#my only wc post that i will always ever make

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Flashbacks

synopsis: you recall the gradual shift in your relationship with fred when prompted by questions at a panel promoting the movie.

wc: 13k+ (...)

warnings: rpf! reader is specified to be inexperienced! major plot point actually!

a/n: loads of backstory! and banter! and pedro and paul! and kissing!

i hope the format is as intuitive as i think it is, but just in case it isn't, italics means the start of a flashback and bold is the return to present day. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

<<previous part

The energy in the green room was calm, easy. You sat perched on the arm of the couch next to Fred, laughing as Pedro recounted a story from a previous panel he’d spoken at. Fred’s forearm draped over your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your knee, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

The casual physical affection felt normal now, expected even. No one batted an eye. Not Pedro, not Paul, not anyone in the room.

Ever since filming began, your relationship with Fred had only grown in comfort and familiarity. The closeness of your characters on screen slowly but surely translated to your friendship in real life. And then something more…

Late nights of practicing scenes together turned into deep talks and sharing secrets in the warm light of his trailer. Only a few months into filming, the two of you were attached at the hip. Inseparable. It became a running joke. If anyone asked where either of you was, the answer was always with the other. 

-

“Where’s Fred?” An assistant called out onto the crowded set one day. “He’s needed in hair and makeup!” 

“Where’s y/n meant to be right now?” Paul asked, barely looking up from the script in his lap. The young girl looked down at the clipboard in her hands, combing through the schedules and call sheets. Costume department, she concluded after a few moments of frantic shuffling. “Well, there’s your answer then.”

Pedro had laughed for days recounting the story, shaking his head at how predictable you and Fred had become.

-

“Are you excited?” Fred’s voice softened, meant only for you now despite the buzzing room. You lit up with a smile and a nod. You were incredibly excited. You had never been a guest at a panel before. “Nervous?”

“Not really,” you shook your head and shrugged. “Just more surprised, I think?” You mused aloud with a tilt of your head. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were invited to the panel at this convention today. 

You knew that your role wasn’t as impactful as people told you it was, they were just trying to be nice. You had less than ten lines in the whole film. Being invited to a panel discussing the complexities of the plot and the acting behind it was an honor! But a confusing one.

You had a sneaking suspicion that, somehow, Fred was behind it.

“Surprised?” Fred asked, his eyebrows rising and dipping in quick succession in that way that they do. “Why?”

“Just that—” You glanced around, as if gathering evidence. “Everyone here was pretty high up on that call list.” Fred’s brows furrowed even further this time and you knew what was coming.

“Don’t do that to yourself, y/n,” he almost whined. “You were a driving force—”

“I’m not tryna minimize my work, Fred.” You chuckled lightheartedly, cutting him off before he went on a tangent. He was always quick to pop any bubbles of self-doubt that formed in your brain, but this really wasn’t the case. “I know I worked hard on this movie. We both did.” You held his hand in yours. “But… Alexander wasn’t invited.” You pointed out with raised brows. Alexander had played Ravi in the movie, the healer in the Colosseum. “I’m pretty sure he had more lines than I did.”

“But you definitely had more screen time,” came Fred’s quick rebuttal. “Actually, that’s why I told them you should come—”

“I knew it!” You exclaimed in a whisper, making sure your conversation didn’t attract any attention. You were enjoying the private moment in the crowded room and there was no need for it to end so quickly. “I knew you did this!”

Fred’s grin tilted, eyes glinting with quiet defiance. “What? Am I supposed to feel bad for wanting people to notice how good you are?” He laughed. “You had almost as much screen time as anyone here, but nowhere near enough lines. So I told them that your insight into your character and the plot was just as interesting, if not more.”

“Does this count as nepotism?”

“Shut up!” Fred giggled, lightly punching your shoulder. “I just feel like— If I can help you get the recognition you deserve, why wouldn’t I?”

“Alright, thank you all for arriving on time.” A producer spoke up, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and putting an end to your conversation. You turned away from Fred to face her as she spoke, a smile still lingering on your face. 

“We’re gonna start calling you guys out now, one by one. It’s gonna be in the order your names are set up on the table, so you just come out and sit in the chair farthest from your entry. Does that make sense?” She asked, receiving a few nods. “Is everyone ready?” Another round of nods and yeses left the group, yours along with them.

“Don’t overthink it,” Fred whispered to you with a squeeze of your knee. “Just enjoy the moment.”

At that, you could hear the producer hype up the crowd for the cast’s arrival.

“That’s our cue.” Pedro got up from the couch with a clap of his hands. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Fred replied, standing up along with Pedro. “How about you, old man?”

“Creaky at the knees, but it’s alright.” Pedro teased, giving Fred a playful punch on the shoulder. That’s when you heard Pedro’s name called out into the microphone followed by the crowd’s roar in applause and cheers. “Later, losers!”

One by one the cast was called out, Fred’s name being the last one before yours. You breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful to be sitting next to him.

“y/n l/n!” Your name blasted through the speaker, signaling your cue to head out onto the stage. You walked out with a smile and a wave, the crowd cheering at your arrival. You sat down at the long table facing the audience, right there next to Fred. 

Your name was printed on a place card in front of you, spelled right and everything. With every passing day of working on this project, you felt more and more that you had finally found your place in the world.

The producer’s voice blurred into the background, distant and dull. Your focus drifted to the sea of faces ahead—posters with your name in big bright letters, shirts with your face printed on them. Some people were even dressed as your character from the movie. It was surreal.

The warmth of Fred’s hand on your knee tethered you back to the present. His steady gaze met yours, silently reminding you to breathe. He knew how overwhelming it could all be. And he knew what you were thinking, he could see it too. He was so proud of you. 

Fred squeezed your knee twice, a small act to show you that he saw you. To show you that he was there for you. And maybe, cockily, he was saying ‘I told you so’. That your presence was wanted here, not just by him. 

“We’ll get started with questions from the audience then.” The producer announced, motioning for a member of the crew to turn on the spotlight facing the crowd. When the light turned on, it illuminated a microphone on its stand in the middle aisle between all the chairs, and, with it, an incredibly long line of fans. Each with a vetted question, the producer assured.

Most questions were for Paul, though that wasn’t surprising. Many for Pedro and Denzel, as well. 

You listened and laughed along, enjoying the easy going nature of the conversation. A lot of the questions were based on the acting, which was a topic well loved by actors of course. But some, as expected, were about the on-set dynamics.

“What was your first impression of your castmates?” A teenage girl asked Paul.

This launched a chaotic answer, with multiple people joining in at once, talking over the other and laughing loudly. 

“We all know that I was absolutely terrified of Denzel at the beginning.” Paul laughed, patting Denzel, who was sitting next to him, on the back.

“So was I!” Joseph cracked up. “But I thought Fred was such a sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with him. “Fred was incredibly kind to me on my first day on set.”

“Kind?” Pedro questioned, eyebrows upturned in surprise. “Little asshole is what he was.”

“He saves the sweet stuff for her,” Paul chuckled.

“Yeah, well Pedro was an old man calling me short and she was a pretty girl who was lost.” Fred defended himself with his arms crossed, tone clearly kidding. The crowd’s laughter rose at the banter, even if it was obviously turned up for the panel. “Who would you help, huh?” 

-

It was your first day on set and your very skin was buzzing with how excited you were. Your schedule said that you should start your day in the hair and make up department, and you heard someone say that it was next to the crafts center. But you couldn’t find either of them for the life of you. And you should’ve been worried about being late for your very first appointment on the set, but you were just too enthralled with it all.

The set was beautiful! Malta, as a whole, was absolutely gorgeous, but the set was something else. It truly felt like you were transported back in time— if you ignored the cameras, speakers, and lights, of course. You had heard of Arthur Max’s work on other productions, and of course knew of his work on the first movie. But experiencing it first hand was almost an out of body experience. 

You knew that, when the time came, immersing yourself on the set would be a piece of cake. An actor’s dream really, that was what this type of set was.

“Uh, y/n?” Your name being called out from behind you caused you to spin around. “Oh, it is you.” The man’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Hi, I’m Fred.”

Fred Hechinger. You knew exactly who he was.

“I’m y/n.” You replied, stretching out a hand for him to shake. “But you already knew that.”

“Yeah, well from what I hear, we’re going to be exclusively working together.” Fred laughed as he shook your hand. “Had to do some research on my scene partner.”

“Glad I’m not the only one, then.” You chuckled.

When your manager told you of his secured position as Emperor Caracalla, you knew you wanted to look him up. Many other actors accepted the role before flaking for ‘scheduling issues’, so you were never sure who you were actually going to work with. But once Fred’s acceptance was confirmed, you went on a deep dive. You watched as many of his shows and movies as you could, his IMDb tab constantly open on your laptop.

“They were calling for you in hair and make up,” he said. “I offered to look for you and help you find the way.”

“How did you know I was lost?” You raised an eyebrow as you asked. You weren’t really lost, more so taking advantage of the lack of directions.

“Oh, I know you’re not lost.” Fred shook his head with furrowed brows as he folded his arms, faux seriousness painted his expression. Fred’s effortless confidence had an unexpected charm. It was magnetic. “But if I tell them it took me a while to find you, then we can admire the set for a bit longer.”

Your surprise melted into quiet laughter.

And just like that, you had made a friend.

-

Back on the panel stage, you leaned into the mic, smiling softly. “He gave me a tour.” You recalled. “And he vouched for me at hair and make up, because I was almost half an hour late.”

“On your first day?!” Paul questioned in astonishment, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Ballsy move, y/n. I could never.” Paul tsked and shook his head at you in disappointment.

“Hey!” You called out in offence, throwing an arm up in Fred’s direction. “Blame Fred, he’s the bad influence here!”

“Entirely my fault.” Fred nodded with his hand raised. “I take full responsibility for corrupting the child.”

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re like two minutes older than me.”

“Two minutes?! For your information,” Fred pointed at the crowd as he spoke now, “I am years older than her. Years!”

Another fan stepped up to the microphone, pulling you back to the task at hand. “Were there any funny on-set moments or inside jokes that made it into the movie? Or at least stayed with you afterwards?”

“Bless you.” Pedro whispered into the mic, causing a wave of giggles to pass through the rest of the line up.

“‘Bless you’ was a good one, I liked it.” Joseph smiled before bursting into laughter at a memory, sending Fred a look from across the table. "Tell them about the sword!"

Fred groans, but the memory sparks in your mind—the clang of metal and his ridiculous deadpan expression.

Connie lets out a loud laugh as she recalls the incident. “Fear me!” She clapped her hands together as she giggled. “Oh, it was hilarious!”

“Fear me,” echoes in your head, and suddenly you’re there again, barely holding back laughter on the set.

-

It was a late night, you were filming the scene where the emperors confront Acacius and Lucilla regarding their treachery. Ridley had instructed Joseph and Fred to make their reactions as dramatic as they saw fit, considering how fervid the scenario would make the twins.

You had been filming for hours at that point, the energy amongst you growing more chaotic with each take. Everything was funny to you now as the sleep deprivation finally hit.

During one of the takes, Fred jumped out of his seat on the throne and grabbed a prop sword from a nearby guard, as was written in the script. He was supposed to point it at Pedro and Connie, yelling about their punishments, as Joseph held him back. But, with each shake, you noticed how unstable the prop looked.

A loud clang echoed in the marble halls of the set. The sword had fallen right off of its handle.

No one said a word. Fred’s face scrunched up in confusion and anger. He stared at the broken hilt in his hand, then at Pedro. Without missing a beat, he raised it like a dagger. “Fear me.” He whispered menacingly, nose to nose with the older actor.

That’s it. Pedro snorted so loudly that the entire set erupted into laughter. You and Joseph were crying from laughing so hard. Denzel was chuckling into his hand, and Connie was leaning on Pedro to stay upright. 

“How dare you mock me?!” Fred shrieked, staying in character, even when it was clear the take was a lost cause, if only to keep making the rest of you laugh. “I am your emperor!”

“Alright, alright.” You hear Ridley’s voice call out, winding down from his own laughter. “One more time, then we’ll call it a night. Someone fix that sword, please!”

None of you ever let Fred live it down afterwards. 

Pedro would grab a toothpick from the crafts table and follow Fred around with it, a soft and dark ‘Fear me’ heard under his breath.

-

"Honestly, I thought Ridley would leave it in the movie." Fred shrugs, laughing it off. “If only someone didn’t break and ruin it all.” He sent a teasing look to Pedro out of the corner of his eyes.

You wipe a few tears from the corner of your eye as you catch your breath. “It wasn’t even that funny. We were just so tired.”

“It was like four in the morning, we were done.” Joseph explained to the crowd, still coming down from his giggles. 

“Anything would’ve been funny to us at the time.”

After the crowd’s volume slowly dwindled, another fan came up and asked about Denzel’s performance. Denzel spoke about how much he enjoyed the freedom Ridley allowed the actors in this movie. How exciting it all was. 

Afterwards, someone asked about how Joseph balanced working on multiple sets at a time. Pedro joked about Joseph being sought after and hard to find, always in a different part of the world. Joseph shot back at Pedro that they were always together anyways, considering how they both were working on ‘Fantastic Four’ together.

Another audience member asked Connie how it felt to come back to this movie after more than two decades. She talked at length about the differences and similarities the two sets had. How it was both nostalgic and new. 

Someone else stepped up to the mic and nervously waved to the cast after the laughter had died down. “My question is for Fred.” Fred perked up and smiled, nodding at her to continue. “How did you prepare for the emotionally vulnerable scenes you had as Caracalla while staying true to both his character and his sickness?”

“That’s a really good question.” Fred nodded, his arm coming up from your knee to rub at his shoulder. It was so incredibly endearing to you how he reacted to attention. “It was important, definitely. To make sure that you weren’t just seeing his sickness, but the true him under it all. And I think Caracalla, the man and not the sick emperor, really shined in those vulnerable moments.” His hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke and you were enamored the whole way through, not expecting them to motion to you next.  “But, at the end of the day, I think you just really have to trust your scene partner.” 

Fred looked at you with a shy but knowing smile, “It takes a lot of practice to be vulnerable in front of someone, even if it is just pretending. And y/n was always incredibly kind and supportive whenever I lacked that—that vulnerability—that powerlessness. It wasn’t that I lacked it, per se. It’s just a difficult thing to tap into. And she was always there to help me through it.”

Your eyes dropped downwards as you felt your chin dip towards your chest, your head tilting slightly to the side as a smile grew on your face. The crowd awed in response to both Fred’s words and your reaction.

Fred’s compliment sent your stomach twisting in knots. You glanced at him, his hand went back to its previous position, resting on your knee, steady and grounding. It reminded you of that quiet morning on set when everything between you shifted.

-

The set was calmer that morning than what you were used to. The haze of sleep still clung to the few crew members needed on set this early. They shuffled about quietly, setting up for the day's shoot. Fred sat on the edge of the prop bed, script in hand, shoulders slumped forward as he stared at the lines that refused to feel right. 

You were sitting on a couch a few feet away, observing him, script laying forgotten in your lap. His fingers absently tugged at his earlobe, a nervous habit you had come to recognize at this point in your friendship. He had been having difficulties with connecting with Caracalla’s childlike vulnerability. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know the lines—Fred knew them backwards and forwards. 

It was the emotion, the raw vulnerability of Caracalla crying like a child to Lovie about Geta, that he couldn’t quite reach.

You had been running lines all night, but he wasn’t performing it to his own incredibly high standards. So you had told him to get a good night’s rest and that you could practice some more in the morning before call time. You spent some time researching trust building exercises, because you were sure that Fred had it in him. He just had to trust you enough to let it rise to the surface.

After you watched him run through the scene a few more times with no progress, you got a look of determination in your eyes. “Alright!” You inhaled deeply and dropped your script onto the seat next to you. “How about we try something else?”

Fred’s head snapped up at your voice, the both of you having been silently in each other's company prior to your exclamation. “Like what?”

“Trust exercises!”

He blinked, unimpressed. "y/n, I really don't think—"

“Come on, it won’t hurt to try!” You insisted, knowing that he was worn down and everything felt useless. But you had faith in him. “For me?”

He rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine.” You cheered quietly at his agreement. “What did you have in mind?”

You stood and moved to sit across from him, knees nearly brushing. "Eye contact. No talking, just hold my gaze. Nothing else."

“For how long?”

“As long as possible.”

He hesitated for a second but leaned in slightly, blue eyes locking onto yours. The silence stretched. At first, it was easy. The hours you'd spent together on set had built a quiet comfort between you. You were comfortable with each other now, as any pair of friends would be.

But slowly, the air around you shifted.

Had his eyes always been this blue? And so full of emotion? You wondered how you had never noticed these things about him before. The longer you looked, the more your chest tightened, like you were standing too close to the edge of a cliff. You swallowed hard.

Fred’s head tilted, his eyes scanning yours as if he were searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Then, without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently brushed his thumb along your cheek, swiping away an eyelash that had landed there. The touch was featherlight, but it sparked something within you. Something new.

You sucked in a breath, breaking the rhythm of your breathing and pulling Fred’s attention to your lips. 

He quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. "Sorry. You had—uh—you had an eyelash."

You barely managed a nod, heat blooming beneath your skin. The air had changed so suddenly. It was sharp, tense, and neither of you knew how to break the spell.

More crew members were starting to file in, calling out names and times. The usual hustle and bustle on set was rising. Your name was called out from one side and Fred’s from another, instructions to go to wardrobe for you and hair and makeup for Fred.

“I—I should go.” Came Fred’s stuttered response as he slowly got up and backed away, his eyes now finding it difficult to stay on yours.

“Uh yeah, me too.” You nodded with pursed lips, just as awkward as he was.

That was different, you pondered as you walked away. You had never seen Fred in that light before. You had never reacted like that to his touch. This was entirely new territory for you. You liked Fred.

Oh no.

How predictable. Catching feelings for your on screen lover. You had to suppress the eye roll. This was something you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do once you got into the film industry.

But how could you resist? Fred was so kind and caring, so helpful and affectionate. His smile never failed to bring a similar one to your face. Now that you thought of it, you were a bit surprised it had taken you this long to notice. 

You had a crush on Fred.

And you were almost positive he didn’t see you in that way. 

This was horrible, you thought as you reached the wardrobe department. You were regretting everything. Not only was Fred no longer just a friend in your eyes, you were sure that you had ruined any chances of him getting this scene right after this. You groaned quietly to yourself as you changed into your costume in the dressing room. What a way to start the day.

But later, as the cameras rolled, Fred laid in your lap, perfectly in character. Something was different about him. He seemed more… open. More calm. When you softly carded your fingers through his hair to comfort Caracalla, Fred’s hand drifted to your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin without thinking. Almost in the same way he had that morning.

It wasn’t scripted. But you stayed in the scene, unflinching. You wiped away his tears as he moaned about his wretched brother and the empire he was forced to bear the weight of. He was delivering the scene perfectly. Almost like nothing unsavory had transpired between the two of you less than an hour ago.

Ridley, watching from behind the monitors, leaned forward. Eyes glued to the screen. Once the scene had played its course, he called it. "Cut!” His voice boomed through the speakers.

Fred carefully got up from your lap, though not straying far.

An assistant quickly came over with a walkie-talkie. Ridley’s voice broke through the static, fragmented but understandable. “Fred, that wasn't in the script."

Fred sat up quickly, already apologizing. "Sorry, it just—"

"I liked it. Let's run it again. Same way."

Your eyes flicked to Fred, wide in surprise. He liked it. Ridley liked it. Fred shared his own surprised smile with you.

He finally got it. That obstacle was overcome. And Ridley noticed. It was exciting to have your work appreciated in that way. And he had you to thank, even if you thought otherwise.

And, in the process, something had shifted between you.

-

Then someone asked Paul who his closest friends were on set, pulling you back to the present moment. 

“You want me to make enemies of my colleagues now, do you?” Paul chuckled nervously, garnering a laugh from the crowd. “No, in all seriousness, I made many great friendships on this set. Pedro, of course Denzel, Connie, all great mentors that I can call friends now, I think. But who I spent the most time with on set? That would probably be Fred. Fred and y/n, yeah. They’re a package deal, as well. So yeah, it was always us three.”

His answer takes you back to a pivotal moment you had with Paul on set. You knew from then that he had your back, in every situation. Even in matters where he had no stake, you knew you could trust him. 

-

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky over the ancient stone set, casting long shadows across the Colosseum replica. The usual hum of activity filled the air. You were sitting on Caracalla’s throne overlooking the arena, legs dangling off the edge as you scrolled absentmindedly through your phone.

Paul plopped down beside you with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

“Easy!” You laughed. “What did the chair ever do to you?”

Paul leaned over slightly to peek at your screen, completely disregarding what you had said to him. “Who are you texting?”

“No one.” You locked your phone quickly.

Paul’s smirk deepened. “So it is someone.”

“No, Paul.” You shot him a look.

He tilted his head and grinned. “Oh, so it’s Fred.”

Your stomach flipped. “Paul!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one heard.

“Oh, come on!” Paul leaned back, arms stretched behind him. “When are you not texting Fred?”

You groaned as your palms covered your eyes in embarrassment. “It’s not—” you mumbled before smothering your face in your hands.

“Not what?” Paul teased, nudging your knee with his.

“It’s not a big deal.” You exhaled, peeking at him between your fingers. “We’re just friends. Don’t make it weird.”

Paul gave you a flat look.

“Friends?”

“Yes!”

He let out a disbelieving laugh. “Okay.” He shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“Thank you.” You breathed out in relief, glad he was letting it go.

After a short moment of silence, he spoke back up. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” He motioned to the air between the two of you with his pointer finger. 

“Paul—” You groaned, knowing exactly where he was going with this. 

“And I’d like to think that Fred and I are friends as well.” He leaned towards your side in his seat now, coming face to face with you. “I don’t take long walks with him on the lot, hand in hand. He’s not giving me his jacket when I’m cold. He didn’t let me braid his hair in the hair and makeup trailer.”

You glared at him. “That last one was one time.”

“Not the point.” Paul leaned closer. “He’s different with you.”

You bit your lip, looking away. “I don’t know… Fred’s—he’s sweet. He’s friendly. That’s just who he is!”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, but he’s not that sweet or friendly with anyone else.”

You stayed quiet, fingers picking at a loose thread on the hem of your costume.

Paul’s tone softened. “Don’t sell yourself short, y/n.”

Your eyes flicked to his, hesitant but curious.

“You’re smart, talented, and funny. And let’s not pretend the Roman attire doesn’t suit you perfectly.” He gave you a playful nudge.

You laughed despite yourself. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Paul’s grin changed into something more sincere. “Fred should consider himself lucky that you like him.”

Your cheeks burned.

“I just don’t want to—” You mumbled and trailed off. “Ugh, I don’t know. I don't want to make things weird between us.”

“You two are too stubborn for your own good. Someone’s gotta give.” Paul mumbled before raising his eyebrows at you. “You can’t yearn forever.” 

“Can’t I?”

His gaze softened as he took in your expression. “You really don’t see how he looks at you, do you?”

“What?” Your brows furrowed and you shot up in your seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Paul laughed in shock, pulling back and looking out onto the expanse of the set. “Wow.” He muttered to himself. “I can’t tell which of you is dumber.”

“Hey! I can still hear you!”

“Maybe put some of your other senses to use then, idiot!” Paul retorted as he got out of his seat, the speakers on set calling for him to go someplace or other. He walked away mumbling to himself, leaving you sitting there, staring after him, unsure of what to think anymore. 

-

“And I, of course, was chopped liver.” Joseph spoke solemnly to the crowd, dragging you out of your reminiscence. “Paul loved Pedro, Denzel, Connie, Fred, and y/n. But not poor old Joseph.” 

Paul stumbled over his words as he backtracked. “And Joseph! Of course, I was always with Joseph!” Paul cried, pleading with an unyielding Joseph. All a bit to keep everyone entertained, you knew.

“No, no, you can’t undo what’s been done.” Joseph shook his head dramatically at Paul as he motioned for the next person to step up to the microphone. “You have made an enemy tonight, Paul. I hope you’re happy.”

“My question is actually for Joseph.” The fan sheepishly spoke, sending Paul an illusionary apologetic smile.

“I have what you can never have, Paul. The love and affection of the general public.” Joseph deadpanned as he looked over at Paul before turning back to the girl at the microphone. “Go on, darling. What’s your question?” Joseph smirked as he looked away, leaving Paul rolling his eyes.

“Well, um, Paul and Pedro had extensive physical transformations they had to undergo to prepare for the role.” Joseph rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion at the mention of Paul, the joke still running. “What did you have to do to prepare for Geta?”

“Not much, actually.” Joseph snorted. “I got really interested in the history of it, but in comparison to Paul and Pedro? Yeah, we got off easy. Didn’t we, Fred? Just loads of eyeliner.”

“Yeah.” Fred laughed as he nodded. “Shaving and eyeliner was our morning routine for a few months.” The crowd, as well as the cast, laughed at Fred’s note. “Emperor Caracalla is clean shaven, but I’m not.” He chuckled, hand instinctively rubbing at his chin at the thought of his light beard. “So I had to shave almost everyday, but that was about it for me.” With a glance towards you, you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

-

It had been another late night in Fred’s trailer. You were curled up on his couch, legs tucked under you, as you watched Fred pace back and forth. He had been reviewing lines, occasionally muttering to himself, but you hadn’t been paying close attention, not until the soft scruff along his jaw caught the light.

Your eyes narrowed.

“Fred,” you called softly.

He paused, blinking at you. “Yeah?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “You’re getting a little...scruffy.”

Fred instinctively brought a hand to his chin, rubbing over the light stubble that had started to grow in. “Ah, shit.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up now.

“Sam’s out sick,” He explained. “Usually, they shave me every morning. I don’t know how I forgot about it today. Emily needs me to be clean shaven tomorrow.” He mumbled lightly, as if he was only thinking to himself out loud.

You pushed up from the couch, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “Let me do it.”

Fred blinked. “What?” It was like he forgot you were here for a moment. Or, more accurately, he forgot that you were actively listening to his stream of consciousness. He didn’t expect you to offer to solve this non-issue for him. 

“Let me shave you,” you repeated, stepping closer. You gently grabbed his chin, feeling his rough hair between your fingers. You turned his face this way and that, appraising the work you’d have to do if he agreed. “I mean, you can say no if you don’t feel comfortable with your fate in my hands.”

He giggled, eyes softening as he watched you study his facial hair. “Is this another trust exercise?”

You smirked, eyes lighting up and looking back into his. “Maybe.”

Fred considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, Lovie. Have at it.”

The nickname sent a small spark through you, but you shook it off, hiding your grin as you gestured for him to follow you to the little bathroom in the corner of his trailer.

Fred settled on the closed toilet seat after you patted it, a silent command to sit down. He looked up at you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. You rummaged through the small drawer under the sink, pulling out shaving cream and a razor.

“Fear me.” You whispered as you held aloft the blade, watching Fred roll his eyes at the reference.

“You better not botch this,” he teased, leaning back. He couldn’t help but admire you from this angle. The bathroom lighting highlighted your features so beautifully, though he was sure he’d think that of any lighting.

“It seems easy enough.” You shrugged as you squeezed a bit of shaving cream onto your fingers, rubbing your hands together before gently spreading it over his jaw. The cool foam made him shiver slightly.

Fred’s eyes got wide, his head frozen in your grasp. “You’re telling me you’ve never done this before?”

Your eyes sparkled as you raised your brows excitedly, grin wide. “I’m testing your limits. Is this one of them?”

You saw Fred’s eyes dance back and forth as he thought this through. It seemed the risks outweighed the cons, though not by much, because he nodded apprehensively. “Do your worst.” His eyes widened once more and then he winced. “That’s just a saying, please actually do your very best. Don’t hurt the money maker, alright?”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes with a snort. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Now hold still.”

Slowly, carefully, you dragged the blade along his jawline, your hand steady. Fred’s eyes flickered to yours, but he didn’t move. His breathing slowed, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you in silence.

The room felt smaller.

Your thumb gently tilted his chin, guiding him where you needed. His skin was warm beneath your touch.

“You’re doing well,” you murmured, focusing on the careful strokes of the razor.

“So are you,” Fred hummed. “You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I’m that good, huh?” You chuckled, feeling him nod in response with the slightest dip of his chin in your palm. “Maybe I should go pro.”

“You’d leave all the glitz and glamour of being an actress and come shave my scruff every morning?” He asked, laughter lacing his words.

“You’re giving away Sam’s job that easy?” You raised your brows.

“To you? Of course.” He chuckled lightly. “Everything’s easy when it’s you.” The words slipped out, softer than he meant. The air thickened, and Fred’s eyes widened a fraction too late. The words weighed heavily in the space around you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Fred’s eyes flickered to yours at your silence. Whatever he said must’ve been the wrong thing to say, he thought, because your facial expression was unreadable to him. “I’m sor—”

“Everything’s easy when it’s you too, Fred.” You whispered back before he could complete his sentence. With one final swipe of the blade along his jaw, you stepped back from him and the moment. “There. All done.” 

-

You smiled to yourself at the memory, glancing back at Fred next to you. You preferred him with the facial hair, you concluded. 

“Who was the best mentor on set?” Someone else asked once they had their turn at the microphone, the question not directed towards anyone in particular. But Joseph took it upon himself to answer for someone else.

“I know who Fred’s gonna say.” Joseph whispered into the microphone, causing Fred to roll his eyes.

“It was me.” Pedro smirked, flexing his biceps and wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. “He can deny it all he wants, but I pushed that kid when he needed it. Didn’t I, Freddie?”

“You did.” Fred mumbled, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.

“Hell yeah, I did!” Pedro pumped his fist in the air. “Those stories are private, for Fred’s sake. But I’m a good mentor!”

“The best there is.” Fred confirmed, a slight blush colored his cheeks as he snuck a glance at you.

-

It had been a while since the moment Pedro cemented himself as Fred’s mentor in the younger actor’s eyes. He had learned a lot from him. Both as an actor and as a human being.

But something changed between Pedro and Fred one day. 

A day where you had been utterly exhausted. You were filming in a grand room, the scene depicting a party or gathering of some type, you couldn’t recall the details. Everything was as opulent as you would expect with the twin emperors, of course. 

You and Fred had been up all night, bingeing movie after movie, showing each other your favorites and analyzing every scene. When you saw him the next day on set, you were shocked at how awake he was. Everything felt like it was in slow motion for you. You had never been more appreciative of your lack of lines in this movie.

After a few takes of you blinking slowly in the background, Ridley had called for a break. Something wasn’t right with the focus on a few cameras and a monitor or two needed recalibrating. Technical issues that shouldn’t take too long to fix. An assistant director said the issue could take about half an hour to resolve, so you turned to Fred, a silent question in your eyes and a slight pout on your lips.

You and Fred cuddled often, but never outside of his trailer. Movie night was just an excuse for you to curl up in his arms at this point, though neither of you ever acknowledged that. 

But you were so tired, and the pillows on the couch were decorative and stiff. And Fred was right there. It would only be thirty minutes. Just a quick lie down.

Fred saw your face and knew exactly what you wanted from him. He leaned back into the couch and patted at his lap, giving you space to lie down. It didn’t even register to him that anyone would notice nor care. 

His hands instinctively went to brush his fingers through your hair, your nightly routine as of recently. With his cologne and his warmth enveloping you, as well as the soothing motion of his fingers against your scalp, it was less than five minutes later that you were snoozing away.

Pedro looked over and saw the two of you cozied up together and couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the scene. He had been trying to throw hints at Fred for weeks about the two of you. It was clear as day. But neither of you was brave enough to bring it up, fearing the other’s lack of reciprocation. If only you two could see what everyone else saw.

He shared a look with Paul, who was watching along with him. “Go talk some sense into him, Pascal.” Paul snickered lightly, giving Pedro a slight shove in your direction. 

“I’ll try my best, Mescal.” Pedro sighed. 

“Is she out?” He asked quietly once he had settled down beside Fred on the couch, not wanting to wake you up.

“Like a light.” Fred muttered, eyes never leaving your sleeping profile. “It’s my fault, really. Kept her up all night.”

“What did you watch this time?” Pedro smiled, knowing of the private movie nights held every evening in the trailer next to his.

“The Godfather.” Fred answered. “Actually, both of them.”

“The sequel is amazing.” Pedro nodded, but he wasn’t really engrossed in the conversation as much as he was in Fred. It was hard not to admire Fred as he admired you.

“Definitely.” Fred nodded, not even sparing Pedro a glance. The boy was in love and he didn’t even know it. But so were you, to be fair.

“She’s just as bad as you are, you know? Thinking too much, scared to say something first.” Pedro mused, eyeing you curled up in Fred’s lap. You never looked as comfortable as you did in Fred’s presence. Pedro leaned in and his voice dropped an octave. “You should tell her.”

“Huh?” Fred is finally pulled out of the trance you had unknowingly put him in, snapping up to look at Pedro for the first time since he sat down. “Tell her what?”

“I’m saying,” Pedro emphasized each word, “She’s just as oblivious as you are.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should tell her how you feel!” Fred instinctively cupped his hand around your ear, guarding you from Pedro’s sudden laughter like it was second nature. You hadn’t even flinched, too deep in your slumber to notice. But Pedro did, he noticed Fred’s subtle protectiveness. It was sweet. And increasingly frustrating.

Fred scoffed, his cheeks glaringly crimson. “I think I’d prefer not risking those odds.”

“Buddy, trust me. Every single odd is in your favor.”

“Don’t quote the hunger games at me right now.” Fred rolled his eyes. 

Pedro frowned in frustration, leaning closer to Fred. “You really don’t see how gone she is for you?”

A few moments of silence pass between them. Fred’s eyes on you, and Pedro’s eyes on Fred’s lovesick expression. “...You really think she likes me back?”

“She’s not sleeping in my lap, is she?” Pedro smirked, standing back up. “Just think about it, would you?”

-

Fred buried his face in his hands to cover up his flushed cheeks. You shot him a concerned look, but he shook his head to ease your worries. You didn’t know about what had transpired between Fred and Pedro in the same way Fred didn’t know about what happened between you and Paul. And you both wanted to keep it that way. Too embarrassed that everyone else seemed to know of your affection for the other before you did.

“Did any unscripted scenes make it into the movie?” someone asked, pulling you back to the crowd once more.

You and Fred immediately glance back at each other with shy smiles.

Paul talked about the scene where he kissed Pedro’s forehead in the arena, even though it was technically cut. 

But then he turned to the rest of the table. “What about you, Fred?” He asked pointedly, noticing how you had looked at each other when the question was asked. “You had a scene they left in, didn’t you?”

Fred chuckled nervously, scratching behind his ear. “Yeah, a few made it in. But… you probably mean when I called her ‘Lovie,’ right?” The crowd roars in response and Fred’s ears turn pink as he tugs at them. “Yeah, about that…”

-

Fred had started calling you Lovie after that day he was having difficulties with that one scene. He hadn’t even realized when it started, but now, it was just second nature.

Today was the day you would be filming a scene you were dreading. The day Caracalla, the sick emperor you had spent months embodying a devotion to, would die. And you were taking it hard. You had somehow made a place for him in your heart. 

Fred thought it was sweet how your affections grew for his character. He assured you that he understood, working on a long term project like this always leaves an imprint on actors. 

The filming schedule on set didn’t rely on the order of the scenes, but more on the availability of certain sets and certain crew members. So even though this was nowhere near the last scene you had to film with Fred as Caracalla, nor was filming coming to an end anytime soon, you were filming Fred’s last scene in the movie.

The wardrobe department was a maze of fabric and armor, with soft R&B muffling through a nearby speaker, someone no doubt wanting to lighten the atmosphere in the stuffy warehouse. 

You sat hunched in a chair, eyes locked on the hem of your sweater, fingers twisting the fabric. You and Fred were waiting together to be given your costumes for the day.

It all felt so much heavier than you expected.

“You okay?”

Fred’s voice was gentle, but you didn’t lift your head. You just let out a quiet, shaky laugh.

“I’m being ridiculous.”

He came to crouch in front of you, elbows on his knees, watching you carefully. “No, you’re not.”

You sighed, pressing your palms to your face. “I’m getting emotional over the death of a villain in a movie.”

Fred’s head tilted. “Hey, we both know he wasn’t really a villain.” His voice carried a soft laugh with it.

Your lips twitched upward. “He was just misunderstood.”

“And syphilitic.”

You let out a wet laugh, wiping your face. “Yeah, and that.”

Fred grinned, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. Slowly, he stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me, Lovie.”

You blinked at him.

“What?”

“Come on,” he urged softly, fingers still outstretched.

The nickname barely registered in your mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt different now, like a natural extension of you.

You slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.

Fred’s palms settled at your waist, hesitant at first. But when you leaned in, looping your arms around his neck, his grip tightened, like letting go wasn’t an option. You swayed together, slow and easy, surrounded by walls of costumes and muffled music.

“How dumb is this?” you whispered, though the corners of your mouth lifted.

“It’s not dumb, Lovie.” Fred shook his head slightly, his hand gently smoothing over your hair. “Nothing you do is dumb.”

The nickname lingered in the air.

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

“I’d take care of him so well,” you murmured, only slightly serious.

Fred let out a soft chuckle, his breath warming the top of your head.

“You did, Lovie,” he whispered back. “You did take care of him.”

And later, when you filmed the scene, the two of you covered in fake blood and silks, you couldn’t differentiate your character’s tears from your own. It all felt like the end of something. It felt like mourning.

When Fred said ‘Lovie’ instead of ‘My love’ as he wilted in your arms, you didn’t even register the deviation in the script. Only when it was over, when Ridley’s voice crackled through one of the hand held radios, did it hit you.

“Beautiful. Keep calling her that, Fred.” Ridley commended. “Lovie. Should’ve thought of that myself.”

-

“So what he means to say,” you spoke to the crowd, “is that my dramatics fundamentally affected the movie.”

“She was actually so sad,” Fred frowned, “It was heartbreaking. It was an honest mistake, though. Calling her ‘Lovie’.”

“But did you tell them where it came from?” Connie asked, teasingly looking at Fred.

“We uh—” He chuckled bashfully. “y/n and I called her character ‘Lovie’, because it was hard to workshop a character with no name.”

“And then ‘Lovie’ stopped being the character’s nickname,” Pedro chimed in with further explanation, “And it started being y/n’s.”

“I thought it was so sweet.” Connie sighed. “And it suits her so well.” 

“Ridley loved it, too.” Denzel joined. “I heard him grumbling over the radio. Something about how he didn’t think of it before.”

“No one cried when Fred cut off my head, though.” Joseph shrugged with a shake of his head. “Take from that what you will.”

“Actually, I did.” You corrected him with a smirk. “Don’t underestimate my propensity to get emotional when it comes to film.”

“Did you?” Joseph perked up, leaning forwards to look at you across the table. “Did she really?” He asked Fred, like he was the authority on all things true about you.

“Oh yeah.” Fred nodded. “And the scene where Caracalla asks where his brother is. Inconsolable. Sad movies are her weakness. You should’ve seen her when we watched ‘My Girl’.”

“Don’t bring that up right now.” You closed your eyes and shook your head solemnly, raising a palm in Fred’s direction. “He wasn’t wearing his goddamn glasses, Freddie.”

“It’s alright, Lovie,” Fred chuckled, speaking away from the microphone as he leaned closer to you. His voice dropped lower, only for you to hear. “We’ll watch a happy one tonight. Non-negotiable.”

You nodded at him, a smile growing on your face. Fred never failed to make you feel special, like you were a priority to him. Your choices always came above his, no matter how hard you insisted. It was so easy to love him.

“And our final question to wrap up the panel—”

“Make it a good one!” Pedro called into the microphone, a laugh rippling among the crowd in response.

“Come on up, don’t be shy.” The producer smiled at the young girl last in line to ask a question. “What did you want to ask the cast, honey?”

“What was your first kiss like?”

An ‘aw’ passed through the crowd as well as the cast on a stage. But a slight sweat began to coat your palms. You had been admiring Fred and his kindness only a moment ago. So tranquil, almost like you weren’t sitting in front of a crowd of hundreds of people. But this one question sent a shock of electricity up your spine. You were an actress, you reminded yourself. They wouldn’t know if you told the truth or not, would they? 

You heard Paul mention a school dance, and Pedro talked about a pool party during summer break. Denzel mentioned his wife, Connie spoke briefly of a night in Paris when she was a teenager. Joseph and Fred had similar stories, a stage kiss for a school play and a local production. 

When your turn came, you stuttered over your words. It didn’t feel like you had enough time to make something up, at least not something believable. “I guess—uh—technically, it was on screen.”

“Technically?” Joseph asked, confused. 

“Yeah,” You swallowed as heat bloomed across your cheeks. Your lips were upturned ever so slightly as you recalled that day. “My scene partner offered to practice with me before filming. It was much sweeter than it sounds.” You laughed before letting out a sigh. “It’s a memory I’ll cherish forever.”

-

It was the night before you would film your first intimate scene with Fred. The two of you were sitting on his couch, scripts open but long forgotten. The quiet of the trailer is filled with the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages as one of you shifts. You could feel Fred’s presence next to you, close enough that your knees brush when either of you adjusts your position.

“I don’t think Caracalla’s ever had anyone look at him the way Lovie does,” Fred mused, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, contemplative, like he’s voicing a thought meant only for himself.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the sincerity in his tone. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his blue eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “It’s like… even through the haze of his sickness and his trauma, he’s desperate to be seen. And she’s the only one who really does that for him. He doesn’t know how to love, not really, but he tries in his own way.” His gaze shifted to yours, a small, delicate frown tugging at his lips. “It’s tragic really.”

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his expression, the way he’s peeling back a layer of himself in his explanation. “I think Lovie sees that too,” you said softly, barely above a whisper. “And maybe that’s why she stays.”

Fred’s smile faltered, his brows furrowing as he studies you. “You think she chooses to stay?”

“I think…” You paused as you pondered. “I think she’s grown to love him somehow, through this strange, abusive, co-dependent… thing they’ve got going on. And she’s choosing to stay. What you do with love is a choice,” you replied, your voice tinged with something wistful and raw. “Not everyone handles it as carefully as they should.”

The air between you shifted, growing heavier, thicker, as the weight of your words lingered. 

It didn’t feel like you were talking about your character’s anymore. Fred’s eyes didn’t leave yours after you spoke, and you suddenly realized how close he was sitting. His knee brushed yours again, and this time, neither of you moved away.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, his voice impossibly quiet.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribs. “What?”

“Getting it wrong,” he said, his gaze searching for something telling in your eyes. “Love, I mean.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you held his gaze, unable to look away. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “It does scare me, I suppose.”

Fred nodded, a flicker of understanding passed over his face. “Me too.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, without thinking, Fred reached out, his hand brushed against yours where it rested on the cushion between you. His touch was light, almost tentative, but it sent a jolt through you.

“I guess that’s why it’s easier on set,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles. “You get to pretend, just for a little while, that you know what you’re doing.”

You laughed softly, but it caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“Fred…” you started, your voice trailing off as his fingers curled gently around yours. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“I’m nervous about tomorrow.” You confessed, eyes falling down to your lap.

“I know.” He replied. 

You furrowed your brows and lifted your head to look at him questioningly. “You know?”

“Yeah y/n, of course I know.” Fred smiled softly, reassuringly, “I think I would be a bad friend if I couldn’t tell that you were nervous. And I’ve seen your filmography, I know you haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that he thought you were only nervous about the shoot. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, eyes flickering downwards. “Never for a project, no.” You hoped he wouldn’t catch the half truth. Or maybe you hoped that he would. You weren’t sure how you felt about all of this.

You liked Fred. You knew this about yourself now. And sometimes, you think that maybe, just maybe, he might like you back. Paul never failed to seize an opportunity to tell you that, of course. But you were too scared to make a fool of yourself. And, selfishly, you didn’t want to lose what you had with Fred. But now, things were progressing. 

Fred was going to be your first kiss.

And that would be hard to overcome. Especially when you already liked him so much. You were afraid that you would imprint on him like a duckling, never seeing anyone else in the same light. And then what would you do?

“y/n?” Fred asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Are you alright?” You hummed in response, eyes still unfocused. “Do you wanna do a trust exercise or something?”

“What?” You questioned, finally pulling yourself back to the moment.

“For tomorrow?” Fred explained, raising his eyebrows as he spoke. “To help you feel better about it?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding. This might be just what you need. It was so helpful with Fred that last time, and hopefully it could be for you as well. “You wanna do the eye contact one?”

“How about another one?” Fred asked, leaning back against the back of the couch.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Tell me a secret.”

“What?” You balked. “What kind of exercise is that?”

“A secret for a secret.” Fred shrugged. “How about I start?” You nodded, though apprehensively. “I’m nervous for tomorrow, too.”

“Are you really?” You raised a brow at him. “‘Cause if your secret’s just a lie to make me feel better, then you’re cheating.”

Fred giggled and shook his head. “No, I really am.”

“Why?” You tilted your head inquisitively at him.

“Nope, I already told you my secret.” He pursed his lips and shook his head again. “Now it’s your turn.”

You shifted uncomfortably, tucking your legs beneath you on the couch, the script forgotten in your lap. Fred’s gentle, observant gaze had a way of making you feel bare in a way that wasn’t unsettling, but intimate—like he could read every thought you tried to hide.

“I guess it’s not just in front of the camera,” you admitted softly, fiddling with the corner of a page. The confession felt inevitable, like it had been lingering between the two of you for weeks, just waiting for a moment like this to surface. “I mean… I haven’t done this before. Any of it. Not just on screen.”

Fred's eyes softened as he sat up slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his focus entirely on you. “You mean you—you’ve never been kissed before?” His voice was quiet, not prying but careful, like he didn’t want to scare you away.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

For a moment, Fred didn’t respond. He simply watched you, and you could feel the weight of his attention, not heavy or oppressive. His brows furrowed slightly as if he were choosing his next words carefully.

“That’s… okay, you know,” he said finally. There was no pity in his tone, only a steady reassurance. “I know how intimidating this can be, even for people who’ve done it before.”

“It’s just—” you sighed, leaning back into the couch, exasperated with yourself. “It’s not that I think I can’t do it. I know I can, or at least I hope I can. I just don’t want to look ridiculous. I want it to look real.”

Fred smiled faintly, his head tilting as he considered your words. “It’s admirable, you know?” You hummed in question at him. “The fact that you’re sacrificing your first kiss for the production.”

“It’s embarrassing is what it is.” You rolled your eyes with a snort. 

“What?” He gasped quietly, the air still feeling ever so delicate between the two of you. “You're giving it away for Sir Ridley Scott! He’d be honored if he knew, I think.”

“He’d be confused if he knew.” You corrected him. “An actress in her early twenties who hasn’t been kissed before. I think I could apply to the Guinness book of world records.”

“Hey, come on.” He shook his head at you sympathetically. “You’re not breaking any records, trust me. There’s no deadline for this kind of thing.” He shifted closer as he spoke, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in that familiar gesture you’d come to recognize as a sign of his sincerity, “But…I could help—only if you want.”

Your heart skipped. “Help?”

He nodded. “I mean… if it makes you feel more comfortable, we could—” he paused, exhaling as if second-guessing himself. “I could be your first kiss. Just to take some of the pressure off tomorrow. It’s not a big deal. Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

The room felt impossibly quiet, save for the distant hum of the trailer’s air conditioning. You swallowed, your pulse thrumming in your ears. It wasn’t just the offer that stunned you—it was the ease in Fred’s voice, the way he treated it like something simple. Just Fred, offering to help you in whatever way he could. It was so sweet. He was always so sweet to you. But you couldn’t. Not like this

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you inevitably shook your head. “That’s really sweet of you, Fred. But I think I want my first real kiss to be with someone who actually really likes me, not a pity kiss from my scene partner. Tomorrow doesn’t count if I don’t count it. It’s fine, really. I was just in my head about it—”

Fred laughed before he could stop himself, interrupting your rambling. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

“What?” You asked dumbly, not expecting him to say something like that after your vulnerable confession.

“Why do you think I’m nervous about tomorrow?” He asked incredulously, another laugh escaping him. “It’s because I actually really like you, y/n!”

Oh.

It was like someone knocked the wind out of you. 

You had hoped that he liked you back, maybe even thought it might be a possibility in the back of your mind, but to hear him say those words out loud? You were speechless. It was like a dream come true. All those months of pining for him, all that yearning, was reciprocated this whole time. 

“y/n,” Fred murmured, his voice low, soothing. “Can I be your first real kiss? Please?” He parroted your words back to you once more, breathlessly. You felt the blood rush into your head.

You managed a weak nod, barely able to meet his gaze. He waited a beat, letting the moment settle before he leaned in, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His touch was featherlight, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheekbone. The intimacy of the gesture almost unraveled you.

Fred's lips brushed yours tentatively, the kiss soft and unhurried. His movements were gentle yet assured, he understood that this was new for you and he didn’t mind guiding you through it. His other hand found your waist, steadying you, and you felt yourself melting into him.

As the kiss deepened, Fred’s grip on your waist tightened subtly, anchoring you as he shifted. Without breaking contact, he eased you forward, guiding you into his lap until you straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips and your hands resting tentatively against his shoulders. His fingers flexed against your hips, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your lungs felt tight as Fred pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath fanned over your lips and his hands lingered against your waist, sending butterflies crashing into each other in your stomach. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that—long enough for the rapid beat of your heart to settle into something softer, steadier.

“Was that okay?” Fred asked softly, his voice just above a whisper.

You nodded before opening your eyes to meet his gaze. There was something tender in the way he looked at you, and it made the words on the tip of your tongue feel less terrifying.

“Can we… do it again?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and your stomach flipped as you realized how vulnerable you sounded.

Fred's lips quirked into a soft smile as his hand slid up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” he murmured, a soft laugh coloring his words as he brushed his nose against yours. “Yeah, we can do it again. As many times as you want.”

His lips found yours once more, and this time, there was no hesitation. Fred kissed you with more certainty, his hands firm as they traced the curve of your back, pulling you closer still. You could feel his quiet desire in the way he held you, the way his fingers flexed when you deepened the kiss.

You were glad that confession made its way out before you could stop it.

The next morning, you woke up with a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubbling beneath your skin. 

The day was finally here. 

The scene you’d been dreading—and quietly anticipating—was actually happening. But unlike the restless nights leading up to it, you felt more prepared. More steady.

You had filmed a few suggestive scenes with Fred before. As a syphilitic emperor, Caracalla had the propensity to be very comfortable and open in his desires. But you weren’t asked to be nude for any of those scenes, unlike this one. The complexity of not even speaking, yet being so exposed on screen was a little difficult to wrap your head around. 

This scene was supposed to depict you and Caracalla in the privacy of his lavish quarters when Joseph as Geta barges in and angrily informs his brother of Acacius and Lucilla's betrayal. You and Fred were to be undressed and only covered by sheets from the waist down. 

Clara, the intimacy coordinator, had explained that Fred would be leaned back in bed, propped up by a few pillows, while you sat in his lap. The scene would open with a close up shot of the two of you kissing gently, the camera slowly pulling back with you as you leaned back. Your lower bodies would be covered with various messy sheets, depicting the long night the characters had already had before the intrusion.

The scene was much more than physical, it was also meant to show the characters’ co-dependent nature. Even when his concubine was on him, he needed his hands to be on her, both showing his dominance and control over her as well as his reluctance to pull away.

Fred’s kiss lingered in the back of your mind like a warm ember, small but constant. While you still felt the nerves creep in when you thought about today’s shoot, there was a quiet confidence blooming alongside them.

When you arrived on set, you noticed immediately how different the atmosphere felt. The crew was smaller, the lighting dimmer—intentional choices to provide you with a layer of privacy. 

Clara was already on set, organizing the sheets and setting up the space. She glanced your way, smiling comfortingly, but she didn’t say anything. She knew of your apprehension and had been worried about you. But she noticed something new in you today. Maybe there was a shift in your energy or a slight lift in your posture, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she kept her observations to herself.

Fred was already there, standing near the bed where the scene would take place with Joseph. He smiled the second he saw you, that familiar softness in his expression grounding you more than anything else could.

“Morning,” he greeted, voice low and calm.

“Morning,” you replied, a shy tight lipped smile on your face as you stepped closer to him. Joseph greeted you but was quickly ushered away to his mark behind the door, not giving him enough time to notice the change between you and Fred. 

Clara approached you and spoke with her usual calm authority, a roll of skin-safe tape in hand. “Alright, let’s get these sheets secured,” she said, gesturing for you to adjust your robe.

But you stopped her with a small, assured smile. “I don’t think we’ll need the tape today.” Last night’s events forged a confidence deep within you. You knew your team had your back. You knew Fred had your back. 

Clara paused, blinking at you as if processing your words. Her sharp gaze flickered briefly to Fred, who stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his robe pockets. 

He tilted his head at your words, his brows furrowing slightly as he stepped closer. “You sure?” His voice was low, warm with concern.

You nodded, holding his gaze. “Yeah, I feel more confident now.”

Clara smirked faintly, a flicker of understanding in her expression, but she didn’t press. Fred’s gesture was subtle but telling. “Alright, just let me know if anything changes.” She said with a sense of finality before stepping away to oversee the set. 

Fred watched her retreat, then turned back to you with a concerned glint in his eye. He brushed your arm lightly to grab your attention. “You really don’t want the tape?” Fred asked again, his tone tinged with genuine care.

“Yeah,” You nodded with determination. “I can do it.”

He studied you for a beat longer, as if making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard, then smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.” 

“You helped.” You confessed in a whisper, a smile curling your lips upward.

“Yeah?” He asked in surprise, his grin only grew wider when you nodded in confirmation. “Glad I could be of service. We could sneak off and practice some more, if you’d like-”

“Fred!” You cut him off before he could say anymore, scandalised yet amused all the same. “You’re horrible!”

“And you’re cute, Lovie.” He smirked as an assistant pulled him away, cutting your conversation short. 

Another assistant pulled you forward as well, telling you to get into place so they could adjust the lighting based on your position. Fred smiled encouragingly at you from the bed he was laying in as you approached. An assistant helped you get into position, straddling Fred’s lap with your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The position wasn’t unlike how you had found yourself last night in Fred’s trailer. With a quick glance into Fred’s eyes, you knew he was thinking the same thing.

The makeup artists fluttered around you, dabbing at your skin with soft brushes, unknowingly keeping the moment from becoming too intimate. The lighting crew adjusted their angles, the soft glow from overhead casting shadows that added depth to the space.

Fred’s hands found your waist instinctively, his thumbs brushing circles against the fabric of your robe. His touch was grounding, steady, and it calmed the last bit of tension lingering in your chest.

“You okay?” he asked, low enough that only you could hear.

You met his gaze, but your eyes kept drifting lower, to his lips. The memory of yesterday was still present at the forefront of your mind, your pulse quickened at the thought of doing it again.

Fred noticed immediately, a small chuckle escaping him. “You’re adorable.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier.

“I’m just—” You flushed, embarrassed at being caught. You were unable to find the words to explain the giddy excitement stirring in you. “I guess I’m excited to start.”

Fred’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t push it, not wanting to tease you any further. “Good.” His grip on your waist tightened subtly, the weight of his hands calming you.

As the cameras rolled, Fred’s lips found yours, his kiss was steady and deliberate, his hands guiding you gently as your body pressed closer to his. You pulled away from him when you heard your cue, the camera nearest to you swooshing in the air as it moved backwards. Soon enough, you heard the loud bang of the bedroom doors bursting open. You startled in Fred’s lap, the reaction a mix of yours and Lovie’s. For a brief moment, you weren’t acting on a set. It was just the two of you before Joseph barged in. 

Fred cradled you against his chest, covering your exposed form from Geta, like the scene called for. You couldn’t hear what Joseph was saying over the loud heartbeat in your ears, but you knew what the script expected of you and when. Fred’s warm skin and chest hair brushed against your arms as you huddled close to him. It was intoxicating. 

After the first take, you gently pulled back and shifted Fred’s position. “Keep your hands here,” you instructed, placing his hands firmly on your hips in view of the camera. “To show that he’s in control.”

“Okay,” he nodded, always open to your ideas. “You should try leaning into me more,” he added, his hands guiding your hips to tilt forward. “It makes it look like he’s really keeping her there.”

You furrowed your brows as you digested his notes. “Alright. Should I put more weight into it?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded in encouragement. “Don’t hold back, I’ve got you.”

The next take felt even more intense. Fred’s hands pressed into your waist with more dominance. And you fell into him, relinquishing control, matching the energy you’d both discussed.

Between takes, he was quick to adjust the sheets, shielding you with practiced ease. Each touch lingered longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against your bare skin beneath the fabric, and every time you glanced up at him, his eyes held the same quiet intensity and kindness.

Joseph and Clara shared looks after each run through, the two of them noticing the shift in dynamic between the two of you.

“They’re different today.” Joseph whispered to Clara. 

“They’re more in sync.” Clara tilted her head as she observed the two of you. “Almost like…”

“Almost like they’ve been practicing.” Joseph smirked.

“About damn time, if you ask me.” Clara huffed, though amused all the same.

-

All these months later, and the memory was still fresh in your mind. And apparently, in someone else’s as well. “y/n?” Joseph’s voice broke the quiet hum of the green room. You were standing at the tea station, carefully deliberating over how much sugar and milk to add to your cup when he approached, his tone unusually hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” You didn’t look up, focused on swirling the tea in your cup. “As long as it’s not about my sugar-to-milk ratio, because I’ll have you know, it’s perfect.”

Joseph chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “No, it’s not that. It’s… uh…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You can totally tell me to fuck off and mind my own business if you don’t want to answer.”

“I gotta hear the question first, Joseph,” you replied with a playful smile, still not turning to face him. “But I promise I won’t be offended.”

He took a deep breath. “Was Fred your first kiss?”

Your hand froze mid-air over the sugar tin, the question catching you off guard. You finally glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s just…” Joseph shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence replaced with something softer. “What you said back there—on stage—about cherishing the memory forever. It sounded a lot like you were talking about Fred.” He looked down at the tea he was fixing, his words careful, almost shy. “And honestly, it reminded me of that day on set.”

“What day?”

“When we filmed the scene in Caracalla’s bedroom.” His eyes flicked back to yours, searching for confirmation. “You and Fred were… different that day. There was this energy between you two, like something had changed. I thought maybe you’d finally, you know, come to your senses about each other, but what you said on stage—it made me wonder.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hiding the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.” You added a splash of milk to your tea. “We did come to our senses that day.”

Joseph’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity piqued. “And… was he—you know…?”

You glanced at him, tilting your head in mock thought. “While I appreciate your sudden foray into investigative journalism,” you teased, “I think the answer to that question is classified.”

Before Joseph could reply, Paul’s voice cut through the moment. “Or…” he started, strolling toward you with an infuriating smirk. “The answer is a three-letter word.”

“Fuck off, Paul!” you shot back, your laughter bubbling up as you grabbed your cup of tea.

Joseph groaned, shaking his head at Paul. “You’re relentless.”

“And mean,” you added with a grin as you turned to head toward Fred, who had just entered the room and only caught the tail end of the conversation. He gave you an inquisitive look as he draped his arm over your shoulders.

“What are we cussing Paul out for this time?” Fred asked, his voice light and teasing. He leaned down, pretending to whisper conspiratorially, “What’d he do?”

“He’s mean,” you said with a giggle, your words laced with amusement. “Are you ready to leave?”

Fred nodded. “Yeah, the car’s waiting out back.”

“You’re leaving already?” Paul’s mock-pout followed you as you grabbed your bag.

“We’re literally seeing you guys at dinner in, what, two hours?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“And tomorrow morning,” Fred added, steering you toward the door. “Hopefully you’ll survive without us until then.”

As you walked out, Joseph’s amused voice reached you. “For the record, I’m still rooting for that classified answer.”

Fred glanced down at you, his brow raised. “What’s he talking about?”

“It’s nothing,” you said, stifling a laugh. “They’re just being nosy.”

Fred didn’t push, his signature crooked grin tugging at his lips as he leaned closer, his voice warm against your ear. “Well, whatever it is, I’m on your side.”

As always, you thought, smiling softly to yourself.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Fred’s arm still draped over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but glance up at him. The way he fit so effortlessly into your life—his steady presence, his quiet reassurances—made you wonder how you ever doubted his feelings for you. Looking back now, it seemed almost ridiculous. Every glance, every touch, every word had been there all along, waiting for you to notice.

“Ready?” he asked softly, opening the car door for you and offering you a hand.

You nodded, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at his antics. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

How could you not be, when everything he did made it so easy to fall for him?

[youngwonhui]

✦ live on my knees, make you see | ch. 2

*•. member: choi seungcheol x afab reader

*•. summary: your life goes on, and it leads you to more and more interweaving encounters. Things progresses between you and Seungcheol. More rollercoaster to ensues.

*•. genre: angst, strangers to lovers; kinda, corporate and family drama, life and misunderstanding happened in general

*•. wc: 9963

*•. warnings: unintentionally introducing corporate drama. no, i am not projecting. maybe.

*•. cross posted in AO3

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Shrinking.

That’s the feeling that has been eating your nerve for the past week.

Your team or your new boss never question you when you took a week to work remotely from your house instead of going to the office. A general concern from your team, but nothing that you couldn’t handle with a few excuses of feeling mildly unwell.

Which isn’t exactly wrong.

But the underlying feeling of being a coward doesn’t sit well beneath your skin. Getting you restless even when you’re lying down your bed, safe under the cover. Your thought runs to the unexpected meeting at Seungcheol’s front door.

You remember when your mom caught you once in middle school. Skipping class and spending time in a PC room. Unfortunately she had caught on your investigative mission of looking around the internet For your so called ‘father’.

It resulted in hours of your mother’s scolding. Back then it meant nothing. But eventually you realize that half of her anger wasn’t so much because of you, but because of the fact that you just unearthed. How your father is posting a photo of him and a little boy. Proudly captioned with somewhere along the line of a special day at school with said little boy.

Back then, or now, you can always recognize the bright brown eyes and high cheekbones. How he grown out of a curly hair and braces. If you have any conscience, you would be ashamed of stalking a stranger on the internet. But your anger, it stained your heart and then dried with animosity for years.

For now, obliviousness and daily routine will be your medicine.

As you took another step that morning, finally coming back to the office, wind gets impossibly brisk with every movement you make. Looking down to your feet, you didn’t manage to notice the familiar figure waiting for you by the entrance of the building. Disheveled as ever, tuft of dark brown curls making its way out of the tied hoodie.

“Y/n.”

Looking up, the sight of a visibly sleepy Seungcheol welcomes you. His lips stretch into a lazy smile as he makes his way to you. Dimple carving deeper the closer he came to you. Gulping down the words you wanted to make, you simply accept a cup of warm coffee thrusted to you. Another cup perched in Seungcheol’s grip.

“If you’re not too busy after work, do you want to come up later?” The man in front of you paused, a little unsure in his words but he immediately nodded lightly. More to himself rather than to convince you. Both of you know that you give each other enough respect to do anything you wanted to do. Or in this case, you’re free to say no to his offer.

The long curl that escaped the hoodie has made its way to his barely opened eyes. The warmth of familiarity hits your chilling bone.

How most of your morning spent bumping into Seungcheol like this. After he spend ungodly hours in his studio or apartment. Then, only when the day finally breaks and a glimpse of sunlight finally shown its way past the horizon, only then Seungcheol would finally steps outside to fresh air.

Unfortunately you can only remain silent, unable to offer him a word to cheer up his barely starting day. Fingers gripping the cup rather tightly as you rearrange your thought.

Noticing this, Seungcheol’s free hand enveloped yours. Warmth emanating yours as you sigh defeatedly. With one last caress from Seungcheol’s thumb, he retracted with a murmur of time. Somewhere along the line of not wanting you to be late for work. He turned to the door with a little wave and a lazy smile. You follow suit and climbing up the stairs a few steps behind. Until you arrived at your floor and Seungcheol turned around to you.

“I mean it when i’m inviting you Y/n, so please knock on my door. It’s only me and no one else. If that thought bring you peace.”

\\

There were cards and flower on your desk. Mixes of ‘welcome back’ and ‘get well soon’ written in various colours and fonts. Smiling as you accept it all. Somehow you’re not surprise they—your team, even ordered a cake just to commemorate the occasion.

You had vehemently refused to put on a cone hat, but you enjoy the greeting despite the overly doting attention you had been given. You thanked them more for the work that has been cut out for you. Working a little overtime to research and oversee on-site materials that you could have missed from working remotely. So you dedicated each extra slices of cake for the three.

At the end of the day, you tried waited for everyone to leave. But none of your team wanted you to spend extra time of doing any work. You tried to assure them that you wouldn’t, but they were adamant, resulting in you blurting out that you’re going to see a friend instead.

“If i see you typing on your comp—” It was time to clock out, and you barely lift up your head to notice three pair of eyes are looking at you who still has your butt planted to your chair.

“Are you threatening me Jisun?” You chuckled, making a show to cross your arm.

“Well, you pull this kind of things often. We just don’t wanna leave until you leave.” Soyeon’s reply making you sigh in frustration. A smidge of adoration for them.

“We just want to make sure you’re not overworking yourself again.” Chan simply stated.

“Well, i am not? I’m gonna just go and see my friend and not spend any time working on anything at all.” You raise your hand in defeat. The three in front of you shares glances with meaningful silent discussion. You can still sense the doubt between them. “If you guys have to know, my friend is in this building too. That’s why i’m staying and not rushing out.”

“Then we should escort you to them.” Chan suggested, met with series of nod in approval by his friends.

“Absolutely not.”

The finality of your word eventually makes its effect moments later. When you’re closing every folder and turning your desktop off. Shouldering the bag you bring, as you ushered your team out of the room and eventually the office. True to their nature, the three-left climbing down the stairs with curious whispers.

Presumably planning a coup if they eventually make their mind to it.

There’s always the option of going home. Walking out of the building to convince them further that you wouldn’t overwork as they claim.

Yet the other choice weighs down your heart. Images flashes in your mind. Of messy, curly, and sleepy figure in most of your commute. Always within reach but seemingly far away. Although you have yourself partly to blame about that.

Heaving out a breath, you knocked at the familiar door.

Rendering a smile in your face when the door opened to a sight of Seungcheol. Not much different than this morning, only less fatigue and questionably fluffier. Somehow.

He welcomes you as always, Kkuma trotting in tow. Little paws trying its best to catch up as Seungcheol lead you to the familiar open space. Where his living room and kitchen connected as one, situated in polar opposite.

You catch the faint melody flowing through one of the speakers Seungcheol has installed in various spot of the place. Also noticing the clean state of his apartment. As if Hansol was never here at all. Opening the door to you, resulting in the shattering of your living bubble into the reality.

“Have you eaten? I ha—”

“Hansol and me— he’s my half-brother.”

At the sudden confession, Seungcheol looks up to you. Catching the air you didn’t spend. Looking back straight to Seungcheol as if you’re gauging for his response. Or simply looking for encouragement. Strengthen the bone to support you from where you stood now.

“His father have me before he went to New York and then Hansol was born. I know his father knew about my existence, but i didn’t know that Hansol does too. So, imagine my surprise when i see him opening your apartment door.”

There’s a box full of your baby pictures, hidden by the dark corner of your closet. One picture stood out. Of you, barely opening your eyes as you’re being held by a man you never felt like a father. Your mother didn’t delegate it to you, but you kept it anyway. Like an unspoken open secret.

You wished that apathy is all you felt towards those pictures. But it was otherwise back then.

Barely entering middle school and deep in a childish dispute with your mother, you opened those boxes and simply enthralled by the notion of a ‘father’. Who left you and your mother. Barely months after you breathe the air in this earth.

He left after knowing you.

And that was the spark, of your hidden obsession towards your father’s new family, the family he didn’t abandon. A new partner, a boy, and a little girl. Such perfect family.

It goes on years and years, those obsessions. Until your mother fell sick.

The thought of old memories pricked your eyes. Regrets of mistakes you could never set undone. Clenching your fist tightly to keep your proper composure, you look back at Seungcheol who remained silent. Your eyes boring into his calm composure, clad in an oversized white T-shirt and beige jogger.

“My question remained, Y/n.” Seungcheol paused before pulling a plate on the rack. “Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t but—”

“Then let’s eat. I have to shamefully admit i spend some hours on this seaweed soup but it only ended up being mediocre. At least it had plenty of meat in it. And that’s a win.” You let out a mix of laughter and exasperated sigh at Seungcheol’s proposition.

“Are you not gonna ask me anything?”

You had make a stride towards him. Now only separated by the marble countertop of Seungcheol’s kitchen island. Leaning to the surface, Seungcheol raises his brow at your question. A rebuttal that jolts your heartbeat by a split second.

“Do. You. Want. To. Try. My. Seaweed. Soup?” The emphasize on each and every word while being uttered in such deadpanned face, you can’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips. Looking away to prevent you from focusing too much on the dimple that formed on Seungcheol’s cheeks by now.

Then, you could only give in.

Sat on the dining table that couldn’t be describe by other word than ‘familiar’ and ‘cozy’. Although perched on a quite small table, you admit that you enjoy the proximity of sitting closer to share foods with Seungcheol. Other than when you can’t be bothered and just sat sprawled by the floor with pizza box by your side. That was one night after you helped Seungcheol to bathe Kkuma.

With one bowl of warm rice and more than enough portion of seaweed soup, you sat and kept the silence. You feel like you’ve said what you need and now it’s just up to Seungcheol. Although you had an inkling that it doesn’t have to be up to him.

It never was in the first place. Clarifying your situation to Seungcheol. You could’ve goes on without doing so. Yet there’s a part of your mind where it knows that the fact you just blurt out to Seungcheol lightened the weight in both of your heart and head.

“Are you gonna offer me dessert too?”

Seungcheol looks up to your suggestion, lips tugged to a smile. Cheeks fallen deeper into his dimple. Brown curls down to his eyes but you know he raises his eyebrow. It’s like a subconscious habit for him.

“Sure, what do you want?”

Seungcheol gestures you to follow him, eventually leading you to his fridge. You stood close to the open door, flinching a little from the flowing cold air. It brought you closer to Seungcheol’s side. His one arm still gripping the fridge door handle tightly.

“Don’t judge me, but i just love to stock up on many sweets. Ice cream, cheesecake, cookie dough, pastry, you name it.” Seungcheol admitted bashfully, averting his eyes up and down his fully packed fridge shelves. Strangely you can’t avert yours from his side profile. The proximity allows you to notice how long his lashes actually are.

“You want to bake some cookie?”

Your eventual suggestion earns a slow nod of approval from Seungcheol before he leans closer to you and reaching for the pre-packaged cookie dough.

It shouldn’t surprise you that Seungcheol are not well versed in baking. Based on how he’s making rounds around the space of his kitchen, only looking for utensils and finding ways to pre-heat his oven. So to cut back time, you delegate him to assist you instead.

Mixing chocolate chips and rolling out the dough evenly only took you less than thirty minutes. Seungcheol could only exclaimed in amazement beside you as you eventually slid the tray of dough into the oven.

“Why am i not surprised that you’re good at baking.” Seungcheol started, placing a timer on the top of the counter as you both wait for the cookie.

“You can’t barely call it baking compared to when i used to do a part-time at a bakery.” You chuckled, wiping some grease in your hand with a towel. Setting it aside before settling beside Seungcheol. Leaning against the counter overlooking directly to the warm oven. “But i’ll take that as a compliment.”

Silence easily weaves its way between the two of you. Soft clicking of the timer, as well as pitter patter of Kkuma walking around the apartment.

“Don’t you want to ask me anything about Hansol?” You eventually said. Looking ahead to the orange light inside the oven instead of the man beside you. The heat from his gaze felt warm on your cheek.

“Do you want talk about Hansol?” There’s a low vibration rushing down your from your nape each time Seungcheol speak. “I feel like i’m not in a position to interrogate you regarding your private matter. From where i stood what i’m able to do is invite you to dinner, accompany you to drink some beer, watch a movie, or listen when you want to talk.”

You can feel the rigid muscle on your face, brows furrowed over some jumbled thought of everything that has anything to do with Hansol. Days has passed since meeting him up close, yet your feeling still can’t make itself clear in your mind. Rendering you lost and somewhat helpless. In the end you only feels pathetic for yourself as you try to force yourself to sleep every night.

“It was always me and my mom. We understand each other, rely on each other. Even though i was a young and stupid kid. She accepted her fate to raise me alone, and i always admire her for being able to make me understand how it came to be like this.” You paused, smiling to yourself at the memories of your mother. “She also understands my anger, my spite, as well as my sadness. So— i am sorry if i couldn’t tell you anything right now Seungcheol.”

The man beside you shifted on his feet before positioning himself in front of you. He placed his palms on your arms, holding you steady. Something you didn’t know you needed, even though you’re staying in one spot.

“Then we can just bake cookies.” Seungcheol whispers, resulting to a wet chuckle from you.

“You’re taking your position very seriously huh? What’s next, you’re gonna make me watch the rom-com movie you forgot to finish?” There’s a feeling of relief that Seungcheol didn’t retract his hold. You’ve grown to enjoy the warmth from his palms.

“Well, i happened to fall asleep last night while watching ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’.”

Harmonious laughter follows to fill the room. Above the droning noises, Seungcheol bowed his head a little in abashed. Fully proving how you’ve managed to read his habit like he’s an open book. You raise your eyebrow in reply, Seungcheol fixes his eyes back to you as he lowers his hand. Regretfully so.

But thankfully he didn’t move away.

There’s a sweet scent wafting in the air. Weaving in between the two of you. A signal that the cookies are almost done baking. Freshly filled with laughter and spurred by the smile that seems like it hasn’t left Seungcheol’s face, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“Have you been waiting for me every morning?”

From this proximity, it allows you to see how Seungcheol’s eyes dance around in surprise. Eventually his gaze returns back to you, a certain confidence lodged in his frame. Wetting his lips once, Seungcheol chuckled in defeat.

“Maybe i am, if i’m not too caught up in the studio.” You blink at his answer, a jolt of surprise running in your brain. “How could i not? After seeing you run away from me like that.”

“I was not running away from you. You know that.” A nod of understanding came as Seungcheol reply. You found yourself small in recollection of that night.

“I do, but with the state you were that night.” A paused, as Seungcheol sigh deeply. “How could i not worry? and then i found out you’re not coming to work the next day? I care about you too much to not do anything and sit on my hand.”

You were waiting. For anything, any signs that Seungcheol is just joking. Or some elaborate explanation of how he only ‘cares’ as a friend. But you’re only met with Seungcheol’s face as it remain in its somewhat default setting. A soft smile and attentive dark brown eyes, almost obstructed by his brown curls.

Desperation must’ve written itself in your face, even you could feel it. The words dies in your tongue though. Fear creeps up your thought over some word Seungcheol has nonchalantly uttered. You want to curse him for that, but you found yourself swayed in the thought of being a person that he cares about.

The loud ring from the timer sends your shoulder flinching. Immediately halting the long thread of thoughts in your mind. Reaching out behind you, Seungcheol moves closer to turn off the timer. He didn’t hesitate to smile sweetly at you before putting the quiet timer back to the counter and then left you to make a beeline to the oven.

Oh, yeah. Cookies.

\\

You almost bumped to a person when you look up from your phone as you’re replying to an urgent email that find you since the break of dawn.

Quick steps fumbling on the sidewalk as you tries to stabilize both your bearing and the person you almost bumped into. Sadly some contents of your bags flown out in the process.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t look at where i am going!” Frantic voice filled your ears before you crouch down the ground to pick up any fallen objects that you recognized as yours. The remaining already picked up quickly by the other person.

You notice the long flowing brown hair with accented small braids as it’s adorned by colourful ribbon. She’s quite young, much younger than you when you managed to look closely at her face as you both stood up after finishing to pick the the fallen objects.

While rearranging the contents of her bag with one hand, you notice her other one that’s gripping her phone tight as showing her screen displaying a map. You don’t know what came over you. Seeing that you never seen the girl around this time of day, while said girl is holding a map to some direction, you have a hunch that the girl is probably lost.

“Do you need help with directions?” You offered, quickly pointing to the map in her phone.

“Oh my god, i would say no because I don’t wanna inconvenience you more. But i am so lost. I think i’ve been circling around these block three times.” The girl exclaimed, a hint of annoyance painting her voice.

You make a quick queries of where she headed and to your unexpected surprise, she showed you the address to your office building.

“Oh? I’m actually going there now.”

“Oh my god. Are you for real?”

With a quick nod, you offer her to join you in your commute. The girl jumped a little as she gleefully agrees and immediately following your footsteps.

You make a quick apology when you realize you have to answer some email as you walk. Not being able to entertain the girl of some conversation. You should be wary of stranger, or at least paid some attention to your surroundings when you’re walking with one. But your guts telling you the girl is harmless.

She walks with her eyes wandering to anything that caught her attention. Your own eyes couldn't help to wander to her. How some of her feature, although hidden under the long flowing curls of brown reminded you of someone. The thought dies down on the tip of your tongue once you realize you've arrived.

“We’re here, do you need help findi—”

“Sofia!”

The two of you turned to the source of voice.

There was a rush as the girl beside you hurried to leave your spot and skips away in a gleeful shriek. As you turn to where the girl was going, nothing could prepare you for the sight of the other person.

The familiar brown eyes and high cheekbones.

“Hansol, i spend the whole hours walking around the street—”

The girl— Sofia’s words are quickly cut as Hansol lands his eyes to you. Even from far away, you can see the Hansol clenches his jaw tightly. As seem in resolute, he dragged Sofia by her elbow and make his way to you.

The fear that knocks you out almost a week ago strangely doesn't find you. Standing still as you held your phone in hand. You thank any nearby god that you still has strength left to do so. Who knows what else you would do in this situation.

“Ouch, dude what the hell—” Sofia muttered in annoyance.

“I— thanks for helping her. We will be going.” Bowing his head rigidly, Hansol breezed past you with Sofia in tow.

They leave shuffling away as Hansol managed to keep his hold on Sofia who put less effort on her struggle. Yet managed to turn her head back to you and wave with a smile.

“I don't know who you are but thank you for your help!”

Subconsciously you found yourself waving back. Despite your stunned thoughts from the whilrwind of interaction between Hansol and the girl— Sofia. And you.

Blinking the thought to pushed it away. You went to work like nothing happened.

Finishing task after task like nothing is bothering your mind.

And when the clock strike at 6PM, when majority of the office already leave or in the middle of getting ready to leave, your mind tuned back to those thought. Back to the surprising meeting from this morning.

Subconsciously you found yourself knocking at Seungcheol’s door. Pack of beer in your hand.

Strange to think that your muddled mind brought you here. To a place that you don't even know until a few months ago. Through some coincidence at that. The thought of many late night snacks and quick banter of conversation every time you bumped into Seungcheol has never failed to bring a whisper of smile on your face.

You wouldn't dare to admit it from time to time. But as your deep rooted habit remain a baleful shadow in your mind, you boxed that thought and feeling and wrapped it in the most beautiful ribbon. Easy in your mind so you wouldn't dare to delve deeper into it.

“Well hello Y/n.”

But it was so easy.

To swim into his dark brown eyes, framed under his strong brow. Nestled above his ever so raised cheeks that slope into his dimples every time he smiles.

“Hi there, wanna help me drink this up?” Raising the pack in your hand, Seungcheol is quick to take it off of you when he realizes what you bring.

With a slight tilt of his head, Seungcheol urges you to go in. Complying felt easy on your step. Smiling when you spot a white fluff coming in fast from across the room once you set yourself inside. Among the space you felt comfortable and in peace.

Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol already has a spread of little bites on his coffee table. Surrounding a legal pad and his ipad. As usual, there’s a flow of music through the speaker. Lulling you deeper into the warmth of the space.

Turning to a smiling Seungcheol, beers already set to the table before he looks back to you. The coziness are inviting you to spill your thoughts. To empty your day to him, in words uttered with the background of whatever music Seungcheol has put on. While Kkuma is somewhere dozing or strutting away her energy around the place.

Talking about everything but not the one you had been stored away, Seungcheol noticed the slight strain in your brow as you gaze at the can of beer you’ve been nursing for the past thirty minutes. A slight nudge on your arm took your attention from it and into Seungcheol. His gaze questioning.

“You talk about even the littlest thing about today. But why do you look like you still have so many more to tell me.” His voice are never demanding. Low rumble in your proximity as he’s always softly easing you to your thoughts.

“I think i met Hansol’s sister today.” The silence from Seungcheol are urging you to continue. Inhaling deeper with a hint of smile, you put down your beer to face the man beside you. “I remember when i was looking into Hansol’s dad, that he’s having a babygirl. A baby sister for Hansol. I remember i was so angry. I don’t quite understand why back then, heck i even denied to everyone around me that i was angry. Masking it all like a prideful kid. What a shame. Because if i just admit those anger, i think the grudge wouldn’t be eating me up like this. Making me live my days working like a dog as if i wasn’t enough for anything.”

Your voice has tapered to silence, the amount of alcohol you had consumed doesn’t quite helping your situation now. Spilling old and dried thought into someone like Seungcheol.

Wordlessly, Seungcheol slid his hand to yours. A light squeeze is enough to give you all the assurance in the world. That he’s listening.

“After knowing Hansol has a baby sister, i tried to forget about their existence. I stopped digging around and keeping tab on the family of a man that abandoned me. I lived, but like i said, i feel like i live as a corpse. Even when my mom fell ill, when she had to move to a care facility with our distant relative in Daegu because i can’t really took care of her and she wouldn’t want me to stop going to college here. Even then, i still think about them. I always thought that i would never meet them. That i could never discern his face among the crowds and we would live passing through each other without truly knowing each other. Yet here i am, bumping into both of them, and Hansol are probably thinks that i was a weirdo or a creep.”

A raised eyebrow from Seungcheol earned a chuckle from you. He know the reality of your last sentence. That even though years had passed, you still could recognize Hansol—and even his sister just from a single abrupt meeting.

The lack of sobriety in your part lets you feel a little loose. Letting out airy laughs without fully paying attention to the decreasing gap between you and Seungcheol. Sitting sprawled above his soft rug and leaning against his sofa. A crushed cans of beer put aside, your sole excuse just so you can come knocking to Seungcheol’s door and then spilling years of buried down secrets.

“You know, we all imagined all sorts of things in our life. And the funny thing is, seems like the universe are always listening to those, but they only listen. So that they could do things so out of your way that makes you think what you’re dreaming is useless. At least that’s what i always thought after failing to do everything that i wanted. A little silly thought to comfort me rather than blaming it in other people and then fall deeper into baseless hate.” Seungcheol giggles, his shoulder shaking as his hand remain on yours. Thumb caressing lightly in nonchalant.

Maybe you were much more lacking in sobriety than you thought you were. Maybe it’s the slight rumble of Seungcheol’s laughs and deep voice that you could feel whenever he’s near. Nonetheless, there’s something pulling you. An invisible force—first in your mind. As you circle around another thought you wrapped away, acting like you don’t even see it. Back to a few nights ago, spent together in the kitchen and with sweet smell of cookies.

Acting like you don’t know what came over you was easy. But actually doing what your mind told you to do is giving you such rush that rivalling the height that alcohol brings. And sweeter, even.

Your free hand traveled to cup Seungcheol’s cheek. With a surge, you plant your lips to his. Soft as you can feel the cherry lipbalm Seungcheol often applies. With your eyes closed you savour the air that has left your lungs and now filled with a deeper substance that bring a jolt to your heart with every second.

It was a peck on any other level, you’re somewhat didn’t dare to do more than that after feeling the body beside you froze as you continue your ministration. The audible little gasp from Seungcheol proven further to you that maybe a peck is enough for you. Enough that you didn’t cross any line to push him away.

You didn’t dare to utter any words. Simply pulling away slowly as your eyelids flutter open to the sight of Seungcheol, his face is a perfect example of soft steel. Strangely enough you think Seungcheol can read your mind. Because the moment you’re about to burst out of where you sat and scramble out of his apartment, Seungcheol has had his grip on your elbow. His palm felt burning on your skin.

“I can’t let you go home like this.”

His whisper anchors you to remain where you are. Buzzing with a newfound excitement when Seungcheol wouldn’t move even a millimeter away from your lips. A smirk on his lips accompanied his words while his free hand had traveled to hold your nape.

The burning hold he had on your elbow loosened but the sensation remain.

“I was so surprised, i thought the beer was mixed with something. Causing a hallucination of you actually kissing me.” Seungcheol’s warm breath washes down your lips. You can’t control yourself to remain unaffected as you bit your lower lip. Your eyes searches his.

“Well you can’t barely called that a kiss, Seungcheol.” You taunt.

“That’s true, here let me show you then.” He smiles.

Was all that you heard before you can feel his smile on your lips. The hand on your nape pulls you closer as you wrap yours around his, burrowing your fingers to the curly strand that earned you a satisfied hums from Seungcheol. His lips are still chasing yours with a small tugs to your freshly bitten lower lips. It sends your toes quite literally curling into Seungcheol’s expensive carpet.

There was barely any moment Seungcheol would let you pull away. No matter how breathless you both feels. The way you both melting into each other’s touch felt too good to end so soon. Not when you’re close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat in such proximity.

The months long since you’ve been meeting him, you felt like it sets so many things afoot. A roller coaster that you would never thought to happened. Your whole life have not been a flat ground so to say, yet the things that happened since the day you accidentally set yourself in front of Seungcheol’s apartment felt like it has to happened whether you like it or not.

That include meeting Seungcheol.

You had to admit that you’ve been avoiding the feeling you got. Each meeting setting off more surprising warmth in your heart. From the little smile Seungcheol gave you as he offers you a piece of gum each time after you’re done smoking to the time where he looks down from his window as if he’s a modern day rapunzel.

Unknowingly a chuckle had escaped your lips, bouncing off straight to Seungcheol’s face. Eyes half lidded as his long wisps of his eyelashes grazes his cheeks. He can’t help to mirror the delight on your features. You leaned into the thumb that has traveled to your cheek. Rough calloused surface caressing softly with as much care in the world.

“What’s so funny? Y/n?”

Despite his light grumble as you shift in your seat, inadvertently creating a few inches gaps between you two, Seungcheol kept his gaze to your lips. Curved into a smile, a rose blush painted on each end.

“Nothing,” a pause as you took a deep needed breath. Your muddled thought eventually settled throughout your long winded day. “I don’t know why, i just feel happy. Despite what happened today.”

Without a beat, Seungcheol pulls you into a hug. One that neither bone-crushing or halfhearted. Enough to make you feel the warmth of his chest, clad the soft materials of his T-shirt. Reveling the scent of his cologne due to the proximity, you let out a content sigh.

“It doesn’t matter what happened today, you deserve it otherwise. To feel happy.” Seungcheol whispers to the crown of your head, in return, catching the faint mix of coconut and a hint of floral from your hair products.

There’s a faint crackle from the speaker far away. Whatever song or playlist Seungcheol has put on might have ended. None of you really paid attention to it though. Time flows perfectly fine to slip into the bubble you both had created. Enough with each other presence.

The perfect mixture of warmth and happiness.

It flows through your vein. Seemingly connected to Seungcheol with every whispers and caresses he gave you. Nobody care that Kkuma has trotted closer and dozed off by the end of the sofa, nor that time has gone past midnight and you fell deeply asleep in Seungcheol’s embrace.

\\

Waking up hungover on a wednesday wasn’t really included in your weekly plan. Yet here you are, a dull ring reverberating throughout your cranial cavity. It certainly doesn’t invite any good memories from college. Not that you’re often passed out drunk on someone else’s sofa often.

Now that you think about it…

Forcing your heavy eyelids to open, you’re cringing from the bursting sunlight that welcomes you. Your free hand immediately flew to cover your face. But to no avail, the heat is worsening your already bad headache. Slowly being aware, you eventually realize the weight in your other hand. Hanging free from the edge of the sofa you laid on.

Nervously turning your head to your side, the sight welcomes you like the morning sun of fall. Such warmth unexpectedly coming through the fallen leaves and chilling breeze. How could it not when you had spotted Seungcheol laying down on the carpeted floor right by the sofa, his one hand tightly holding on to yours as he lay on his side. Curly bangs falling over his eyes, perfectly framing his squished sleeping face.

You thought you were going crazy as you manage to not tear your eyes off of the sight. Pink plump lips slightly ajar as he breathes, and the cheek who carved into a dimple when he smiles has turn into a full curve. Much resembling a bun.

A helpless laugh unknowingly went past your lips. Uncaring of the headache you’re experiencing. Wincing, you took a deep calming breath before continuing to glance at Seungcheol’s sleeping figure. Until a soft pressure applied to your hand quickly steal your attention.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

Your eyes immediately widened, a slight blush went up your cheek at the thought of being found out.

Seungcheol pries one of his eyes open, looking up to you despite the glaring sunlight. He continues to play with your intertwined hand as he laughs drily. Seemingly in the same situation of hangover as you.

“I would take a picture, but my hand is occupied.” You laugh lightly, inciting the same response from Seungcheol. “Why are you down there though?”

“Why? Am i too far? Do you miss me already?” Seungcheol mumbles through his signature smirk.

“Well, your sofa is big enough for the two of us. So, my question remains.”

A quick flash of smile from Seungcheol and within second he’s sat up from where he lay. Messy curl nest of hair leaning over you. Close enough until you can spot the places where he had missed during shaving. Deep inside, you're trying to fight how fond you are of him.

“Unfortunately i snore in my sleep. Although yes, i do want to hold you close, i don't want to wake you up with such unpleasantness. So i’d rather sleep down here— which surprisingly is comfy enough, rather than disturbing your sleep. How is it? Does that answer your question yet?”

Biting your lower lip to hold back a smile, Seungcheol rests his head promptly near your arms. Softly mumbling how he's got to give Kkuma her breakfast. And incidentally, your stomach rumbled just after he finished his words. Fixating his gaze back to you, Seungcheol can't help the teasing smrk painted on his face.

“Would you look at that. Now i got two princesses to feed.”

A melodic deep timbre of laughter flowing through the room. You thought of how nice it is to be woken up like this. But for now, you still hid your face under your palm to mask the embarrassment.

\\

The sweater Seungcheol has offered you to change into felt impossibly soft. Added bonus point that it smells like him a little. Taking a warm shower after notifying your boss that you’ll be late, then Seungcheol already stood in his kitchen. Preparing the breakfast he had ordered. In a new set of clothes and a damp hair.

“How's your head? The shower helps right? I got some light porridge for breakfast.”

Even in a white T-shirt and beige pants, Seungcheol looks stunning. You steel yourself to brought up the words you want to say. Almost spending an hour in his bathroom, you had been filling it with some thinking. About last night and your feelings. How the flashing images of the kiss you share sends enough butterfly on your stomach that you had to grip the cold marble counter for it.

So midway through finishing your bowl of porridge and a side of warm tea, you called for Seungcheol's attention. The man by your side immediately raises his head, Kkuma dozing comfortably on his lap. Like a permanent accessory.

“About last night,” Seungcheol has his eyes focused on you, as you're trying to find the right words to say. “I might be drunk and might not be in the right state of mind. But i would be lying if i say that kissing you was a mistake. Because, I think i like you. And i don’t want you to think that the kiss was just, you know. A one time thing. Or worse, a mistake.”

The inside of your stomach would like to vacate its vessel. And it’s not caused by the hangover. The way Seungcheol continues to stare at you is as if you’ve grown a third ear.

For what feels like a decade, Seungcheol broke the silence with a big heave of the breath he’s been unknowingly holding. One hand flew up to cover the big smile that blooms. Bigger than the feeling of relief as if a two ton weight has been lifted from your shoulder.

“You think you like me?” Seungcheol has this teasing tone in his words, you can only bite your lower lip to prevent the big grin that’s fighting to come out. “Well this is awkward because I am quite sure I like you. What are we going to do with this?”

Kkuma whines softly when she's placed down to the chair. Now vacated as Seungcheol already stood and step closer to you. Your eyes trained to Seungcheol’s every move, you tried your best to held back the racing heartbeat. Possibly loud enough for Seungcheol to hear now that he's towering over you. Toned arms caging you to your seat.

His eyes inviting you to recreate your last night’s activity.

“You know I have to go to work right?” You murmured.

“I know. You wouldn’t missed work for anything. That far, i do know.”

A lazy smile blooms on Seungcheol’s face, he raises his hand to caress the hair that has fallen to your face. You shamefully fixated your eyes to his hand—fingers. Knowing that Seungcheol has his own eyes to you.

The event last night truly unlocking a whole new level of push and pull between the two of you. And you don’t know if you’ll survive through it. You might not be strong enough to resist the man in front of you.

With a chuckle, Seungcheol picked up your empty bowl and making his way to the sink. Picking up his along the way. Of course he didn’t forget to flash you a cheeky smile along the way.

You follow his steps, making beeline to the sink and get yourself comfortable leaning on the counter beside Seungcheol. Small little footsteps can be heard following you. Seungcheol laughs when he spotted Kkuma right after you. Muttering how he almost feels jealous.

“You know? Hansol recently talks to me about you.” Seeing the calmness in your stead, Seungcheol continues, “he also tells me about you. Your relationship with him. Even last night he texted me. It seems like he wants to ask me more about you. But he beats around the bush.”

As you sighed with a pout, Seungcheol only shrugged lightly to you. Finishing on the last dishes to rinse.

“I’m not telling this to bother you. I’m only telling you because, well I don’t want to keep secret from you.”

“Even after years, i still don’t know what to feel. About Hansol. He’s like someone far away that doesn’t even know i exist, yet i harbored too many resentments on him. Undeservedly. Sometimes i feel angry, another time it’s jealousy. At other time i felt happy when i saw the picture of his graduation. Imagine my surprise when i saw him on your doorstep. And then him, calling my name.” Seeing the apologetic look on Seungcheol’s eyes, you immediately shot him down. The words died before it went past his lips.

“Hansol, he just came back from the US. He’s been there to help produce an album. For almost two years.”

“Has he lived here long?”

“Well i met him when he’s already in the same studio as i was. That was when i’m on the last years of college. Then we got closer as we signed to the same music company.” You merely nodded at the new knowledge. Adding it to a box named Hansol by the corner of your mind. Completely oblivious to the look Seungcheol is sending you. A fine mixture of fondness and nostalgia.

“That…s great. I guess,” you huffed exasperatedly. Once again lost in your own leaping thought. Reminding you of why swimming deep into your work is your choice to drowned out any conflicting thoughts from your past.

The hand resting on the counter are quickly held by Seungcheol. A form of reassurance you have found both comforting and revving up your heartbeat. Unnecessarily at times.

“I said it last night. And I will say it again. Your feelings are valid. No matter how small you feel. Or confused you are. I am happy to be around and be a constant reminder and help you to feel better about yourself. Because you are. Much better than how much you give yourself credits for. Believe me.”

It took you years to quit your obsession with your half-brother. Validating your mood swings that plagued your young years. Regrets and mistakes in memories of your mother. Long long time to found yourself where you are now. Grounded and for a moment that it's worth, Seungcheol’s word brings you peace. It sets you free.

\\

A new sight welcomes you. In a form of Seungcheol, comfortably clad in a big varsity jacket and as cuddly as he could. He welcomes you when you dragged your feet out from the office.

Among the mass of people trying to get home, you smiled as you feel your steps went lighter as you make your way to him. As if you’re pulled to him.

“Hi there, have any plan for tonight?”

“As a matter of fact, i do. With my soft duvet and blackout shades.”

A pout instantly appeared on Seungcheol’s face upon your reply. A sight you found delightful each time you see it.

“How about i offer you better plan? The night is still young.” On extended hand, Seungcheol smiles to lure you.

It took you no time to take it in yours.

Seungcheol took no time to drag you off into the night. On a sunset car ride. To a place he explained as his workplace. He jokingly warns you not to freak out if you see any celebrities. But your reply only sends Seungcheol further into your charm.

“Don’t worry i don’t pay attention to any celebrities. I only got my eyes on you.”

Seungcheol almost forgot that the two of you are currently on an elevator in his agency building. He could just trap you between the metal wall and kiss you to his heart’s content.

Unfortunately he found a sliver of restraint.

His hand never left yours as you traveled through long white hallway. There are faint rhythmical thumps can be heard on each door you both walk passed. Eventually you arrived at a door, plastered with big decal stickers spelled ‘S.Coups’.

His studio welcomes you, as clean yet as homely as you had imagined. Quite big as to accomodate the recording equipments and a few shelves filled with trinkets. The studio does feel like another home for Seungcheol. Maybe that’s why you felt a sense of the same coziness you felt from his apartment.

Seungcheol invites you to join him on the couch, patting the empty space beside him. You waste no time to abandon your bag to the floor and snuggle close to him. Seungcheol already has his arms around yours. Going through netflix to browse anything interesting to watch on the big widescreen projected across the studio.

“I have a feeling you sometimes spend a night here.” You muttered against the soft wooly materials of Seungcheol’s jacket. The softness reminded you of something you own.

“Night? Try days.” You can feel Seungcheol’s chest rumbled as he chuckles out his answer. He then continues, “speaking of spending days here. I have to warn you just in case. Hansol has been sleeping in his studio for a few days. The pipe in his old apartment suddenly burst. A few days after he came back from US.”

“Is he— alright?”

“Don’t worry, he’s built like a tank. He only needs place to stay while his apartment is getting fixed. That’s why he’s at my house that day.” Seungcheol cupped your chin to turn your face to him. “I just don’t want you to be surprised just in case we bumped into him. Wouldn’t want you to run off from me.”

“When have i—”

Your cheeky smile is quickly wiped when Seungcheol brought your face closer to his and planted a kiss on your lips. Quickly, you reply with the same fervor as your own hand traveled up to his jacket’s lapel and found your anchor there. Seungcheol pulls you closer— bringing you in for another kiss, breathing in your little gasp as Seungcheol easily positioned you to straddle him. Good thing that you have tight hold to him.

You haven’t cared to admit, but the hold he has on you is escalating at an astronomical rate it almosy flungs you up to the stratosphere. It got you fixated on Seungcheol’s every move and admire each flex of his face muscle that forms his dimple.

Ok maybe not only his face muscle.

You took the time to admire his other muscles altogether. Running your hand along his broad shoulder, you didn’t hesitate to bunch the fabric of his T-shirt and give it a tug. Seungcheol is quick to respond with a groan as he chases your lips further. You took a deep breath, willing your body be closer to him, impossibly. Melding your torso as you moved your hands to circle around Seungcheol’s neck when he begins to take off his jacket.

The heat escalade around the two of you.

Until his phone vibrate by the small coffee table. Quiet buzz can be heard behind you.

“Seungcheol, you have a call.” You whispered slowly, lips barely leaving each other. The man in front of you huffed with a smirk. His hold never falters, growing warmer with every second.

“I am aware of that.” Seungcheol replies, hurried words as he still chasing your lips. Equally whispering, his deep voice hums across your lips.

“What if it’s something important?”

“More than this?”

Sometimes, you hate being levelheaded.

You obviously dislike pulling away from Seungcheol’s lips. The sentiment mirrored by Seungcheol. Swiftly reaching out behind your back to his phone, the device still buzzing in your grip as you handed it to Seungcheol.

When the man under you groans, you begin to regret your decision. You hate it more that Seungcheol is too observant of your reaction. You shamefully biting your lower lip, staring intently as Seungcheol eventually accepts the call on his phone. His gaze boring to yours, his hand freely roamed the small of your back.

You have to admit that none of the conversation registered to your ears. So when Seungcheol ended his calls and readjust his hold to you, who still conveniently straddling his lap, you instinctively loop your arm around his neck.

“I have to meet the CEO now.” When your eyes rounded in surprise. Eventually discerning his words, Seungcheol only chuckles before pecking your lips. “I hope you’re happy. For making me take that call.”

“Wait, do you actually have to go?”

“Don’t miss me too much dear. I’ll try to be quick.”

Seungcheol leaves you no time to register the term of endearment he just addressed you with. It took you with the same surprise as he maneuvers easily to flip you around. Your yelp followed by the thud as you landed on your back against the sofa. Seungcheol still grinning devilishly. He leaves you with a quick peck and letting you know to his mini fridge in case you feel like snacking.

When the door clicking close, you slumped into the sofa. Feeling childish at the amount of regret you developed for letting Seungcheol take that call. Quickly brushing away the thought, you rose from the sofa and decided to take a closer look around the studio.

The big shelf stood on one side of the wall are full of little trinkets that’s best described as a look inside Seungcheol’s life. Picture frames, old baseball, and many signed memorabilia from possibly the biggest star that you could have imagined. Yet you’re oblivious to them.

It brought a smile to your face when you can spot Seungcheol smiling in almost all of the picture you see. With Kkuma, his friends, family, and much more of him in a new light that you’ve never seen before. One picture caught your attention, Seungcheol are clad in the same varsity jacket, arm slung to what seems to look like a younger Hansol, with longer tuft of messy brown hair and braces. There’s two other people in the picture but your eyes fixated on the two.

Just how long they’ve been known each other? If you had continued your attention towards Hansol, would you have known about Seungcheol back then?

The sound of the studio door unlocking caught your attention.

You were ecstatic to welcomes Seungcheol back but the door opens to another person.

“Seungcheol hyung, can i have some of—”

In retrospect, it’s a good thing that Seungcheol actually warned you earlier. Because right now, Hansol stood right there, just a mere meters before you. Without looking in the mirror you’re convinced that the look in both of your face are the same. Like a fish gasping for air.

Eventually Hansol snapped out of his stupor, shaking his head before averting his eyes. With both of his hands clenched, Hansol about to pivoted on his feet and hurried to make his way out of the studio. But not before you called out to him. Your mouth ran faster before you could pull the brake. But no use crying over spilled milk.

“I— i’m sorry if i make you uncomfortable that day. I heard that you were crashing at Seungcheol’s place and well— i just feel like i need to say sorry to you.” Throughout your words, Hansol went visibly rigid. A frown has settled in his face as time goes by, but you continue on to voice your words. “Also, i hope your sister are okay that day. She was wandering around and i—”

“Please— stop,” Hansol voice is small. Almost sound so choked up it surprises even himself. “Please just, stop. Please.”

When you took an instinctive step towards Hansol, the man staggers backward before eventually leaves the room in such hurries. You could never forgot the face he made as he left. It burns the same as the memories of your young. But unlike the smiles that you followed.

After Hansol left, you feel like you could count the seconds but at the same time, your mind couldn’t tear itself off of the image of Hansol. Leaving you with such pain visible in his frame. Eventually you were so lost in your thought that you didn’t even hear Seungcheol returning to the studio in grins.

Instantly the sight brought a small smile to your face. Seungcheol doesn’t waste any time to cuddle you on the sofa. Getting himself comfortable as he lay snug in your arms. You can’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you do the same. Shifting in your seat to accommodate Seungcheol’s big frame to fit your hold. It doesn’t surprise you that he enjoys being a little spoon.

The frequent appearance of pout on his lips are one of the sign.

“What were you doing while i was gone?” Seungcheol starts, his fingers are making quick to the remote. Still in a mission to search a movie to watch on netflix.

“Hmm, not much. Hansol came here.” To this, Seungcheol immediately straighten up from your hold. A pair of confused and widened eyes scanning your face for answer. You smiles at his reaction. “He left almost immediately though. Not before looking like he’s somewhat in pain.”

Seungcheol hands quickly cups your head and hugs you close. Leaning into his touch felt like the most natural thing to do. Letting the warmth envelope you whole while at the same time calming your thought and lifted up your mood.

“Do you need me to talk to him?” Seungcheol voiced out, instantly you shook your head.

“No. I will talk to him myself if there’s a problem. I’m just more worried and confused. We just met and Hansol looks at me like that.”

Sensing your somewhat unsettled mood, Seungcheol determined to make you feel better. He flashes a grin to your questioning gaze as he suddenly vacate his spot. Opening the hidden drawer under his big desk, Seungcheol came back to your side with abundant of snacks in his hold.

A familiar sight of your favourite coffee bun immediately caught your attention. Eyes widening in surprise upon the sight of the rare treats.

“How did you have these! I love this.” You exclaimed. Seungcheol beside you are busy opening what looks to be a melon bread and a few more spread of pastries on to the table.

“Oh, now i know what to watch.” Seungcheol exclaimed, grinning at the sight of you munching lightly on your indulgent treat. “Nanny McPhee, how about that?”

“Now are you spoiling me? Favourite treat and then movie?”

“I know. Aren’t i just the best, huh?” You tried to maintain a straight face as Seungcheol playfully winks at you. Yet you can’t help to reply back by frowning at him.

As the movie starts you can feel yourself getting calmer. Your previously distraught mind is now filled with warmth and playful smile from Seungcheol. While the man has his eyes forward, you carefully scan him. A wisp of smile on your face to the sight you have familiarize enough in your heart. Each time Seungcheol has managed to surprise you with encouraging words to validate your feelings, as well as every little acts that sets your heartbeat faster.

“You know, i noticed that we used to go to the same college. I saw your old photo with varsity jacket. The same one you wore today. I just realized that.” You pointed out, eyes focusing as the opening narration begins to fade with whimsical music. “I might not be an avid almamater, but I have a varsity scarf myself. I love them.”

Wordlessly, Seungcheol took you to his arms. Another attempt to cuddle comfortably and let the familiar movie lulls the both of you deeper into the house full of children wrecking havoc. He’s heard you mentioned this movie a few times. At first denying that it was your favourite comfort movie. But as times passed and Seungcheol pointed out you begin to admit so. With a sheepish grin and endless teasing in that afternoon.

With his eyes forward as he tries to immerse himself with the colourful old english countryside, Seungcheol’s thought remain on your words. His memories flow like the quiet river. He decided that to let it remain untouched.

“Well i used to go there, but i never graduated sadly. I think i enjoyed too many free time that i have, going in and out the studio as i like and getting rewarded for things i used to do just for my hobby.” Seungcheol’s admittance is followed by a wisp of smile, somehow you can feel it entirety on your mind.

“But don’t you love it now?” Seungcheol fears you can feel the thump in his heart so he stutters out a laugh. Looking up to him, you smiles before kissing him softly. Humming along the now softer thrum in his vein as he capture your lips in reply.

“I’ve grown to,” Seungcheol only pulls back enough far enough. Half lidded as he kept his lips hovering above yours. “All the culmination of it, is what makes me here now. With you.”

\\

prev chapter || next chapter

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[gojoest]

curiosity — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, childhood friends to lovers, satoru is painfully aware of his own feelings while reader is not, mention of past girlfriends (and how they all looked like you), handjob (m! receiving), cumming in pants (and in your hand), not proofread, wc: 2k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

synopsis: gojo satoru is your childhood best friend. you’ve been inseparable ever since you were little. spending day and night together, you’d often have sleepovers together — a tradition you both carried on throughout your college years. at least once a week you’d drop by his dorm room and stay the night, or vice versa. but compared to your childhood days, you no longer share one bed. that is, until . . .

part 2

a/n: this is a further (and very lousy) elaboration on this post of mine but hey, HAPPY BDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY

“i think we should try sleeping together”, you suggest one night.

“wah—“, satoru gasps, a teasing glint in his eyes. “didn’t know you felt that way about me”, he smirks.

“just sleeping”, you quickly clarify. “whatever obscene thing you just thought of — it’s not that”, you add, giving him a roll of your eyes.

“you should pick your words more wisely”, he scoffs. “if you go around telling people you want to sleep with them, they will misunderstand”

“ugh”, you huff, “i obviously didn’t mean it like that, and you know it”

“yeah, i do”, he lets out a soft chuckle. he knew exactly what you meant, but still he disguised his wishful thinking behind a teasing remark. “why though? all of a sudden?”

“dunno”, you shrug. “just feeling bad that you always take the floor”

“if that’s the case we can just swap”

“no — i cherish my comfort. come on, we used to do this all the time”, you pout.

indeed you did. but you were kids back then, things were different.

his heartbeat would race and his face would get all hot and red, the heat would fester through his entire body. but when the lights were off it was easy to hide it, the signs that he liked you. after making sure you were fast asleep, he would hold your hand and childishly smile to himself, he would peck it softly, secretly. one time you woke up in the middle of the night and almost caught him but he, startled, kicked you off the bed. yelling at you, lying, how you pushed your finger in his nostril in your sleep… he was so embarrassed, but also relieved you believed what he said was true. his secret was safe.

but now?

when you stand too close to him his body starts acting up in more mature ways. while he is better at controlling his facial expressions now and hiding his nervous heartbeat behind a nonchalant attitude, he struggles with keeping his urges at bay. he’s no longer the boy that blushes while secretly holding your hand; he is a man who craves you.

even when he’s laid on the futon beside the bed you occupy, the sound of your breathing alone gets him hard. you lie there, sleeping innocently, unaware of how much of a pain in the crotch you are being to him. when you leave in the mornings, he climbs onto the bed that is soaked with your scent and shamelessly jerks off. he stands on his knees and sprays his load on the bedsheets. eyes shut close, he pictures you beneath him.

he sighs in defeat. “fine”

“the right side is mine — it’s only natural, because i am always right”, you snicker and quickly pad over to the bed, plopping your body down on the mattress. “sure”, he chuckles and follows after you, sinking himself right next to you.

it is a bit awkward, you must admit. you are laid on your sides facing each other, in silence.

it’s cramped indeed, your knees are brushing against his and the space in the middle separating your bodies from one another is very scarce. but that was to be expected, the beds in the dorm rooms were designed for one person after all.

“so”, you break the silence. “how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“she’s not my girlfriend, anymore”, he states dryly.

“but it’s been barely two weeks since you started dating”

“well, things didn’t work out i guess”

the girls he dated, all of them looked a bit like you. same height, same hair color and length. similar facial features… he never lasted long with any of them though. all of them, visibly bothered by your presence in his life, would too soon ask him to make a choice — either them or you. neither of them aware that he chose to be with them in the first place only because they reminded him of you, and that it was never the question itself that drove him away from them. it was bound to happen, sooner or later. they could never be you.

you hum. “i see”

as you shift to make yourself more comfortable, you feel the shirt he gave you to wear to bed roll up ever so slightly, revealing the bare of your belly. a bit self-conscious now that he’s next to you, you are immediately urged to cover yourself. you slide a hand under the blanket, rummaging around to get a hold of the hem, but oh...

…the back of your hand brushes against something stiff. the friction incurring a low pant from the man, your best friend, next to you.

“fuck”, satoru hisses. his hand clasps around your wrist, pushing it away, but along with the movement his knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach. “fuck”, he curses again.

“satoru”, you say his name, voice hushed and timid but there is a note of underlying curiosity he is way too familiar with.

this is exactly why he was avoiding the one bed scenario — his boners were too hard to hide at this age and this size of him.

“satoru”, you repeat. “are you hard?”

“i wish you didn’t ask the obvious”, he mumbles, embarrassed. warmth washing over his face uncontrollably, just like in the past. but there was a bigger problem now — down in his pants, and the fact he got caught.

“is it because of me?”

“no”, he clicks his tongue, his grip still tight around your wrist, keeping your hand at bay. “it’s because i didn’t jerk off tonight, you know — it’s a natural thing for us men to randomly pop a boner throughout the day”

…which was true. but it was not the case right now.

“can i play with it a little?”, you ask, sneakily twisting your wrist in an attempt to free your hand.

“oi!”, he yelps. “did you hit you head or what?”

“i am curious”, you blurt out. “just a little?”

“stop”, he warns. “it’s weird”

his resolve is hanging by a thread right now, you’re too cunning to tempt him like this. he knows things will get awfully messy between you if he lets you cross this line. but still, he can’t flat out deny you. deep down he wants you to persist, a little bit more… if you ask him one more time, maybe he’ll crumble. surely, he will.

“it’s not”, you reassure. “i won’t jerk you off, i’ll just touch it”, you explain. “please? just a little?”

well. fuck it.

“this is a bad idea”, he says, but loosens his grip around your wrist. “fine”, he mumbles. “but just a little”

you nod, pulling your hand away only to slide it down his body.

you’re not really sure why you were so happy to hear the news about his break-up, but you always felt more at ease when he belonged just to you. your best friend, and not someone else’s boyfriend. you don’t know why you were doing this right now, or why your heart was racing. maybe because it really was weird? or maybe you were just horny?

finding his cock wasn’t difficult, it sure stood out from the rest of his body.

“you really are hard”, you gasp, running your fingers across the bulge in his shorts, dragging out a throaty groan out of him.

“yeah”, he mumbles. “like i said, stop stating the obvious”

“it’s a bit wet here”, ignoring his words, you thumb the spot where his tip is, making him squirm. his body slightly jerks as you press your palm against it. cupping it inside your hand you squeezing it gently. “it’s warm too”, you keep exploring further. “it has a pulse”

satoru lets out a helpless whine. “you sound so dirty right now, it’s weird”

he’s longed for this type of intimacy with you for years. but in his head, he pictured it differently. it was him who was supposed to do things to you, not the other way around. he was supposed to be the confident one, delving into your layers, making you squirm and fall apart under his touch. not the other way around… but this was good too. too good for him to oppose it. you were his weakness, after all. you always have been. no matter how much he teased and picked on you, in the end he always let you do as you pleased. this was not an exception.

you giggle to yourself. “yeah? you like that new side of me, don’t you?”

“…maybe”

sneaking your hand through the front of his shorts and boxers, you feel the flesh of his cock directly. it was twitching, his tip slick with precum. you put the tip of your index finger on his slit and rub circles around it to smear the pre oozing out of it, getting another soft whimper out of him. the head of his cock all slippery now, urging you to rub it all over the rest of his length.

your fingers wrap around his cock as you start to move your hand up and down, slowly, smearing his own slick onto his own flesh.

he tries to swallow the moan stuck in his throat. “you said you were not going to jerk me off, but what now? you’re playing a bit too much, don’t you think?”

satoru can last long. under normal circumstances, that is. but having you — not just his hand, but you, his first ever love, his only love — touch him like that, he could barely hold back. the urge to bust has been there since the moment you put your hand on his cock.

“why? you gonna cum?”, you slip your hand lower, down to the base of his shaft — where his balls are. you caress them tenderly, incurring yet another soft groan from him, before you go back to stroking him again. with each drag you pick up the pace. the room is filled with the squelching sounds caused by your hand, at this point, confidently fisting his slick covered cock, and his heavy breathing. 

“hey”, he puts his hand on your cheek, softly pinching on it with his fingertips. an attempt to make you snap out of it, but alas — you don’t back away. “don’t regret this”, he whispers, almost beggingly. but his voice comes out too shallow for your ears to pick up on.

“are you close?”, you peek at him, watching his face with rapt fascination, grateful that you left the night lamp on.

never have you ever seen him like this. his cheeks so hot and flushed that his pale skin was lit completely red, up to his ears and his neck. beads of sweat across his forehead with strands of his hair stuck on it. mouth agape — huffing and puffing. his brows knitted, desperately. pleadingly. his mouth telling you to stop, yet his face told a different story. so did the part of him inside your palm. it made you throb, down there, and squeeze your thighs together. your own wetness spurting out from your slit, drenching the inside of your underwear”

“fuck—", he growls. “i am— c-close”, he stutters, struggling to control his breathing and the moans that roll out of his mouth.

you feel his cock twitch in your hand, differently. the pulse on it beating faster and more brashly, like it almost made his skin stretch and push against the flesh of your palm. and then, there was a delay. a few, very short seconds in which his cock stood still before violently exploding, pumping out a thick shot of cum. then some more, and more, and more — until the pouring turned into a light dribble toward the end.

“ugh”, he throatily groans, his body relaxing after oozing all the tension out. although slower now, you keep stroking him, running your fingers across his softening cock.

“oh wow”, you gasp, his cum sticky on your skin, drenching the space between your fingers. “what a mess”, you giggle.

“you’re trouble”, he sighs. “is your curiosity satisfied now?”

you nod.

“if you get curious about other things”, he pauses, scratching the back of his head, “come to me. don’t go to other men”

“i’ll think about it”, you smirk.

after that night, you stayed over for an entire week.

this little play time turned into routine, and you were no longer the only one playing.

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

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[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. vaginal penetration. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

[fairene]

beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter. 

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself. 

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep.  a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own. 

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing. 

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open. 

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him. 

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head. 

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence. 

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin. 

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth. 

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things. 

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.” 

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure. 

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity. 

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun. 

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face? 

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.” 

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase. 

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first. 

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places. 

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck. 

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.” 

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door. 

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.” 

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.” 

and then he was gone. 

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly? 

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature. 

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers. 

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open. 

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage. 

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress. 

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence. 

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths. 

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat. 

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.” 

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you. 

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years. 

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him. 

you thought you were going to kiss. 

and so did he. 

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality. 

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you? 

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you. 

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase. 

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.” 

he smiled. 

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge. 

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge. 

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch. 

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you. 

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you. 

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes. 

“what? i wasn’t manly before?” 

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.” 

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms. 

“really?” 

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you. 

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner. 

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger. 

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late. 

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him. 

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth. 

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle. 

“gonna jump out on me?” 

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core. 

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.” 

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him. 

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.” 

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.” 

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would. 

“between us, then?” 

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence. 

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends. 

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute. 

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you. 

“he say anything to you?” 

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?” 

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though. 

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less. 

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with. 

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.” 

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies. 

“what?” 

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone. 

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?” 

you swallowed. nodded your head. 

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair. 

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.” 

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile. 

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’. 

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu. 

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked. 

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice. 

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all. 

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow. 

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard. 

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.” 

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?” 

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?” 

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair. 

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him. 

you still couldn’t believe what had happened. 

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he? 

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free. 

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things. 

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he. 

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked. 

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for. 

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut. 

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer. 

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from. 

he did. 

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back. 

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty. 

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.” 

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.” 

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind. 

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment. 

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?” 

you were shameless when you nodded your head. 

“so embarrassing, i know–” 

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips. 

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest. 

“what do you feel for me now?” 

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down. 

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be. 

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you. 

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his. 

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins. 

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips. 

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“some dreams just remain dreams.” 

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall. 

“do you want to dream forever?” 

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted. 

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same? 

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes. 

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.” 

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own. 

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat. 

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years. 

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you. 

he lied. 

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando. 

‘course he fucking noticed. 

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore–  black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. 

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight. 

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress. 

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own. 

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress. 

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.” 

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?” 

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs. 

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…” 

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock. 

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.” 

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice. 

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.” 

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream. 

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin. 

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.” 

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck. 

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body. 

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body. 

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice. 

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come. 

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you. 

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair. 

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?” 

you shook your head. “no– no!” 

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping. 

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself. 

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat. 

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again. 

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips. 

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you. 

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.” 

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again. 

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.” 

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like. 

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret. 

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand. 

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling. 

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes. 

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you. 

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone. 

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep. 

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister. 

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself. 

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace. 

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart. 

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is. 

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed. 

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly. 

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong? 

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words. 

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?” 

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart. 

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.” 

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped. 

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs. 

your name was sweet on his tongue. 

“what would your brother say–?” 

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down. 

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck. 

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin. 

“how much?” 

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in. 

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” 

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress. 

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions. 

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.” 

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace. 

“the one with the bows?” 

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him. 

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility. 

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently. 

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.” 

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move. 

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense. 

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck. 

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same. 

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone. 

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life. 

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning. 

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist. 

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’ 

fuck that. 

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you. 

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim. 

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately. 

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?” 

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.” 

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?” 

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction. 

“slept great.” 

you scoffed. 

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks. 

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?” 

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage. 

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning. 

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that. 

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something. 

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment? 

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense. 

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?” 

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate. 

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?” 

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste. 

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?” 

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.” 

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek. 

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving. 

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant. 

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.” 

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left. 

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

but you stood your ground. “positive.” 

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold. 

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane. 

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool. 

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack. 

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime. 

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one. 

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head. 

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over. 

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless. 

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw. 

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water. 

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands. 

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him. 

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin. 

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste. 

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.” 

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out. 

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool. 

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max. 

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention. 

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap. 

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning. 

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling. 

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at. 

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted. 

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest. 

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show. 

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.” 

“asshole.” max mirrored you. 

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind. 

though you did. 

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through. 

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word. 

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could. 

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you. 

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?” 

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall. 

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?” 

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him. 

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions. 

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.” 

but you dared to disagree. 

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?” 

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure. 

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge. 

“get your hands off me.” you bit out. 

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.” 

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist. 

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone. 

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength. 

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone. 

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock. 

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go. 

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.” 

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex. 

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair. 

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power. 

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger. 

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner. 

you had come up with the idea for dinner. 

fish. as everyone enjoyed. 

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself. 

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious. 

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.” 

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer. 

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind. 

it was an afterthought  for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot. 

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines. 

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for. 

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?” 

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.” 

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker. 

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice. 

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove. 

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days. 

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged. 

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips. 

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done. 

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table. 

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck. 

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap. 

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit. 

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone. 

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table. 

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here. 

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind. 

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit. 

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings. 

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word. 

“dessert, anyone?” 

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen. 

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go. 

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you. 

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you? 

you were. 

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends. 

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours. 

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not. 

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself. 

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward. 

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger. 

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered. 

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you. 

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall. 

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted. 

and maybe you did. 

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races. 

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand? 

the answer was undoubtedly yes. 

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it? 

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick. 

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time? 

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all. 

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean. 

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought. 

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table. 

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most. 

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in. 

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

ah

ah

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own. 

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.” 

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises. 

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine. 

“being a fucking tease…” 

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity. 

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed. 

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction. 

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust. 

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?” 

“no.” 

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were. 

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth. 

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly. 

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you. 

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?” 

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you. 

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat. 

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more. 

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan. 

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.” 

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure. 

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes. 

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle. 

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat. 

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam. 

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him. 

he snickered. “guess so.” 

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue. 

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–” 

you shushed him. 

“on the house.” 

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes. 

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad. 

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home. 

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee. 

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms. 

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call. 

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds. 

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds. 

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night. 

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air. 

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him. 

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is. 

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching. 

and spellcasted he was. 

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper. 

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice. 

you were. 

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed. 

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper. 

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile. 

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust. 

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic. 

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you. 

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right. 

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother. 

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf. 

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him. 

“he’s a good guy.”  

lando was sitting up now. listening. 

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.” 

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter. 

“and…what did you say?” 

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them. 

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.” 

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you. 

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it. 

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity. 

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping. 

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers. 

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat. 

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.” 

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered. 

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you? 

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?” 

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons. 

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical. 

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side. 

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?” 

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age. 

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs. 

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes. 

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired. 

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.” 

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile. 

shit. 

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night. 

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top. 

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time. 

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?” 

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris. 

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had. 

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good. 

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek. 

“he’s a good lad, innhe?” 

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of. 

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful. 

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa. 

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone. 

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?” 

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could. 

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.” 

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you. 

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat. 

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you. 

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—” 

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.” 

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too. 

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan. 

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum. 

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?” 

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness. 

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.” 

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him. 

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away. 

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed. 

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—” 

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.” 

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way? 

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt. 

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom. 

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry. 

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect. 

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for. 

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling. 

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear. 

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.” 

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder. 

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend. 

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh. 

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail. 

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed. 

“am i?” 

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean. 

“think you like it, love.” 

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter. 

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered. 

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?” 

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder. 

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit. 

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine. 

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with. 

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.” 

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad. 

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table. 

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it. 

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him. 

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?” 

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words. 

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through. 

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to. 

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other. 

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end. 

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse. 

lando hummed. 

“about us.” 

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” 

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for. 

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship. 

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for. 

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms. 

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat. 

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side. 

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[chrollohearttags]

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

[purple-obsidian]

unconditional (18+, red hood jason todd x fem reader) wc 1.5k

⭓ this post contains explicit sexual content and is not suitable for minors. reader is afab and described as shorter than jason. established relationship. if you sense a theme in my writing, what can i say. i'm a sucker for sleepy sex. dedicated to @janybabyy who is always down to proofread my work at a moments notice.

You awaken with a start, the familiar creek of your front door closing, pulling you from your uncomfortable half-slumber.

The hall light flickers on, casting a tall, dark shadow over your perch on the oversized recliner in your shared living room.

“You actually used the door.” You mumble sarcastically, recognizing the hulking frame as your boyfriend.

Your greeting is reciprocated by a raspy exhale, followed by a heavy footstep, then another. “You should be in bed.”

He's already rid himself of his helmet. You admire the outline of his shaggy hair as he stalks closer, your heart beating stronger when he pauses several feet in front of you.

“Says who?” You ask, a coy grin itching at the corner of your mouth.

“Me.”

Exhaustion is apparent in his voice. You can practically feel it radiating off his body. Jason reaches a heavy arm to massage away an ache in the back of his neck as you stand up and approach.

He’s leaning into your touch before your palm even reaches his cheek. Another long exhale escapes him, your touch akin to a cool drink of water after a long run in the heat.

”Can’t sleep without you here.”

“Huh. Yeah right,” he presses his lips to the skin of your wrist briefly before continuing, “I know I wake you up. Don’t lie.”

His arm snakes around your waist, the most natural movement in the world to him. Muscle memory. That’s where you belong, in his arms, by his side. Even so, you know he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that some people are worth losing sleep over. That his love is worth the occasional sleepless night, whether it’s staying awake from worry, or comforting him through his ever-present night terrors.

“Jason…” You bring your other hand to cup his face gingerly, feeling a pang of guilt at the dark circles under his eyes.

He works so hard.

Before you realize it’s happening, you’re guiding him down into a slow kiss. His lips, warm and familiar, are tinged with the taste of salt and blood. You allow yourself to indulge for a beat before shying away, wanting to check him for injuries. But as you rescind, needy lips follow, an almost desperate groan rumbling in his throat.

“Don’t.” He mumbles, lips flush against your own. Rough hands grip you closer at the small of your back. “Please, sweetheart. Need you. Missed you.”

You swoon, allowing him to consume your senses. Eyes closed, lips entangled once more, Jason Todd never needs to ask more than once for your affection. Ever since the day you confessed your love for each other, you give it to him, freely and willingly. You are his safe space, his haven. The one person he’s finally let himself be vulnerable with, where there’s no need for his reticence.

And in return? You have, in him, a best friend. Your protector, your lover, the only man who can make living in this hellhole of a city worth it. There are very few problems in your life that he cannot solve. Nevermind that most of those problems are caused by dating him in the first place. Dating a vigilante has its dangers, but Red Hood seems to be at the top of the ‘food chain’ when it comes to Gotham’s criminal underworld.

All that influence, all the money and power that comes with it, and he still chooses to come home to you. In your mediocre flat, with spotty internet, expensive heating, and a dishwasher that never seems to stay not broken, no matter how many times he fixes it.

Several articles of clothing, discarded in a tired haze of affection, lead a telling trail to the bedroom. Jason lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed, keeping himself close so he’s on top of you. Cognizant of his size, he remains propped on his forearms, caging you in but graciously allowing you to breathe.

“Need you too.” You whisper up at him, basking in his attention. You bite your lip, and reach down for the waistband of his boxers, the only remaining article of clothing keeping him modest.

“M’gross.” He mutters, voice tinged in hesitation. “It’s been a long night.”

But he doesn’t stop your fingers from tugging on the elastic. He helps you, kicking them off, and settling his frame over yours again, allowing his lips to rest against your forehead.

“Don’t care.”

You turn your head, allowing your breath to fan over the scarred skin of his neck.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Jay. Besides…” You nudge your nose against him, inhaling deeply, savoring his musk, eyes rolling back at the rush of feel-good hormones that flood your brain from the familiarity.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “Yeah? Besides what, hm?” Peering down at you with lustful eyes, his deep tone sends a tingle down your spine. Nerves on fire from the closeness, you reach for him, slow yet confident, not disappointed when your fingers wrap around his length to guide him to the space reserved for him and him alone.

He knows what.

“No prep? You sure, sweetheart?” His voice is tired, strained, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he addresses you. You know he doesn’t have the energy to get you warmed up. He barely has the energy to be on top.

“I can handle you, handsome. Just take it easy on me.”

With no willpower to contest your assurance, Jason's heavy eyelids flutter shut as he slowly lowers himself flush on top of you. Chest to chest, skin to skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes his aching cockhead inside the familiar warmth of your body. Your velvet walls weep from his intrusion, the sting in your inner muscles one you’ll never quite get used to. It’s a bittersweet pain that you've come to associate with this behemoth of a man you share your home with.

Jason takes his time. His movements are slow, languid, letting you grow accustomed to him an inch at a time. He keeps close, exhaling little praises into your ear every time a pained whimper escapes your throat.

“Good girl, shhh, nice and slow.”

“Been thinking about you all night.”

“That's it, relax for me, beautiful.”

His unhurried thrusts, tender and deliberate, are slow enough that the cool air of the bedroom has enough time to cool your slick along his shaft before he pushes his progress back in. Your strained panting fills his ear, the way you cling to him urges him to continue on despite the stretch you feel. You don’t want him to think he’s too much.

He’s never too much for you.

Never.

“Jason… Please.”

You clench around him when he pushes deeper, your body finally catching up and leaking your desire around his girth that’s splitting you open.

“Fuck.”

The muscles in Jason’s back tense and release. He pauses his hips, biting into the pillow behind your head, adjusting one arm to hold a bit more of his weight.

Desperate for more of him, you shift your hips up and buck him deeper inside you in short thrusts, digging your fingertips into his back. You’re careful not to use your nails, having promised yourself long ago that you would never be the cause of one of his scars.

But deep down you know, this man would wear a scar from you proudly. He’s proved on more than one occasion that he would die for you.

Just because he would take it, doesn’t mean he deserves it. Which is why you use your self control to restrain yourself while you cling to him gently, crying out in pleasure when he finally starts moving again to match your rhythm, heavy breathing shaking his whole body.

The friction from the increase in pace has you flexing your feet and writhing, nodding your head, stuttering out his name.

“I love when you’re like this…” He admits. “Fuck, you feel so, ugmmmph!” Jason loses his breath, his orgasm hitting him unexpectedly, like an ocean current that sweeps you away so quick, you don’t know which way is up. All he can think about, all he can perceive while the pleasure spasms down his legs is you.

“Y-yes!” You stuffer, helping him bottom out deep inside you, his tip kissing the entrance to your womb, decorating it with his essence while his climax peaks.

Taking advantage of his euphoria, you wrap your legs around his strong abdomen, and hold him closely, showering his neck in fervent kisses.

The noises he makes in response to your affection sound guttural, like you’re fulfilling a primal need of his that he’s been deprived of for too long. A need all humans have. Something Jason Todd, specifically, was lacking most of his life, until he met you.

Enthusiastic, genuine, tender affection. Love that’s unconditional.

The type of love that doesn’t care if he’s dirty and scarred. The kind of love that understands not every instance of intimacy will be an epic performance. It’s the love that finds it endearing when his gentle snoring fills your ear less than a minute later, still one with the most intimate parts of you.

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⭓ masterlist ⭓

[omgeto]

☆ THRILL (h)ER! — SATOSUGU X READER

summary: when watching a scary movie with your two best friends, you cant help but hold onto them tight every time you get jumpscared. but as the night goes on and your fingers roam... wait, what movie were you watching again?

wc: 3.3k (its alll smut guys so give me a medal)

cw: double penetration, praising, slight degradation, gojo and geto bickering, fingering, dirty talk (?) and some fun loving you're their pretty little princess. afab!reader, MDNI

an: guys look I finally posted a fic for kinktober, yay me, I hope you like it since Id say the smut on this one hits different sooo give it a chance. also only big brains will understand the fic title.

KINKTOBER M.LIST.

your best friends, gojo and geto always have a way of making you feel right at home, especially when you find yourself in your favourite spot on the couch – sandwiched between them. geto's embrace is a gentle yet possessive one, his arms wrapped around you in a tender hold that radiates warmth, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your lower back.

to your side, gojo's long limbs seamlessly entwine with yours. your legs stretch over to meet him, creating an intimate tangle of limbs. his fingers trail leisurely up and down your thighs, their teasing caresses sending delightful shivers through your body. it's a familiar and electric sensation that's become an unspoken language among the three of you—one that hasn’t fully been enacted upon… yet.

"i don't know why you insist we watch this movie every year," geto complains, his gaze locked onto his b est friend, a playful frustration in his tone. "you're so predictable."

"oh, don't be a bore," gojo retorts, matching geto's glare before shifting his attention down to you. his voice is laced with mischief as he speaks to you. "you find it fun, don't you?" 

“what? do i like crappy slashers from the 80s with big titted damsels running from a shitly costumed killer?” you deadpan, your sarcasm evident. you could feel the vibration from geto as he lowly chuckles. gojo’s face forms a pout that prompts you to quickly add, “but i love them.”

gojo’s pout transforms into a triumphant grin as your admission earns you a playful nudge from him. “that’s my girl,” he exclaims, giving your thigh an excited rub as he turns on the movie.

geto, still chuckling softly, leans in closer. “well, i suppose if toru enjoys it, we can endure it one more time.” his words carry a hint of tenderness, his arm around you tightening ever so slightly, puling you closer into his embrace.                                                                            

you watch the movie in a comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the tv and gojo's oddly placed screams that you've come to expect every year. his over-the-top reactions to jump scares and gruesome scenes never fail to amuse you, and it's a source of endless entertainment for both you and geto.

geto, on the other hand, watches the movie with a more stoic expression, occasionally shaking his head at the implausible plot twists and unrealistic gore. His hand continues to rest on your thigh, his fingers now tracing soothing patterns as if to counterbalance the tension on the screen.

as the movie progresses, you notice how both gojo and geto steal glances at you when they think you're not looking, as their innocent touches progress into heavy petting. but there's a moment where you all pause, their movements stop, and you all look at each other as the loud sounds of exaggerated moans blare from the screen.

“i always forget this scene is in there,” gojo lies, with a snicker, an appreciative smile forming on his face as he watches the scene.gojo's arm remains draped around your shoulders, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm, while geto's touch has grown increasingly intimate, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb making slow, deliberate circles.

“oh don’t bullshit satoru,” geto accuses, taking his hand off of you for a second to send a jab into gojo’s side, “i know you’re getting off on watching this ditzy blonde getting laid.”

“not true,” gojo retorts childishly, “i think there’s better sights to get off on, isn’t that right?” he finishes casting his eyes, not so subtly, over to you.

“well i can’t lie and say the sights aren’t… appealing,” geto grins his hands coming back on you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“you two are such guys,” you laugh, trying to remain nonchalant even though on the inside the pace of your heart was quickening, and every touch of their fingers sends jolts straight to your core. “you’re focusing on the wrong things here.”

“and what should we be focusing on here?” geto murmurs at you, you couldn’t see his face but you knew a smirk was plastered across it. his challenge hangs in the air as you pause, hesitating as you scan the room, your eyes meeting gojo’s trying to gauge if they are thinking what you are. geto can sense your hesitation as he feels your breathing still as you lean against him, so he pulls his finger under your chin turning your head to face him. “let us focus on you, come here.”

you lean in, his lips enclosing on yours in a deep kiss, you turn your body almost straddling him so you could get better access. his tongue enters your mouth, as his hands work down your body, and as the kiss intensifies, you’re aware of gojo’s gaze on you. you extend an inviting hand toward him, flashing him a smile as you pull away from geto and set your lips on your other friend.

gojo groans as your lips work with his, and his hands go straight into his pants, fisting his dick that has been hard all night just at the sight of you. geto cascades kisses down your neck as he starts to pull your shirt up off of you, you gasp at the feeling of both of their hands and lips all over you.

“h-how long have you two been planning this one then, huh?” you grin, a laugh escaping through your moans, as you let geto get rid of your shirt, assisting gojo with taking off your pants. 

“how long have we known you?” geto responds rhetorically, and gojo nod in agreement, as they both take off their jogging bottoms, leaving you all sitting on the couch in your underwear. there is no more hesitation, or uncertainty between you three—you all know exactly what you want.

“so who gets to have me first?” you joke, your eyes darting between the two of them, their lustful eyes are unmistakable as they stare at your body, their dicks straining against their boxers ready to be suffocated by your tight pussy.

“i get to!” gojo sputters out quickly, but he’s not as swift as geto who’s already pulled you back onto him, his fingers pushing into you without any warning. your mouth parts, as you let out a whine, as his long digits give your pussy fast, relentless strokes, he adds another finger, smirking as your body buckles against his. “hey no fair!” gojo pouts, side eyeing geto, but he can’t help biting his lip as he hears your cunt squelch everytime his best friend shoves his fingers into it.

“don’t worry, ‘toru,” geto reassures, his fingers curling up into you before he pulls it out swiftly, spreading your pussy apart and giving gojo a knowing look, “there’s room for the both of us.”

gojo eagerly drives his fingers into you from behind, his body pressing against yours as he charges your fingers into you. your moans increase as you feel a flurry of digits explore your pussy, gojo’s hand grips on his shoulder and geto hand holds your waist as they both tug your body back and forth in an attempt to get you closer to them.

“s-shit” you cry out, as you clench around their fingers, trying to keep them inside of you. you grind down against both of their fingers, your whimpers encouraging them to twist and push their fingers deeper into you.

“you see how much of a mess she gets for us?” geto asks gojo with a low chuckle, and gojo nods, smiling as the wetness of your pussy allows for his fingers to slide into you with ease, “press down on her clit. hard.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” gojo mutters, but he does it anyway. his thumb going straight to your clit, pushing down on it, smirking as you groan your back arching right into him. 

“see i told you,” geto chimes, laughing as gojo glares at him. geto’s focus shifts to you, as he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth, he holds your chin, placing his thumb on your bottom lip as he raises his eyebrows at you for permission. you nod lazily, opening your mouth, accepting two of his fingers —which are drenched in your juices. “‘toru, you gonna finish her off for me.”

gojo smirks, his fingers working in overdrive, as he adds another digit inside of you and you could feel yourself about to release. geto can tell you're close from the way you bite down on his fingers. “you close? you gonna cum on satoru’s fingers as you taste yourself?”

you couldn’t even respond, as your cum sprays all over gojo’s fingers and geto’s stomach. the boys both smirk at each other, as they hear your high pitched moans and see heaps of your cum spilling out of your pussy running down your thighs. gojo is in awe, his fingers still remain in you and he pushes them up lazily, trying to keep you plugged with your cum. you relax onto his fingers, letting him do as he pleases, as you try and catch your breath your body slumping onto geto’s.

“you did so well,” geto praises in his air, lifting up your head off your chest, pecking your lips softly. “you took both of our fingers letting us stretch your tight pussy, it felt good didn’t it?” 

“y-yeah it felt so good sugu,” you sigh, turning your head to face gojo, as you pull him closer into you, “you both felt so good.”

“you wanna let us stuff you further?” gojo questions eagerly, his hard dick resting on your ass, as rocks against you.

“satoru,” geto reprimands, shaking his head at his friends over excitement. but gojo shoots him a look shrugging as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, practically inhaling you.

“but suguru, she wants us both to stuff her,” he argues, as fingers already go back to your sobbing cunt. “you want that dont you?” he whispers, directly in your ear, slowly coaxing your pussy with soft strokes as he murmurs in your ear. “you want me and sugu to shove our dicks right up your pussy, together.”

“i don’t know if i can…” you hesitate, your voice faltering, but you pull your lip between your teeth, closing your eyes as you think about taking both of them.

“c’mon pretty girl,” geto persuades you, forcing you to open your eyes and look at the teasing smirk on your face, “don’t think we don’t know how slutty you can be. you know your greedy little cunt take both of us with ease, and you want it to, don't you?” you nod your head slowly in agreement, but geto shakes his, “no, we need to hear you say it. use your words. tell us what you want.”

“i want your dicks to stuff my pussy,” you admit, feeling your confidence grow as the smirk on geto’s face widens and you can hear gojo lowly growl in your ear. “i need it.”

“well we have to give our girl what she wants, right sugu?” gojo taunts, pulling you off of gojo and onto his lap, his dick slaps against your pussy. “suguru got to see your pretty face, before, so this time you’re all mine, okay?” gojo says to you, and you could hear geto kiss his teeth, but he obliges letting gojo have his way this time. 

“you ready for me?” gojo asks, waiting for your approval as he lifts you up slightly over his dick, he even looks over to geto he leans back against the couch, with his dick in his hand. you don’t even answer gojo, sliding down onto gojo as you moan together.

geto fists his dick at the sight, “go on satoru, fuck her,” he orders, his strokes increasing as he watches as gojo begin to thrust into you. your hands press down on gojo’s shoulder’s as you start to bounce on him, you lean forward whining straight in his ear, causing him fuck you harder.

gojo plays with your bra strap, pulling it and letting it release against your shoulder, “i don’t know why you’ve still got this on,” he complains, as brings his hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it. your tits bounce as he pulls off your bra, and both boys smile at the sight. gojo’s fingers pull against both of your nipples, twisting and pulling at them causing you to cry at every tug. “so sensitive,” he mutters to himself, touching your tits inquisitively as he continues to toy with them, loving how with every touch your cries grow louder.

“it’s crazy how we stretched you so well earlier, but your pussy is still tight as fuck,” gojo comments, his words punctuated with every thrust. “i had all my fingers inside of you already, but your cock hungry cunt just can’t seem to get enough.”

“is he fucking you good?” geto calls, feeling himself about to cum, as he rubs against his dick hard. you look over to him and smile, nodding quickly as you wrap your hands around gojos neck, clinging to him as his dick drives into you. geto stands up, coming up behind you pressing a kiss on your neck, “you need me to help get you off?”

“she doesn’t need anything from you, i’m doing just fine,” gojo mumbles, but he lets you slightly raise up off of his dick and he smirks as he feels geto join him, geto’s dick presses against gojo in excitement as they wait in anticipation for you to enclose them with your pussy. 

“don’t be nervous,” geto coos from behind you, nipping at your ear. you look at gojo and he gives you an encouraging nod, and you slide back down onto them hissing in slight pain as you feel them both enter you. “it’s okay pretty, you’re doing so so well,” geto continues to reassure you, pressing soothing kisses down your neck, his lips sucking at your flesh. you all pause as you fully take them both in, and you feel the pain subside smiling at gojo giving him permission to move. 

geto follows suit, and you all move in tandem, fucking against each other. gojo places his hands on your ass, pushing your cheeks in pace with his movements whereas geto’s hands cup your tits, holding them firmly as he spreads his fingers over your nipples, rolling them.

“fu-fuck you two are too big, you can’t” you whine, clawing against gojo’s chest. they were both drilling into you relentlessly, you couldn’t catch your breath as every second you were being double stuffed with dick. tears spring to your eyes, as you cry out in pleasure, grinding down against them trying to get as much as them as possible. 

“if only you could see how slutty our girl looks,” gojo says to geto, as he watches your head fall back, another moan escaping your lips. “her eyes are all glossed over, she’s fucking crying, all slutted out on our dicks right now.”

“is that so?” geto mutters, he forces himself into you deeper, his back hitching up against yours, his clench on your tits tightening as he inches himself in your pussy, his hips slapping against you. “she’s such a good slut, i knew she’d be able to take us well, and look she’s loving it, already creaming all over us, isn’t that baby?”

you nod, your hand coming up to hold geto’s head as he nestles into your neck. you were losing your train of thought, you wanted to tell them how good they felt, how their dicks rubbing against each other in you was all you needed for the rest of you life, but when you open your mouth all that can leave your lips is incoherent words and moans. 

both of them smile, watching as you come undone on their dicks. gojo gives geto a nod, and their hands trade places. gojos fingers coming back to your tits, rubbing and pushing them apart before lowering his head to your chest, nuzzling your boobs. gojo and geto were so close that some things between them didn’t need to be spoken, and they were so close to you that they knew your body in and out. they knew when to push and pull, and where to suck just to get you cumming their lap.

“i’m s-so close, i’m gonna cu—” you try and speak out, but your mind is too far gone for you to finish. their dicks slip out of you as your bounces become sloppy, the pleasure too much for you but geto forces you back muttering reassurance in your neck. and the sudden contact causes you to cum, you release all over both them, but they don’t stop their movements, their dicks driving into you still, pushing back in all the cum you were letting out.

“satoru, we gonna give our girl one final stuffing?” geto prompts, and gojo nods, they both give you one final push and you could feel your pussy stretch as their cum sprays your walls. you wail out, the tears streaming your face as your body jerks forward, feeling their dicks go limp inside of you as you all pant in pleasure.

“that was fucking amazing,” gojo praises, a blissful smile on his face as he leans back his head resting on his arms. you return his smile, your lips meeting his in a quick kiss, that he groans at as you pull away. you come off his dick slowly, all of your eyes staring at the ropes of cum that immediately spill out of your pussy as he unplugs you. 

geto turns your head to face him, his dick still lodged deeply inside of you, he pulls you into a long kiss, his mouth smothering yours. he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, roughly biting down on it before releasing you, his hand cupping your chin, forcing you to stare up at him “you’re mine, my pretty slutty mess.”

“um she’s ours,” gojo chimes in, but geto shrugs, not caring to listen to your other friend. geto, finally pulls you off his dick, and your pussy clenches around nothing, already missing the feeling of their dicks.

“you too always know to take good care of me,” you exhale, exhausted your pussy sore about being stretched open by the two of them. geto pulls you back into his original hold, leaning back against his chest, and your legs stretch over gojo’s lap. but this time instead of innocent gentle touches, geto’s hands lazily tug at your nipples, and gojo caresses your naked thighs, his fingers flicking at your clit every now and again.

“that’s what friends are for,” geto muses, pressing his lips against your cheek before saying, “now satoru, are you gonna press play on this shitty movie or what?”

AN: ight so there you have it my FIRST FIC of kinktober, what do you guys think I need to hear all your thoughts since Ooooof this took me so long to write. so I hope it is worth it. also if you see my bias towards geto during this then LOOK AWAY, im sorry gojo stans but im a geto lover foreverrr. but yeahhh lmk ur thoughts stay tuned for my other kink tober fics which WILL be on time I promise smooches.

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ SANDY BEACHES AND SINFUL BLISS.

characters: itoshi sae (bllk) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! explicit, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi-public, implied masturbation, anal/double pen. (use of a toy), hickeys, backshots, blindfolds, dirty talk, petnames (amor, baby, babe, love), established rs, sae takes a pic of u (lmk if there's more ..) wc ~ 2.2k

a/n: a generalized version of another secret santa entry !! i’m glad you liked my gift @lumiambrose <3

Spain's beaches are always a sight to behold, no matter the time of day.

The sun has long disappeared into the horizon, the sky now pitch black with only the night lights from the festivities a few metres away illuminating the area. The balcony you’re currently lounging on is two-storey high, the sound of joyful chatters and laughter filling your ears as a cool draught of air softly whips over the tresses of your hair.

Leaning against the railing as your eyes remain locked on the waves gently lapping up the shore, you tuck a loose strand behind your ear and reminisce about the times you’d spent in other wonderful places such as this, most of the time courtesy of your boyfriend.

Sae, the ever-so-nonchalant man that he is, rarely says it outright, but you know he loves having you around, loves having you close and within his reach, loves knowing you’re there waiting for him after each grueling day. Why else would he always have two tickets ready whenever he has an away game if not to bring you along on his trip? Why else would he book an entire beach house instead of staying at the hotel like the rest of his teammates?

Sure, the hours when he’s away for practice would feel a little lonely at times, but that’s the more reason for you to anticipate his return, for the reward he’d been saving for you at the end of the day will only grow sweeter.

Life with Sae can be gradual and relaxed, yet thrilling in the way that he would try to explore anything and everything with you, if only you’d so much as ask for it.

Life with him makes you feel… full. In more ways than one.

The sound of the door unlocking catches your attention, and the soft pitter patter of footsteps that follow only sends a rush of excitement through you. Soon enough, a pair of rough hands settle on your hips, a strong chest leaning against the span of your back.

“Have you been good, amor?” Your boyfriend whispers in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin almost in a seductive way. No ‘hi, hello, how’s your day?’ and whatnot. He gets straight to the point, as always.

That’s your man alright.

The corner of your lips curls upwards. “Hello to you too, handsome. What can I help you with today?” You cheekily ask.

The redhead scoffs, though in a lighthearted way. “You could help me with many things, love. How about we start with answering my question first, hm?” He says, causing you to playfully pout at his response, “Well, what do you think?”

Sae’s hands start to slowly move up and down on the side of your waist, warmth seeping from his touch through your clothes. A meek gesture, giving and nearly domestic in a way if not for the promise of his next words.

“If I tell you what I think, you wouldn’t be able to properly stand in the next few minutes, amor.” He murmurs, hands drifting lower beneath the shirt you’re wearing before his fingers firmly spreads your asscheeks.

A gasp is pulled out of your mouth, the buttplug you’d been keeping inside you accidentally dragging against your ribbed walls from his ministrations.

Oops, he already figured it out, hasn’t he?

You were supposed to stay good. Keep the plug nice and warm inside your hole, no touching nor masturbation whatsoever until he gets back. But how could you not?

When Sae kept sending you those godforsaken thirst traps from his gym and practice sessions? The way his sinewy muscles stretched oh so deliciously against the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt, the way his thick veiny thighs were bulging after the rigorous workout, and the freaking post-session shower?

You should’ve been considered a saint for the only thing you did was get yourself off one time the whole day with your fingers.

“Can’t blame a girl for having such wild fantasies,” you huff, feeling his fingers dipping into the heat between your thighs. With the lack of underwear on your side, Sae lowly hums when he makes contact with your slick, sounding both pleased at himself and dissatisfied with your answer.

“Well, would you look at that… you’re still dripping wet. This all from the pics I sent you?” Your eyebrows pinch together, trying to come up with a sarcastic remark as you eye the people who are walking by in the distance.

“I –“

“Fingers or tongue?” Sae cuts you off, catching you off guard. “W-wait – here?” You ask as you finally turn to look at him. His auburn hair softly blows with the night wind much like your own, and Sae tentatively reaches up to bring the thick locks over to one of your shoulders. His lidded teal eyes gauge yours with a perfectly raised eyebrow as if in challenge.

You’re not one to say no to any of his advances, of course. After all, you’re just as freaky insatiable as he is, if not more.

Seeing an answer enough from the relaxed expression on your face, Sae decides for you. “My fingers it is then.”

Almost immediately, he plunges two digits into your sopping cunt, causing you to let out a surprised squeal. Gripping hard on the railing, your body starts squirming as he straight away sets a quick pace.

“Oh shit, Sae–“ Your breath trembles with each thrust of his thick fingers, more of your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

He doesn’t let up his speed. If anything, it only seems like he’s going faster with how much louder the gushing sound of your pussy can be heard. Your back bows slightly over the railing from how hard he’s going, though you don’t stay there long before you swivel your head back again, hand fisting at the collar of his crisp white shirt to roughly pull him down into a kiss.

Your little growl mixes with his grunt as your lips and teeth clash in a fiery dance. Your legs are on the verge of trembling, and you’re so so close to coming on his magical fingers.

Your boyfriend has always enjoyed seeing you unravel before him, enjoyed seeing you come undone so quickly even when he’s not using his dick to fuck you silly. You’re so pliant, so malleable under his touch, and yet you still got that fire in you to somehow fight him back.

You’re an insufferable brat, but you’re his insufferable brat. One whose pussy that he loves making a mess of.

At this point you don’t even care about the mass of passerby who could probably see you even from that far away. They can watch for all you care. In this moment, only you and Sae and the earth-shattering orgasms he’s gracing you with exist in this world.

(Though you’re a bit glad the house he rented isn’t smacked right on the centre of the beach where lots of people will see if that was ever the case.)

“Come on, baby. Give me one before I have to fuck you dumb on my cock,” he mumbles. “Or do you need someone below to see how slutty you look right now, hm?” His other hand moves to the buttplug, slowly pushing it deeper inside your ass.

If it wasn’t in your stomach already, then it certainly is now.

You don’t bother giving him an answer because soon enough, you’re coming all over his hand with a whiny moan, your slick running down his wrist like rich honey.

Sae pulls his fingers out with a few last taps on your sticky clit, casually sucking and licking your cum off the digits before planting a kiss on the side of your head. “Good girl.”

True to his words, your legs feel like jelly from how hard he was going as you lean all your weight back against his body for support. Taking note of this, Sae spins you around before lifting you into his arms, walking you both to the bedroom just adjacent to the balcony.

All the while he’s carrying you inside, you mouth at the exposed skin of his neck, occasionally sucking and biting until the fair canvas turns raw and red from your teeth. He can reprimand (or punish) you later for giving him such visible hickeys where other people might notice. For now, you decide it’s best to indulge yourself first.

Sae sets you down onto the bed before he reaches down to pull his shirt over his head, helping you get your clothes off as well right after. “Turn around, amor. Let me see,” he instructs.

You know exactly what he means, and with a teasing smile thrown his way, you maneuver yourself to settle on your elbows and knees.

Your inner thighs are still coated with a light sheen of your arousal, wet and shiny under the dim light of the room. Using both his thumbs to soil the wetness further on your skin so near to your core, he takes in the way your cunt clenches around nothing as the plug sits cutely in your other hole. Without waiting any second longer, Sae unbuckles his belt to push his pants and boxers off, pumping himself a few times before guiding the tip against your tight entrance.

Your immense slick makes it so much easier for him to slide home, so warm and wet and tight around his cock. He lets out a low groan as your walls envelope him as easily as a sleeve, your pleased moan singing in his ears like a dirty melody.

Very much filled to the brim, both of your holes are so stretched out until there are tears clinging to your lashes.

“Fuck, stay right there, baby.” He bites down on his lips, hips stilling after bottoming out before reaching over to the nightstand, the movement causing his blunt head to involuntarily nudge against your cervix. Sae curses just as you keen at the contact, his hand grabbing the tie he’d left haphazardly after leaving the press event yesterday.

Breath hitching at the sight of the fabric in his hand, you let out a breathless chuckle as your cheek presses on the bed. “You wanna tie me up, babe?” You drawl teasingly, already half-drunk from the feeling of his cock filling you up.

A hint of a smirk appears on the midfielder’s lips. “In a way,” he replies. You’re about to ask what he means by that when he leans towards you, pulling the tie over your eyes instead, hiding away the hues he adores so much. “Oh,”

The grin on his face grows wider now that your sense of sight has been stripped away as he neatly knots the tie behind your head. “Yeah, oh.”

“Now hold on tight, would you?” That’s all the warning you get before he begins pistoning his hips against yours in a fervor, eliciting a choked moan out of your parted lips.

“O-oh, god - fuck!” The pleasure is intensified, zaps of electricity creeping up the back of your spine and piling over tenfold as the lack of vision only makes everything feels more sensitive and raw, amplified. “That’s it. Take my cock, amor.” His cock continues to drill into you, your cries and whimpers of his name and his deep grunts bouncing off the walls of the room.

Ass jiggling and drenched pussy lips stretching around his girth every time he plunges in, Sae has never seen such a staggeringly addicting sight in all his life.

He makes good use of the buttplug by shallowly moving it in and out, the dual stimulation making you bury your face into the comforter as you muffle your scream.

He can feel you clamping down on him, squeezing him so tightly that he swears he could see stars behind his lids. With both of you now close to reaching that peak, his pace only increases albeit becoming a little sloppier.

A few bruising thrusts later and you’re sent over the edge, your climax coursing over you like a tidal wave. Your pleasured cries become the final push that Sae needed before he quickly pulls out, roughly stroking himself using your cum until his own shoots out in thick ropes of white onto the globes of your ass.

He groans, a low throaty sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest as he stares at the mess he left on your skin. Grabbing his phone that had dropped onto the bed sometime prior, he takes a quick snap before reaching over to slip the blindfold off.

Your eyes blink at the sudden brightness, thighs shaking and body spent as your top half remains laid on the bed. “Sae…? Did you just take a picture?” You ask out of curiosity from the brief sound you’d heard.

He gently pulls out the plug, rubbing at the sore skin when you let out a little yelp before he wipes his cum off your ass, smearing them right on your pussy instead. He then gives you a non-committal hum, “Yes. Now lay down properly. I’m not finished.”

Much to both of your delight, he’s not even close to being done with you. Hasn’t scratched the surface of what he had planned for you, even. Not now, not anytime soon.

Oh, you’re in for a long night ahead.

character development but it's just rye writing (lots of and more detailed) smut

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[meteorella]

Nerdgasmic Rhapsody

pairings: loser!dom!ellie x popular!sub!reader

cw: flufff!! ellie's an absolute cutie pie. cursing (obv), oral! (r receiving), tribbing (maybe?), nipple play, after caree!!, pet names: sweetheart, baby, princess, that's all i think!

wc: 511

a/n: (intentional lowercase!!!) first ever ficcc omg🥹 i have never ever in my life written a fanfic before so pleaseee don't judge and also feel free to point out some mistakes and stuff!! I take criticisms as i'm sure it'll help me a lot throughout my writing journey :))) can't promise I'll post consistently considering I'm insanely dumped with school works but I'll definitely find time to do so. anyways i hope u guys enjoy this one!! Feel free to hit me w some ideaaasss :3

after you had made it official with the biggest dork on campus—ellie—people would randomly come up to you in the hallways and tease you, not believing how sweet she actually is. after all of your previous relationships, ellie is the only one who genuinely cared for you. despite her shy and nerdy demeanor, she's really fun to hang out with. she'd continuously yap about space, the comic books she's read—savage starlight—and drop all of its lore to you. the whole fucking lore. although you hardly cared. she was too adorable. most of the time, you would find yourself just looking at her sparkling green eyes, topped by her matte, black glasses, her hand gestures, and the soft smile plastered on her lips while she speaks. she's even more beautiful up close. how could others not see that? whilst ellie can be a total cutie pie, you cant deny how fucking insane she can be in bed.

when eating you out, she'd flick her tongue out relentlessly on your leaking hole. firmly gripping on to your thighs, she already knows your next motive. "nuh-uh, sweetheart. keep them open for me." she shoots you a knowing glare before diving back into your drenched core, keeping eye contact all the while. her gaze roamed over your appearance, hair disheveled, eyes rolled back, and completely fucked out. "s-sorry, baby–fuck." you moaned as you clutched onto her dino-printed sheets. so fucking cute. after you'd climaxed for the 3rd time, she'd climb on top of you and slip her tongue down your throat, allowing you to taste yourself as she grinded her own throbbing cunt against yours. your soaking wet pussies rubbing, and creating the most delicious rhythm together. she absolutely loved your boobs. she adored how it just bounces up and down as she rolled her hips above you. she took your nipple in between her thumb and her index finger and pinched them, making you flinch at the feeling. her glasses were all fogged up and crooked, but she couldn't care less. she was too engrossed on drawing out more of those angelic sounds that slips past your lips as she pleases you. "doing s–so good f'me, princess... fuck–so hot." when you had both finally reached your peak, she'd lean down and gently clean up all your juices from between your thighs with her tongue.

she gives absolutely the best aftercare imaginable. the routine would start with cleaning you up with a wet towel, swiping it's soft material across your face, your breasts, your legs, your inner thighs—she had always taken care of you in the most tender and loving way. she loved hearing your soft, exhausted sighs of relief, as you watch her with a smile on your face all while savoring the chocolate she so graciously offered you. after ellie finishes cleaning you up, she would settle beside you, enveloping you in her arms as she wrapped them around your waist. her lips showering your neck with gentle kisses as she whispered heartfelt words of affection. "i'm going to marry you one day."

YAAALLLL OMG I HOPE THIS DIDN'T SUCK TOO HARD😣😣😣🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 i hope u guys enjoyed this one, i really enjoyed writing thisss!!

tags: @ellstronaut

dividers: @khaer @plutism

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are. 

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way. 

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy. 

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?  

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger? 

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing. 

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking. 

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils. 

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck. 

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb. 

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon. 

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride. 

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store. 

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue. 

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them. 

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out. 

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.  

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet. 

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend. 

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs. 

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him. 

But you lied.

You did miss it. 

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended. 

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too. 

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face. 

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!? 

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!” 

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention. 

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you? 

You roll your eyes as you scoff. 

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece. 

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer. 

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life! 

Your parents were even coming to this! 

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up. 

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji. 

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was. 

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!” 

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables. 

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden. 

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[emchante]

thighs

masterlist | requesting rules

summary: daniel notices how much you love his thighs, yet are too shy to mention it. he shows you what you've been missing by not telling him before now.

WARNINGS: 18+ content, thigh riding, use of good girl, slight dirty talk.

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hi!! i’m super excited to start posting on this blog. of course, the first post had to be dedicated to daniel and his thighs, so i hope you enjoy! requests are open, so if anyone has any prompts or ideas, please send them into my inbox! + a massive thank you to @thef1diary for beta reading this, and inspiring me to start the account.

daniel knew you loved his thighs, it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret. he was sure all of your friends knew too. your eyes wouldn’t leave the meat of his thighs when they were on display – which was often, god bless the extreme heat of most places you travelled to for making him wear shorts everyday.

it wasn’t something that you spoke about often though, in fact, daniel realised you had never really brought it up yourself. you were shy, didn’t really like bringing such things up yourself. daniel usually had to coax what you wanted out of you, and tonight wasn’t any different.

daniel trailed kisses from the nape of your neck, up your jaw until he reached your ear. he whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you how beautiful you were, how he would do anything you wanted. your face was on fire at the wet kisses, the sultry tone of his voice already starting a fire in your belly. you tilted your head to give him more access to your neck, but he pulled away from you, causing your eyes to follow him.

he moved his rose-inked hand to cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to gently stroke your cheek. you leaned into his hand, enjoying any and all touch you received from him. you only had your eyes shut momentarily before daniel gave your chin a squeeze, causing them to flutter open again.

“for me to give you what you want,” he started, his voice low. “you need to tell me exactly what it is.”

you smiled at his words. daniel, ever the gentlemen, always doing what you wanted. it was never any different. “i just want you, danny.”

daniel let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down. you furrowed your brows, confused at his reaction. with a tilt of your head, you asked him what was so funny.

“you are,” he told you, looking back up. “always too shy to tell me what you want. always have to work for it to get it out, don’t i?” daniel explained, raising a brow with a grin. you felt your face heat up again, but it wasn’t due to arousal this time – not for the most part, anyways.

“what are you–” you had started to question him, but you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp as daniel moved you to sit on his right thigh. you looked to him for answers, but you were only met with a small smirk on daniel’s face.

“i see the way you look at my thighs, sweetheart,” he began to explain, moving his hands to rest on your hips. his thumbs rubbed small circles into them as he continued to speak to you. “you’re always looking when i’m in shorts, eyes always on me. you know how hard i get when i watch you squeeze your thighs together, all because you can’t contain yourself?”

your jaw dropped at daniel calling you out. you knew that you weren’t exactly subtle about your interest in his thighs, but his words made your full body heat up. you stuttered over your words, but you couldn’t get a coherent sentence out. all you managed to squeak out was a “sorry”, and it only made daniel laugh.

“sorry? for what?” he asked as he laughed, moving his right hand off of your hip to grab at your own. he moved it to rest on the fabric of his clearly straining shorts, making you gulp lightly. “you mustn't have heard me, your gaze gets me so fucking hard.”

you meekly nodded, not really sure how to respond to him. daniel knew what you were like though, he didn’t expect much else. he liked how shy you were, how easily flustered he managed to get you. moving his hand off of your own, he slowly ran it up your bare leg, allowing it to slip under your short skirt, smirking as his fingers grazed your clothed pussy.

“so wet for me,” he cooed, and you could only whine as his fingers were so close to where you needed them. you let yourself rut against his thigh once to show him you were desperate for him. daniel’s eyes darkened as he felt you move against his thigh, and he couldn’t contain the groan that left his throat.

slipping his fingers to move your underwear to the side, daniel’s left hand dragged you across his thigh once more to test it, and he couldn’t have landed the jackpot quicker. the feeling of your bare pussy against his thigh, starting to soak it due to how wet you were was all he needed.

“fuck, darling,” he moaned, his right hand moving back up to your hips so he could guide you through it. “you gonna ride my thigh? like a good girl?” he asked you, looking right into your eyes as he said it.

the friction of his thigh against your clit, along with the good girl caused a whine to escape your mouth. you nodded as you moved your hands onto his shoulders, gripping them tightly as you continued to rut against him, desperately lapping up the pleasure you got from your bare cunt against his tattooed thigh.

you suddenly came to a halt though, causing you to break out of the pleasure-bound spell you seemed to be entranced in. daniel’s brows were furrowed, his hands gripping your hips tightly so you weren’t able to continue your movements.

“danny please– let me move,” you pleaded with him, looking down at his thigh as you desperately tried to move your hips. his grip was too strong for you to fight against, and daniel only tutted, clicking his tongue to get your eyes to land on him.

“so now you can talk? i want verbal confirmation as soon as i ask you a question,” he told you, his hands squeezing your hips even tighter to make sure you understood. you were sure it was going to leave bruises tomorrow, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, in fact, the thought only turned you on more.

“i‘m sorry, dan,” you apologised, eyes pleading with him to continue so you could go back to what you were doing. he nodded, and repeated his question for you. “so, are you going to be a good girl and ride my thigh?” he asked you, eyes trained on your face.

you nodded again, but verbally confirmed it this time too. “yes, danny. i’ll ride your thigh,” you told him, making a small smile appear on his face. you tried to move your hips again, but daniel was still holding you in place. you whined in frustration, hopelessly trying to recreate the friction from moments ago but to no avail. he tutted, shaking his head at you.

“tell me you’ll be my good girl,” he commanded, eyes dark. one thing about daniel, he was always going to make you tell him you were a good girl. his good girl.

“going to be your good girl– but please dan, i need– your thigh again,” you plead, and if it wasn’t obvious by your constant attempts at grinding against your thigh, the urgency in your voice would’ve been a dead giveaway.

“alright gorgeous, you can have it,” he cooed, loosening the grip of his hands on your hips so you could move, but still holding them securely so he could help move you against him.

you couldn’t believe it had taken so long for this to happen, and it was so much better than any fantasy you ever had about it. each grind against his inked thigh sent sparks shooting throughout your body, the whimpers and moans escaping your lips were music to daniel’s ears as his dark, hungry eyes watched the way your body moved.

daniel groaned at the sight of your tits bouncing each time you rut against him, moving between watching them, and the facial expressions you were making due to the immense pleasure from his thigh alone.

“you look so perfect riding my thigh, sweetheart,” he started, making your eyes land back on his face as you focused on his words. “soaking it too, because of how fucking wet you are,” he groaned, and bit his lip at the moan you let out at his words.

he couldn’t stop himself from moving one of his hands up to your chest, toying with your hardened nipple through the fabric. the friction of the fabric, along with the touch of his thumb sent a streak of pleasure through you, head snapping back as you let out a guttural moan.

“can’t keep my eyes off these, either,” he continued, alternating between circling his thumb around your nipple, to squeezing the swell of your breast. “everything about you is perfect. made for me, weren’t you?” he asked, looking into your eyes for confirmation.

“made for you and you only, danny,” you sighed, panting as you felt yourself getting closer. daniel could tell too, your voice pitches up, and he feels your hand’s grip onto him tighter.

“such a good girl f’me. getting close, aren’t you?” he questioned, despite already knowing the answer. he just wanted to hear your needy, desperate voice say anything. you nodded frantically at him, high pitched whines escaping your throat.

“so– fuck, so close, dan” you breathlessly admitted, slightly angling your hips so your clit was getting more friction, and daniel knew you found a good angle when a sudden but pleasant moan escaped you.

daniel suddenly got an idea. “got an idea, sweetheart. it’s gonna help you feel even better, do you trust me?” he asked, waiting to see if you’d agree, or rather just let yourself finish like this. his eyes lit up when you squeaked out a please, hands gripping your waist a little tighter before he started to bounce his leg.

it was somehow better than before, a new experience which felt like absolute euphoria. you let out a shaky, breathy moan as your eyes rolled back, unable to control yourself any longer. daniel moved you back slightly, a little closer to his knee than his thigh, and it worked like magic, as it worked even better.

“fuck– yes, yes daniel–” you panted out, almost falling into the category of babbling due to how much you kept repeating almost incomprehensible chatter, too focused on the feeling of pleasure to respond properly.

“let go for me, c’mon. cum for me,” he coaxed you, feeling your thighs tighten around his own, before you came, chanting out daniel’s name as you rode your high. you immediately fell into daniel’s chest, body slouching as you sighed, smiling lazily when his arms wrapped around you.

it was silent for a while, the only noises being your heavy breaths until you recovered back to your normal state. daniel’s hand gently stroked up and down your back, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head as he let you recover from your orgasm. you used your still shaky hands to push yourself up, meeting face-to-face with daniel as he smiled softly at you, leaning in to initiate a passionate kiss between you.

daniel carefully carried you into your shared bedroom not long afterwards, making sure you were a-okay before helping you get into fresh pajamas and getting you ready for bed. much to your dismay, of course, as you wanted him to clean himself up first, especially after the mess you made on his thigh, but daniel paid no mind to your whining, carrying on with his duties of making sure you were sorted for the night.

[suguwu]

WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings. 

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.” 

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides. 

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.” 

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji. 

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet. 

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun. 

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair. 

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again. 

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa. 

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly. 

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.” 

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say. 

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering. 

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate. 

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod. 

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji. 

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath. 

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.” 

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!” 

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control. 

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.” 

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth. 

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.” 

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”  

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir. 

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”  

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum. 

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon. 

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.” 

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down. 

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.” 

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.” 

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky. 

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.” 

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.” 

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms. 

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately. 

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. 

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue. 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.” 

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” 

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo. 

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do. 

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training. 

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring. 

Life, ever unmoved, continues on. 

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle. 

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes. 

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist. 

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.