-patter, and her hips jolted forward, her clit catching on yours.

"Mhm.." you mumbled lazily, in your own state of bliss. You'd had another long day of work, but the sleepiness didn't stop you from wanting Ellie like this.

"Can I kiss you, babe?" Ellie requested, already moving her peachy lips from your neck.

Your slow nod lead to the sloppy kisses that got Ellie really wet. You felt it against your own pussy, your girlfriend writhing on top of you and dripping both of you onto the sheets. She humped your pussy as if she were catching a heat, not paying any attention to the shlick sounds that caused a vulnerable red in your cheeks until it became one of those things that really fucked with her.

Her mouth pulled from yours despite your small whine of protest, opting to rant out what she wouldn't normally say. "Fuck..feels so fuckin' good. I need to fuck you like this tomorrow. Can I please, please fuck you just like this tomorrow night?" You didn't get the chance to nod—"You feel so warm, like my own little space heater. I could keep you forever, you know." She gave you earnest, but sloppy movements, making you need more while also getting off on her heightened sense of pleasure.

"Yeah, Els. That's nice-"

"Just marry me already." Ellie blurted from her lips, immediately freezing on top of you. When she went still and rose from your laid form, you tapped her shoulder. You sat up, lifting the blanket over your tits as a reaction to the nerves she caused.

"Ellie..? Did you mean that?"

"Well, yes..I've been meaning to say it for a while." She admitted quietly.

Your heart was racing faster than moments ago, and you cupped her face to turn it towards you. "You really mean that? You wanna marry me, too?"

Ellie didn't miss the implication of that. "You wanna marry me?"

"Yes!" You hugged her, completely missing that Ellie was asking in a different way and not in a proposing way, but nevermind that.

Ellie tugged your hips and you move into her lap, melting in her arms. You both giggled like during the very first kiss back in Ellie's hand-me-down BMW, and she smothered your cheeks in soft, wet kisses while holding you close.

"You know, I was gonna propose on our next date. I made the reservation and everything."

"Celebratory dinner?" You suggested, wrapping your arms around her until they can spread over her bare back.

"Yeah, sure. Or..you could be my celebratory dinner." Ellie grinned at your surprise, and flips you back onto the bed to lay for her, already leaving giddy kisses down your body.

taglist: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz, @mitskimisfit, @g4ys0n. Taglist form here

#requests #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou 2

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lieslab · 3 months ago

Text

Do not go gentle into that good night

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X afab reader

Summary: You've been waiting months to meet your baby, but giving birth doesn't go the way you and your husband expected it to.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 6.8k

Trigger warning: Mentions of blood, nausea, giving birth, bodily fluids, and near death experiences.

A/N: I combined two pregnancy requests for this and all I have to say is good luck. This took me three hours to write. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Yes, it does have references to Interstellar. It felt right and I feel like I'm going to think about this for the rest of my life. Enjoy <3

_ _ _

Having a baby is one of the most difficult things a person can do in their life. Expected or not, no matter the conscious decision, it’s bound to be life-changing. When you go from you to we. From me to us. One to two, possibly three or more.

For you and Minho, it’d been a conversation held in passing before. Jokes about someone created with each of your DNA and quirks. Maybe your eyes and his lips. His eyebrows and the length of your lashes. You always laughed and joked, never knowing when the time was right, and then it was there.

A heavy decision between the two of you, but you both agreed to it. Nine months and a few weeks ago, you didn’t know what caused it. Perhaps, it was the conversations from his parents when they jokingly asked when their grandchildren would no longer be cats.

Maybe it happened because Minho caught you staring at a baby while the two of you were grocery shopping one day. The way your eyes lit up and a smile naturally came to your face. When the child’s mother stepped around the cart to grab something and for a brief moment, the stranger’s child held eye contact with you. The way it didn’t feel like a coincidence, but rather a silent promise from the universe. When the time was right, you’d have your baby, too.

Two months and six days into your pregnancy, you bombarded Minho with baby name books from the library. You forced him into a chair in the kitchen and pointed out all the names you liked. He couldn’t be mad at you. Exhausted from dance practice? Absolutely, but the way you were so happy, there’s no way he could ruin that for you.

The taunting and teasing never stopped throughout your pregnancy and for that, you were grateful for. You didn’t know what you’d do without it. After the shock melted away and you realized you were pregnant, you grew fearful that things would change.

Perhaps, he’d have second thoughts and regret it. Maybe he’d decide to leave, despite the vows you took and the way the golden bands wrapped around each of your fingers day-after-day. Your own self-doubt wrapped around you like an oversized sweater, but when Minho took that oath at the altar, he vowed to keep it forever.

In sickness and in health. Every time he could be, he was there. He took extra days off work when your morning sickness appeared. When your feet swelled up and tears flooded your eyes, he was right there to soothe you and gently work his fingers into the bottom of your foot.

When your body changed against your will and to your disappointment, he was right there consoling you. You laid in his lap, feelings scattered from the hormonal changes, but he didn’t taunt you for what you couldn’t control. You hated the new puffiness in your face. The way your stomach poked out with a baby bump.

Other days, you were glowing. He’d wake up to you in the kitchen with multiple ingredients spread out. Humming beneath your breath, you manned the stove like a seasoned fry cook. He constantly worried, he always did. When he tried to gently work the spatula from your hand, you swatted him and told him to leave you alone. Despite your growing belly, you could manage this, for now.

Tying your shoes was another issue. At first, you tried to slip into them while they were still tied. The first time you realized that you could no longer reach your feet, you chucked your shoe in a random direction. Minho appeared, just barely dodging it in time.

It slammed into the wall with a heavy thud, but he didn’t lecture you. Instead, he grabbed it and slid onto the ground beside you. When he grabbed your ankles and gently slipped your shoes around them, you burst into sobs. It was only then that he teased you about crying because he had to touch your reeking shoes. That only caused you to send the other in his direction.

The days and weeks ticked by. Month-after-month marched on. One week until your due date. Two days until your due date. You circled it bright red on the calendar. The day came and then it went. You waited for a sign of your water breaking, but it never came.

On day three, you grew antsy. Your doctor promised she’d induce your pregnancy if you hadn’t popped by the end of the week. Minho offered hot sauce, but you declined. Myths didn’t work on you. You weren’t convinced that it’d break your water. If it did, you’d be trapped in the hospital with heartburn.

Day four, Minho hesitated to go into work, but you insisted. Vowing promises that you’d call if anything changed or happened, he spent the entire day with his phone on. Not once did it ring or ping with a text message.

On that fateful day, the stars aligned. Deep down, you could feel it in your gut. It wasn’t just the baby pressing up against your bladder again, but rather a maternal instinct. The baby was coming, regardless if you were ready or not. You had to be. In a matter of hours or a few days, your family of two would turn into a trio.

The nursery was a conversation that you and Minho spent a lot of time on. Back and forth, your opinions swayed and changed. You didn’t know the gender of the baby, you opted to be surprised. You weren’t really worried, not really. In your head, colors are colors and no matter boy or girl, you’d love them all the same.

The nursery didn’t have to be blue or pink. For nearly two hours one night, you and Minho went back and forth discussing different ideas. At first, it was animals. Painted giraffes that’d stare over your baby with inanimate protection and admiration in their dark eyes.

A small bookshelf full of baby books about a variety of different creatures. Some with creepy crawly bugs and others with the larger than life creatures hanging beneath the ocean currents. The woodland creatures hiding behind trees and tangled in the forest’s underbelly.

Maybe a few of those larger plush animals to settle around the room. When they grew older, your baby could pretend they were real. Everything feels larger when you’re that young. A knee high stuffed elephant to you, but a real life sized one to them.

The wheels shifted and turned in another direction. Minho mentioned a brief obsession he had as a young boy. Space and the aligning planets. The silent vacuum and unraveling darkness.

Maybe you could plant a spaceship inspired bookcase. Painted bright colors and lined with knowledge, you’d coo your kid into becoming the best explorer. Even if the world is scary and dangerous, you’d send them out there into the great beyond. No matter where life took them, you’d try to be the best parents that you could possibly be.

And then it all changed again. Something simple and easily changeable. After all, this would be the room where your baby would grow up. They’d age and flicker through the phases of life, just as you and Minho had. It had to be rational, expandable, able to be switched around to house whatever beauty that growing mind dreamt up.

And so you decided on a gentle night. Originally, you wanted to decorate with Minho and Minho alone, but when he announced the guys wanted to help, your heart swelled. A heart-stopping and warm reminder that you weren’t just raising this baby alone, you had a village.

You remembered the day like it was yesterday. Felix with denim overalls and Chan and Changbin waltzing in behind him with two gallons of paint in each hand. Jeongin handed everyone brushes and everyone got busy. Too much paint, but the guys didn’t care.

Minho’s arm wrapped around you. He kissed your cheek and all you could do was stare. The laughter and imagination ran wild. Hyunjin’s large bright strokes of color across the white room. On the opposite side, paint from Han’s paintbrush leaked onto Seungmin. He quickly apologized, but Seungmin retaliated by painting his elbow.

What should have taken hours, it only took two. When they finished, Minho led the guys downstairs to help build the crib. You walked around to take photos. You’d never remember this day perfectly as it unwound, but you wanted to try.

The guys often stopped by unexpectedly. It took time before the two of you began to expect it. Chan coming over to make you a hearty and fulfilling meal. Felix randomly appearing with Jeongin and a plateful of his brownies.

When Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, and Seungmin appeared all together one day and offered to take you out to get your mind off your worries about the baby, you collapsed in Seungmin’s arms sobbing. Gripping onto him tightly, you thanked him over and over again. All he could do was weakly console you and look to the guys for help, but he was on his own. He wasn’t used to your high-strung emotions, nobody was.

The days all kept going and going and going. You waited and waited and waited. In the nursery, you and Minho finished it alone. Using puffy brushes, you dabbed white amongst the blue to replicate puffy white clouds. You tried to help Minho put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, but he refused. Having you stand on a ladder and reach up, it was far too much stress and a disaster waiting to happen.

In the end, sitting in your rocking chair and gently rocking, it felt like being in the clouds. A white soft rug sat in the middle of the floor. You planned to use it for tummy time when the timing was right.

Shades of lighter blue and white filtered around the room. From plushies, curtains, and to a variety of other things, the only thing missing was your kid. You knew they’d be here soon, you just didn’t know when the time would be right.

You rocked in your rocking chair and waited. Minho’s vocals bounced off the recording studio’s walls. Anxiety pulsed in his stomach and he rocked on his feet, waiting for Chan’s approval to continue singing or not.

Your hands wrapped around your stomach. “You’ve been in there such a long time, but I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I think you’re really going to love it here. Your father and I have spent so long waiting for you. He’s just as excited as I am.”

A faint kick hit the palm of your hand, causing you to smile. “I bet you’re tired of being in there, aren’t you? Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be waiting for you.” You laughed to yourself, amused with the idea of your baby rationalizing your words and understanding your thoughts.

You pushed against the arms to get up, but that’s when you felt it. Something shifted internally. Your eyebrows pinched together in pain and your hand went back to your stomach. “Easy there, you’re hurting me. Try not to get too squirmy or I’ll have to call the doctor.”

You couldn’t understand it, not fully. Something was happening, but you weren’t sure what. The sun continued to wind down from afternoon into evening. Minho reappeared at the end of the day and kicked off his shoes.

You sat with your cheek slung over the edge of the couch. Anxiety brewed, but you didn’t know what to say to Minho, or your doctor. Your water didn’t burst. You weren’t bleeding vaginally. Besides an occasional pain in your stomach, nothing happened.

“How’s my baby?”

“I’m good,” you mumbled from the couch.

“I meant our child.”

You glanced over with an unamused scowl. Minho grinned and slowly approached you. “I’m just kidding. Did anything change while I was away?”

Your mouth opened and you considered telling him, but you decided against it. Worrying him was pointless, he was already anxious enough. After your due date, you knew he worried as much as you. You could tell by the way that he kept glancing over and looking at you when he thought you were distracted.

“Not really. A lot of bumps to my bladder, unfortunately, but I’ve made it to the bathroom every time. It’s probably a good thing I took time off work for maternity leave, right?” You forced yourself to smile.

He eyed you and nodded. You didn’t pull away, allowing him to lean down and press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Only a few more days until we officially become parents. I can’t wait to be a parent beside you.”

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?”

“I know we’ll be good parents. If we don’t know the answers, we have your parents and my parents. I’m sure if we needed to, the guys’ parents would help out, too. Some of my staff members are also parents. They’re all taking bets on the gender of the baby.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He reached down and pressed a gentle hand to your stomach. “I hope you’re a boy. If you’re a girl, I owe my manager fifty bucks.”

“Lee Minho!”

“Hey, let’s be serious, do you think I’d really pay up if our baby is a girl? I’m going to use the excuse that I’m a first time father. You know how my manager feels about me, right?”

“You’re being manipulative and cruel.”

“I’m winning fifty bucks for this family and when I win it, we’re going out for a nice dinner.”

“With the baby?” Your eyebrow raised.

“Oh, no. At some point, we’re going to use a break. I think my mom misses me being a baby sometimes. She’ll get to experience it all over again with our little one.” He patted your stomach a few times and pulled away. “I’ve gotta go shower, but if you need something, call me. I’ll make us dinner when I’m finished.”

You watched him disappear back into the bathroom. The pain in your stomach grew and you waited for your water to burst. You expected warmth between your legs. A gush that felt like you urinated everywhere, but it never came. Instead, nothing happened and the evening continued to unravel like usual.

~ ~ ~

The neon red letters of your clock read 2:11 AM. You blinked, groggily coming around. Behind you, Minho slept facing the opposite wall. Every night, he tossed and turned between the blankets and the mattress. Tonight, it wasn’t any different.

However, something caused you to jerk upright. You blinked blearily, trying to get a good grasp on your surroundings. Your hand blindly fumbled over towards your husband. “Minho?” You whispered softly.

He shifted and his nose scrunched. In the darkness of the bedroom, night swallowed both of you whole. You forced your arm to shake his shoulder harder. Your voice came out a little louder this time. “Minho?”

He groaned and spun around. “No, I don’t wanna get up. I have the day off. Leave me alone and let me sleep.”

“Minho, there’s something wrong with the baby.”

His eyes cracked open and the words echoed in his head. One time. Twice. Three times and then he jerked himself up so fast, you feared you gave him whiplash. “What? What’s wrong? Did your water break? Are you bleeding?”

His hands pawed around as he pushed himself up from the bed. He fumbled, attempting to find the switch to click on the lamp. “What’s going on? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“I’ve been having what I think are contractions since yesterday afternoon and I-”

The faint click caused both of your eyes to shut. Bright yellow light blinded both of you immediately. You groaned and tucked your hands around your stomach. It took a few seconds before he opened his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I felt weird yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Panic laced his voice. A hand ran through his hair and he looked for the bags the two of you previously packed. Two bags, one for each of you. Both were filled with items to last you throughout your hospital stay.

“I didn’t want to worry you. My water didn’t break and for so long, I thought it might be in my head.”

“We have to get you to the hospital right now.”

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is, but it’s wrong. I don’t understand it. My water hasn’t broken. I’m not bleeding. I can feel the baby moving, but I-”

“Let’s go!”

He wasted no time slinging the bags over his shoulders and gently helping you to your feet. In your pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, sleep still clung to you. Instead of walking, you waddled down the hall. Not something you liked doing, but something you learned how to do as your stomach kept expanding in front of you.

You tried to remember the way your house looked. Two lovers with vows gifted to the gods. Golden rings around your fingers and a baby kept comfortable in your stomach. You remembered the excitement in your eyes when the two of you agreed to have a baby. The giddiness in your skips to the bedroom. Minho’s laughter filled the crevice of every fault in your heart.

When you came back home, you’d be a new family of three.

~ ~ ~

“You did the right thing by coming in. How long did you say you’ve been having these pains?” The doctor glanced up from between your legs.

“Since yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Beside you, Minho’s hand slipped into yours and he gently squeezed your hand. The doctor smiled at the two of you, a silent reassurance that despite the bad, you’d be in good hands. “The good news is this is completely fixable.”

“And the bad?”

“Well, childbirth is never easy, is it?”

“So you’re saying that things are okay?” You squeezed Minho’s hand tighter, hoping for reassurance. He grimaced, but didn’t tell you to let go.

“What you’re experiencing right now is labor arrest. Technically, you’re in labor, but your contractions aren’t strong enough to help open your cervix. We want your cervix open, so we can get the baby out vaginally.” The doctor pushed back on her stool and began to remove her gloves.

“So this is fixable?”

“I’m going to have a nurse administer a certain medicine via IV drip. It’ll help push you further into labor. Your contractions will increase and although it might not feel great, it’ll help you dilate more. The cervix expands ten centimeters.”

“How big is that exactly?”

“Roughly? About the size of the lid of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream pint.”

Minho’s face began to grow pale. “Not to sound insensitive here, but I’m so glad I’m not pregnant. You’re so strong and you can definitely do this.”

You glanced up, not thrilled at his words. He gave you a faint smile and gently patted the top of your hand. “Don’t worry, there’s ways to help with pain, right?” He glanced up at the doctor for reassurance.

“Of course. If the contractions become too bad and too painful, we can always administer an epidural to numb you from the waist down. I know it’s scary, but don’t worry, you’re in good hands” The doctor patted your shoulder and disappeared from the room.

Beside you, Minho let out a soft sigh. “I guess for now, it’s just another waiting game, huh?”

“At least our baby is okay.” Your hands kept steady around your stomach. Ever since you arrived, you didn’t let go. It was the closest thing you could get to holding your baby for now. “Let’s just hope and pray it goes smoothly from this point on.”

~ ~ ~

Sometime in the early morning, you weren’t sure what went wrong. You tried to do everything right for this pregnancy. No alcohol or caffeine. You limited yourself to the exposure of germs. Hand washing became more and more frequent.

It all went so smoothly after the nurse administered an IV and ran medication into it. Your contractions picked up and when the option for an epidural came around, you took it. You waited and waited and waited some more.

Minho tried to keep you entertained. He texted everyone to let them know you were in labor. You texted your own family to give them the exciting news. You were bound to the bed after your epidural, it’s not like you could go anywhere with the lower half of your body numbed, but you were still excited.

Your hands patted your numbed thighs. Every so often, the doctor came back to check your dilation. You were progressing so well throughout the morning and she was sure you could begin pushing by noon.

Your kid was almost here. Nine months and a handful of days of waiting. You waited for this moment for so long. You thought about the satisfaction of giving birth in your worst moments.

Leaning over the toilet and projectile vomiting as your stomach twisted and turned, you held onto the thought of staring into your child’s eyes one day. When you cried over not being able to tie your shoes without help, you reminded yourself that your own kid would take their very first steps. You’d be right there with Minho to experience it all.

You pouted when Minho ate something you couldn’t have. He tried not to eat what you couldn’t have, but he was only human. Sometimes he caved and had sushi or the occasional alcoholic drink. You couldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, you’d indulge, too. It still hurt your heart and your sensitive hormones when it happened.

“Push!” The doctor instructed you. “Come on, I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta keep going. I can see the head. Just a little more.”

Minho couldn’t feel his hand. He couldn’t feel his hand ten minutes ago. If he would have known you would have destroyed it while giving birth, he would have worked out his hands with those hand cranks.

“I can’t!” You cried out with tears in your eyes. “I can’t push anymore.”

“You don’t have a choice, you have to. Come on, you can do this!”

Tears dripped down your cheeks. Your body had been through absolute hell for hours. The epidural began to wear off and they refused to give you another. Sweat dripped down the side of your flushed face.

“Come on,” Minho whispered gently. “A few more pushes and you never have to do this again.”

“This is all your fault!” You snapped angrily. “You got me pregnant!”

“I know, I know.”

“Push!” The doctor instructed again.

Behind her, a handful of nurses awaited the arrival of your little one. They were already prepped with the towels and the warmer. Brightly colored scrubs and the white nasal aspirator to clear out their nose and mouth from amniotic fluid.

You gritted your teeth and with a cry of frustration, you began to push again. The head and shoulders were always the worst part. Your cervix sat wide open and you still thought it’d stretch and tear. If you were lucky, you’d manage to escape this without ripping down to your ass.

“How fucking big is this goddamn baby?” Your eyes squeezed shut and you pushed again.

“I think that’s a little offensive.”

“Shut the fuck up, Minho!”

Between your legs, the doctor tried to stop her laughter. Kind green eyes, hair pulled back, and gloves soaked with amniotic fluid, she coached you to push again. Minho’s hand turned white from the force of your fingers clenching around it.

He forced himself to take his own deep breaths. He breathed how the doctor instructed you to breathe. It was the only thing stopping him from jerking his hand away and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I can see the head! Keep pushing! You’re almost there! A few more and you’ve got it! Come on!”

“Minho?” You croaked, wrenching his hand a final time. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“No, no, no. You can. You can do this. I didn’t stand here and get the bones broken in my hand for nothing. Push!”

Your scream bounced off the walls. It hit everyone’s ears. The pain, the determination, and the grit that only a mother can carry. The doctor’s hands swooped in and for a brief second, the pain stopped. Your cries weren’t the only one.

“You did it,” Minho whispered. He leaned down, wrapped a hand around your head, and gently tucked you to his stomach. “Did you hear me? You did it.”

Tears steadily streamed down your cheeks. You didn’t take your eyes off your baby. Passed from doctor to nurse, the nurse rushed in to take care of the wailing and choking baby. The doctor beamed and turned back to you.

“It’s a boy! You’re having a boy! Congratulations, you did an amazing job.”

Minho blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Nurses worked frantically through the cries. A tiny suction in the back of the throat and pulled out. In one nasal and then the other. He reached up and wiped his eyes before the tears could fall.

You, on the other hand, dread grew in your gut. A dizziness overtook you and your grip on Minho’s hand weakened. “Minho?” You whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t feel very good.”

The doctor caught your words and glanced up. The moment she realized the color of your face was fading, her eyes widened. “Hey! I need some help over here!”

Unoccupied nurses glanced back at you.

“Sutures stat! We’ve got hemorrhaging!” She jerked her surgical mask back over her face and rushed back between your legs.

You didn’t know what was happening, but you could feel it. Warmth flooded between your legs. It soaked the bed sheet beneath you and spread out in every direction. The doctor cursed beneath her breath and grabbed a cloth to place pressure on the bleeding.

“What’s going on?”

“The baby was larger than expected. When that happens, sometimes there’s tearing. Stitches are going to be needed.” The doctor called your name and glanced back up at your face. “Can you hear me?”

“Baby?” Minho reached up and gently tapped your cheek. “Stay awake. Do you hear me? Don’t close your eyes. You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you and-”

“I love you.”

His heart dropped. Three little words that held so much weight. He dropped to his knees, tucking your face between his hands. “Don’t you dare leave me here. Fight! Don’t fall asleep!”

In the distance, the baby cried louder. A nurse cooed, trying to console up as chaos broke loose in the background. Minho tapped your cheek rapidly, but your eyes drooped further and further shut.

“No, no, no. Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP! Don’t leave us here!”

“Get him out of here, now!”

“No!”

A nurse rushed to his side. “Sir, please.”

“I’m not leaving!”

“You need to let the doctor work. Please, you’re only making this worse for everyone involved.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

He didn’t get a choice in the end. Not willingly. Another nurse appeared, a male with biceps protruding beneath his light pink scrubs. “Sir, we’re not asking you, we’re telling you.”

Your eyes drooped until your head slumped back against the hospital bed. A suture kit found the doctor’s hand and she began to instruct a nurse what she needed from her. Her hands worked methodically. This wasn’t the first time she raced death to save a patient after giving birth.

He fought against the man-handling, but it was no use. All he could do was call out your name through the cries of your newborn son. Stepping outside felt like losing both of you.

A family of three and now possibly, back to a family of one.

~ ~ ~

Minho didn’t pray. Not regularly. Not religiously. Not as much as he probably should. Life was always hectic and believing in a higher power, it never took up too much time in his life.

In the hospital chapel, at first, he prayed; then he called his mom.

She picked up on the third ring. A soft spoken voice that he’d found comfort in ever since he was a child. “Mom?”

“Hi, honey! How is everything? Is it going well?”

It broke him. Between the barren wooden pews, the stained glass windows, and the image of Jesus in the front of the altar, he burst into tears. He called out to his mother and his voice may have changed from childhood to puberty, but the need for his mother did not.

On the opposite end of the phone, his mother frowned. She clutched the phone tighter and tried to get through her son’s grief. “Honey, what happened? What’s wrong? You’ve got to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“S-she-”

“Did something happen to your wife?”

“Hemorrhaging.”

“Oh, Minho.”

Her words sent him into another sob that he couldn’t hold back. How many times had he tried to hold back his sobs as a kid? Back when he fell off the bike for the first time and hit the pavement. When he toddled along on stubby legs and unexpectedly hit the ground with a faint thud.

Being a parent never ends, never fully. At least, it’s not supposed to. At the end of the day, that book always shut. Who disappears first? The parent or the child? No matter what, it always hurts.

A sting that zaps your heart and buries into every part of your life. It strikes you at the wrong time. The mourning for your kid. The loss of a parent. It never goes away, not really. The years travel by and the hurt lessens, but it doesn’t mean it never aches.

At that moment, his mother wished she could climb through the phone and hug him. It didn’t matter that he’d turned into a man. In her heart, he’d always be her baby. His cats were the closest thing she’d get to being around him all the time.

You cannot keep your kid in a cage. You have to let them explore the world around them. Nurture them right and send them on their way. If your kid doesn’t learn how to navigate the outside world, they’ll never strengthen the wings to gain flight. If you do it right, they’ll come back.

Like a pigeon, they’ll find their way back home. Chirping and hopping. Cooing with a new shiny thing. Stories about their career and new friends. A final love, a new family, something more that fills their heart, just the way that they’ve always filled yours.

“I-I’m trying to stay positive, Mom. I’m so scared. What if-”

“I know it’s scary, but I have to believe that she’ll overcome this.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“I believe it, the exact same way that I believed when your father and I had you.”

~ ~ ~

Do not go gentle into that goodnight.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The memories flickered like the lash of a sudden spark. Flipping through clouded currents and forming in between static filled channels. You remember what life was like as a kid. You remember it all.

The bright green grass and the way the butterfly wings flapped. The melodic sound of the ice cream truck and the way a late family member laughed at the sight of your sticky face. It dripped down your chin and coated your collar.

The bees came by, betting on which one of them could taste the sweetness first. They never had a chance. Not when your mother whisked you away to wipe off the sticky remnants of another early summer.

People filled the beach at the first lake you went to. They speckled up and down the sandy shore. Umbrellas stuck out to shield the harsh sunlight. It blinded your sensitive eyes as you rushed with arms up to meet the water.

Your father called after you, warning you to be careful. You were still young. This much water all at once, it was still so new to you. Some unkept secret that some higher power stashed away. You remember the way the cool water hit your toes. Love grew in your bones and then you dived in.

A conversation in passing that you had with your mother nearly a decade ago. Sitting beside her while she folded her laundry. You didn’t know where the words came from, but you blurted them out anyway. “I don’t know if I want kids.”

“Oh, but you will. Having kids, it’s the most rewarding and best thing ever. When you have them, treat them right and they’ll always come back to you.”

A familiar smile, the same eyes as you, and two decades older. I am all that you can be. You are what I could have been. Two separate generations can dream and conquer the same exact thing.

In the winter snow, you flopped face down. Bundled in too many layers, brought to you proudly by your mother. Because if too much skin was exposed, you’d surely freeze to death.

Minho’s eyes held you captive the first time you saw him. You always romanticized the idea of dating a singer. A singer. A song-writer. A dancer.

Someone who jerks and throws their limbs out, creating a story in their own way. Words on a page, hidden inklings of their soul. The words unveil and pulse out into the world. A happy jingle. A devastating ballad. Whatever they sang, they always breathed life into the story behind the words.

You never believed in love at first sight. Not really. Not until that moment. You tipped over and free fell into a vat of sticky syrup, but you didn’t fight against it. Minho’s wit sucked you in. Every talent unlocked, you began to think he was superhuman.

Touching created sparks. No matter how minor, your heart banged like a drum. A never-ending current danced through your body with him. Your cheeks flushed red and even if he laughed at you, it never really mattered.

The two of you had something special. Special enough to make that leap of faith to the altar. Two families became one. He forced his cats to make a brief appearance in cat sized tuxedos. You didn’t know why, but he did.

Your laughter set his soul ablaze. With you, every mountain felt like a molehill. Your joy was his. He’d collect the stars and bottle them to help you find your way through the dark. He wasn’t a collector, but he wrote down every moment with you.

Write the memories and trudge through the passage of time. Hand-in-hand, life felt better with you. Not just a partner, but a lover. Someone he could hold and mend. Whenever he didn’t feel good enough, he just looked over at you.

From day one, your face never changed when you looked at him. A softness bloomed. Something sweeter, kinder, and simpler. You were his to keep forever, just as he was yours.

The first cry of your baby before you blacked out, the sound of your husband telling you to fight, it powered something indescribable. Humans are capable of anything if they believe hard enough. Some call it pure delusion and some call it God.

If there is a constant push of will, humans will always, always find a way. You found your way in that hospital room. Despite the blood oozing down the doctor’s gloves and staining the sheets, your heart kept beating. It weakened briefly, but it never stopped.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

~ ~ ~

When your eyes reopened, Minho was the first to grab your hand. Two tears slipped down his cheeks and rolled against the warmth of his neck. It was so unlike him, you had to look again to see if you were seeing it right.

“Minho?” Your voice cracked.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re okay. The doctor stabilized you and it’s okay now. Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

“The baby?”

“He’s okay, too. He’s on the other side of you sleeping. The doctor let him stay in the incubator right here. All his vitals are good. The only problem is that he lacks a name.”

He slipped his hand into yours and gently squeezed it. He didn’t care about the bruising around his dominant hand. All he cared about was your safety and health. He reached the back of your palm to his lips and planted the warmth of a kiss.

“You’re both okay?”

He weakly chuckled and nodded. “Now that you’re okay, yes. We’re both okay. We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us. It’s time for us to be parents now.”

“Minho?” You whispered as your eyes drooped.

“Hm?”

“I’m so scared.”

“I’m scared too, but that’s okay. My mom said that it’s completely normal to be scared. If you’re scared and still trying your best, you’re probably doing it right, apparently.”

“I love your mom.”

“I love her, too.”

A silence broke out in the space between you. Still exhausted from your brush against death, Minho couldn’t blame you for wanting to go back to sleep. He reached up and pushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

“Have you held him?”

His head shook. “I considered it, but you carried him in your stomach for nine months. I figured that you should be the first parent to hold him.”

“Can you bring him to me?”

“Doesn’t that mean I get to be the one to hold him first?”

“I don’t care, I want to see our son.”

He sighed and gently released your hand. “I have to warn you before I hand him over. He’s very, very cute. He has my eyes and your eyebrows.”

“Does he have your prominent cupid's bow?”

“If I said yes?”

“I’d be the happiest person alive.”

“You’ll be happy to hear that he does. He’s also completely bald and looks a little like an old man, but the nurses said that’s temporary.”

Your eyes cracked open. You watched Minho gently scoop the newborn up from the incubator. The baby curled against his chest and he carefully brought him towards you.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that thought out loud.”

“Look at the cute little hat. If I ask the guys, maybe they can purchase some cute beanies for his bald head. I can’t have him looking like Hyunjin. This little guy is the perfect size to put in the air fryer.”

“If you air fry our son, I’m putting you in the oven.”

“Fair enough.” He lowered himself down and carefully shimmied the baby into your awaiting arms. “There you go.”

The moment he settled into your arms, a wave of peace hit you. A baby in your arms and Minho by your side. Your eyes shut before you began to speak. “Hi, we’re your parents.”

“He needs an introduction to us?”

“We can’t wait to raise you and have adventures.”

“You came back from the dead and turned into a sap.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he gave you a smile. “I’m glad you came back. I love you, you know? I love both of you. Look at that, there’s two of you to love now.”

“I love both of you, too.”

“And a personality like Seungmin, the ungrateful kid can’t even say he loves us back.”

“Lee Minho, if I wasn’t in a hospital bed recovering from giving birth, I’d kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

While the two of them bickered, what they didn’t know was just merely a few feet away. In the doorway, Minho’s mother arrived with a bundle of brightly colored flowers in one hand and a thermos of warm seaweed soup in the other. She rushed here as fast as she could after Minho’s distressing phone call.

She didn’t break the bond between the two of you. Instead, she blinked back tears. Years ago, a similar situation played out between her and Minho’s father. A new bundle of joy in her arms and a lifetime of the unexpected paved out before them.

Just as they made it through the currents of life, so will Minho and you. Just as your son will. The next generation will follow and although it’ll always be difficult at times, time will march on. All the good meant to happen will find you. Always.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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