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thecoochiefairy · 3 months ago

Text

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?”

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?”

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain.

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest.

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.”

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!”

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips.

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good.

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease.

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty.

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.”

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment.

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you.

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?”

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you.

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?”

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that.

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin.

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point.

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg.

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.”

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist.

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair.

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.”

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so.

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured.

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest.

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently.

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell.

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need.

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low.

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper.

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there.

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?”

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you.

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly.

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant.

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless.

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.”

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain.

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.”

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second.

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw.

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again.

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning, licking—you’re feeling faint.

He was making a mess of your pussy.

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above.

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.”

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big.

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck.

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.”

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant.

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself.

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?”

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open.

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.”

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect.

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.”

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.”

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined.

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…”

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum.

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied.

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor.

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’”

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…”

“Damn, no late night nookie?”

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

#onyankopon x you #ony smut #onyankopon x reader #onyakapon #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon fluff #onyankapon #aot onyankopon #aot oneshots #attack on titan smut #anime oneshot #onyankopon smut #aot

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jupiterpilgrim · 4 months ago

Text

Embracing the Mission

Christmas Special 🎄

Julie x Natty x Belle x Male Reader

word count 14K

A/n: last fic of the Christmas Special

Christmas Eve. Quiet, solemn, lonely. The kind of night where you can’t decide if you’re grateful for the silence or crushed beneath its weight. You drag yourself up the stairs, the old wood creaking under your feet. The dull glow of Christmas lights spills from the living room, blinking in patterns that feel more mocking than festive. You’ve always been a good guy, the dependable one, the “nice” one, but here you are, one stocking hung, one bed waiting for nobody but yourself.

At the top of the stairs, just as your hand brushes the railing, the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

Who the hell rings a doorbell on Christmas Eve this late? Solicitors don’t work tonight, and your neighbors barely talk to you during daylight hours. For a long moment, you consider ignoring it. Then it rings again—insistent, cheery.

You shuffle back down, mumbling under your breath about late-night pranks and cold drafts. Pulling the door open, you’re met with a sight that doesn’t just stop your breath; it slams it into reverse.

Two girls stand on your porch. They’re stunning in a way that should be illegal. The first one has curves so generous they practically defy gravity, her chest straining against a red and green corset that looks stitched from mischief itself. Her long, dark hair frames a face you could mistake for angelic if not for the sly twinkle in her eyes.

“Hi! I’m Natty!” she says brightly, as if this is the most normal introduction in the world.

Beside her, the other one radiates an entirely different energy: poised, commanding, her toned body wrapped in something close to a uniform, sharp lines of green velvet hugging her hips. Her dark brown hair glints in the soft light, and the arch of her brow suggests she’s used to being in charge.

“I’m Julie,” she says, her voice smoother, more measured. Then, in perfect unison, they chirp:

“And we need your help!”

You blink. Then you blink again. “Uh…”

“Wait, where’s Belle?” Julie cuts you off, her brow furrowing as she scans the space behind you.

“Typical,” Natty groans, folding her arms beneath her chest, which only makes the situation more distracting. “Always late.”

Before you can process any of this, a loud thunk echoes from inside your house, followed by a flurry of soot and a muffled cough. Spinning around, you see something—a someone—sprawled across your fireplace hearth.

“What the hell—”

The girl clambers to her feet, brushing coal dust off a mess of blonde hair. She's the same height as that other girl, Julie. With delicate features and wide, apologetic dark eyes that suggest she’s either innocent or very good at faking it. She’s wearing a short red dress streaked with ash, and she’s scowling as if this is somehow your fault.

“Belle!” Natty snaps. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You said to come in sneaky!” Belle protests, hands on her hips. “The chimney’s sneaky!”

“Not that sneaky, dumbass,” Julie groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Even Santa Claus doesn’t actually use chimneys. That’s a marketing thing.”

“You said stealth!” Belle shoots back, still smudged with coal and radiating indignation. “Stealth means unconventional entry points! It’s basic infiltration tactics!”

“I swear, I’m going to—” Natty starts, but Julie waves her off, taking a deep breath.

“Let’s just… move on. The whole night’s a disaster already.”

With that, they sweep past you and invade your home.

“Okay, hold up,” you interrupt, raising your hands. “Who are you people, and why are you in my house?!”

Julie turns her piercing gaze on you, suddenly all business. “We’re Santa’s elves.”

You stare. They stare back.

“…Elves,” you repeat.

“Uh-huh,” Natty confirms, nodding so enthusiastically that her chest threatens to break free of its corset.

Belle perks up. “Yeah! We work at the North Pole!” She pauses, then adds, “Well, usually. Technically, we’re on maternity leave before the fact.”

“Maternity leave?”

Julie steps forward, her voice low and commanding. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. The birth rate in the North Pole is… concerningly low. Like, end-of-our-species low. We need help. Specifically, your help.”

“…My help,” you echo, your brain lagging behind the speed of this conversation.

Natty leans in, her lips quirking in a teasing smile. “We need you to get us pregnant.”

For a moment, the world tilts sideways. “Is this some kind of weird prank? Am I being filmed?”

“It sounds fake, doesn’t it?” Belle says, skipping over to you with a little bounce in her step. “But it’s totally true! Look—” She grabs your hand and drags it toward her head.

“Whoa, what are you—”

“Feel my ear!”

You hesitate, then give in, tugging lightly at one of her pointy ears. It’s soft, warm, pliant, and very much attached to her skull.

“Ow!” she yelps, batting your hand away. “What are you, a sadist?”

“They’re real,” you whisper, finally starting to believe them.

“Duh,” Natty says with a smirk. “So? You in?”

Your laugh comes out half-hysterical. “You think I’m just going to say yes to… to that?!”

Julie crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ve always been a good boy. Generous, kind, single…”

“That’s why I’m single!” you snap, throwing your hands in the air. “I don’t go around impregnating random women—elf women—on Christmas!”

“See?” Belle chimes in. “He is perfect. I told you.”

You groan, running a hand down your face. “This can’t be happening.”

“It’s happening,” Natty says, stepping closer. Her scent—cinnamon and something sweeter—fills your lungs, and suddenly the room feels ten degrees hotter.

Julie’s voice softens, almost coaxing. “All we’re asking is that you help save a species. A race. Think of it as… the ultimate Christmas gift.”

Belle pipes up, already raiding your kitchen. “If you'll excuse me, I'm hungry!”

Natty plops herself onto your couch like she owns the place, her corset straining as she lounges back, legs crossed. Belle's rifling through your fridge now, pulling out milk like this is her second home, while Julie perches herself neatly on the armrest of the chair across from you, her hands clasped like she’s about to break into a corporate PowerPoint presentation.

Julie clears her throat. “All right, let’s break this down. The North Pole is in crisis.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan, flopping into the recliner. “Is Mrs. Claus filing for divorce? Did Santa get caught in a Ponzi scheme?”

Belle laughs from the kitchen, milk mustache and all. Natty, meanwhile, grins. “Ooh, I like him. He’s got jokes.”

“Let’s stay focused,” Julie says sharply, shooting a glare at both of them before turning back to you. “It’s not a joke. The population at the Pole is dwindling. Our fertility rates have been tanking for decades.”

“Have you ever considered having sex with other elves?” you ask

“Ha,” Julie deadpans. “No. It’s a genetic bottleneck problem. Too much inbreeding, not enough diversity.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Am I about to be roped into a weird elf eugenics experiment? I didn’t sign up for this.”

Natty leans forward, her cleavage doing distracting things that seem entirely intentional. “You’re not roped into anything, sweetheart. But let’s just say you’ve been on the Nice List for decades. That’s not common. We figured, hey, why not pick someone who’s already a certified good boy?”

Belle chimes in from the kitchen, still munching on what might be your last box of Oreos. “And it’s not like you’ve got any plans tonight, right?”

You glare at her. “I could’ve had plans.”

“With who?” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she holds up a half-eaten cookie. “These? Didn’t think so.”

Julie rubs her temples like she’s dealing with toddlers. “The point is, the North Pole relies on elves to keep everything running smoothly. Toy production, reindeer care, Santa’s logistics—”

“—the strip club down on Candy Cane Lane—” Natty interjects with a wink.

Julie doesn’t miss a beat. “—all of it requires a stable population. We’re dangerously low. If we don’t start producing new elves, the entire system collapses.”

“Okay, but why me?” you ask, gesturing at yourself like there must be some mistake. “There’s eight billion people on the planet. You couldn’t have found someone… better qualified?”

Natty shrugs. “Most people don’t qualify for the Nice List. And a lot of the ones who do are, like, seven years old.”

“Or old ladies who bake cookies for their neighbors,” Belle adds.

“And you’re… what? Prime reproductive age? Decent genetics? Plus, you live alone, so no messy drama with spouses or girlfriends. Frankly, you’re the perfect candidate,” Julie finishes matter-of-factly.

You snort. “Wow, thanks. Nothing boosts a guy’s ego like being told he’s a walking sperm donor with no social life.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Natty says, standing up and sauntering over to you. She plants her hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until her face is inches from yours. “You’re also cute.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second before you manage to sputter, “Girls, this is crazy. It sounds like something out of an erotic fiction written by a sick mind.”

“It’s practical,” Julie counters. “We’re not asking you to marry us. We’re asking for your… genetic material. Through, uh, direct methods.”

“Oh, is that all?” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, let me just whip out my North Pole application and put ‘elf breeding kink’ under special skills.”

Belle wanders over now, plopping onto the couch and curling her legs beneath her. “Look, it’s not like you’re doing it for free. Think of it as an exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You get to help save Christmas and have sex with three hot elves. Win-win, right? It's not that difficult, elves are very, very fertile.”

Natty grins, her lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as she whispers, “Bet no one’s ever left that off their bucket list.”

You shove her away gently, shaking your head. “You’re all insane. I should call the cops.”

“Oh, please,” Belle scoffs. “What’re you gonna say? ‘Help, three elves broke into my house and asked me to impregnate them’? You’d be on YouTube before the night’s over.”

“Wait, do elves also watch YouTube?”

Julie sighs, standing up and dusting off her hands. “Listen, we’ll give you some time to think about it. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about us. It’s about every elf, every reindeer, every child who wakes up on Christmas morning hoping for magic.”

"Be mindful, this could be a total game-changer!” Belle exclaims. “Imagine if other elves join us, we'd have the numbers to make the North Pole council change their rules. Interracial babies for everyone! It would be legendary!” She's clearly excited about the idea.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” you mutter.

Natty strokes your arm, her smile equal parts playful and predatory. “You’ll rise to the occasion. I can feel it.”

Belle snickers. “Or we’ll make you.”

—

You shut your bedroom door, leaning against it like it might keep the insanity out. Your room feels smaller, tighter, like the walls are closing in on you. You sink onto the edge of the bed, staring at your hands, the events of the last hour replaying in loops too ridiculous to comprehend.

Three elves. Pregnant. By you.

You look at the glow-in-the-dark clock on your wall, its numbers mocking you. Midnight, Christmas Day. The kind of moment that should be filled with a warm cup of cocoa, maybe a silly Christmas movie in the background. Instead, you’re debating whether to turn your house into the world’s weirdest fertility clinic.

You groan, dragging your hands through your hair. It’s not like you’re against the idea. They’re beautiful—beyond beautiful—but this isn’t just some quick hookup. They’re asking for something bigger. Permanent. And yeah, it’d be easy to chalk it up to a crazy story you tell yourself later, but you can’t stop thinking about what it would mean.

Kids. Real, flesh-and-blood kids. Yours.

You’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know how heavy the quiet can get. It’s not the sex you’re hesitating about—it’s what comes after. You can’t just pump and dump (so to speak). That’s not who you are.

A burst of laughter from the living room pulls you out of your spiral. You push yourself off the bed and head to the door. Whatever decision you make, it’s better than sitting here stewing in your own head.

When you step back into the living room, they’re sprawled across your couch like they’ve lived here for years. The TV’s on, tuned to some Christmas classic, though the sound’s muted. Natty’s flipping through your Blu-ray collection, shaking her head at your lack of romantic comedies. Belle’s halfway through a bag of chips you’re pretty sure you were saving for New Year’s.

“You know, those were mine,” you say, pointing at the chips.

She grins, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. “Finders, eaters.”

Julie barely glances up from where she’s scrolling on your phone. “So? Have you come to your senses?”

You take a deep breath, stepping further into the room. “I’ve made my decision.”

The room goes still. Belle pauses mid-chew. Natty freezes with a DVD case in hand. Julie sits up straighter, her eyes locked on you like a hawk.

“I’ll do it,” you say. “On one condition.”

Natty perks up immediately. “Name it, stud.”

“I want to see the kids.”

The room practically tilts sideways with the weight of their confusion.

Julie narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want to just… make them and never see them again,” you explain, running a hand over the back of your neck. “If we’re doing this, I want to be part of their lives. I want to know them. I want to have a family.”

They all stare at you like you just grew a second head. Even Belle, who has been entirely food-focused until now, sets the chips down to gape at you.

Julie is the first to recover, though her tone is softer now. “Why? That wasn’t part of the deal. You’d be doing your… civic duty, so to speak. Why do you care what happens after?”

You shrug, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I made a mistake. I don’t want to be a ghost in their lives. Hell, I don’t even have anyone now, let alone a family. Maybe this is my chance.”

That last part slips out before you can stop it, and you immediately regret how vulnerable it sounds.

The elves exchange glances. Natty bites her lip, Julie furrows her brow, and Belle just looks vaguely guilty. Without a word, they huddle together in the corner, whispering furiously.

“Oh, come on, you’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you call out, gesturing to their huddle.

“Shh!” Natty waves a dismissive hand at you, her voice muffled. “We’re deliberating.”

Belle glances back at you once, her lips twitching like she might smile. Julie smacks her on the arm, dragging her back into their huddle.

After what feels like an eternity, they break apart, turning to face you with synchronized seriousness. Julie steps forward as the spokesperson.

“Alright. We’ll allow it.”

“Allow it?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she continues, ignoring your tone. “It’s unconventional, but you’ve proven yourself to be… an exceptionally good boy.”

Natty snickers. “You’re, like, too good. It’s almost weird.”

Belle beams. “It’s sweet!”

You exhale, relief flooding through you. “Okay, good. Then we’re all on the same page.”

Julie smirks, tilting her head toward the hallway. “We are. Now, let’s get started.”

Before you can process her words, Natty grabs one hand, Julie takes the other, and they start tugging you toward the bedroom.

“Wait, right now?” you stammer, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“Uh, yeah,” Natty says, throwing a playful wink over her shoulder. “You’re not getting out of this, Mister Family Man.”

Belle trails behind, licking chip dust off her fingers as she grins, a new bag in the other hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait my turn. I’m still eating.”

The door to your bedroom looms closer, and for the first time all night, you realize you might actually be in over your head.

—

The bedroom feels both foreign and familiar, lit softly by the glow of Christmas lights strung around the window. Julie and Natty waste no time, their hands still locked around yours as they pull you toward the bed, their intentions as clear as the sly smiles on their faces. Your heart hammers in your chest as the door clicks shut behind Belle, her footsteps slow and casual.

Natty is the first to spin around, her dark eyes glinting with mischief as she steps in close, the scent of peppermint and something deeper, muskier, teasing your senses. Julie mirrors her movements, sliding behind you with a grace that’s almost predatory, her hands grazing your shoulders.

You’re caught between them, their bodies pressed against you—soft and warm in all the right places. Julie’s lips ghost over your ear, her voice a low purr. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. We’ll make this… unforgettable.”

Natty chuckles, her hands already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “Oh, he’s already enchanted. Look at him.”

And she’s not wrong. Your gaze flickers to her pointed ears, impossibly cute, twitching slightly as she speaks. You can’t help yourself; your hand lifts, fingers brushing the curve of one. She gasps softly, her body trembling against you.

“Sensitive, huh?” you murmur, surprised by your own boldness.

Natty smirks, leaning into your touch. “You’ve got no idea.”

Julie’s hands are more decisive, sliding down your chest as Natty tugs your shirt up and over your head, leaving you bare to the room’s cool air. Her nails drag lightly across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Behind you, Julie’s fingers work at your belt, a faint laugh escaping her lips as she feels the bulge already straining against your jeans. “Well, someone’s eager.”

“You’re the ones who dragged me in here,” you shoot back, though your voice is breathless.

Natty steps back, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath as her fingers move to the laces of her corset. She catches your gaze, a teasing smile curving her lips as she deliberately slows, each pull on the strings heightening the anticipation. Bit by bit, the tension gives way, and her ample cleavage begins to spill over, the fabric struggling to contain her.

With a final tug, the corset slackens, and she slides it down her torso, her movements fluid, almost hypnotic. The garment falls away, revealing the smooth, unblemished plane of her skin, glowing in the dim light. Her breasts, full and impossibly perfect, sway slightly with her motion, their weight almost defying reason, nipples already stiffened peaks begging for attention.

Natty doesn’t stop there. Her hands travel lower, unfastening her skirt and letting it pool at her feet. She steps out of it, the shift leaving her in only a pair of thin, lacy panties clinging to her hips. Her fingers hook into the waistband, and she peels them down inch by inch, the reveal torturously slow until the fabric slides off completely, leaving her bare.

She stands there unabashed, her toned figure on full display, the curves of her hips leading to the bare mound of her pussy, glistening slightly in the light. She tosses the corset aside with a devilish grin, her eyes locking onto yours.

“Like what you see?” she teases, palming her own chest and giving it a little bounce.

Before you can answer, Julie tugs your pants and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving your cock springing free, hard and ready. She hums appreciatively, her sharp eyes glinting as she reaches out to grip it lightly, her fingers warm and confident.

Belle, meanwhile, has claimed the armchair in the corner, Opening the new bag of chips. She crosses her legs, leaning back like she’s settling in for a show.

“Don’t mind me,” she says, her voice light and amused. “I’m just here for moral support.”

“More like immoral support,” Natty quips, stepping out of the rest of her clothes to reveal curves that could have been sculpted by a god. Her hips sway as she moves closer, and you can’t help but stare, utterly captivated.

You sit on your bed, Julie begins to unbutton the top of her elven uniform, sensually removing the velvet from her skin, The red lingerie reveals her medium-sized, round and perfectly formed breasts that, combined with her smooth skin, leave you almost drooling. She slides down to her knees in front of you, her dark brown hair pooling around her shoulders as she gazes up at you with a wicked grin. “All right, let’s set some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” you echo, your brain barely functioning under the weight of what’s happening.

“I’m going first,” she says simply, her hand stroking your length with slow, deliberate precision. “I’ll be the first one pregnant. But first…” Her tongue darts out, licking her lips. “We’ve gotta get you nice and ready.”

Natty giggles, pressing herself against your side, her breasts warm and soft against your arm. “Oh, he’s ready. Look at him.”

Julie doesn’t respond, too focused as she leans in, her tongue tracing a line along the underside of your cock. The sensation sends a shiver racing up your spine, and you grip the edge of the bed for support.

“Jesus,” you breathe, your head falling back.

“Not quite,” Julie murmurs, her lips wrapping around the tip.

Her mouth is warm, wet, and devastatingly skilled as she takes you deeper, her tongue swirling in maddening patterns. Natty watches with a smirk, her fingers trailing down your chest, her nails scraping lightly against your skin.

Belle’s voice drifts over from the chair, smug and teasing. “Damn, Julie. Save some for the rest of us.”

Julie pulls back just enough to speak, her breath hot against your slick length. “Patience, Belle. You’ll get your turn.”

Natty leans in, her lips brushing against your jaw as she whispers, “She likes to make a mess. You should see her when she’s serious.”

You groan, caught between the relentless heat of Julie’s mouth and the soft press of Natty’s body against yours.

Julie doesn’t waste a second. She tightens her grip at the base of your cock, guiding it back between her lips with the kind of confidence that only comes from experience—or maybe instinct. Her mouth is pure heaven: warm, wet, and impossibly tight as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with every movement.

The sight of her on her knees, her brown dark hair falling around her flushed face, has you twitching in her mouth, and she hums in approval, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure straight through you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and mischievous, as her tongue swirls around your head before she dives lower, taking you all the way in until your cock is brushing the back of her throat.

“Fuck, Julie,” you groan, your hips jerking forward instinctively.

Natty laughs softly from beside you, her full, bare breasts pressed against your arm as she leans in. “She’s a pro, isn’t she? Makes you wonder what other surprises she’s hiding.”

Her voice drips with teasing warmth, and you turn your head, unable to resist the lure of her body. Her tits are huge—soft and heavy, nipples stiff and begging for attention. You cup one in your hand, marveling at the weight of it, and she shivers, biting her lip.

“Don’t be shy,” she murmurs, pushing herself closer. “I’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”

Your mouth finds her nipple, hot and eager, and she gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair as you suck gently, your tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Her skin is soft and smooth under your lips, and you move to her other breast, giving it the same attention as her moans grow louder.

Meanwhile, Julie’s pace is relentless, her head bobbing as she works your cock with a combination of tongue, lips, and sheer determination. The obscene sounds of her mouth—wet, messy, and utterly filthy—fill the room, mingling with Natty’s soft cries and the distant hum of Christmas lights.

Belle, still perched in the chair with her snacks, snorts. “Damn, Julie, you trying to drown him? I can hear that slurping from here.”

Julie pulls back just enough to shoot Belle a look, her lips glistening with spit. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d do something useful for once.”

Belle grins, taking a lazy sip of her milk. “I am doing something. I’m observing. Documenting this historic moment. You’re welcome.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Julie mutters before turning her focus back to you.

She grips your cock tighter, her other hand cupping your balls as her mouth slides down again, taking you even deeper this time. The wet heat of her throat surrounds you, and you can’t stop the groan that tears from your chest, your hips bucking slightly.

“Careful,” Natty teases, her voice breathy as you switch back to her other nipple, sucking harder this time. “You don’t want to choke her. She’s got a small throat.”

Julie glares up at her, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she doubles down, her movements faster, rougher, as if to prove a point. The slick noises of her blowjob grow louder, lewd and shameless, and your legs tremble as she works you closer to the edge.

“Holy fuck,” you manage to gasp, your hand gripping her hair as she takes you all the way again, her lips flush against the base of your cock.

Belle claps mockingly from the chair. “Bravo! Give the girl a medal. Or maybe a towel. She’s making a mess.”

You glance down and see that she’s right—Julie’s chin is glistening with spit, and a thin line of drool drips from her mouth to the floor. She doesn’t care. If anything, she leans into it, her hands stroking you as she pulls back to catch her breath, a trail of saliva connecting her lips to your cock.

“God, you’re a mess,” you say, half-laughing, half-moan.

Julie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her grin wicked. “You fucking love it.”

And she’s not wrong.

Natty, watching from your side, lets out a low chuckle, her hands sliding down her own curves.

“You’re hogging all the fun,” Natty purrs, leaning forward, her full breasts pressing against your side. “Don’t you believe in sharing, Julie? It is Christmas.”

Julie raises an eyebrow, her tongue flicking out to lick a stray bead of spit from her lips. “Think you can keep up?”

Natty grins, already dropping to her knees beside Julie. “Try me.”

Your cock twitches at the sight of them kneeling together, their hair—a mix of raven-black and chestnut brown—falling around their faces like something out of a dirty dream. Natty’s hand joins Julie’s, her grip firm but teasing as she strokes you alongside her.

“Damn, you’re big,” Natty murmurs, her fingers wrapping around your shaft as she glances up at you. “Santa Claus really chose the right guy.”

Julie rolls her eyes but leans forward again, her lips brushing the tip of your cock as Natty keeps stroking. “Quit talking and get to work,” she mutters before taking you back into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.

Natty doesn’t miss a beat. She leans in from the side, her tongue darting out to lick along your shaft, tracing every vein with slow, deliberate strokes. Her lips are soft and warm as they move lower, trailing down to your balls, and you nearly lose your balance as her mouth closes around one, sucking gently.

“Holy shit,” you groan, your head falling back as they work in perfect sync.

Julie pulls off with a wet pop, her lips curling into a smirk. “He likes that. Don’t stop, Natty.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Natty replies, her voice muffled as she switches to your other ball, her tongue swirling in slow circles.

Julie takes you back into her mouth, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm that leaves you trembling. She takes you deeper this time, her throat tightening around your cock as she moves faster, her hand stroking what she can’t fit. Natty’s hands roam, one gripping your thigh while the other strokes the base of your shaft in time with Julie’s movements.

“You two are gonna kill me,” you manage to gasp, your hands tangling in their hair as pleasure courses through you.

Natty pulls back just enough to laugh, her lips shiny with spit. “Kill you? Baby, we’re just getting started.”

She leans up, her mouth joining Julie’s at the tip of your cock, their tongues meeting in a wet, messy kiss around you. The sight alone is almost enough to make you lose it—two gorgeous girls, their mouths working together, their spit mixing as they trade kisses and licks across your length.

“God, that’s hot,” Belle mutters from the armchair, her voice low and lazy. You glance over to see her lounging with one leg draped over the armrest. “I’d offer to join, but you two look like you’ve got it handled.”

Julie shoots her a glare without pulling her mouth away, her tongue swirling around your head before she pushes you deep again. Natty giggles, licking a long stripe up your shaft before wrapping her lips around the base, her hand stroking in tandem with Julie’s bobbing head.

The combination is overwhelming—Julie’s throat tightening around you, Natty’s tongue teasing every sensitive spot, their hands and mouths working together like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Your legs shake, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as they push you closer and closer to the edge.

You pull back, your cock slick with their spit, and both women look up at you in surprise, lips swollen, faces flushed.

“Stop,” you pant, your voice rough. “I need more. Julie—get on the bed.”

Julie’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Finally ready to stop playing around, huh?”

She stands gracefully, peeling off the scraps of her lingerie as she moves. Her body is toned and lithe, her skin gleaming in the soft glow of the Christmas lights outside, visible through the window. Her breasts are perky, her waist narrow, and when she turns to climb onto the bed, you can’t stop yourself from staring at her ass—big, perfectly round, the kind of ass that seems sculpted to be fucked.

Natty is already lying on her back, her legs spread wide, her glistening pussy on full display. She props herself up on her elbows, watching the two of you with a grin. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Don’t be shy, Julie. Show him how it’s done.”

Julie positions herself on all fours, her back arched and her cheeks raised in invitation. She glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes filled with challenge and anticipation. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

You don’t need to be told twice. Climbing onto the bed behind her, you grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft, supple skin. Her pussy is already dripping, her arousal glistening in the light, and you drag the head of your cock along her folds, teasing her.

“Come on, shove it in my pussy,” she snaps, her voice sharp but laced with need.

“Patience,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her lower back before pressing the tip of your cock against her entrance.

Julie growls softly, but her breath hitches as you push inside, the tight heat of her pussy clamping around you. She’s wet and snug, her walls pulsing as you slide deeper, and you have to grit your teeth to keep from losing it right there.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you groan, gripping her hips tighter as you bottom out, your cock buried to the hilt.

Julie’s head drops forward, her hands fisting in the sheets. “Mmm, yeah. Just like that. Don’t hold back.”

Natty’s laugh draws your attention, and you glance up to see her spreading herself wider, her fingers teasing her folds as she watches. “Don’t let her boss you around too much,” she teases. “She likes it rough. Don’t you, Julie?”

Julie doesn’t respond with words, just a guttural moan as you pull back and thrust into her again, harder this time. Her ass jiggles with the force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Natty coos, her voice thick with arousal. She moves closer, her legs spreading even wider. “C’mere, Julie. You’ve got work to do.”

Julie doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward until her mouth is hovering over Natty’s dripping pussy. Her tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive flesh, and Natty gasps, her hips bucking up toward Julie’s mouth.

“God, that’s good,” Natty moans, her fingers tangling in Julie’s hair.

The sight of Julie buried between Natty’s thighs, her ass raised high and rocking back against you, is enough to drive you insane. You grip her hips harder, your thrusts growing faster and rougher, each one making her moan louder into Natty’s pussy.

“Fuck, Julie,” you growl, your voice ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”

She hums in response, the vibrations making Natty cry out, her legs trembling as she grinds against Julie’s face.

“Don’t stop,” Natty gasps, her eyes fluttering shut. “God, you’re both so good.”

Julie’s moans are muffled by Natty’s pussy, but the way she clenches around your cock with every thrust tells you she’s just as lost in the moment as you are. You lean over her, one hand sliding up her back, your fingers tangling in her hair as you fuck her harder, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the air.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, your chest heaving.

Belle’s voice cuts through the haze from her perch in the corner. “I mean, if you two could make it any louder, that’d be great. I don’t think the neighbors heard you yet.”

“Shut up, Belle,” Julie snarls, her voice muffled by Natty’s folds.

Natty lets out a breathless laugh, her head falling back as she grinds against Julie’s tongue. “She’s got a point. You two are animals.”

You ignore them, too focused on the way Julie’s pussy grips you, the way her ass bounces with every thrust, the way Natty’s moans grow louder as Julie devours her. It’s raw, messy, and perfect, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out.

You’re buried deep inside Julie, her tight, wet pussy squeezing you like a vice with every thrust. Her big ass bounces against your hips, and you can’t help the low growl that escapes your throat. She’s good—too good—but there’s something you can’t shake, something you need to see.

Leaning over her, your voice comes out rough, ragged. “Julie… twerk on my cock.”

Julie freezes for half a second, her breath hitching. Then, to your surprise, Natty bursts out laughing from her spot beside you, where she’s still sprawled on the bed, her fingers teasing her swollen clit.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Natty purrs, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Twerking’s her specialty. Go on, Julie. Show him what you’ve got.”

Julie glances back over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement. “You think you can handle it?” she asks, her voice low and teasing.

“Try me,” you growl, your hands gripping her hips tighter.

She smirks, planting her palms firmly on the bed as she starts to move. Her hips roll first, slow and deliberate, before she begins to bounce, her ass clapping softly against your thighs. The sensation is unreal—her tight heat milking your cock as her ass jiggles in perfect rhythm, the wet sound of your connection filling the room.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter, your hands sliding down to grip her cheeks, spreading them wide as she works.

Natty props herself up on one elbow, watching with a wicked grin. “Told you. She’s got moves.”

Julie arches her back, her movements growing faster, more intense. She pushes back hard with every bounce, driving your cock deeper inside her, and the sight of her round, flawless ass slamming against you is enough to make your head spin.

“Like that?” she asks breathlessly, glancing back at you.

“Fuck yes,” you groan, raising one hand and bringing it down on her cheek with a sharp smack.

Julie moans, her hips jerking forward slightly before she slams back again, grinding herself against you. “Harder,” she demands, her voice dripping with lust.

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hand comes down again, the slap echoing in the room, leaving a red imprint on her smooth skin. She gasps, pushing back harder, her pussy clenching around you.

“Jesus, Julie,” you growl, your nails digging into her flesh. “You’re gonna kill me.”

From the corner, Belle snickers, her voice lazy but amused. “Yeah, Julie. Work that dick. Milk him dry.”

Julie smirks, but her focus doesn’t waver. Her ass bounces faster, harder, the rhythm hypnotic, and you feel your control slipping as the pleasure builds in your gut, hot and insistent.

“Keep going,” you urge, your voice rough. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. If anything, she doubles down, her movements wild and relentless as she twerks on your cock, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce. Your breaths come faster, your grip on her hips growing almost desperate as the pressure inside you reaches its breaking point.

“Gonna cum,” you gasp, your thrusts growing erratic as you match her pace.

“Do it,” Belle encourages, her tone teasing but firm. “Fill her up. That’s what she’s here for.”

Natty grins, her voice a purr. ��Yeah, Julie wants it. Don’t you, baby?”

Julie moans in response, her movements frantic now, her pussy milking you with every thrust. “Fuck, yes,” she gasps. “Cum in me. Fill me up.”

Her words are your undoing. With one final thrust, you bury yourself as deep as you can go, your cock pulsing as you release inside her. The heat of your cum floods her, and she cries out, her body trembling as her own climax ripples through her.

You stay there for a moment, your bodies locked together, both of you panting and shaking.

Julie collapses forward, her body trembling, chest heaving against the sheets. You slowly pull out, and the sight stops you in your tracks. Your cock slides free with a slick, wet sound, and thick ropes of your cum immediately start dripping from her swollen, glistening pussy, running down her thighs in sticky trails.

She groans softly, her legs shaking as she shifts to the side, collapsing onto her back. “Holy shit,” she mutters, tossing a glance at Natty. “You’re gonna love this.”

Natty grins, already on her knees beside you, her hands sliding over your chest. “Oh, I know I will.” She nudges Julie with her hip, her voice teasing. “Move over, Julie. My turn.”

Julie chuckles breathlessly but obliges, rolling to the side to give Natty space. Natty wastes no time, her hand already wrapping around your cock, stroking it slowly. You twitch in her grip, still sensitive from your release, but she doesn’t let up, her fingers firm and deliberate.

“You’re not done yet, big guy,” she murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your chest. “We’ve still got work to do.”

Belle snorts from her spot in the chair. “Poor guy looks like he’s already dead. You sure he can keep up?”

“Oh, he can keep up,” Natty replies, her voice full of confidence. She moves lower, her lips trailing hot, wet kisses across your skin, her hand never stopping its slow, steady strokes.

Julie props herself up on one elbow, her gaze fixed on you with a satisfied smirk. “If he can’t, we’ll make him.”

Natty chuckles, her tongue flicking out to tease one of your nipples. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and she grins against your skin. “See? He’s already waking up.”

Her other hand joins in, her nails lightly scraping down your stomach, and your cock twitches again, starting to harden in her grip. She hums in approval, her lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking gently as her hand works you. Slowly you lie down on the bed, pulling Natty with you. The new position allows you to enjoy the best of her touch comfortably.

Julie leans in from the side, her lips finding your neck. “Yeah, relax,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin. “Let us take care of you.”

You exhale shakily, your hands resting on their hips as they move together, their lips and hands exploring every inch of you. Julie’s tongue traces the curve of your jaw, while Natty’s mouth moves lower, her kisses trailing down your chest to your stomach.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your head falling back against the pillow.

Natty glances up at you, her grin wicked. “That’s it. Just let go.”

Her strokes grow firmer, her grip tightening around your cock as it hardens fully again, and she laughs softly. “There we go. Good boy.”

Julie smirks, her lips brushing against your ear. “Told you he’d be ready in no time.”

Natty’s hand slows, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head of your cock, smearing the bead of precum that’s already forming. “He’s perfect,” she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Belle sighs dramatically from the chair. “All right, Natty, quit hogging him. Let’s see you put that cock to good use.”

Natty laughs, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Patience, Belle. You’ll get your turn. For now…” She straddles your hips, her wet pussy hovering just above your cock. “It’s my turn.”

You grip her hips instinctively, your body already craving her. “Bring it on,” you mutter, your voice rough with desire.

Natty grins, her hands resting on your chest as she positions herself, her eyes locked on yours. “Oh, I will,” she promises, her voice low and teasing. “You’d better keep up.”

She grips your cock, guiding it to her slick, swollen entrance, her wetness coating the head as she teases you with slow, deliberate movements. You groan, your hands tightening on her hips as the head of your cock pushes into her heat, her pussy stretching to take you inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your head falling back against the pillow. “You feel… so fucking good.”

She lets out a low, satisfied moan as she sinks all the way down, her thick, curvy body pressing against you. Her pussy grips you like a glove, tight and wet, and you can feel every pulse, every clench as she adjusts to your size. Her breasts bounce slightly with the movement, full and heavy, her nipples stiff and begging to be touched.

Your hands slide up her waist to cup them, marveling at their softness, and she grins down at you, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Like what you see, huh?”

“You’re perfect,” you rasp, your thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. “Thick, juicy… fuck, Natty, you’re incredible.”

She laughs, low and teasing, her hips starting to roll in slow, deliberate movements. “Careful, big guy. You keep talking like that, and I might actually start thinking you’d make a good husband.”

You chuckle breathlessly, gripping her hips as she rides you, her movements smooth and sensual. “Might not be wrong.”

Natty grins, leaning forward slightly, her breasts brushing against your chest as she moves. Her pussy slides up and down your cock with maddening precision, her pace slow enough to drive you crazy, but steady enough to keep you on the edge.

Your cock, still half-numb from your release with Julie, feels like it’s waking up all over again, the pleasure building slowly but intensely. The way her body moves, her hips rolling, her ass bouncing slightly with every thrust—it’s hypnotic, and you can’t look away.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmur, your hands trailing up her sides to cup her breasts again, squeezing gently.

Natty moans softly, her pace quickening just slightly. “Mmm, keep talking, sweetheart. I like to hear how much you adore me.”

The sight of her, riding you like she’s in control of the entire world, is almost too much to handle. Her thick thighs frame your hips, her juicy breasts sway with every movement, and her dark hair falls around her face in messy waves.

You glance to the side, catching Julie watching intently, her lips parted as she takes in the scene. “Julie,” you call out, your voice rough. “Kiss her.”

Julie’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate. She moves closer, kneeling on the bed beside you. Natty’s eyes flick to her, and a slow, wicked smile spreads across her lips.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Julie murmurs before leaning in.

Their lips meet in a soft, teasing kiss at first, their mouths moving slowly, testing, teasing. Then it deepens, their tongues tangling, and the sight makes your cock twitch inside Natty.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands tightening on her hips as she continues to ride you.

Natty moans into the kiss, her movements growing faster, her pussy squeezing you tighter. Julie’s hands slide up to cup Natty’s face, holding her close as their kiss becomes wetter, messier, their moans mingling in the air.

Your eyes flick to the corner of the room, and your breath catches at the sight of Belle. She’s leaning back in the chair, her dress hiked up around her hips, one hand pressed against her panties. Her fingers move in slow, lazy circles, teasing herself as she watches the three of you.

Her eyes meet yours, and she grins, her cheeks flushed. “Don’t mind me,” she says, her voice low and breathy. “Just enjoying the show.”

The combination of Natty’s bouncing ass, her tight, wet pussy gripping you, the sight of her and Julie kissing hungrily, and Belle touching herself in the corner—it’s overwhelming. The pleasure builds rapidly, every nerve in your body on fire as Natty’s hips grind against you, her pussy gripping your cock with that maddening rhythm that has you teetering on the edge. Her thick, curvy body moving with an expertise that makes it impossible to think straight.

But as much as you love the sight of her riding you like this, there’s one thing you need even more.

“Turn around,” you growl, your hands sliding down to her thighs. “I want to see that fat ass while you ride me.”

Natty’s grin widens, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, you like my ass, huh?”

“Love it,” you reply, your voice thick with need. “Now, turn around and show me.”

Natty bites her lip, sliding off you slowly, your cock glistening with her wetness as it slips free. She swings her leg over, turning around to face away from you. And when she lowers herself back down, guiding you into her dripping pussy, the sight is absolutely fucking perfect.

Natty's ass is a fucking spectacle, a fucking masterpiece that deserves to be worshipped. It's not just round and thick; it's fucking voluptuous, a perfect peach that jiggles and bounces with every damn movement. As she sinks down onto your cock, you can see her cheeks spreading, swallowing your shaft like it's fucking hungry for it. She glances back over her shoulder, her hair falling in messy waves around her flushed face.

“Better?” she asks, her voice teasing, as she starts to move her hips in slow, grinding circles.

“Fuck yes,” you groan, your hands gripping her waist. “You’re fucking perfect, Natty.”

Natty laughs softly, her hips lifting and dropping in a slow, torturous rhythm that leaves you panting. Her pussy grips you like a vise, the wet sounds of her movements filling the room as she bounces on your cock.

“Look at you,” she purrs, glancing back again. “Losing your mind over my ass, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your fingers digging into her hips. “Look at the way it fucking moves.”

She smirks, her pace quickening, her ass clapping against your thighs with every bounce. “Yeah? You like that? You like watching my fat ass swallow your cock?”

“Fucking love it,” you groan, your hips bucking up to meet her movements.

Julie moves in closer, leaning over your chest. Her lips find your neck first, soft and teasing, before trailing down to your chest. “Don’t forget about me,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry.

Her tongue flicks over your nipple, and you shudder, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your already overworked body. She grins against your skin, sucking gently before moving to the other side, her fingers tracing light patterns over your abs.

“You’re lucky we’re letting you take your time,” she teases, her lips brushing against your ear. “Natty could’ve made you cum five minutes ago if she really wanted to.”

Natty laughs, throwing her head back as she rides you harder, her movements wild and relentless now. “He’s just trying to keep up, Julie. Don’t be too hard on him.”

You growl, your grip on Natty’s hips tightening as you thrust up into her, meeting her movements with desperate intensity. The sight of her ass bouncing against you, the wet sounds of her pussy taking you so deep, Julie’s lips on your chest—it’s all too much, but you don’t want it to end.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you groan, your voice ragged. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

“Good,” Natty shoots back, her voice breathless. “That’s the idea.”

Julie laughs softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “She’s got you right where she wants you.”

Belle’s voice cuts through the haze from her spot in the armchair, the voice low and soft, almost a moan, the fingers rubbing in a steady rhythm under her panties. “Pretty sure she’s got all of us right where she wants us. Keep going, Nat. You’re killing it.”

Natty’s pace doesn’t falter, her ass slamming down on your cock with every thrust, her pussy clenching around you like she’s determined to drain you dry. The pleasure is overwhelming, building in waves that threaten to pull you under, but you hold on, desperate to make this last as long as possible.

“Come on,” Natty urges, glancing back at you again. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy. Fucking give it to me.”

Natty’s pace is relentless, her thick ass bouncing against your thighs with obscene, wet smacks as her pussy milks you. The sight of her in reverse cowgirl, riding your cock like she’s possessed, makes your chest tighten and your breath come in ragged gasps. Every bounce sends another jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, the heat in your gut coiling tighter, threatening to snap.

Julie is right on top of you, her lips on your neck, her tongue dragging along the sensitive skin as her fingers pinch and tease your nipples. Each twist and flick sends electric shocks through your body, making your cock twitch inside Natty’s impossibly tight, soaking pussy.

Natty throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back as she grinds her hips in circles, her ass slamming against you with each motion. “Come on,” she growls, glancing over her shoulder at you, her eyes wild with lust. “Pump your cum inside this elf whore's pussy. Fucking fill me up.”

You grip her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft, luscious flesh as you thrust up into her, meeting her every movement. The way her pussy grips you, squeezing and pulling like it’s desperate for your cum, drives you to the edge.

“You want me to fill you?” you growl, your voice thick and rough.

“Fuck yes,” Natty moans, slamming herself down on your cock with even more force. “I want all of it. Every fucking drop. Fill me so full I’ll feel it for days.”

Her words send a shiver through you, and you grip her even tighter, pulling her down hard onto your cock. “Say it,” you demand, your voice harsh. “Tell me you want me to breed you.”

Natty moans louder, her head falling forward as she picks up the pace, her hips moving with a wild urgency. “I want it,” she cries out, her voice high and desperate. “Fuck, I want it so bad. Breed me, baby. Please! Fill me with your fucking cum! Make me yours.”

Julie bites your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as her fingers tease your nipples harder. “Listen to her,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with lust. “She’s fucking crazy for you.”

Belle’s laugh echoes from the corner, her voice breathy. “You better not disappoint her, big guy. She’s counting on you.”

Natty’s movements become frantic, her pussy gripping you like a vise as she slams herself down on your cock over and over again. “Come on,” she begs, her voice cracking with need. “I need it. I need you to fucking cum inside me. Fill me up. Breed me like a fucking slut.”

You’re shaking now, your entire body taut as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. “Fuck, Natty,” you groan, your hips jerking uncontrollably. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes!” Natty screams, her hands gripping her thighs as she rides you harder, her movements wild and uncoordinated. “Do it! Cum in me! Breed me, you fucking stud!”

The words tip you over the edge, and with a guttural moan, you thrust up into her one final time, burying yourself as deep as you can go. Your cock pulses, your seed spilling into her in hot, thick waves, and Natty loses it.

Her entire body shakes as she cums, her pussy clamping down on your cock, milking you for every last drop. “Fuck, yes!” she screams, her head thrown back, her hands clutching at her bouncing breasts as her orgasm rips through her.

Julie watches with wide eyes, her lips parted in awe, while Belle groans softly, her hand moving faster under her panties. “Goddamn,” Belle mutters. “That’s fucking hot.”

Natty doesn’t stop. Even as you cum inside her, she keeps riding you, her hips slamming down with an almost violent force, drawing out every ounce of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Take it,” you groan, your voice raw. “Take every fucking drop.”

“Fuck, yes,” Natty moans, her body trembling as her pussy clenches around you, her own release leaving her dripping all over your cock. “I can feel it. So deep. Mmm, so fucking good.”

Finally, she collapses forward onto the bed, her body trembling, your cum leaking from her stuffed pussy as she pants heavily, her face flushed and satisfied. Julie grins, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“You’re a fucking machine,” she whispers against your lips.

Belle laughs, her voice hoarse. “Machine? More like a damn Christmas miracle.”

—

The room smells like sex and sweat, heavy and warm, and you’re sprawled across the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Natty and Julie are curled up on either side of you, their naked bodies pressed against yours like they’ve been there forever. Natty’s thick curves fit snugly against your side, her head resting on your shoulder, while Julie’s toned frame stretches lazily, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your chest.

In the corner, Belle is by the mirror, her dress half off as she scrubs at her skin with a damp washcloth, muttering under her breath about soot and chimneys.

“Should’ve come through the damn door,” she grumbles, glaring at the streaks of black still clinging to her thighs.

“You think?” Julie calls over, her tone dry.

Belle shoots her a look through the mirror but doesn’t respond, focusing instead on her task.

You exhale, finally finding your voice. “Okay, I gotta ask. What’s life like for you guys? The whole elf thing. Is it like a Christmas movie, or is that just marketing bullshit?”

Natty snorts, her fingers trailing lazily down your stomach. “Marketing bullshit. Total propaganda. Santa’s a businessman; he’s gotta sell the magic.”

Julie props herself up on one elbow, smirking. “Don’t get us wrong, it’s not all bad. But it’s not sugar plums and caroling 24/7, either.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glancing between them. “So, what’s it actually like?”

Natty hums thoughtfully, her thumb brushing over your skin. “Busy as hell, for starters. Prep for Christmas is a year-round thing. You think it's just one day, but getting all those gifts ready for billions of kids? It's insane. And the logistics? Nightmare. Planning routes, checking lists twice, dealing with weather issues, and making sure every kid gets exactly what they want. It’s a year-round hustle.”

Julie nods. “We’ve got divisions for everything: toys, logistics, reindeer care, candy production… Don’t even get me started on the gingerbread sector. Those guys are intense.”

Natty chuckles, nudging you with her hip. “And you know that shit about elves being tiny? Total lie. We’re all like this—” she gestures to her body, curves and all, “—which makes squeezing into some of those old workshops a pain in the ass.”

Belle pipes up from the mirror, still scrubbing at a stubborn patch of ash on her shoulder. “And don’t forget the quotas. Everything’s gotta be done yesterday. Santa’s nice and all, but he’s also a hardass when it comes to deadlines.”

You blink, trying to picture Santa as a stern boss, pacing around with a clipboard and barking orders. “So, he’s not the jolly guy in the red suit?”

Julie laughs. “Oh, he is. But don’t let the ‘ho-ho-ho’ fool you. He runs a tight ship. You miss a deadline, and you’re stuck in snow-shoveling duty for a week.”

“Snow-shoveling duty?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

Natty groans dramatically. “The worst. Endless piles of snow, freezing your ass off while the rest of the team’s inside drinking hot cocoa. It’s brutal.”

Belle, finally satisfied with her cleanup, turns from the mirror, her dress hanging off her shoulders as she walks over to the bed. “And don’t even get me started on reindeer maintenance,” she says, flopping into the armchair nearby. “Those things are divas. You’d think they’d be grateful for the magical oats, but no—Prancer once kicked me because the oats weren’t warm enough.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” you say, grinning.

“It’s not all bad,” Natty says, shrugging. “We’ve got a pretty tight-knit community. Lots of parties, good food, and the sex—” she winks at you, “—is legendary.”

Julie smirks. “And it’s not like we don’t have perks. Free housing, endless candy canes, and when Santa’s in a good mood, he throws these massive celebrations. Think Mardi Gras, but with more glitter.”

Belle laughs. “And more eggnog. So much eggnog.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “I had no idea the North Pole was this wild. I always pictured it… cleaner. Quieter.”

Natty leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. “Stick around, and maybe we’ll take you there sometime. Show you the real magic.”

Julie hums, her fingers sliding lower on your chest. “But for now, you’re stuck with us. And I’m not hearing any complaints.”

Belle smirks, settling into her chair and crossing her legs. “Not a bad deal, huh?”

You glance around the room—Natty’s warm body pressed against you, Julie’s teasing fingers, Belle’s playful grin—and you can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

The warmth of Julie and Natty pressed against you, their soft bodies against your sides, has you stirring again. It doesn’t take much; their scent, their touch, the memory of the last couple of minutes—it all combines into a haze of arousal that has your cock stiffening between your legs. You glance down, half-laughing at yourself, already semi-hard just from lying there with them.

Natty notices first, her hand brushing lightly over your stomach before trailing lower. She grins when she feels the slight twitch of your cock. “Look who’s ready for round three,” she teases, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

Julie hums, her fingers joining Natty’s, stroking your chest lightly. “And here I thought we wore him out.”

You chuckle, your breath catching slightly as they touch you. “I guess you underestimated me.”

But your attention shifts to Belle, still perched on the armchair. She’s been quiet, watching, her cheeks flushed pink. “Belle,” you say softly, holding out a hand. “Come here.”

Belle hesitates, glancing between you and the other two before standing. As she approaches, the soft light of the room finally reveals her fully; she’s petite, with small, perky breasts that barely contain their youthful firmness. Her tummy looks soft to the touch, with a gentle curve that accentuates her femininity. It's not flat or toned but deliciously smooth, and only adds to her overall cuteness, making her appear even more delicate and enticing. Her tight, rounded ass complements her figure perfectly, making your cock twitch with anticipation.

She notices you staring and crosses her arms, pretending to be annoyed. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, smiling. “You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flush, and she huffs, climbing onto the bed awkwardly. Julie and Natty make room for her, shifting to the sides, and she kneels between them, looking almost shy.

“I’m not as… experienced as them,” Belle says, her voice quieter than usual.

Natty snickers, leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, no shit. That’s why you stayed in the armchair watching, isn’t it? You were scared.”

“I was not scared!” Belle snaps, glaring at her.

“Sure,” Natty says with a wink.

You reach up, cupping Belle’s cheek gently, and her glare softens as her eyes meet yours. “Hey,” you murmur. “You’re perfect. No need to be shy.”

Her lips part slightly, and you lean in, brushing a soft kiss against her mouth. She gasps softly, her body relaxing as she melts into you, her hands resting on your chest as the kiss deepens.

Natty chuckles behind her, and a second later, her hands slide around Belle’s sides, cupping her small breasts. Belle pulls back from the kiss, gasping as Natty’s fingers pinch and tease her nipples. “See?” Natty says with a grin. “I’ll help you out.”

Julie moves closer, her lips brushing against your neck before trailing down to your chest, her fingers dancing over your abs. “Don’t forget about us,” she murmurs, her tongue flicking over one of your nipples, making you shudder.

You look at the three of them—Belle’s small, trembling frame, Natty’s mischievous grin as she teases Belle’s breasts, Julie’s soft lips trailing down your body—and you can’t help but speak. “You’re all incredible,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration. “The most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”

Julie hums against your chest, her lips curving into a smile. “We’d better be. We’re yours now, after all.”

Natty nods, her hands still on Belle’s breasts. “Once we’re all pregnant, you’re stuck with us. Forever.”

You chuckle softly, your hand sliding between Belle’s thighs, cupping her wet heat. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you murmur, your fingers sliding against her slick folds. “Three perfect girls all to myself? I’ve won the fucking lottery.”

Belle moans softly, her hips jerking against your hand. “You better take good care of us,” she says, her voice breathless.

“I will,” you promise, your fingers brushing against her clit, making her gasp. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.”

Natty grins, her hands sliding down Belle’s sides. “We’ll hold you to that.”

You shift, lying flat on the bed, your hands on Belle’s hips. “Come here,” you say, your voice rough with need. “I want to taste you.”

Belle hesitates for only a moment before nodding, her cheeks still flushed as she straddles your face. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of your head, and she lowers herself slowly, her pink, glistening pussy hovering just above your lips.

You grip her hips, pulling her down, and she gasps as your tongue slides against her folds. She’s sweet and soft, her taste driving you wild as you lick and suck, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” Belle moans, her hands gripping the headboard as her hips start to rock against your face.

Julie wastes no time, sliding down the bed to take your cock in her hand. She strokes you slowly at first, her eyes glinting with anticipation, before leaning in to wrap her lips around the head, sucking gently.

Natty grins, positioning herself behind Julie. “Let me help,” she says, her hands spreading Julie’s thighs as her tongue dips between them, licking along Julie’s folds.

The sensation of Belle grinding on your face, Julie’s warm mouth on your cock, and the sound of Natty’s tongue working between Julie’s legs is almost overwhelming. You groan into Belle’s pussy, your hands tightening on her hips as you pull her closer, devouring her like you can’t get enough.

Belle’s moans grow louder, her body trembling above you. “Oh, God,” she gasps, her hips moving faster. “You’re so… fucking good at this.”

Julie hums around your cock, her tongue swirling around the head as she takes you deeper. Natty’s muffled moans from behind her only add to the intensity, and you can feel yourself growing harder with every passing second.

Belle’s soft thighs frame your face as she rides your tongue, her sweet, pink pussy dripping with arousal as you devour her. Your hands grip her hips, guiding her movements as you flick your tongue over her clit, sucking it gently before dipping back into her folds. Every little gasp and moan she makes sends a jolt of satisfaction through you, urging you to go harder, deeper.

Above you, Belle’s voice trembles. “Oh, fuck… Oh, God, yes… That’s so fucking good.” Her fingers grip the headboard, her hips moving erratically as she chases her pleasure. “I can’t—oh, my fucking God—”

Meanwhile, Julie has taken your cock in her mouth, her lips stretched around your length as she works you with a fervor that leaves you trembling. She alternates between slow, deliberate bobs and deep, greedy sucks that have your cock twitching in her throat. Her tongue swirls around the head each time she pulls back, lapping at the precum that beads there before taking you deep again, her nose brushing against your pelvis.

Julie moans softly around your cock, her throat vibrating against you as she feels Natty’s hands spreading her ass cheeks from behind. “Natty—what are you—”

Her words cut off into a sharp cry as Natty’s tongue presses against her asshole, teasing the tight ring of muscle with slow, wet strokes. Julie’s body jerks, and her hips push back involuntarily as Natty’s tongue slips inside, swirling and licking with expert precision.

“Fuck,” Julie gasps, pulling off your cock long enough to catch her breath. Her hand strokes you in quick, firm movements as she groans, her voice trembling. “Natty, you’re such a—oh, fuck—such a filthy bitch.”

Natty grins against her, her tongue plunging deeper as her hands knead Julie’s ass. “Damn right,” she murmurs, her voice muffled. “Now keep sucking him, Julie. I’m just getting started back here.”

Julie shivers but obeys, taking your cock back into her mouth with a loud, wet slurp. She’s even more eager now, her lips moving faster, her hand stroking the base in time with her bobs. The combined sensations of her warm, slick mouth and Belle’s pussy grinding on your tongue make your head spin, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure.

Belle’s voice grows higher, more desperate, as her movements become frantic. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”

You grip her hips tighter, pulling her down hard against your mouth as your tongue flicks over her clit again and again. Her thighs tremble around your head, and she cries out, her body shaking as her orgasm crashes over her.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Belle screams, her hips grinding against your face as you lick her through her climax, her juices dripping down your chin.

Julie moans around your cock, her mouth moving faster as Natty’s tongue works deeper into her ass, licking and teasing with an intensity that leaves her trembling. She pulls back with a gasp, her hand still stroking you as she throws her head back, her voice breaking. “Fuck, Natty, you’re gonna make me cum!”

Natty chuckles, her hands gripping Julie’s hips as her tongue plunges even deeper, her wet, messy sounds mingling with the obscene noises of Julie’s blowjob. “Do it,” Natty growls. “Cum for us, Julie. Let him hear how good it feels.”

Julie’s moans grow louder, her hand tightening around your cock as she strokes you harder, her other hand gripping the sheets. Her body shakes, her voice rising into a scream as her orgasm hits, her thighs clenching around Natty’s face.

“Fuck!” Julie cries, her body jerking as she cums, her hand squeezing your cock as she moans uncontrollably.

Belle slowly climbs off you, her thighs trembling slightly as she kneels beside you on the bed, her flushed face framed by messy blonde hair. She’s still catching her breath, her lips parted, her chest heaving, but the smile she gives you is soft, almost shy.

“You’re fucking amazing,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No wonder they can’t get enough of you.”

You grin, still tasting her juices on your lips. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, and her eyes dart down to your cock—still rock-hard and glistening with Julie’s spit. She bites her lip, her gaze darkening with anticipation.

“You ready for more?” you ask, sitting up slightly.

Belle nods quickly. “Yeah.”

You guide her onto her back, spreading her legs gently as she lies beneath you. Her small, cute frame is stretched out on the bed, her soft tummy rising and falling with her breaths, her wet, pink pussy practically begging for you. You position yourself between her thighs, the head of your cock brushing against her entrance.

Julie leans back on the bed beside you, her lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Better not scare her off, big guy. She’s still new to all this.”

Belle glares at her but doesn’t respond, her attention fixed entirely on you as you lean over her. Your hands rest on her hips, your cock pressing more firmly against her slick folds, and she shivers.

But before you can push inside, Natty’s voice cuts through the moment. “Wait!”

You both glance up to see her hopping off the bed, her naked body moving with purpose as she heads toward the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Julie calls after her, annoyed.

Natty doesn’t stop, her voice trailing back. “I saw something in the kitchen. Be right back!”

The three of you exchange confused looks, but you shrug, your attention shifting back to Belle. “Don’t worry about her,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her softly.

Belle sighs into the kiss, her hands sliding up to rest on your shoulders as you position yourself again. But just as you’re about to push inside, Natty bursts back into the room, climbing onto the bed with something in her hand.

“I’m back!” she announces triumphantly, holding up a candy cane like it’s a trophy.

Julie’s eyes narrow, immediately suspicious. “What the fuck are you doing with that?”

Natty grins wickedly, crawling onto the bed and motioning for Julie to lie down. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Julie raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back and spreading her legs slightly. “You’re such a dirty whore,” she mutters, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.

Natty winks. “Takes one to know one.”

She leans down, her tongue flicking out to wet the candy cane before sliding it into her mouth, sucking it slowly. The sight is obscene—her lips wrapped around the striped treat, her tongue swirling over it like she’s giving it the blowjob of its life. When she pulls it out, it’s glistening, coated in her spit.

Belle watches the scene with wide eyes, her breath hitching. “Holy shit,” she whispers, her hands clutching the sheets.

Natty moves between Julie’s legs, guiding the candy cane to her ass. She circles the tight ring of muscle slowly, teasing it, and Julie’s body tenses.

“Relax,” Natty purrs, her other hand stroking Julie’s thigh. “You’re gonna love this.”

Julie groans, her head falling back. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”

“Shut up and enjoy it,” Natty replies, pushing the candy cane in slowly.

Julie gasps as it slides inside, her body arching slightly. “Fuck,” she moans, her hands gripping the sheets.

The sight is enough to drive Belle over the edge. She looks up at you, her eyes blazing with need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I can’t wait anymore. Fuck me.”

You’re no different. Watching Natty work the candy cane into Julie’s ass, hearing Julie’s breathless moans, and seeing Belle’s flushed, needy face beneath you—it’s all too much. You position yourself again, gripping Belle’s hips as you push the head of your cock into her wet, tight pussy.

Belle gasps, her nails digging into your arms as you slide deeper, her walls clenching around you. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, her head falling back. “Oh—god—you’re so big.”

“Fuck, you’re tight,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you bottom out, buried to the hilt.

Natty glances up from Julie, a wicked grin on her face. “Looks like someone’s having fun.”

Julie moans louder as Natty twists the candy cane slightly, her hips bucking. “Shut up, Natty,” she gasps. “Keep going.”

You focus on Belle, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, her tight heat wrapping around you perfectly. Her pussy is tight and wet, gripping your cock with every thrust as you pick up speed, your hips slamming into her with increasing intensity. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, her heels digging into your back as if she’s trying to keep you buried as deep as possible.

“Deeper,” she gasps, her voice trembling, raw with need. “Please, fuck me deeper.”

You oblige, driving into her harder, your cock stretching her, filling her completely. Her small body trembles beneath you, her nails clawing at your back as her head tilts back, exposing her neck. You lean forward, your lips brushing against her slick, salty skin, your teeth grazing lightly as you kiss her, your breaths hot and uneven.

“Fuck, Belle,” you murmur against her neck, your voice rough. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moans, her hands clutching at you, holding you close as your bodies press together, sweat and heat mingling as you fuck her. “I can’t… Oh, god… You’re so deep,” she cries, her voice high and desperate.

By your side, Julie’s moans mix with Belle’s as Natty continues to work the candy cane into her ass. Julie’s legs are spread wide, her fingers rubbing her clit in frantic circles as she rocks her hips against the sensation, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

“Fuck, this is so dirty,” Julie groans, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips roll against Natty’s hand. “I’ve never… Fuck… No one’s ever done this to me before.”

Natty smirks, twisting the candy cane slightly, earning a loud, shaky moan from Julie. “No one’s ever fucked you like this because no one’s as filthy as us,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement.

Julie lets out a breathless laugh, her fingers moving faster on her clit. “Fuck, you’re right… It’s so fucking good.”

Belle’s voice pulls your attention back to her, her legs tightening around you as you thrust into her, your cock pounding her sweet, slick pussy. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Please don’t stop.”

You press your forehead against hers, your bodies glued together as you move, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Her small frame seems to mold against you, her soft tummy pressing into your abs, her breasts brushing against your chest with every movement.

“I won’t stop,” you promise, your voice rough, almost a growl. “You feel too fucking good.”

Belle’s moans are raw, unfiltered, her arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders as she buries her face in your neck. “Oh, god,” she cries. “I can feel you everywhere. You’re so fucking deep.”

Julie watches you both, her lips parted, her hand pausing briefly as she takes in the scene. “Fuck,” she mutters, her voice husky. “Look at you two. That’s so fucking hot.”

Natty chuckles, leaning closer to Julie, her hand still working the candy cane in and out of her ass. “You think that’s hot? Look at her face. She’s fucking gone.”

Julie laughs breathlessly, her fingers resuming their rhythm on her clit. “Belle, you look like he’s fucking you into another dimension.”

Belle doesn’t respond with words, only a loud, trembling moan as she clutches you tighter, her pussy clenching around your cock like it never wants to let you go.

The intensity builds with every thrust, every moan, every word. You’re driving into Belle with a passion that feels primal, raw, unstoppable, and she takes it all, her body arching, trembling, meeting your movements with frantic need.

“You’re perfect,” you murmur against her skin, your lips finding her neck again. “So fucking perfect.”

Belle’s only response is a choked, desperate cry, her nails digging into your back as she rides the overwhelming sensations.

Julie moans louder behind you, her voice thick with pleasure. “Keep going, big guy,” she urges, her breath hitching. “Fucking destroy her. She’s loving it.”

Natty laughs, her fingers teasing Julie’s clit now as she continues working the candy cane in and out of her ass. “We’re all loving it,” she says, her voice low and sultry.

The heat in the room is almost suffocating, bodies glistening with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and arousal. Belle’s moans grow louder, her body trembling against you as her nails rake your back, her pussy tightening around your cock with every thrust. You know you’re close, dangerously close, but you’re not done with her yet.

With a groan, you slide your hands under Belle’s ass and lift her, your cock slipping free for a moment as you shift positions. “Come here,” you murmur, your voice rough and commanding.

Her wide eyes meet yours, her cheeks flushed, and she lets out a shaky gasp as you pull her up into a kneeling position, your bodies pressed together as you sit back on your heels. She straddles you instinctively, her legs wrapping around your waist as you guide her down onto your cock again, the head slipping inside her slick, tight pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” Belle cries, her arms wrapping around your neck as she sinks down completely, your cock filling her to the hilt.

You groan, your hands gripping her hips as you press your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling. The intimacy of the position is electric—her small, soft body pressed against yours, her flushed skin against your chest, her pussy gripping you like it was made for you.

“Fuck, Belle,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. “You feel so fucking good.”

Her voice trembles, her fingers digging into your shoulders. “You’re so deep,” she moans, her hips rocking against you. “I can feel you in my stomach.”

Natty shifts, the air thick with the sound of her own ragged breathing as she pulls the candy cane free from Julie’s slick, stretched ass. Without pause, she rolls to her side, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire as she closes the distance between them. Her thigh slides over Julie’s, skin sticky with the mingling heat of their bodies. Her hips press forward until her wet, swollen pussy meets Julie's in a sticky, urgent clash. The friction sparks a shudder through both of them as she adjusts, their thighs tangling, bodies grinding.

"Alright, give me that sweet pussy, baby.” The sight alone makes your cock twitch inside Belle, and you can’t help but groan.

“Fuck,” Julie mutters, her voice thick with arousal as Natty’s movements create delicious friction. “You really are a dirty whore, Natty.”

Natty grins, her hands gripping Julie’s thighs as she grinds against her, their slick folds sliding together with obscene wet sounds. “Oh, are you surprised, baby?” she purrs, her voice low and teasing.

Belle gasps, her hips moving faster as she rides you, her small body trembling in your arms. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice desperate. “Please, don’t stop.”

You grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements as you thrust up into her, meeting her rhythm with raw, passionate intensity. “I’m not stopping,” you growl, your lips finding her neck. “I won't stop until I cum inside that tight little pussy.”

Julie lets out a sharp cry as Natty’s movements grow rougher, her hips bucking against her. “Fuck, Natty,” she moans, her fingers sliding down to rub her clit. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Natty laughs breathlessly, her body grinding harder against Julie’s. “You're not bad yourself.”

Julie’s only response is a loud, trembling moan, her back arching as the pleasure overwhelms her.

You glance between them, the sight of their scissoring bodies pushing you to the brink. Natty’s thick thighs flex with every movement, her hips grinding in perfect rhythm against Julie’s, while Julie’s fingers move frantically between them, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

Belle’s moans pull your attention back to her, and you grip her tighter, your cock plunging into her with deep, deliberate thrusts. “You’re mine,” you murmur against her neck, your voice rough with need. “All of you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours,” Belle gasps, her arms tightening around your neck. “Fuck, I’m yours. Just don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Natty groans, her eyes fluttering shut as her body moves against Julie’s, her voice dripping with lust. “This is fucking perfect,” she moans. “Keep going. All of us, together.”

The room is a mess of sounds—moans, gasps, the wet slap of skin against skin—and the heat builds higher, the tension coiling tighter with every second, the pleasure driving you all further, the desire to push each other over the edge growing stronger with every movement.

Belle’s trembling body rocks against yours, her pussy squeezing your cock with desperate, wet heat. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your cock throbbing inside her as her soft moans and whispered pleas echo in your ears. The heat between all of you is unbearable, the air heavy with sweat, arousal, and the raw, primal need that none of you can contain any longer.

You grip Belle’s hips tightly, thrusting up into her as she rides you, her small frame pressing against your chest, her legs wrapped around your waist. “Fuck, Belle,” you groan, your voice ragged. “I’m so close.”

Natty’s voice cuts through the haze, her tone teasing and full of lust. “Oh, yes,” she purrs, her hands gripping Julie’s thighs as she grinds harder against her. “That’s what I like to hear. Come on, big guy, she’s the last one. Fill her up. Make her yours forever.”

Belle gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she grinds herself harder against you. Her lips are inches from yours, her breath mingling with yours as she stares into your eyes, her gaze filled with desperation and raw need. “Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. Breed me. I want to carry your baby.”

Her words send a shiver through your entire body, awakening something deep and primal inside you. Your hips buck up harder, your cock plunging deeper into her, and Belle cries out, her arms wrapping tightly around your neck as she clings to you.

Natty’s grin widens, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “Oh, she’s begging for it now. Look at her, desperate for you to knock her up.”

Julie moans louder, her fingers moving frantically against her clit as her hips buck against Natty’s. “Fuck,” she gasps, her head falling back. “He’s going to make her pregnant, and I can’t… Oh—god—I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

The symphony of moans, cries, and wet sounds grows louder, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo. Julie and Natty’s bodies grind together, slick and desperate, their movements wild and erratic as they chase their pleasure.

Belle’s eyes lock onto yours, her lips trembling as she whispers again. “Please… Please cum in me. Make me pregnant. Make me yours forever.”

Her words are your undoing.

With a guttural groan, you bury yourself as deep as you can inside her, your cock pulsing as your release hits. Hot, thick streams of cum spill into her, and Belle screams, her body shaking against yours as she feels you fill her.

“Fuck!” you growl, your arms wrapping around her tightly, your bodies glued together as you pump her full, your hips jerking with each spurt.

The sensation drives Julie over the edge, her back arching as she screams, her fingers pressing hard against her clit. “Oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” she cries, her body jerking violently as her release hits, squirting all over the bed, her juices splashing against Natty’s thighs.

Natty gasps, her hands gripping Julie’s hips as the wetness spreads between them. “Goddamn,” she mutters, her voice thick with lust. “You’re a fucking mess, Julie.”

Belle clings to you, her breathing ragged, her body trembling as she feels the heat of your cum deep inside her. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice soft and breathless. “Thank you, thank you…”

You hold her tightly, your chest heaving, your cock still twitching inside her as you press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re mine,” you murmur against her skin. “All of you. Forever.”

Julie collapses against the bed, her chest heaving as she laughs breathlessly. “Forever, huh? You’d better be ready to keep that promise.”

Natty chuckles, leaning over to kiss Belle’s cheek. “He’ll keep it. He’s got no choice now.”

The room falls into a warm, heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the faint hum of satisfaction that lingers in the air.

You look down at Belle, her eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and adoration. You can't resist the urge to seal this moment with a hot, passionate kiss. You lean in, your lips meeting hers in a fierce, claiming embrace. Your tongue delves into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, feeling her soft moans vibrate against your lips. Her body melts into yours, her arms wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back with equal fervor.

As you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against Belle's, your eyes locked onto hers, reaffirming your claim. "Forever," you whisper, and she nods, a small, content smile playing on her lips.

—

You wake up, but your consciousness seems to have stayed behind, trapped in some deep corner of your brain. Every muscle in your body aches, and your cock feels like it’s been through a marathon—probably because it has. The memories of last night flood back in vivid, explicit detail, and you groan, rolling over in bed.

But… the bed feels empty.

Your eyes snap open, and you’re greeted by nothing but rumpled sheets and an eerie quiet. No Natty. No Julie. No Belle.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “It was a fucking dream, wasn’t it?”

It’s not impossible.

Hell, it wouldn’t even be surprising. You’ve been alone for so long it’s no wonder your brain decided to gift you some kind of depraved Christmas fever dream. But damn, it felt real. The ache in your hips, the dull burn in your back—your body isn’t lying about how thoroughly you were wrecked.

You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed. “Maybe I’ve finally lost it,” you mutter to yourself. “Gone full-on crazy lonely dude. Great.”

Still, the smell of something cooking wafts up from downstairs, and your stomach growls. Dream or not, food sounds like the next logical step. You throw on some sweatpants and shuffle toward the stairs, your feet heavy on the creaking wood.

When you reach the bottom and turn into the kitchen, the sight that greets you makes you stop dead in your tracks.

They’re there.

Julie is in the living room, rearranging the pictures on your walls like she owns the place. Her sleek black hair is tied back, and she’s wearing one of your button-up shirts—too big for her but just short enough to make you gulp.

Natty's in the kitchen, humming to herself as she flips pancakes on the stove, her curves accentuated by the apron that barely covers her, tied loosely around her waist. It's the only thing she's wearing, as a matter of fact.

And Belle? She’s exactly where you’d expect her to be: sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by crumbs, shoving another bite of toast into her mouth. She is wearing one of your shirts. It's massive on her, but she looks so cute and cozy. Her blonde hair is a fluffy cloud of curls, falling haphazardly around her face. It's the most adorable thing ever.

They all turn to you at once, as if on cue.

“Morning, big guy,” Julie says casually, holding up a framed picture of you and your old dog. “You know this was crooked, right?”

“Good morning!” Natty chimes, flashing you a bright smile before flipping another pancake. “I hope you like breakfast. We kind of raided your kitchen.”

Belle waves with her toast, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Mmrphning,” she mumbles, crumbs tumbling onto the table.

You just stand there, staring at them, your brain short-circuiting. “You’re… real,” you say finally.

Julie smirks, setting the frame back on the wall. “Of course we’re real. What, you think you hallucinated all that?”

“I wouldn’t blame him,” Natty quips, her tone playful. “Last night was pretty intense. Honestly, I’m impressed he’s still standing.”

Belle swallows her mouthful of toast and grins. “You do look like you got hit by a reindeer or two.”

You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I… I thought I dreamed it. I woke up, and you weren’t—”

“—in your bed?” Julie finishes, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah, we figured you’d want to sleep in. You earned it.”

Natty plates a stack of pancakes and sets them on the table, her grin widening. “Plus, you looked so cute passed out like that. We didn’t want to wake you.”

Belle grabs a pancake with her bare hands, ignoring the fork sitting right in front of her. “So, are you gonna join us, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?”

You snap out of your daze, shuffling to the table and collapsing into a chair. “This is insane,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “You’re real. You’re actually real.”

“Yeah, we established that,” Julie says, sitting down across from you with a cup of coffee. “Now eat. Natty went all domestic goddess for you.”

Natty grins, sliding into the seat next to you and piling your plate high with pancakes. “Don’t get used to it,” she teases. “Breakfast is the only thing I know how to make.”

Belle smirks, her mouth full again. “She’s not kidding. I saw her almost burn water once.”

Natty glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I Eat Cereal with a Fork.’”

You chuckle despite yourself, cutting into your pancakes. “So, this is my life now, huh? Three elves living in my house, eating my food, rearranging my furniture.”

Julie shrugs, sipping her coffee. “Pretty much. We’re pregnant with your babies, remember? You’re stuck with us now.”

Natty leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “Admit it. You love it.”

You glance around the table at the three of them—the sly smirk on Julie’s lips, the playful sparkle in Natty’s eyes, Belle’s adorable, crumb-covered grin—and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I really do.”

The pancakes are incredible, fluffy and sweet, though the company is sweeter. You shovel another bite into your mouth, glancing between the three of them as they eat—or, in Belle’s case, inhale—at the table. It feels surreal, the warmth of their presence filling the space that, until now, had always felt too empty.

But then Julie sets her coffee down with a soft clink and fixes you with a look that’s somewhere between regretful and serious. “Look, we need to talk,” she says. "There's something you need to know.”

Your stomach flips. “That sounds ominous.”

Natty smirks, nudging your thigh under the table. “Relax. We’re not breaking up with you or anything.”

Belle, mid-bite, chimes in with her mouth full. “We’re pregnant, remember? Well, probably pregnant. Anyway, you're our man now.”

You laugh nervously, but Julie doesn’t budge, her tone calm but firm. “It’s about what happens next. The logistics.”

“Logistics?” you echo, frowning. “What logistics? I thought we just… lived happily ever after or something.”

Julie snorts, crossing her arms. “You think the magic world works like a rom-com? Cute. No, there’s rules. Bureaucracies. Red tape thicker than Santa’s thighs after cookie season.”

Belle raises a hand, still chewing. “Which is always, by the way.”

“Okay, back up,” you say, setting your fork down. “What rules? What are we talking about here?”

Natty sighs, leaning back in her chair. “It’s complicated. We’re technically under North Pole jurisdiction, which means we can’t just pack up and move here full-time. There’s laws against it. Something about maintaining magical secrecy or whatever.”

“Plus,” Julie adds, “having a half-human, half-elf baby is already bending the rules. Some of the North Pole council isn’t exactly thrilled about it.”

You blink. “Wait, what? The council knows?”

Belle grins, finally swallowing her mouthful. “Of course they do. They know everything. They’ve got this creepy snow globe that shows them all the important stuff. Like Santa’s version of the NSA. We're in trouble now, but it's for a good reason.”

“That’s terrifying,” you mutter.

“It’s efficient,” Julie counters.

“But what does that mean for us?” you ask, glancing between them. “Are you saying you’re just going to leave?”

Julie hesitates, glancing at Natty, who takes over. “We’re not leaving you. But we can’t stay full-time, either. For now, we’ll have to visit. Weekends, holidays, that kind of thing.”

“That’s… not what I was expecting.”

“Hey,” Natty says softly, reaching for your hand. “It’s not forever. Once the babies are born, we’ll have more leverage. Interracial babies in the magical world are rare, and they’re considered kind of… important.”

“Important how?”

Belle pipes up. “Well, they’re supposed to be, like, bridges between worlds or whatever. Diplomatic symbols of unity. It’s a whole thing.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Which is ironic, considering how much the council hates dealing with them.”

Natty nods. “Yeah, but it works in our favor. They can’t exactly ignore us when the kids come along. We’ll push for a reassignment so we can all live together.”

“Reassignment?” you ask, feeling like you’re still two steps behind.

Julie leans forward, her tone all business. “Basically, we’d petition for you to come live at the North Pole. It’s rare, but it happens. Usually for special cases, like this one.”

“You’d really want me to come with you?” you ask, your voice soft.

Natty grins. “Duh. You think we’d go through all this just to ditch you?”

Belle nods vigorously. “We’re a package deal now. Besides, you’d love it at the North Pole. Endless hot cocoa, magical reindeer, zero commute time—it’s awesome.”

Julie smirks. “And cold as hell. Better invest in thermal underwear.”

You laugh despite yourself, the weight in your chest lifting slightly. “So, what happens until then?”

Natty squeezes your hand. “We’ll make it work. We’re not going anywhere, not really. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even get you on the Nice List permanently.”

Belle snickers. “That’s a stretch.”

Julie shoots her a look before turning back to you. “We’re serious, though. You said you wanted a family, handsome, well now you've got yourself a big one. You’re ours now, and we don’t take that lightly.”

The warmth in her voice is undeniable, and you find yourself smiling. “You’re mine too, you know.”

Natty grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Damn right we are.”

Belle, already reaching for another pancake, grins around her fork. “Better get used to it, lover boy. Three elf girls are no joke.”

—

The pancakes are history, coffee mugs bone dry, and sunlight floods the kitchen, casting everything in this weirdly golden, almost-too-perfect glow. Julie, Natty, and Belle are still parked around the table, eyes pinned on you like you’re the main event.

Julie’s the first to break the silence, her voice calm but carrying that no-bullshit weight. “Alright,” she says. “There’s one more thing we gotta hash out.”

“More bureaucratic bullshit?” you ask, half-joking, half-dreading.

Natty leans into her palm, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Nah, not this time. This one’s about you. What you want.”

Belle tilts her head, her blonde hair catching the light. “Yeah, like… this whole setup? It’s not exactly your typical ‘happily ever after.’ Magic babies, council breathing down our necks, all of us living together—it’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

Julie leans forward, her eyes dead serious but with a softness underneath that makes you pay attention. “We need to know if you’re really in this. Like, all in. This isn’t some fling or a one-night thing that spiraled out of control. This is real. It’s us. It’s a family. Forever. And if you’re gonna bolt or start second-guessing once we start building this life, we need to know now. Because if you’re not solid… it’ll wreck us.”

The word “wreck” just sits there, heavy as hell, daring anyone to argue with it.

You take a moment, looking at each of them. Julie’s got that sharp, take-no-prisoners look softened by something way more raw. Natty’s smirking, sure, but there’s a flicker of doubt behind it. And Belle, sweet Belle, is practically radiating hope, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of the shirt.

“I’m in,” you say, no hesitation. “For all of it. The magic, the council, the chaos. But mostly, I’m in for you. For us. For this family we’re building. Whatever it takes.”

Belle’s lips part in surprise, and her eyes well up slightly. “You mean that?” she whispers.

You nod, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Of course I mean it. I’ve spent enough Christmases alone to know what I don’t want. And what I want is right here.”

Natty’s grin returns, bright and full of mischief. “You realize we’re not exactly the poster-perfect family, right? You’ve got a dirty-mouthed toy-maker, a bossy logistics queen, and a cookie-devouring disaster. Not to mention the kids we’re about to have? That’s a circus waiting to happen.”

You chuckle, glancing at Belle, who’s already looking at the fruit bowl in the corner of the kitchen. “It’s not normal, no. But normal’s overrated anyway.”

Julie’s lips twitch into a faint smile, and she tilts her head. “You’d really give up your life here for us? Your home, your routines, everything you know?”

You shrug, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Home isn’t a place. It’s people. And I don’t need routines—I need you. All of you. Even Belle eating me out of house and home.”

Belle laughs, her cheeks pink. “You’d miss me if I didn’t.”

Natty leans closer, her eyes glinting with amusement. “And the council? The North Pole? That’s a whole different world, you know. It’s not just hot chocolate and snowball fights. You sure you’re ready for that?”

You meet her gaze, unwavering. “I’m ready for anything, as long as it’s with you.”

Julie lets out a soft breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time all morning. “Well, shit,” she mutters, a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

Natty snickers. “Guess we’re stuck with him now, huh?”

Belle squeezes your hand, her grin wide and genuine. “Good. I like being stuck with him.”

Julie rolls her eyes but smiles, reaching out to rest her hand over yours. “Then it’s settled. You’re ours, big guy. Welcome to the weirdest family you’ll ever know.”

You laugh, your chest warm, full, complete. “It’s a family,” you say softly. “And that’s all that matters.”

Natty leans back in her chair, her grin wide. “Weird or not, it’s ours. And I have a feeling we'll be very happy.”

Belle beams, looking at everyone at the table with a certain enthusiasm. “Same.”

Julie claps her hands. “Okay, enough of the sappy shit. Let’s toast to this insanity.” She grabs the pitcher of orange juice and starts pouring it into the mugs around the table.

Julie lifts her mug, her voice low but steady. “To family. The unconventional kind.”

Natty raises her cup, her grin wicked. “To the craziest family of the North Pole.”

Belle lifts her juice, her eyes sparkling with the sunlight and something more. “To us.”

Julie locks eyes with you, her voice calm but full of unshakable resolve. “To family. The kind that doesn’t play by the rules.”

You raise your cup with a laugh. “To family.”

And for the first time, it feels like the holidays aren’t just another lonely season—they’re the start of something real. Something yours. Something forever.

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vigilante-3073 · 5 months ago

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Mouse

Rosalie Hale x Emmett Cullen x Female Vampire Reader

Summary: Bella observes the relationship between Rosalie, Emmett and Y/N.

TW: Throuple, vampire mates, mentions of death and torture.

In the time that Bella had spent as a human while dating Edward, she learned very little about the young vampire who Rosalie and Emmett shared as a mate. Y/N was quiet and reserved, which made her stand out in the relationship with her mates.

Rosalie had an anger that burned like the hottest flame and Emmett was always the loudest one in the room. Someone so calm and soft-spoken didn't seem to fit into their relationship dynamic.

Y/N almost seemed to get lost behind their big personalities, but they always saw her in a way that others didn't. Rosalie and Emmett always had some innate ability to sense their mate in every situation. They gravitated towards each other like magnets and could always be found together.

One thing Bella had come to notice about Y/N is that her love language was physical touch. Y/N was always touching one or both of her mates in some way. Bella was almost alarmed to see how different Rosalie could be when she was interacting with her young mate.

Rosalie tended to be a bit more protective than affectionate towards Y/N when Bella had first come around, but after some time she gradually started to see Rosalie soften.

Bella would always remember the day she saw them all together for the first time. She had walked into the living room with Edward only to find Y/N sitting sideways on the couch with her back leaned against Emmett's side and his arm wrapped around her body, a baseball game playing on the television. Rosalie sat next to Y/N with her mate's legs draped across her lap while she flipped through a magazine. The sight caught Bella off-guard, but then she started to notice it more and more.

On another day, Y/N was walking through the woods after a hunt with Emmett's arm wrapped around her waist and his hand slipped into the back pocket of her jeans. Her other hand was holding onto Rosalie's as they talked about whatever came to mind.

The day after that Bella saw Y/N sitting on Emmett's lap while she talked to Rosalie about a book that she had just finished. The blonde listened to her intently with a soft smile on her face as Emmett brushed his thumbs back and forth over her hip bones.

At first glance, they seemed like they would never fit together in a million years, but Bella had never seen a closer relationship in her lifetime. There was some unexpected gravitational pull that kept them orbiting around eachother. Y/N grounded the pair in a way that was necessary when they got riled up, bringing everything back into focus.

...

Bella learned that Y/N's human life had ended tragically like many of her family members. She wouldn't talk about it, but Edward knew about what she had endured.

He told Bella that he could feel it when her mind drifted to those memories. The first time it happened, he had frozen in his tracks and his body locked up in a way that he had never experienced before.

Y/N had been walking home after a closing shift at the diner she was working at. A car pulled up beside her and a man offered to drive her home, he pulled a gun on her when she refused. Y/N got into the car and it was definitely a decision that she would regret for the entirety of her human life.

Edward had never known someone who had experienced as much suffering as Y/N had. The man kept her chained up in his basement for weeks, he beat her, starved her, cut her, burned her and forced her to endure many other kinds of torture while under his imprisonment.

Y/N barely managed to escape with her life, her bones were broken and the blood loss had made her weak. She ran from the house until her body collapsed into unconsciousness. Y/N thought that she would die in her place on the damp grass, she could feel herself fading away and she decided that it wasn't the worst place to die.

Someone had found her in the morning and called the authorities, she was taken to the hospital and she would have died from her injuries if Carlisle hadn't been working that day. It took almost a week for her body to put itself back together after she had died.

Y/N's death was traumatic and she was never the same after she had reanimated. Y/N was quiet and reserved, slipping back into those dreadful memories.

She was terrified every day, especially around the men in the house and no one could question her reasons. She gradually formed a friendship with Rosalie, bonding over their shared trauma and Y/N slowly began to come out of her shell a bit.

No one could pinpoint when exactly Y/N and Rosalie's relationship had changed into a romantic one, but it had. Rosalie was Y/N's protector and they hardly ever spent any time apart.

Carlisle felt relieved to see the girls finding something in their lives that was worth carrying on for. They had both been through so much and their willingness to create a relationship let him know that they were adjusting to this new life.

Y/N and Rosalie spent every possible moment together and when Rosalie found Emmett, he was brought into their dynamic seamlessly. If anyone chose to question their relationship, Rosalie would be on them in a second.

Rosalie had a ferocious love that no one could ever mess with. She allowed herself to be used and walked over in her human life, the loss of that life made her stronger and showed her that nothing lasts forever.

Their relationship had endured years of traumatic experiences and bloodshed, built on the back of a curse that provided eternal life.

...

Hearing about their relationship from Edward's point of view gave Bella a better understanding of who they were to each other. Though no recognition could be given to their union at the time, they were all married to each other. It didn't matter to them that it wasn't legal, they knew that their bond ran deeper than any laws ever could.

Bella respected the love that they all had for each other, it was fierce and strong like nothing she had ever seen before. It made her look at the other relationships that had blossomed within the Cullen family and she quickly found that none of them were the same.

They may have had similar values, but their dynamics were all vastly different. Her own relationship with Edward was romantic, tumultuous and tragic. There would always be parts of their lives that would never be possible if they stayed together.

Edward had lived for many years before he met her, forming relationships and losing people that Bella would never know. Bella would likely never know who he was before he died, time changes so much and it would likely be impossible for him to remember now.

If Bella transformed into a vampire to stay at Edward's side, she would lose whatever future she could have had as a human. She would never be able to have children or grow old with her friends or family. Eveyone would die around her and she would remain unchanged with Edward and his family as her only solace in a changing world.

Her fascination with Y/N's relationship had served to put things in perspective for her regarding what she could gain and lose in this life. None of the Cullen children had a choice in whether or not they pursued this life. Bella seemed to have tunnel vision on the topic, always worrying about how much time she was wasting.

Every day that passed made her feel physically older, every scrape or bruise on her skin made her feel like her body would just crumble underneath her. Bella knew that her worries were nothing that a teenager should be concerned about, but she had seen what a future could look like.

Bella was staring down the finish line of a marathon that she had been treating as a sprint. She didn't have to rush, she didn't have to make a choice now.

Y/N, Rosalie and Emmett never would have found each other if it hadn't been for the horrific way that their human lives happened to end.

Bella felt like she could finally understand that this choice shouldn't be rushed, it needed to be carefully considered. Bella didn't need to push the envelope and choose a tragic end for herself when she had the luxury of time.

She would become a vampire, but she could definitely choose to enjoy her life as a human for a while.

#twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #rosalie cullen #rosalie hale #rosalie twilight #rosalie x emmett #rosalie #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie hale x reader x emmett #emmett cullen #emmett cullen x reader

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sleepy-fiction · 3 months ago

Text

FIRES OF SHAO LAO.

lin lie x f!reader x shao lao 🐉🔥 NSFW

syn: once a month on the full moon, shao lao possesses your club member, lin lie. on a uni camping trip, you get chased through the forests and pinned down by lin; whose fuelled with the fires of shao lao. his only desire? to fill you with the seed of god's and men's

tgs: bdsm, powerplay, hunter/prey, cunnilingus (fem reciving), breeding kink, oviposition, laying an egg, dubcon(?), brat/brat tamer dynamics, possesion, lin physically over powers reader, p n v, freaky and cringe

an: after days of trying to figure out a new, unique lin lie fic w a fresh story (that was different from the others), I finally found it. the Adam warlock fic is becoming my longest one yet, it's a enemies to lovers slow burn and it's taking some time to cook up!! so I thought in the mean time I'd drop another lin fic for the covettes (if ur waiting for the Adam fic ur gonna have to wait longer!!) yes this is inspired by the nessa barrett pornstar edit of lin on tiktok BARELY PROOF READ

5.6K WORDS (ESTI)

Your university's Mythology club put together a fun camping trip. There were 16 of you in total in the club, split between 9 girls and 7 boys. You knew that one of the members, Lin Lie, had a crush on you. It was obvious from the longing gazes he threw your way when he thought you weren't looking, or how the cute brunette would come up to talk to you after club meetings, running hands through his soft black hair, staring at you with those sweet brown eyes.

He was so handsome, you'd admit. He was large and muscular, though he tried to hide it under various dark sweaters. His hands were about as big as your head. His presence was strong, secure, and safe. You always let out a relaxed sigh whenever he was around. Uni is borderline hectic. All these kids start off their lives as fresh "adults" lacking the maturity of middle schoolers. Or at least, that's how you'd describe the men.

Lin Lie was a breath of fresh air. He was responsible, protective, and incredibly aware of his surroundings and social standing. He was the guy you'd flock to find at a frat party, and even if you didn't talk to him at it, you always made sure you were in his line of sight. You had no time for childish men, or any sort of relationship at all. You had a Bachelors to earn.

But still, you let the handsome Chinese man in your class talk you up. He was flirty and confident at times, unearthing a side of him you didn't know out side of the quiet, responsible one. There was something wild flickering behind his eyes. And you let him entertain you with it. It got to the point where you started getting giddy whenever he was around, already knowing what he was preparing to say, and how he would lean in close to say it.

So when this trip came around, you and many women of the club almost said no to going. That was the case, until Lin Lie decided to come along. That's when all 16 members decided to pitch in, instead of the original 6 that were planning to go. Being the woods with a bunch of nerdy uni boys sounded ass. Being in the woods with uni boys and the strong, masculine Lin Lie? Hell, that scale balanced over quick.

Lin Lie was popular.

Not that he'd agree. He was one of the popular loners, mysterious and incredibly fine, living a quiet and busy lifestyle. You similarly fit the description, but that's only because you were in so many clubs.

You remember the drive there, your club leader, Peter Parker, Lin's closet friend, had rented a bus for everyone to take everyone to the camping grounds. Oddly, as you got on the bus, you were hoping for Lin to sit next to you, but he didn't. In fact, he didn't even look at you. Unlike him, he sat all the way in the far back, his navy colored hood resting high down on his forehead. He looked pale, and he almost immediately fell asleep at the back.

You hummed. You leaned forward to the seats next to you, tapping your clubmate on the head. The blonde turned around, his honey golden eyes flickering with annoyance. You spoke, "Hey... What's up with Lin today? Doesn't he seem... kind of sad?"

"I dunno. Peter said something about him being ill..." He murmured.

"Aw damn. If he was sick, he should've stayed at the dorms... Poor guy," you whispered.

Another clubmate chimed, shaking his head, "Hell no. Lin can't stay home cause then the girls wouldn't wanna go."

The blonde classmate chuckled, "Yeah! I swear if the girls bailed I'd strange, em."

As if he could.

You couldn't careless about their convo after that, softly glazing back at his groggy form, how his arm twitched in his sleep. Your eyes softened, sadness dwelling in your body as you stared at soft eyebags under his eyes. Still you couldn't crack a tender smile. "Responsible as ever, Lin... You always sacrifice yourself for others," your heart grows warm.

Maybe if he keeps it up, you might fall for him. You chuckle sadistically to yourself, turning back around and plugging in headphones. Preparing yourself for the rest of the trip.

The view of the countryside from the windows were gorgeous, as you followed from the busy city to endless rolling hills to dense greenery with the charmastic, singing crickets. When the bus stopped at the campsite. You found yourself engulfed in fallen autumn leaves, orange and green leaves singing in the lulling wind, as the middle of autumn was quickly approaching. The sun was low in the sky, as the club quickly set up camp for the night.

After dinner, poorly made steak and salad by the guys (food you noticed Lin did not eat), Peter gathered us all up by the fireplace. He grinned with an ecstatic expression, "Myth-busters!" The shoddy name Peter made for the club, "As you all know, for the past weeks, we have been going over Greek Mythology. Now, today we are here because this is the perfect season to view Ursa Major! Ursa Major heavily conmected to the Greek myth, associated with the story of Callisto, a nymph transformed into a bear by the great and powerful Zeus," He called on.

The club cheered and dummed excitedly, and you too couldn't help but be swayed by his words. The sun was beginning to set. Peter pointed to the mountain behind us, "That mountain leads to a cliff clearing where we can see the beautiful constellation in full. We're gonna hike there."

The club was a mixed group of cheers and boos, but Peter paid no mind. "Here's the deal. We're going to split into pairs. We're gonna need a pair system to make sure all of us are heading up! It's gonna get dark out here, so there's no way in hell I'd let any of you get injured," he huffed. "So everyone, let's pack up our gear and get into groups," he cheered.

You stood along with the buzzing crowd, already giggling as you exchanged looks with a few clubmates. You already knew you wanted Lin. You nonchalantly rushed on over to him, your hands behind your back as you cleared your throat. "Hey, Lin. Why don't we be buddies," you asked.

He flinched at the sound of your voice, never turning around to face you. He stood there silently for a second, his shoulders tense, his hand grabbing onto his wrist. He cleared his throat, his voice gravelly and cold, "No. Someone's gotta watch the setup... Peter chose me."

"A-Ah," even you couldn't bear the sudden ice he was throwing your way. You almost dreaded the words, as you knew he didn't want to talk anymore, "You okay... Lin?"

He winces, "Just a cold."

"Ah... Hah. Well... Get well soon?" Your confusion is imminent as you rejoin the group.

Everyone had already split into groups, save Peter, who was the hike guide. And with the odd number now that Lin's out, you were all alone. Peter noticed the mellow aura about you, as his eyes nervously flickered from Lin to you. He had this knowing look on his face. He gulped with a nervous laugh, patting your shoulder, "He gets moody when he's really sick! Ah, the g-guy... You know, always want to protect people... Even when he's in pain, he thinks not showing it is uhm... N-Not uh," Peter was oddly nervous.

Well. Peter was always a little socially awkward.

But this? You narrowed eyes on him.

He knew something and was trying to hide it. Peter awkwardly squeaked under your glare, dropping a hand from your shoulder and clapping instead. "Well! Y-You can um... Be the backline watch! Make sure nobody strays from the path, and keep an eye out on... The-uh," he turns away from you, gathering the club with a clap, "Alright, everyone, let's go!" He didn't even stay long, as your glare got too suspicious. Too tense.

Something was up. Still, you followed up the trail, beginning your way up the mountains, the campsite slowly beginning to disappear behind trees, the sun almost set behind the horizons.

Something really wasn't right.

Your gut burned.

Instincts screamed at you to stay with Lin. He's never sick, and when he is, he's never so... Brooding, so dog tired, so growlish and cold. No way. You at least need to glance to see if he's okay. You cave in, giving the campsite and Lin one last glance as it begins to disappear behind trees up the path.

That's when you saw an odd beam of green light. It was bright and quick, the odd color was a neon teal, the kind present on digital ads, not in the wild. It shot like a beadon high into air before it was swallows quickly up by foliage. A strong urge of wind flew up from the direction. What the fuck was that? You stop dead in your tracks.

You blink.

The forest was normal, the chittering of cicadas and the singing of crickets. Nothing was out of place.

You're not crazy are you?

You blink again.

No you definitely saw something!

You begin to sneak down the path, catching the smallest glimpse of the campsite, with Lin no where to be found. It was weird as you tried to duck around to see if the trees gave way to more glimpses of him on the campsite, but it didn't.

A hand clamps on your shoulder, you gasp, as you hear Peter speak, "(y/n)."

You whip around. The whole club's stopped and staring at you. You gulp in embarrassment.

Peter's eyes become serious, as if warning you with them, "(Y/n) let's stay on the path. Lin will be fine. We don't need to go back to the campsite." His grip on your shoulder is so foreboding. Foreboding also, was the aura that surrounded you in this moment.

You didn't understand it. But you shut up quickly.

This was. A little scary.

"Trust me, Lin's gonna be okay. I'm his best friend, you know," Peter tries to get all cheery as he holds your hand and brings you back up the mountain with the rest. "You know what, guys, let's make smores when we get up there!" He says to the group as he slips back up to the top, and the line starts moving.

You stare blankly down at the ground, your grip on your electric lamp tight.

"Hey, (y/n)... You okay?" You hear MJ ask, her brown eyes melting with concern.

You shake your head, "Must worried about Lin... I hope he'll be okay by himself."

She smiles at you, tucking her wild brown curls behind her ear, "Yeah... Lin's strong. Don't worry."

Don't worry was what you told yourself when you made it to the cliff clearing. Don't worry, was what you told yourself when you helped set up the fire. Don't worry is what you told yourself as you mingled with the group. Don't worry is what you told yourself when Peter put out the fire so we could all see the constellation.

It was beautiful but.

You looked back at the pitch black, foreboding forest behind you.

That mysterious light.

You blink.

You've gotta check it out.

You glanced back at the club. Everyone was relaxed, drinking hot cocoa and enjoying their stores. All pre-occupied with drinking in the moment. Best of all, Peter was snugging up with MJ at the front of it all, lost in the sauce. If there was one thing you learned about Peter, was than when he was with MJ, he saw nothing else.

Neither did he, or anyone else who cared, as a few frats saw you sneak off, catch you dip away back down the trail.

This was so damn stupid of you. But you always trusted your institution. Something was wrong with Lin.

You can't help but think of the worst as you rush down the path. It's about a ten minute walk back to the campsite, but you're booking it like a mad woman, your heart about to erupt in your chest. You can cut the time in half if you go fast enough.

So many horrible anxieties rush your mind as you follow down the path, jumping over stones and missing entire flights of the steps entirely. But you're moving at a rapid, steady pace, a treat from the sports clubs you've joined to make your uni-life more memorable. You can't help but think, with a racing heart and panting lips, about Lin collapsing somewhere - somehow, unable to call for help.

And that green light. What the fuck was that green light?

RROOOOOUGHH

An earspliting growl ruptured your eardrums. It's sound was chasmic and ferocious, animalistic-- yet deathly uncanny. It stopped your heart dead in your chest, slowed time, caught you off guard as your head turned to where the sound came from, your foot in the air as you were caught in the middle of a jump.

The roar was animalistic. But it didn't sound like an animal.

It sounded like...

Just as your eyes turned, in this slowed moment, you saw a flicker of flowing green, unnatural as it warped behind a shady, black figure. It was human, glowing, setting two black eyes on you from the dark.

You screamed, missing your landing, your ankle rolling in distress as it collided unnaturally with the ground. Unnatural, as you slipped down the paths stairs, unnatural as you rolled down the steps and cried. Unnatural, as a firehouse gusto of wind overcame you, unnatural, as you felt terrifying arms encapsule your body. Unnatural, as with a hearty crunch of leavs and sticks, you found yourself pinned to the ground before the giant bone fire your club lit back at the campsite.

Unnatural as you peeked your eyes open to find... Lin Lie?

Lin stared down at you with dark, unreadable eyes, his lips downturn, both of your hands captured above your head with a single palm. You were breatheless. There was this teal aura whipping and flickering in the air around him. You watched it leak out of his skin like sweat and take flight like whimsical plasma. How his face was still cast in a dark, heavy shadow despite the glow of the fireplace. How his hoodie was torn poorly off his body, ripped in devilish places as the fabric stringed about like a useless accessory.

His body was glistening with sweat, and you could finally see how broad and muscular he was. He was cosmic, built like a Greek god, chiseled finely in some holy defile of purity, as you clenched in your panties immediately. His scent was strong as it floated with his aura, the smell of these odd, almost pheromone like scents dripping off his body. It made you squint and shudder off a breath.

But you couldn't look away from those broad shoulders, that barn-like chest, how his arms carried all the force and the raw powerful to put you out of your pitiful misery.

Aderaline was losing in you body, as you could suddenly feel how fucking badly your ankle burned. "A-Ahh," you whimpered out, breathless and afraid.

All of Lin Lie's body helped him push out of a deathly, terrorizing grunt, it spilled out of the bowels of hell, trilling with an animalistic flare.

You whimpered even more, unaware of how your eyes began to water. You squirmed helplessly, flinching to not upset up, as you mustered up all of your courage to cry, "Luh... L-Lin... What's gotten into you," you wailed.

He growled over uou again, sinking his head closer. You squeaked and flinched away, shutting your eyes deathly tight. Your breath was sucked out of your body as you felt him suck in a strong gust of air. It blew cold against your neck, a direct contract to the deep huff that he released on your neck, it was hot enough to burn your skin. It sent tingles of fire down your body where it met you, as when you looked down at it, surges of green plasma flowed down the waves of your body.

"Unngh haa--" it drew out your voice, the surge of energy forcing a vulnerable whimper out into the air. He breathed deep and doggishly against you like this, each time making your knees rattle, your thighs lock themselves tight.

Your head tilts back at the bonfire, your body drowning in the passionate plasma. It made your neurons fire, your pussy to throb, combined eith the raw smell of him, your mind was becoming hazy. "L-Lin! Get off muh-- me," you gasped out, feeling ever the more light headed.

Lin opened his mouth, but a fire of passionate mandarin slew out his lips. "Zhū shén fā, wǒ wúfǎ tíng xiàlái... Zhū shén fāshì, wǒ kěwàng nǐ."

by the gods, I cannot stop. by the gods, I long for you.

He boomed it in your ears, his voice deep and chasmic, it withered and hissed, echoed twice within itself, present with a glorious entity. Something straight out of a cheesey c-drama, yet it flickered devilishly before your eyes. He boomed with authority in thus moment Whatever it is that he said, your sanity was taken with it. You gasped erotically, sickeningly.

He boomed.

As if he were a god.

You lost it, tears flying out of your eyes, drowning in an array of endless desire, letting those sweet plasmas to caress your skin, letting yourself give way to that holy voice, letting your body limp like the helpless ragdoll you were. You were set aflame everywhere, the fear of his strength made you impossibly wet. This was something you didn't even know about yourself.

Lin's powerful hands rolled you onto your side by your hips. You slumped over, sliding your knee up, hiking your ass up in the process. You tried to pick your body up, with your hands, but you felt him sink onto his forearm behind you, his other hand cupping your chin.

You sniffled and whimpered in his warm palm, as it slipped up to hold your face, his large thumb wiping your under eyes.

His body was so close to yours. His face and lips so dear to your skin. You could feel his heat, feel it as he tilted his head, voice deep in your ears. He hushes, "Nǐ chàndǒu ba, wǒ de tùzǐ……wǒ xià dào nǐle ma? Wǒ xiǎng hé nǐ zuò'ài……wǒ xiǎng zài nǐ de zǐgōng lǐ bō xià yī kē shén de zhǒngzǐ..."

You're trembling, my rabbit... Did I scare you? I want to make love to you... I want to plant a god's seed in your womb.

You shake, slobbering out, "I-I... I want to... Please... I want to see Lin... What-- What have you done to Lin-- please... Lin.. Let me see your face." Your run down of mythology helped you deduce some god had possessed Lin. But you couldn't exactly figure out which one. Chinese Mythology was what got you to join this club. Lin himself hosted it, and it was filled with wonder.

But your brain was foggy with needy trembles and whims of sex and fear. You could feel Lin's broad chest against your side. The god turns your head to face him, and from the shadows of his face, you see Lin's hooded eyes glimmer with untapped zeal.

"For I am Lin,"

"Yīnwèi wǒ shì Lín,"

"And Shao Lao, who has saved this body,"

"For I have reborn him, and given him life. Therefore, once a full moon, Shao Lao owns it."

"This vessel hungers for you. My Lin.. I, Lin Lie, hunger to drop seed in you. The seed of gods and men,"

His voice echoes, two voices pouring out at once. One was the roar of a dragon, hissing in mighty mandarin, the other was Lin's, booming with prowess and power. Every word, it doubled like so.

Your hips buckled, your eyes heavy.

"S-Shao Lao," your memory flickered from Lin's passionate teachings, "The Dragon god slain by K'un-L'un, walking the earth without a heart-- resurrected by Yu-Ti, t-trialed to die again and again at the hands of t-the Iron Fists? That they may gain p-power through your deaths?" You spit out, trembling under the dragon's stare. It cackles delightfully at your words, well pleased as it leans down to rub it's nose against your neck.

Despite it being Lin, insides it's body, you can feel it's cosmic shift, noting that in this second, it was fully Shao Lao. You moan out, and it takes a deep sniff in the crook of your neck. He can smell how horny you are. Your panties are wet with slick, drenched to uselessly stick to your pussy like a wet bathing suit. Shao Lao is pleased by the scent, releasing deep, strained breaths.

"Yes, little one."

"B-But... What does a such a god want with me? Come now, S-Shao Lao... Breed me tomorrow, or the next day, where I will be ready to take care of you," you manage out, sweaty in his embrace.

The Dragon cackles, slipping a hand up your tank top, hot fingers trailing up your stomach and pushing up your bra, cupping your breast. Your nipple is hard already. He simply pulls and teases it.

"Wise, hare. The full moon will not arrive tomorrow or the next night. Neither would it any night but tonight. You cannot trick me. This vessel cries for your womb. And I, I am delighted by your wisdom and beauty. You have sealed your fate, you have interested me more. Behold, your your trickery has planted you in deep water,"

He growls out. Hearing Lin and the mandarin dragon echo such words in unison had your eyes rolling back, mouth agape. The dragon played with your nipples, squeezing them between rough fingers, dragging a hot, fiery tongue up your neck. You shudder and mewl out, your eyes already dancing between the clouds.

The dragon hums, a pleased trill escaping Lin's plump, sweet lips.

"Amuse me, rabbit. Why do you resist when your body aches with need? What do you gain except frustration?"

You giggle, gulping, "I waste a god's time and gain his fury..."

You hear a fiery rattle burn through the dragon's throat.

"Then shall I meet you with a heavy hand."

The Dragon scoops you up into Lin's gorgeous biceps, the crackling shadows around his face just hazy enough for you to see the face eating grin the dragon bares. You shudder, as it carries you into his den, or more commonly known as Lin's tent. He pitched his closest to the bus and farthest from everyone else, the rest of the tents in his circle were MJ's and Peter's.

The Dragon carries you into the teal tent, where you see shredded rope and mountains of bottled water stacked on the side. His tent was in utter disarray, but the Dragon pays it no mind as he drops you down on the plush sleeping bag. He undresses, and your eyes behold the gorgeous stature of Lin's bare body. He's wonderfully built, stockier than a barn, a giant powerhouse of pure muscle with a small waist. His cock is glorious, eight inches with a fat tip, his thickness stocky and grand. Your mouth watered.

Shao Lao kicks some of discarded rope, laughing,

"This vessel believed it could restrain me, prevent me from hunting you... Indeed, it is true that I would have not taken you. But you came down the mountain for him, did you not? It was you who sold this fate..."

You gasp in disbelief, but it doesn't fester as the dragon pulls your shirt from over your head, watching your breasts as unlatches your bra. Your pretty titties fly out, and you watch as a pink tongue emerges from the hazy black fog.

"You do, wish to be devoured, little human?"

You look away, "Is Lin okay?"

"This vessel only wishes for your safety."

"Ah... Then... Breed me, Shao Lao."

Behind the smoke, you can see the dragon's eyes widen. But something about it was so uncharacteristic for the proud serpent. Was it? Lin? You blink in surprise. Just as you notice the change, it disappears.

Shao Lao undresses you briskly, picking you up when he needs to, and you help him by kicking off your panties and pants when he drags them down. The dragon bares a deep, pleased sigh at the sight of you, admiring the way your body ebbs and flows, the softness of your skin, adoring your shape. He parts your legs with rough hands, you brace yourself as Shao Lao, in Lin's heavenly body, dives into your neck.

The Dragon nips and suckles your neck, using Lin's whole tongue to do so. Adverse to the way a human would do it. It's such a small detail you notice that makes your mind hazy, a reminder that a true god is trying to fuck you. He cups the other side of your neck tightly, forcing you into his sharp love bites and vigorous slurps.

He does so hungrily, diving out with unsatisfied huff.

"This is not enough,"

He hisses with all of his belly.

He drags all of his tongue down your collarbone and to your breasts, slurping one of your nipples up. It suckles and twirls it's blazing hot tongue around it, letting go with a pop as it swells around the underside, sucking you in fill his mouth, all while his freehand squeezes and teases your other.

You shiver and whimper, feeling his teeth against your skin. His jaw restricts, threatening to bite you. You know that if he did, you'd be disfigured. "Mm-aah," your pussy throbs.

He grunts worser, releasing you. His grunt is filled with pure agitation, his shadowy eyes darkened in a crazied haze.

"This human body restricts me... This is not enough."

It puff and heaves with anger, and with a strong vigor, the dragon slides his tongue down the valleys of your breast, down your ribcage, down your belly, over your womb, through your hair. And as he grabs your thighs, pulling them up in ease with thick hands, the dragon eats up your cunny in one full lick.

You whine as he uses all of Lin's tongue to part open your labia. The hot, fat muscle is fully flat against your hymen before it slides up and trills against your clit. You buck up into it with a cry, "S-Shao Lao!"

The Dragon hisses gleefully like a snake. It vibrates its tongue with ease against you, trilling up with a vigor as if it were merely rolling an 'r'. You jerk with all of you, as you reach and grab chunks of Lin's short raven locks. For a moment, sweet eyes gaze lovingly at you, but you fail to see it before it's overriden.

The Dragon licks up your clit with all of its tongue, the flatliness bigger than your clit as it strokes you once then twice, before he pulls a little away to speak.

"Tender, sweet, and juicy..."

Shao Lao burries his nose into your pussy, taking a deep sniff. The green energy sends tingles against your body. The dragon leans up, rolling out his tongue with a soft gag, there, from the midst of the smoke, you can see something round and orange glow, slipping out from the back of his throat. It slides down his tongue, revealing itself to be a little glowing orb, as it's guided right into your hole. The dragon leans forward, digging into your cunt as it forces it deep into your walls.

It sets you aflame, you grow impossibly more wet, drowning our from the magic of whatever it was that was placed within you. Your cervix sucks it up into your womb. And in awe, you can see it glow beneath your skin.

The Dragon laughs,

"I can perform much greater trembles than this in my original, blessed body. You truly are one graced human. You do not know the merit you are being bestowed, if you did, you would be worshiping me now... Paying hom--"

You pull Lin's hair, shoving your cunny back in the dragon's face, watching it disappear beneath the shadows. It narrows dangerous eyes on you. You only return with a grin.

The Dragon reaches, grabbing your wrist with a crushing pressure. You wince, pitifully letting go. As Shao Lao sits up, broad chest flexed forward with prestige. His darkened eyes glimmer with ferocity. Eyes that read, "you should not have done that".

Shao Lao drops your wrists, using Lin's mighty and quick hands to grab both of your ankles. He stands up with them, and with a scated cry, your body jerks forward, your legs held up in the air. He pulls higher, higher until your neck is the only thing keeping you on the ground. "Aah! Shao Lao! I'm so--" you can't even get a chance to speak, as Shao wraps his bulging biceps around your hips, dropping you in the candlestick pose, except your knees rest your legs on his shoulders, your hands shaking, helplessly grabbing chunks of raven locks.

With a deep, burling growl, Shao Lao buries himself into your cunny, trilling against your clit at an unforgiving pace, rippling his tongue against you in a fluttering frenzy, your throbbing clit swelling under the abuse. You cry out, saliva spat out in the intensity, as the way he's forced you down, you can't do much but claw at the dragon's biceps, or tug at his hair.

"S-suh-- Ahh! Shao L-lao! Ooh," you cry, your legs shooting up with an electric spark before slopping back down. Your toes arch, your breathing is constricted, overstimulated tears prick your eyes.

He'll only stop his devious defilement to suck and slurp up your clit in intervals between flickering his speedy tongue against it. The abuse complimented by Lin's fat juicy lips as the insides of them run over your clit inbetween slurps. He'll pull back to run a flat tongue side to side vigorously on your clit, only to slurp it up, suck on it, and smooth right back into flickering.

You yank intensely on Lin's hair, weak tears streaming down your face as your thrust into an intense orgasm. You legs jerk and fly up into the air, kicking at nothing before shooting straight up and flexing, flexing as you curse out into the sky. They never meet back down, as after your orgasm, Shao Lao is still on you just as intensely, not allowing you a break for your high. Your moans turn into frantic, pant-filled wails, slobbering sobs dribbling down your forehead and into your hair.

You rut into his tongue over and over again, trying to squirm but your hips are locked in place by meaty biceps. You're forced to look at the shadowed over pink-tipped nose Lin was always equipped with, buried into your vulva. You're bullied into another orgasm, cumming with all of your body again, he doesn't rest while you ride out your high.

You plead, while you cum hard, barreling out like a frantic shout, "G-Grace-cious-- Shao Lao pleas-suhh! Please forgive m-me! P-Please-- M-Mighty-- gaw--"

You can't continue as you groan out, finally feeling that fat tongue stop, laying flat against you. You sigh out, feeling your neck ache, and your senses return, your legs sag forward to your head.

"Mmuh! Sh-Shao Lao... I beg... aah... Please... forgive me-- I'm so... so aah... sorry... I'm sorry, S-Shao," you slur out, already fucked out of your mind.

By the grace of god, he releases your hips, slowly guiding you back onto the floor. You can feel your spine cry out with glee, your eyes rolling back with relief. Shao kneels between your legs still, biceps meaty and glowing, his arms folded forbidden, glaring down at you with serious eyes. Ever the reminiscent of Lin's face scolding and disappointed stare, shaming you of your very existence.

The god is still not settled.

You meekly reach and touch his elbow with the tip of your fingers.

"My god... My Shao Lao, please don't let this offend you... Remember your selfishless desire to bless me with the seed of a god's... Show me your true self, your kindness... Please take me another way to subside your rage... S-Show me... Show me who you are," you whisper-mewl, a whorish expression of need overtaking your face.

Shao grins.

He slams his large palms on either side of your head, your flinch, the ground shakes beneath you. Your body is sent aflame in shivers, excitement dribbling throughout your body. Your hands greedily trace down Lin's gorgeous body, feeling his gorgeous chest, it's bouncy and built. You moan out under Shao's stare. He's not moving again.

You whimper, "God hurry up Shao."

He laughs, finally taking in your sweet lips, slurping up your tongue, burning with passionate friction. He leans upright as you melt into the kiss, slapping down your titties, your nipples arching into them. He sits you up with ease, grabbing your ass, kissing your neck as he commands, "Turn around, bunny."

Your eyebrows quirked, too fucked out of your mind as you obeyed, slipping back to turn around, your ass popped back for him to enjoy. You sprawl out almost immediately, doing the cat yoga stretch, arms out infront of you, palms against the floor, ass up and perked.

You can hear Lin hum deliciously, his voice ebbing with lust.

Something's off.

You ask, "My dragon, does this pose please you?"

"It does, my bunny," speaks, rubbing your ass with both hands.

You grin, "Does it please your vessel as well?"

He pauses, then speaks again, "It pleases Lin greatly."

Lin Lie.

That was you wasn't it?

Did Shao switch so he could have this?

You stay quiet with your knowledge, a purr of excitement building up. The knowlege intensifies the feeling of Lin's fat tip kissing your entrance. You moan in anticipation, rocking against it, as he grabs full control of your hips. He waists no time to plunge in, his hard, fat cock slips right in from how wet you are. It doesn't even hurt either, as you bottom out eight inches of burly, stocky thickness in milliseconds.

You wail, toes and fingers curling up. He pulls back even a little a slips right out of you, releasing a charmastic laugh. Lin... It really was you wasn't it. He slips in, your walls expanding in fullness, the feeling enlarging and all compassing. Your hymen muscles burn and enjoy the stretch, both loving and hating it, blending into a delicious mixture as he slowly thrusts in and out.

The plunge is deep into your walls, stimulating the farthetes depths of you with a fat thickness. It's a sultry sensation, as your jaw slacks, as a marvelous gasp whines out of you.

"Mmh, you like that? Shao Lao's fiery cock," he hisses out.

You giggle, "Yes, m-mighty Shao Lao."

He starts to fuck into you now, speeding up with a haste precision. You moan, but it's interrupted as Lin slaps a heavy hand against your ass. The stung is sharp, burns with a hiss before it's washed away with the tides of pleasure. "I'll show you, Shao Lao's fury," he moans out.

With one hand he grips your hip in a vice, the other comes crashing down on your red cheek as he fucks hard and deep into you. His hard, hot rod slices you open, as you stretch and flex about him. He can feel your pulse when he digs in deep, how your pussy squeezes vice around him. "Aah-- Fuck, r-rabbit," he's trying so hard to keep up the facade. But you already know if Shao Lao was here, he'd slam into you relentlessly, not caring if your knees gave out; without moaning once, as he fucked you into the ground.

That's not to say Lin isn't doing you justice right now. You can barely handle this speed, as you whine and cry, as he penetrates your poor pussy, fucking into it with barely any care, slipping around and enjoying the clap of your pretty ass. He cracks a punishing blow against your already red and bruised cheek, enjoying the way you welp.

"Aah-- Mm- Come take this God's cock," he grabs you with both hips and slams you back into him. You jerk onto your palms with a breathy mewl, as he begins to pump you on his dick like a fleshlight.

"Fuck-fuck-- Lin!" You cry out, your orgasm surprising you. What sent you prematurely was how his tip slammed your cervix, the sensation painfully delicious, it sent you into a frenzy.

He didn't give in, as he dropped his head back, using his pumping biceps to pull you all the way off, just to carelessly slam you back down. "Gimme' your damn hands," Lin hisses, ans obediently you give him one at a time. He grabs your wrists, pulling you back, forcing all your weight to be dependent on him.

You jerked about like a ragdoll, overstimulation riddled in your body. Despite this being Lin, you could still feel his energetic plasma flicker around. He was supercharged and boundless.

Lin started to precisely bump his tip down against your g-spot on his way to your cervix, fucking up into you to meet in the middle, loving the way your walls spasmed from the aftermath of your orgasm. Your moans were useless screams by now, the sensation of your speedy abuse complimented the pusles from your swollen, defeated clit.

You whine, "'M cummin' M-- Cumming!!"

"S-shi-- (Y/nn)," he whines.

With one satisfying slam, Lin shoots hot rods of cum into your womb right as you splatter, coating the orange orb in your body with your cum, as it sucks up Lin's. You feel the orb vibrate in your womb and it glides down to your cervix, feeling it push back against Lin's cock.

You gasp, "L-Lin! Pull out!"

He obediently listens, laying you down and slipping right off. With a heavy grunt, your push the growing orb out your body, as it expands in your vagina, before slipping out the size of a large duck egg. You frantically look back, eyes wide in shock.

Right between your legs is a duck egg sized, orange orb.

Your eyes flicker up at Lin, his eyes are darkened and hazed over.

"S-Shao Lao," you cry out in fear.

He crashes as strong hand against your ass. You yelp, but he smooths it over with the carress of his palm.

"Why are you surprised, my hare? Have I not fulfilled my blessing?"

"I'm-- I'm on birth control! That's the only reason I said yes, I can't raise a baby," you huff.

"Not a human child. You will hatch another god. She will know her purpose the moment she hatches, and will take flight to it... We dragon's do not dwell on sentimentality the way humans do... Our affection for our birth is shown in our magic and prowess... Not hanging around as useless, crying, flesh... Your daughter will bless you, much like Lin as the Iron Fist."

Your eyes widening in shock, unable to process which sentence was crazier than the last.

"What the fuck are you talking about!"

"You are immortal now, (Y/n) (L/n). Your have bore the seed of the next generationg of gods."

"What!"

You heard the voices warp, as Lin speaks, "(Y/n) I didn't know this would happen."

"What... The fuck... " you whisper, blinking, "so do I sit on it until then- o-or?" A humiliated flush covers your cheeks as your turn back slowly, carefully sitting down on your sore, stretched out ass.

"I will guide her in the realm of the gods. She cannot stay here on Earth. But she will return to grant you one blessing, before she starts her eternal journey at home... Where she belongs. We dragon's are not meant to be bound to humans... But I am. For the--"

You gasp, "Wait!"

"Yes, my hare?"

You point at Lin's body, "He's The Immortal Iron Fist?"

"Yes. He is my vessel."

Your slaw lacks.

"Your friends will be arriving soon. I must take my leave, my hare. I will breed you again, for I must spread my seed--"

"What!"

"Until then, I implore you to enjoy my vessel..."

The smoke and plasma mix together spining above Lin's head, and out of it comes a glorious dragon. Heat surges the room, as the flying serpent is made of pure fire, it swallows the egg up in an instant, turning back from wince it came and descending into the cloud of smoke into Lin's body.

You watch Lin surge and gasp, no longer drowned in a shadow haze. His skin flushed and bright, his lips bright red and bruised, the taste of pussy still lingering on his taste buds. You watch his shaggy, sweaty hair lean down over his raven locks, his sweet eyes wide with shock.

No one says a word.

You slowly drop your head down onto the sleeping bag.

"What the fuck just happened?"

There's a this guilty look on his face as he sits next to your feet. "I'm sorry about that I-- Trust me, (Y/n), I did everything in my power to stop that. Shit, once Shao Lao learned I like you... In that way... He sort of... Listen I'll tell him off, me or him, we won't ever see you again. This will not happen again I will assure you."

You pause, quietly staring at the top of the tent. "Nah," is all you whisper.

He perks up, "What?"

"Don't go away... I sort of... I like you Lin... I tried to deny it, but I do. I was so worried about you, you know... I'm sorry for... My part in this... If I said no then we wouldn't be here," you sigh.

He gasps, "Oh god, no, I should be apologizing.. No matter what I'm the one who should've--"

"I'm not mad, Lin," you flush.

"I yet you're saying that now but--"

You wince, "For fucks sake, Lin! I'm saying--" you stop, watching as he leans forward, eyes plagued with worry. You pause and correct your tone, "I'm saying I liked it... I liked it. I mean its kind of an honor to be fucked by Shao Lao... I wanted it, and I don't really care about the damn dragon god baby- if its anything like its father it'll fuck off and be conceited-- I just... I want my bachelors, and... I don't mind... Seeing you, m-more after this."

Lin stares at you with bewilderment.

You squeak ans hide underneath your palms, "God this is too surreal."

He gulps, "W-Welcome to the superhero squad?" He tries to be funny.

"Fuck you," you're mad, but, a grin splits your face open, man your pussy feels good. You were stunning in the after glow. You'd do it again, with Shao Lao. And as you glance up at Lin, who flashes an amazed smile at you. You'd do it again with Lin too

He lays down next to you, folding his arms on his chest. "You're pretty kinky, (Y/n). You always seemed so regal," he whispers it. His face bright red.

"I can't believe you're Iron Fist," you mumble. You look over at him, he joins you. "You think my dragon'll grant me with riches," you blink.

"Mm," he looks up in thought, "Maybe. They usually gift items. Like my family's heritage is a sword. Maybe... Maybe you'll get a lucky necklace that makes extra money grativate in your life." He blinks at you.

"Mm... Maybe that's shallow thing to ask," you sigh

"Nothin' wrong with money. I like money," Lin speaks. "Besides, you can ask for something else after the second dragon you make," he giggles, leaning up and wrapping arms around you.

"Yeah I could-- Hey! S-Second," you whisper, laying hands on his broad shoulders.

He chuckles heartily, caressing your face with his thumb. "You okay? How's your body?"

"It's fine actually, it doesn't hurt surprisingly? Maybe the egg's got something to do with it," you whisper.

He sighs, "Good. I'm glad you're safe." You relax with Lin, as he drops his forehead down against yours, releasing a relieved sigh. You revel in the soft tranquility, its a great contrast to the endless brutality of Shao Lao.

God what the is your life going to be like now with these two. Or well one, who knows if Shao'll be back next full moon. He's got a baby to take care of. Lin helps you onto your side and spoons you, wrapping a warm hand around you, cupping a titty while he's there. He buries himself into your shoulder, running his nose along your edges. You flush.

You squeak out, "Why's this more embarrassing than the..." Although you can't finish your sentence, he chuckles, but he doesn't flee from giving you affection.

"Actually--"

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)," You hear Peter shriek from distance.

The two of you shout, "Oh fuck!"

You scramble to get dressed, but you're too weak to stand. He ushers you into the sleeping bag once his pants are back on, and he tries to wipe away the cum stains with his shredded hoodie. When the flurry of voices searching for you get closer.

Lin frantically unzips the tent,sticking his arm out as he waves bashfully to everyone. He's mer with a flashlight the the face. "She's fine! She's here! She-- uh... Ran back to," he doesn't have to finish it. Everyone can get the vibe from here.

Afterall Lin's disheveled, sweaty, and shirtless. It's MJ who laughs first, mostly in a mixture of pure horror and relief. Then the rest of the club follows short, but Peter's quick to dismiss everyone.

"Alright! Shows over go off to bed guys," he cries. MJ slicks off into Peter's tent, and Peter's takes the time to frantically rush over to Lin. His eyes are bulged out, terror in his voice, "Dude? Does she know? Is she okay? Did Shao do anything?"

Lin shushes him, glancing back you with a reassuring smile before whispering, "She knows I'm IronFist, and it's a crazy story that I'll tell you later - But Pete' she's immortal now too."

He shrieks, "What!"

#lin lie x you #iron fist lin lie #sword master lin lie #lin lie #lin lie x reader #marvel rivals ironfist #marvel rivals #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #mcu #lin lie marvel rivals #marvel rivals lin lie #iron fist #iron fist x reader #iron fist x you

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possesseddesiress · 1 month ago

Text

Brother's Issues

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Brother's Issues (English Version)

My older brother was infuriating. A guy with more ego than brains, but who had such an enviable body that it further reinforced his smug attitude.

The fights in my house were constant, the idiot left his clothes all over the place and hardly showered! He was always bragging about his "man smell"; and of course, being the oldest, my parents let him do whatever he wanted. He always got away with it, and I could only die of envy.

Mark was the big brother while I just made do with the scraps, I don't think I'm unattractive, but when you compare a river to the sea, clearly the sea is going to win.

He always got everyone's attention: teachers, family, even my ex-boyfriends; even if he wasn't gay, they always ended up confessing to me that what they wanted was to be near him.

And I was fed up.

I had been lost on the Internet for at least two hours in the wee hours of the morning, not seeing anything interesting until an email seemed to arrive.

"Want to be someone else? Read this email."

The first thing I did was close the message. It was ridiculous, sure it was some kind of spam mail. But the more time passed, an extra curiosity began to tingle in me, until I couldn't take it anymore. I ended up opening it and reading it.

It had a series of instructions on how to prepare a concoction with rather curious ingredients, but that would cause two people to change their bodies when they drank it.

Again I thought it was all stupidity, when I heard something crashing again and again against my wall from my brother's room, and the excited screams of a girl who was probably his fling today, like almost every night.

I had reached my limit.

The next morning, I set about gathering all the ingredients, until I finally came up with the last one: the other person's sweat, I thought it would be difficult, but I remembered that my brother left his sweaty underwear everywhere in the house. That morning, he was out, so I thought it would be easy to sneak into his room to steal some boxers.

No sooner had I entered his room than I had filled my nostrils with a pungent odor, the whole stench of my brother was quite strong. It looked like he hadn't cleaned his room in years and it just smelled like sweat and his fluids, it stank...

I was going through his dirty clothes when I heard the thunder of the wood on his door, my skin crawled, expecting a knock. But my brother wasn't standing in the frame, but his best friend: Theo.

— What are you doing here, buddy?

Theo was a nice guy, I didn't know how he was friends with my brother. His blond hair was silky, his smile was bright...

And I'd had a crush on him for as long as I could remember.

I didn't know if it was because he treated me well, because he was a good person and kind, or all together. But gosh, he sure drove me crazy.

— N-nothing. I was about to pick up Mark's laundry.

— Is he making you do his laundry again?

I swallowed hard right then and there.

— Uh, yeah, yeah.

— Let me help you.

He came over to me to lift the basket and carry it to the laundry room, my heart was beating fast.

I didn't know if it was because I was afraid Mark would come in at any moment and notice the absence of his sweaty clothes, or if it was from being with Theo.

— Well, buddy, there's the laundry. I'll wait for your brother in his room, see you.

He waved his hands, disappearing. As soon as he left, I dived into the pile of stinky clothes, trying to find the freshest thing possible. I grabbed a pair of red underpants, they felt wet and smelly, I tried not to smell them but ended up stuffing them in my face. Soon that would be my smell...

I gathered the rest of the ingredients, prepared it in a jar and when I squeezed the sweat out of it, I swear I saw how it shined.

I let it sit until the next morning. I knew my brother was going out to work out as usual, so I always prepared his protein for the gym; before he went out, I opened the glass to pour half of the liquid and run back to my room.

The rest of the time passed slowly, I didn't know whether to drink the rest of the concoction, what if something went wrong, what if I ended up doing something bad to my brother?

Thousands of questions tormented me, but I caught a glimpse of my brother's body: Tall, stocky, with his stinky armpits, his strong legs, how his arms swelled or his big pecs. All that could be mine, at last not just the puny brother, I could be the big one.

I ended up drinking all the concoction, up to the last drop; for an instant I felt nothing, until suddenly I felt a cramp accompanied by an intense pain and dizziness, I fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, feeling my whole body trembling and my vision went black.

In less than a second, I could see light again. However, something felt strange from the moment I blinked. Maybe it was the aroma I was now emanating, the place where I was now or the noise of weights and sports machinery being used.

I looked down, noticing my tanned skin, my thick pecs and muscles, yes I was strong!

I couldn't help but let out an excited laugh and dropped the weights my brother was carrying moments before, I almost looked like a schoolgirl with emotions running high.

I immediately dropped everything, walking uncertainly towards the bathrooms or the locker room. As soon as I saw my new reflection, it was like feeling an adrenaline rush, I was seeing my brother's reflection! I flexed his arms, enjoying how my arms and chest were swelling up. Gosh, yes!

I lifted my armpit, beginning to lick and sniff, enjoying the aroma. I clutched my nose against my new hairy armpit, panting loudly as if unhinged.I caressed every inch of my new skin, bristling at the slightest touch. I smiled smugly.

— Oh yes, my name is Mark.... – I murmured, taking the opportunity to touch the relief of my brother's pecs, letting out a squeal from the sensitivity – I'm the star athlete of my high school, a real casanova – I was loving every second, seeing how what I was saying, my brother was making exact copy of it – I used to like girls but now.... I don't know, bro. I think I'll only like boys.

I was drunk with power. I ended up leaving the gym after finding my brother's stuff, I didn't even change, I enjoyed feeling how the wet clothes stuck against my skin, the stench my body gave off, even how other guys saw me.

I ended up getting home, I didn't hear any noise, everything was quiet. I knew my parents were at work, so I went upstairs, straight to my room.

I was scared to find my brother in my body, awake. My heart was pounding... but when I opened the door, I could see my old body lying on the floor, asleep.

I smiled, I couldn't help but scoff inwardly, I even moved him slightly to see if he would react.

—You're not so strong anymore, are you, little brother? – I said teasingly.

I simply turned around, closing the door to go to my brother's room. I lifted my armpit, smiling at the scent; now I understood why he was addicted to smelling that bad.

I started rummaging through his closet, beginning to try on all of his clothes. There was something exciting about it that made my skin crawl.

I put on everything I could get my hands on: Sport shirts, shorts, skinny jeans, leather jackets. It was fun, until I found something in a drawer that made my new member firm up instantly. It was a smelly sports spandex, it was my brother's wrestling uniform. I suddenly took off my clothes to put that on instead, I smiled as I saw it fit perfectly on my body, all in place.

My fat legs encased in the tight fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. I sat in a chair my brother had in front of his mirror, leaning back.

Loving the way I looked, I picked up his phone to start taking pictures of myself, letting my strong muscles show, or my armpits, I even made the occasional silly face.

I was a brainless jock now, wasn't I?

I sniffed hard at my new masculinity, taking advantage of the friction to drive me crazy. I was waving my hand frantically when someone entered the room, it was Theo.

— Shit! – I muttered, covering myself. He just raised his eyebrow.

— What are you doing? - he asked without giving it much importance.

— Nothing, nothing. I wasn't expecting you – I mumbled, trying to avoid his gaze.

— I told you yesterday I'd come today, are you running out of brain cells from so much protein? – He joked. I felt a warm feeling in my stomach when I heard him laugh – What are you wearing?

— My wrestling uniform, what else? – I tried to diminish the strangeness of the moment, I had to be more like Mark – it drives girls crazy, don't you think? – I muttered, flexing my arms for him.

Theo let out a friendly laugh, nodding.

— Sure, dude.

We talked for a while, at first he caught me off guard but the more I talked to him, I felt my brother's knowledge and tastes seep in. Suddenly he was talking about his subjects, his other friends, video games that only he knew about, even what sports games were coming up.

— Mark, do you want to go play video games at my house? I bought something new and we can go try it out.

— Sure, bro – I felt natural with every step and every sentence. I changed my clothes so we could go without looking ridiculous, that would be for later – Let me let my annoying brother know.

I ended up walking to my old room, still lying my body on the floor. I went out with Theo, walking down the street and enjoying the sun.

— Sometimes you're too hard on him.

— With who? – I said a bit confused.

— With your younger brother, I remember when you used to get along with him.

I felt some guilt for what he made me remember, there was a time when Mark was protective of me, and I was always hanging out with him and Theo, until.... Wow, I don't know what happened.

— He's such a loser.

— I like him, he's really nice.

I smiled to myself to hear my crush say such a thing. We ended up arriving at his house, apparently no one was home. We went up to Theo's room where we played for at least two hours, the afternoon went by fast; we kept talking about trivial topics but I couldn't help looking at him from time to time.

I felt a connection with him, natural because of my brother's friendship with Theo, but there was something that also seeped out of me, that I liked. The way he laughed, or his hair falling on his forehead, his skin, fuck, fuck...

— Come on, dude. I'm kicking your ass! – I could see how my character ended up being defeated, I was silent, just listening to his laughter, which confused him, he turned to look at me. – Mark... Are you ok?

And I couldn't hold it in any longer.

I approached him to kiss him softly, I was afraid he wouldn't kiss me back, but he immediately started kissing me again.

It was a chaos of kisses, my hands wandering awkwardly through his hair.

— Jesus, Mark...

— Don't you love it?

— I love it, man...

We ended up kissing like crazy. There were a lot of questions in me, So Theo was gay? Did he always have feelings for Mark? Was this the relationship they had? What was going on here?

But the more kisses he gave me, the less I cared. In a matter of mere seconds again we were kissing intensely and passionately. I had everything I wanted, the body I deserved, the boy of my dreams? At last everything was in place.

Theo climbed on top of me, still kissing me, even tenderly.

— Do you want me to take good care of you, big guy?

He whispered in a tone I never thought I'd hear him speak. He caressed my chest and then my abs.

— Theo...

I murmured.

— Shh...

I immediately quieted down. And gosh... He sure knew how to use his mouth, my eyes rolled to white from just feeling how over and over again he acted greedily. I was lost in the sensation until I could feel my new phone vibrating like crazy, I preferred to ignore it, but I kept getting notifications.

I reluctantly picked up the phone, only to see notifications from my old number. Apparently my brother had already woken up, there were endless messages:

"What did you do, midget!? Where are you!?"

And more messages from him, completely hysterical, although there was one in particular that made me trace a wide smile on my face:

"Are you with Theo?! Stay away from my best friend!"

I immediately activated the camera to send him some pictures. Which infuriated him even more.

I was about to burst out laughing when I heard Theo's phone start ringing.

— Mfh... Wait a minute, buddy – he sat back up and picked up his phone to check who was calling – That's weird, your brother is calling me.

— Don't answer it - I tried to sound natural.

But Theo seemed to ignore me, he answered and not only that, he put it on speaker.

— Hello?

There was silence, until Mark finally exploded with my squeaky voice.

— Theo, it's Mark! My idiot brother did something and now I'm in his body! That asshole is using my body, you have to do something!

Theo looked at me strangely, scowling, I couldn't even hold his gaze.

— Didn't you hear, Theo?! That's not me that's with you! You have to do something!

I guess the luck had lasted only a few seconds, now Theo would reject me or even hate me.

— I know, Mark – I looked up quickly, I could see the boy of my dreams with a cold profile, but not for me exactly – And I like it that way.

My old voice sounded hysterical and annoyed over the speaker until Theo cut the call.

— So... You know?

— Yes, I do.

— Was I too obvious?

— A little, but it wasn't really about that.

Without warning he kissed me again.

— But Theo...

— Who do you think sent you the mail?

He let out a laugh to kiss me intensely, I had to restrain myself from kissing him for hours or putting my hands on his body.

— Why?

— Because I've seen you, buddy - he smiled, then I realized that I always use the nickname he used to call me - I know how you look at me, I know how much you liked it. And although I felt something similar, I couldn't reciprocate you, I saw you as my little brother, it felt... wrong. Your brother's body, though, I could certainly mess with it an infinite number of times.

He caressed my smooth abs.

— So you like that I'm Mark?

— I love it. The goofy jock look suits you.

He grabbed my pecs to weigh them, then without warning lunged against my armpits to lick and sniff like crazy.

After a few weeks, I ended up adapting to my brother's life perfectly. I continued playing his sports, improved his grades, got along with his friends... The only change was when “he” came out as openly gay, my parents had to accept it and my younger brother... Well, he has no choice but to watch me bring my cute boyfriend, formerly best friend, into my room every night.

---

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages.

This will be my new account, I hope you like the stories that are coming soon. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

#body swap #body switch #malebodyswap #bodyswapping #straight to gay #nerd to hunk #twinktohunk #brothertobrother

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landologged · 1 day ago

Text

Out Lapped | Part One

pairing: lando x reader

genre: toxicity, shit aint sweet sorry, like 85% porn and arguing????, its hot tho, angst? i guess, monaco beinf monaco, possessive and hot lando, readers a dumb hoe (but i get it)

description: You sure as hell didn’t expect to find yourself at Lando’s door after promising your therapist you wouldn’t see him again. But your thighs remember things your brain pretends to forget, and Monaco is a dangerous place to have free time and a hell of a lot of unresolved trauma.

So, here you are, stuck in a loop you swore you’d escaped: he wins races, goes home to her, and calls you at 2AM like you’re the reward. You know it’s toxic. You know he’s lying. But every time you try to walk away, he says your name like it still means something. And every time he touches you—you forget how to leave all over again.

WC: 19k

notes: want to preface this is extremely toxic, i dont hate magui but needed her for the plot sorry, this is not a healthy relationship its just toxic n sexy im sorry i have issues, enjoy tho xx | had to repost bc tumblr put a warning on it

You tell yourself it’s just a building. Just concrete and glass and overpriced furniture, just one of dozens of sleek high-rises dotting the cliff-edge of Monaco’s coastline like little temples to wealth. But that’s a lie you started telling before the plane even landed, and now—standing outside of his door, heat curling around your ankles and your jaw locked so tight you can feel the tension in your teeth—it’s all unraveling way too fucking fast. This isn’t just a building. This is a goddamn shrine. To every version of you that lost and begged and bled behind those walls. And the worst part is you let all of it happen. Over and over and over, like some stupid animal who keeps going back to the cage because it’s the only place she remembers how to breathe.

You stand there too long. Not knocking. Not leaving. Just standing like a goddamn idiot. Sweating in your blouse, clutching your phone like it might ring if you squeeze hard enough, though no one’s called you in hours. You’d deleted his number. Blocked it. Then unblocked it. Then memorized it, like that made you the one in control. The gate code, too. You remembered that one without trying.

Inside, you imagine he’s probably shirtless. Or worse—fresh out of the shower, towel slung low, smirking at his own reflection in the mirror like he’s still a teenage boy. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s got someone over. That girl he was seen with last week, or the one from before. Some Portuguese model with a body like a Victoria Secret angel and a face the camera loves. Long legs, soft mouth, always sun-kissed and unbothered. She’s been rumored with him for months—not that you’ve been reading, obviously. Not that you have the search saved. Not that you zoomed in on the photos where he’s walking three steps ahead and still somehow looks like he belongs to her.

She has no idea what he sounds like when he’s angry. No idea how fast his mood can turn—how one second he’s teasing, laughing, and the next his voice goes low and hard and mean. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be devoured by him, not kissed but taken, not fucked but owned. She’s never had to piece herself together in his bathroom afterward, thighs shaking, mascara wrecked, trying not to cry just because he simply didn’t stay.

There’s no breeze in the hallway, just stillness. Expensive stillness. Climate-controlled. Smells like fresh-cut flowers and clean linen and the faintest undercurrent of chlorine—like the building itself is trying to convince you nothing messy ever happens here. No broken glasses or slammed doors or whispered confessions between kisses that feel like the end of the world.

The walls are paneled in soft blond wood, warm under the overheads, you shift your weight, and the tap of your heel against polished wood echoes too loud. Sharp. Embarrassing.

A laugh bubbles up uninvited. Quiet, bitter, barely audible, but still real. What the fuck are you doing here? You told your therapist—once—that you were past this. That you’d written it off for what it was: a phase, a crash, an experiment in self-destruction that just happened to have a face. His face. His voice. His hands. You’d said it with conviction. You’d almost believed yourself.

But that was when you hadn’t counted in the photo.

It wasn’t even new. Just some grainy tabloid resurrection of last summer—him holding your wrist outside the back of a club, the tension in your posture so clear it almost hurt to look at. And his face—god that fucking face. Golden tan, summer-slick skin that caught the flash of the camera like it knew exactly where to land. That haircut—fresh, sharp, fade carved clean down the sides, but the top left long, soft, curled just enough to look effortless. Like he’d rolled out of bed into a suit and made it look intentional.

White shirt open at the throat, no tie. Slim-fit navy blazer that hugged his frame like he’d been sewn into the thing. And that expression—cool, calm, always calculated. He looked straight into the lens, jaw set, eyes unreadable, like he knew they were watching and didn’t give a single fuck about it. Like he knew you wouldn’t leave. Because you hadn’t. Not really. Not for long, and sure as hell, never for good.

You don’t knock. You can’t. Your hand hovers near the wood, fingers curled like a fist you don’t have the strength to make. You stare at the door like it might open on its own. Like maybe he’ll feel you on the other side and save you the choice.

So when the door finally opens—slow, quiet, just a few inches at first—it doesn’t feel like an invitation. It feels like a trap you’re already halfway inside.

Warm light spills out into the hallway, catching the edge of that honeyed wood paneling behind you, and suddenly you’re in it again. His world. The clean, curated silence of it. Not cold—just impersonal. Too white. Too perfect. A mirror near the entry catches the edge of his shoulder, and for one disorienting second, you see both versions of him at once.

He’s barefoot, of course. Hair damp and pushed back like he’s just gotten out of the shower or maybe just doesn’t give a shit anymore. Black long-sleeve shirt, sleeves shoved up to his elbows like he’s mid-recovery from something. The fabric’s soft, lived-in, probably smells like skin and detergent. There’s a ring on his finger now—something thin and silver, catching the light as he leans one shoulder against the frame. Something that definitely wasn’t there before.

And just under his collarbone, a flash of color. Sunburn maybe. Lipstick, if you let yourself believe in worst-case scenarios. You don’t want to know. You do want to know. It burns both ways.

Behind him, the apartment stretches long and quiet. Pale floors. White cabinets. Stainless steel fridge that reflects the open-concept kitchen like a showroom. Heineken keg on the counter. DJ deck in the corner. Stacks of papers on the island that say he’s busy. Clean sink that says he’s not that busy. Trophies in the other room. Art that’s mostly just versions of himself—cars, helmets, movement frozen mid-victory.

“Well, well,” he says, mouth curling slow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

You raise an eyebrow, defaulting to sarcasm like muscle memory. “You think too much of yourself.”

He leans against the frame, lets his eyes drag over you like it’s nothing. Like it's a habit. “And yet, here you are.”

You hate how calm he sounds. How unsurprised. Like he knew. Like he felt you coming before you even booked the flight. You step forward without meaning to, past the threshold, into the coolness of the apartment that smells like bergamot and money and something darker underneath. Something familiar. Like heat after sex. Like you.

“Are you gonna say why you’re here,” he says as he closes the door behind you, voice low, smooth, almost bored, “or just continue to stand there?”

You shrug. You’re already halfway to the couch. “Didn’t think I needed a reason.”

“You always had one,” he says, following at a lazy pace. “Even when you lied about it.”

You don’t sit. You don’t take your shoes off. You just stand there in the middle of all that soft lighting and polished calm like you’re something feral that wandered in off the street. Your arms cross without thought, instinctive, defensive—like maybe if you press hard enough, you can hold yourself in. He notices. He always notices. That was the problem, wasn’t it? How seen he made you feel. Not loved. Not even wanted. Just known.

“You look tired,” he says. Not kindly.

You stare at him. Let your eyes drag over every inch of him. The tan. The jaw. The lazy posture. The fucking confidence. You try not to let it show—how familiar it all is. How foreign it feels now. Like you’ve studied it in photos more recently than in person. “You look the same.”

He grins. “You mean perfect?”

There it is. The smirk. The bait. The comfort in knowing exactly which part of himself still gets to you. He tosses it out like a joke, but his eyes don’t leave yours. He’s watching your mouth. Your shoulders. Your tells.

And fuck—you wish it didn’t still work. And so you do what you always do, you deflect. You roll your eyes, but the sting hits anyway. He’s always been beautiful in that arrogant, accidental way—like he never had to work for it. You always had to work for everything. But he just was. That was half the danger, all of the problem.

“You must’ve seen the article,” you say, even though you’re not here to talk about the article. Even though this whole thing has nothing to do with whatever the press dug up and everything to do with how quiet your apartment’s been. How empty your chest’s felt. How loud he still is, in every fucking corner of your mind.

“I did,” he says, shrugging. “You looked good. Even when you’re pissed off.”

You laugh once, sharp. “You looked like a fucking asshole.”

“Branding,” he replies, with that infuriating grin, the one that used to mean you’re not really mad at me and you’re not really leaving. The one you used to fall for. The one you feel yourself slipping toward again, like gravity. Like his goddamn dog.

You inhale through your nose, slow. Careful. Like control is something you can hold in your lungs.

“Don’t get excited,” you tell him.

He steps closer. One, then two. Not touching you. Just standing there, inches away, his presence thick as smoke. “You came back,” he murmurs. “That’s all I need.”

And your heart breaks a little, just enough to make room for something worse. Because this is the part you forgot—how he looks at you. Like nothing else exists. Like you’re a secret he’s been keeping warm in his mouth this whole time. There’s something about his eyes up close. Something impossible. They make you forget all the bad endings and bruised mornings. They make you think you might want it again. That maybe the problem was never him. Maybe it was you. Maybe you were too scared to be kept.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, voice raw around the edges. But it’s not a real protest.

He moves like he hears it for what it is. Like he knows the thread is already pulled, and you’re unraveling in his hands. He steps closer. Close enough that his breath ghosts against your cheek. Close enough that you can feel the burn of him without needing to touch. But then he does touch—just one hand, slow and certain, curling around your hip like he’s staking a claim he never stopped believing in.

“You always say that right before you kiss me,” he says, low, like a dare he already knows you’ll take.

Your breath catches. Just a subtle hitch in your chest that betrays you more than any yes ever could. Your mouth parts like instinct, like muscle memory, like maybe it remembers how good it felt to fall apart under his mouth. His hand moves, slow. Deliberate. Thumb grazing over the front of your shirt, dragging downward. Just enough to make your skin burn under the fabric. It’s not a grope. It’s worse than a grope. It’s casual. Familiar. Possessive in the quiet way that says I’ve had you like this before, and I will again.

His touch isn’t asking. It’s remembering. You swallow. Your heart's trying to crawl up your throat. You should move. Should say something colder, sharper, final. Instead, you just breathe out—

“Don’t.”

Barely audible. Not even a command. Just a plea. God, you’re an idiot.

He tilts his head, like he wants to get a better angle on your mouth. His nose almost brushes yours. The space between you contracts until it’s only breath and tension and history.

“Don’t what?” he asks, and his voice has that low, slanted softness—curious, cruel. Like he knows exactly what you meant but wants to hear you struggle to say it. The kind of voice that used to unravel you in dark corners, in backseats, in beds that didn’t belong to either of you.

He leans in. Just a little. Enough that you feel the heat of his breath against your mouth—warm, embarrassingly warm, laced with mint and something sweeter underneath. Familiar. Him. That exact blend you used to chase in the dark like a hit you didn’t want to quit. It makes your knees weaken. Your jaw tighten. Your pride splinter.

Your eyes flick to his lips. Mistake. They’re right there. Parted. Wet. Waiting. And the space between you shrinks until it feels like a trick.

“Don’t make this something it’s not,” you manage, barely above a whisper, every word scraped from the raw edge of restraint.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just leans in further, and fuck—his mouth grazes yours. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just a ghost of one. A threat.

His voice is so rough now—like it’s been worn down by every time he’s said your name in the dark. “You mean something it is.”

You shiver, and you hate that he feels it. You want to hold out. You want to keep control. You want to say something biting, something final, something that makes him feel the way you’ve felt since he let you go. But then he exhales—slow, hot, right against your tongue. And just like that, you’ve lost.

You kiss him, hard. Desperate. Like a dam breaking. Your hands are in his hair, dragging him in, and his body collides with yours like he’s been holding back since the moment you walked in. It’s all heat, no space. His mouth opens against yours and the taste of him hits like hunger—like rage, like missing something for too long. You chase it. You give him your teeth, your tongue, your breath. He takes all of it like it’s owed.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, your ass, sliding under your shirt, fingers grazing the skin he used to fall asleep on like he’s checking to make sure it’s still his. You make a sound in your throat, somewhere between shock and surrender, and he groans into it—deep, guttural—like he’s been waiting months to hear it again.

He pushes you back until your spine kisses the wall, the impact muffled by the heat rolling off him. And you—God—you don’t even think. Your legs part without hesitation, hips tilting, instinctive. You wrap them around him like that’s where they’ve always belonged, thighs locking tight as his hands slide lower. And then you feel it—how hard he already is against you, thick through his pants, straining with a pressure that feels dangerous. You gasp. His hips grind forward, slow and deliberate, dragging that heat against the softest part of you. All muscle. All him.

He’s solid everywhere, unyielding, his abs pressed tight against your stomach, his chest hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. You can barely breathe. He’s all around you, above you, inside you already without even being there yet.

“You miss me?” he growls into your mouth.

You don’t answer. Your answer’s in the way you arch into him, nails raking down his back, pulling his shirt up and over his head like you need to feel every inch. It hits the floor. He’s warm and solid and panting.

“You fucking miss me,” he says again, dragging his mouth down your throat, sucking hard enough to mark.

You nod. A tiny motion. Barely there. Then—brrzt. brrzt.

His phone.

You freeze. Just for a second, enough for the thoughts to collect. Lando, however, keeps going. Grinding against you harder. Hand shoved between your thighs, fingers pressing through denim like he wants to rip it off with his teeth.

brrzt. brrzt.

“Your phone,” you pant.

“Fuck it,” he mutters. “Ignore it.”

It buzzes again. Long this time. He doesn’t even look. Just lifts you higher, his mouth dragging over your jaw, your cheek, back to your lips. “Come back to bed,” he whispers against you. “Let me show you how much you fucking missed me.”

Your heart stutters. The phone won’t stop. You twist your face away, breathing hard. “Answer it.”

He growls low in his throat. Frustrated. Presses his forehead to yours. “It’s nothing.”

brrzt. brrzt.

You push against his chest. Gently. Not to stop. Just enough to see his face. “Lando. Just—answer it.”

Silence stretches. He stares at you. Jaw tense. Then—without a word—he reaches into his pocket and pulls the phone out. Glances at the screen. Jaw flexes again. You see it before he hides it.

Magui? The model. He doesn’t answer right away. Just holds the phone like it’s radioactive. Then, slowly, he presses accept. Puts it on speaker and doesn’t look at you.

“Lando? Where are you?” her voice asks, soft, breathy, sweet like something that doesn’t know how sharp the blade is. “You said you’d come back.”

Your stomach drops. Something ugly twists in your chest. He looks at you. Finally. Lips parted. Chest heaving. Guilt doesn’t even register on his face.

And you—you just stand there, legs still wrapped around his hips, his hand still under your shirt, his mouth still wet from your kiss.

Listening. Like a fucking idiot. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until it starts to burn. His name is still hanging in the air between you, but you’re not looking at him anymore—you’re staring at the phone, your body gone still in his hands, your heart pounding like it’s trying to scream over her voice.

You said you’d come back. He doesn’t say anything. Not to her. Not to you. And then she says it. Soft. So soft you almost miss it.

I love you.

Your brain doesn’t register it right away. It glitches. Like static. Like maybe it wasn’t real. Like maybe your ears are just cruel. You blink, but your face doesn’t move. Your jaw’s locked so tight it feels like your teeth might break.

And he—he just ends the call. Like that. Like nothing. No goodbye. No excuse. No tone shift, no sigh. Just a tap of his thumb and the silence is back, louder than before.

Your mouth opens. But nothing comes out. You look at him, really look, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re expecting. Remorse? A joke, maybe? Something to soften the way that name is still ricocheting around your skull like a pinball.

But he just breathes—deep, shuddering, like he’s swallowing down the instinct to pull you back in. Like it physically costs him to let go. His chest rises too fast, too hard, like he’s been running, like holding you against him took something out of him. His breath hits your cheek in short bursts, humid and sharp, laced with the taste of everything you almost let happen. It’s the kind of breathing that isn’t just from need—it’s from restraint. Barely-there control. Like his whole body is buzzing with the effort not to drag you right back against the wall and finish what you started.

You slide off of him. Feet hitting the floor like reality. You fix your shirt automatically, hands shaking, lips buzzing from where his mouth had been, skin hot and damp and stupid.

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out raw.

He watches you, eyes dark, unreadable.

“She—she loves you,” you spit, breath catching as you take a shaky step back, heart still racing, hands still curled into fists. “She said that and you just—what the fuck was that?”

He exhales sharp through his nose, then drags a hand through his hair—fast, rough, like he’s trying to get a grip on something he can’t hold. His curls fall right back into place, but his jaw’s tight, his eyes flicking toward the floor like maybe he’s trying not to look at you. “She doesn’t mean it.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

He exhales, sharp through his nose. “She doesn’t know me like you do.”

“That’s the problem,” you snap. “She doesn’t know what you are.”

“And you do,” he says, voice quiet. Still dangerous. “So why are you here?”

You open your mouth. Then close it. Then open it again, and this time it’s just a laugh. Ugly. Bitter. “Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what? Don’t realize what this is? That I’m your dirty little relapse while your soft little girlfriend plays house and says I love you into your voicemail?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he barks. Too fast. Too defensive.

You stare him down, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t say that a second ago.”

He comes toward you and you stumble back.

“No,” you say. “Fuck no. You don’t get to touch me right now.”

He freezes. Stops dead, just a foot from you, close enough to feel the heat of him, too far to do anything about it. His chest rises and falls like he’s running—he’s not. He’s just feeling too much, too fast, too late.

“Look at me,” he says.

You don’t. You stare at the floor like it might save you. Like if you don’t meet his eyes, you won’t fall back into the same goddamn loop that’s already eaten you alive twice over.

He reaches out, fingers brushing your jaw. You flinch, but you don’t move away. Of course you don’t. Because part of you is still standing in the wreckage hoping he’ll lie to you sweet enough to make it okay. His touch is soft now. Thumb tracing your cheek, then dragging down your throat, slow and reverent, like he’s memorizing you again.

“She doesn’t know what I sound like when I’m inside you,” he murmurs.

Your knees almost give out.

“She doesn’t know how you taste when you come.”

Your stomach flips, hard. Heat coiling down your spine, settling between your legs.

“She doesn’t know how wet you get for me, even when you hate me.”

Your thighs clench—reflex, muscle memory, betrayal. His grin brushes your cheek without even forming. He doesn’t need to see it. He feels it. He steps closer. Just one inch. But it’s all it takes. His mouth brushes your ear, hot breath curling into your neck.

“But you do,” he whispers. “Don’t you?”

You close your eyes. Just for a second. Just to breathe. Just to pretend.

His hand slides under your shirt again. Palm flat over your stomach, fingers splayed, dragging up—slow, heavy, deliberate. Every inch he takes feels like a claim. Like he’s reminding your skin who it belongs to. He reaches your ribs. Stops there. Presses in. Just enough to make you feel the weight of it. The heat. The power.

You should pull away. You want to pull away. But your body’s already arching into it. Already melting.

“You’re not some side piece,” he says, low and rough, his mouth dragging along your jaw. “You’re not a fucking mistake. You’re the one I can’t seem to get over.”

You shake your head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

His mouth finds yours again. Softer this time. Slower. Like he’s trying to rewrite the last five minutes with his tongue. Like if he kisses you deep enough, long enough, you’ll forget her name. Forget what she said. Forget what you heard.

You moan into it. God help you.

He lifts you again. You let him. Your legs wrap around his hips like they never left. He presses you back into the wall and grinds against you, and you’re gasping again, already soaked through your jeans, shame melting into heat like sugar over flame.

“You still want me,” he says. “Even after all this.”

You nod before you can lie. Before you can save face. Because the truth is—it’s not that you want him. It’s that you need him. Like air, you want him more than anything else. And when his hand slips down, tugging open your fly, fingers sliding beneath the fabric like a claim, you whimper.

Because this isn’t healing. This is a fucking possession, and worst of all you’re still letting him in.

His fingers are in your jeans, dragging them down with that reckless one-handed pull like he can’t wait anymore. As if he’s been fucking starved. The denim catches at your knees, then your ankles, and you almost trip trying to step out of them, but he catches you—of course he catches you—because the fall is always part of the game with him.

“You still get wet for me so fast,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into your underwear, slow circles right over where he knows you’re already soaking. “Just like that. Just like you used to. I didn’t even have to try.”

Your breath hitches. Shame and arousal flood through you in equal measure, but it’s not enough to stop you. He watches you fall apart with that cocky, ruined grin—like he’s proud of what he does to you, but not even remotely surprised.

“Bet you touch yourself thinking about this,” he adds. “About my mouth. About my cock.”

Your mouth opens to protest, but he slips a finger beneath the fabric and slides through you—wet, thick, slow—and your entire brain short-circuits. Your knees buckle and he fucking laughs, low and mean and gorgeous.

“You’re so full of shit,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You don’t mean any of this.”

His mouth finds yours again, teeth scraping your lip. “Maybe,” he says against your tongue. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”

You shove his chest, but it’s not a real push. It’s nothing. You’re already grinding against his hand, thighs trembling, cunt clenching around his fingers as he adds another. The stretch burns in the best way. Your head falls back against the wall.

“Lando—”

“I missed this pussy,” he cuts in, voice rough now, his own breathing ragged. “Fuck. I thought about it every time she opened her mouth. Had to stop myself from saying your name when I came.”

That hits like a slap. Your jaw drops, your stomach lurches, but the worst part—the most humiliating part—is how much wetter you get hearing it. You hate him. Hate yourself more. He drops to his knees before you can think. Yanks your underwear down and apart like he owns it, spreads you open with both hands and groans when he sees how wrecked you are.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he mutters. “You’re dripping. Look at that. She’s got no fucking clue.”

Then his mouth’s on you. You cry out, hands flying to his hair, trying to push him away and pull him in all at once. His tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, sucking your clit with practiced, hungry precision—and your thighs are already shaking. His fingers pump into you hard, steady, curling just right. It’s disgusting how fast you’re close. How desperate you are. How your hips are fucking chasing his mouth like he’s the only thing you’ve ever needed.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, voice muffled against you. “Show me how bad you still want it?”

You nod frantically, too far gone to pretend. He chuckles darkly. “Then fucking do it. Let her hear you next time she calls.”

And then he sucks, hard, and everything inside you snaps. Your legs shake, your vision whites out, your body jerks against him with a guttural, broken moan that you couldn’t stop if you tried. You’re still shaking when he stands. Licks his lips, smug. Unbuttons his jeans like it’s nothing.

“Still think I don’t mean it?” he asks, pulling his cock out, hard and leaking, dragging it against your thigh.

You should run. But instead you grab his face and kiss him again—deep, messy, tasting yourself on his tongue—because if you’re gonna go down, you’re gonna burn on the way.

“Shut up,” you whisper against his mouth.

He grins like he’s already won. Next thing you know your panties are hanging from one ankle, forgotten. He’s panting into your mouth, hand gripping the back of your neck like he wants to fuck you with your face pressed against the wall and your spine bent backwards. His cock is hard against your thigh, leaking, twitching, so ready, and your nails are in his skin, already dragging, already marking.

Then he pulls back.

“Hold on,” he mutters, breathless, and turns away.

You blink. Chest heaving. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Walks toward the bedroom. Opens a drawer. You don’t move, frozen in that second of hot disbelief, like maybe you didn’t just see what you saw.

Then he comes back. With a condom. And your blood boil over, you were going to fucking murder him. You stare at the plastic like it had personally slapped you.

“Seriously?” you spit in utter disbelief.

He shrugs, casual, tone light like it won’t explode the whole fucking moment. “What? Just being careful.”

“Careful?”

He shrugs again, tearing the foil open with his teeth, cock still hard in his hand. “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

The silence that follows doesn’t hang—it slams down between you. Sucks the oxygen out of the air. You just stare. Your mouth doesn’t work. Your chest doesn’t move. Rage rises slow in your throat, heavy and hot, turning your blood molten. It crawls up the back of your neck, behind your eyes, makes your vision pulse at the edges.

You take a step. Then another. Close enough to see your own slick glinting on his skin. And then your hand flies. The slap cracks across his face—flesh to bone, skin to heat—and his head snaps with the force of it. The sound ricochets off the walls, brutal and final.

He doesn’t stumble. Doesn’t flinch.

He just laughs. Low. Dark. That sharp, broken sound that says fuck yes. Mean. Worse, turned on.

“Oh, that’s what does it for you?” he breathes, eyes flicking back to you, wild now. “Getting offended that I don’t assume you’ve been sitting at home like a fucking nun?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“So are you,” he snaps back, grabbing your face with one hand, gripping your jaw. “But you’re the one who keeps coming back. Not her. You, princess.”

You’re both panting. Still half-dressed. Still drunk on whatever shit-show occurs whenever you two are in the same room.

“You think I’m letting you fuck me with a condom now?” you hiss. “After all this? Go fuck yourself.”

“You’d rather I come in you just to prove a fucking point?” he growls.

“Yeah,” you snap. “I fucking would.”

He doesn’t put it on. He just lets it fall. Condom hits the floor with a whisper and then he’s on you—slamming you back against the wall with the weight of his whole body, his mouth crushing yours, tongue and teeth and spit, hands everywhere, gripping your thighs, your ass, your jaw like he can’t decide what part of you he wants first.

He’s cursing into your throat, your name half-spoken—spit out—like a threat, like worship, like an apology he doesn’t fucking mean.

And then—

He shoves into you.

Raw. Bare. Deep.

You gasp—no, scream—your legs snapping tight around his waist, head thudding back against the wall as your body stretches around him with that slick, aching slide that feels like pain, like home, like fuck, finally.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t check if you’re okay. Doesn’t have to. Your nails are already dragging down his back, hips tilting into his like your body’s starving. He grabs your ass and drives into you again, again, harder—grinding deep like he’s trying to split you open and crawl inside.

You bite his shoulder. He groans loud, then fucks you harder.

“This what you wanted?” he snarls. “This what you fucking needed?”

“Yes,” you moan, breath caught, body stretched and shaking. “Yes, yes—fuck, yes.”

He pulls out mid-thrust and drags you down the hall, arms still locked under your thighs. You’re dizzy, dripping down his stomach, mind gone. Then he kicks the balcony door open.

You jolt. “Are you serious—”

It’s too late. The breeze hits your sweat-slick skin. Warm air, salty from the sea, cool on your flushed face. He presses you to the glass, your chest against it, city lights glittering like stars below, and pushes back inside you in one brutal stroke.

You scream. Palm slaps the window. He fucks you like he wants Monaco to watch.

“You don’t care if anyone sees, do you?” he hisses, snapping his hips. “Fucking exhibitionist slut.”

You’re moaning into the glass, fogging it up with your breath, clawing at the railing.

“Say it,” he growls into your ear. “Say you like getting fucked in front of the world.”

You can’t even form words.

“You’re mine,” he snarls. “Say it.”

His hands grip your hips like handles, like he’s steering the whole scene, and your face is pressed to the cool glass, moaning open-mouthed against your own reflection. You can barely see the city anymore—just streaks of light and shadow and your own shame, smeared across the surface in fogged breath and desperation. Your knees are going numb. Your thighs burn. You can’t stop clenching around him.

He’s fucking brutal now. Deep. Deliberate. Each thrust hitting with the full weight of him—hips slamming into your ass, chest flush to your back, breath hot and ragged in your ear.

You shudder. Grip the railing, knuckles white, thighs shaking. And all it takes is one more thrust—one more brutal drag of his cock inside your soaked, ruined cunt—and your body fucking shatters. You come with a sob that scrapes your throat raw, clenching down on him, pulsing so hard it feels like you’re trying to pull him deeper.

“Fucking—fuck—I’m gonna cum in you,” he grits, voice torn, no space for permission, no pause for protest.

You don’t say no. You can’t.

He slams forward one last time and stays there—buried to the base, cock twitching inside you, and then he lets go.

You feel it hit. Feel him spill, thick and hot, spilling into you without hesitation, no condom, no fucking thought. Just heat. Just need. Just him.

His entire body shudders against yours, mouth open against your shoulder, groaning low and wrecked, every pulse a brand.

It’s silent for a moment after. Just heavy breathing and the muffled throb of music echoing up from the street below. You can feel him softening inside you. Feel him pulling out, slow. Lazy. Like he’s done. Your legs shake. You press your forehead to the glass, body humming, raw and wrecked.

And when you turn—he’s already walking away. Without a single word, he begins adjusting his waistband. Grabbing a towel. Scrubbing his face like he just finished a workout. Not even a glance back in your direction.

You blink. Still half-naked. Still leaking.

Still there.

“Lando,” you say. Quiet. Maybe it’s not even his name—it’s a plea. A question. He doesn’t respond. Just walks into the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Drinks straight from a bottle of water like your body wasn’t just wrapped around him minutes ago.

That’s when it hits. The shift. The drop. On queue. You wrap your arms around your chest. The breeze brushes your thighs, sticky and exposed, and you feel it—his cum sliding out of you, running down your inner leg in a humiliating heat.

You feel empty. Not the kind that hums. Not the kind that settles sweet and fucked-out in your bones.

No. This is raw. Open. Like something vital’s been scooped out and left behind. You’re still dripping from him. Still shaking, breath catching in your throat like a secret you didn’t mean to tell. Your legs are barely holding. Your heart’s trying to pretend it’s fine.

He leans against the counter. Phone in hand. Scrolling. Laughing under his breath at something you’re not a part of.

Like he didn’t just fuck your soul out against the glass. Like you didn’t say yes to all of it.

And now—he’s done. And you’re just there. Still wanting. Waiting.

You don’t know how long you stand there, barefoot and half-naked, the breeze licking at the mess between your thighs, spine still curved from where he bent you against the glass. The city glows on without you. Somewhere below, people are drinking champagne and laughing under golden light. The world keeps turning. You peel yourself off the railing. Limbs heavy. Walk stiffly back inside, legs aching from the way he held you open like a vice. You grab your jeans from the floor and pull them up without really thinking, fabric clinging to sweat and everything he left inside you. You’re dizzy. It doesn’t feel real. Or maybe it feels too real. Like the high’s just starting to rot from the inside out.

He’s still in the kitchen. Shirtless, scrolling. Water bottle on the counter, beads of condensation sliding down the side. He hasn’t looked at you once.

You watch him for a second, arms wrapped around yourself like you’re trying to hold your insides in. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just scrolls.

You clear your throat.

“I… guess that’s it, then?”

His eyes flick up. Casual. No longer interested.

“Thought that’s what you came for,” he says. Not cruel. Not sharp. Just flat, just honest.

Dismissive. Like the fuck was the favor. Like this was a transactional itch, not a relapse that shattered something in you.

You blink. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He goes back to his phone.

You step forward. One bare foot against the marble tile, cold and slick beneath your toes. “So what now?”

“Now nothing.”

He says it like it’s funny. Like you’re the one being too dramatic. Like you didn’t just let him inside you. Like you’re not still stretched around the memory of him.

Your stomach tightens.

Of course. Of course. Because his is how it’s always been, isn’t it? Because he fucks you, and then he pulls away. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Every time. He rolls off. Goes quiet. Distracted. Picks up his phone like your body didn’t just bend around him like it remembered how. Like you didn’t give him everything—again. And on the rare nights he let you stay, he wouldn’t touch you after. Wouldn’t hold you. Wouldn’t even turn toward you in the bed. Like warmth was permission. Like kindness meant commitment. God forbid he see you after.

And still, you stayed. Every fucking time. Still hoping that one day he’d kiss you on the forehead instead of just your mouth. That he’d trace your back after instead of zipping his pants. That he’d make breakfast. That he’d ask you how you felt.

But he never did. He never wanted that part. And still—you came.

“I came here because of that photo,” you say, quietly. “Because I thought—fuck—I don’t know, I thought maybe we should talk. About what we were. About what we never really finished.”

That gets a reaction, but not the one you want. He exhales sharply, smirks at the counter. Shakes his head.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Your jaw tenses. “No. I’m not.”

He sets the phone down, finally looks at you, and the look is pure Lando—half exasperated, half smug, like he’s above it all. Like he’s already out of reach again.

“What did you think this was?” he says. “Closure? A love story?”

Your throat closes up. You swallow hard. “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t think. Okay? I just missed you.”

The words feel pathetic in the air. He tilts his head. “Yeah, and now you don’t have to.”

And that’s it. That’s fucking it. No tenderness. No gratitude. No I-missed-you-too or it’s-complicated or even a lie to soften the blow.

Just that. He picks his phone up again. You start to say something—maybe don’t make me feel used, maybe tell me this wasn’t nothing, maybe just lie to me—but you stop.

Before you can even finish inhaling, he’s pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he says, soft.

So. Fucking. Soft.

Your heart caves. It doesn’t break. It caves. Like something imploding from the inside out. It’s not the volume of his voice—it’s the tone. The shift. Like he’s wiping you off his skin and putting on someone else’s smile.

He turns his back to you, leans against the counter. “Yeah… I know. I’m sorry, baby.”

You just stand there. Your arms still crossed, but now it’s because if you don’t hold yourself together, you’ll fucking fall apart. You feel the cum drying between your legs. You feel it leaking into your jeans. You feel like a mistake wearing your own skin.

“Yeah,” he says into the phone. “Just had to handle something real quick.”

Your breath stutters. You’re not a person. You’re not even a memory. You’re a thing he had to handle.

He glances over his shoulder. Sees you still standing there. He turns back, still murmuring sweet nothings into the phone, and you’re left standing in the middle of the room with your mouth full of dust and your thighs still slick with the lie you let back in.

You stare at the back of him, phone cradled to his ear, voice soft in that way you haven’t heard in months—not since he used to call you at 1AM, whispering like a promise. He’s murmuring something now. You catch pieces. Missed you too. No, just tired. I’ll come by tomorrow. Yeah, I will.

The words don’t even hurt as much as the tone. That casual affection. The tenderness you’ll never get again.

Your body aches. Not from pleasure, not anymore. From the aftermath. From the sharp reminder of how quickly he empties you out and walks away. You’re still sticky with him. Inside and out. You don’t say anything. No dramatic line. No last jab. That would give him too much. Let him think you still want a reaction. That you’re still clinging.

Instead, you start collecting your things. Quietly. Your shirt’s wrinkled where he tugged it. Your panties are still damp, shoved in your back pocket with shaking fingers. Your shoes by the door—you slip them on without a sound. Your bag. Your phone. What little dignity you can scrounge from the marble floor.

You glance back once, not because you want to, but because your body betrays you even now.

He doesn’t look. Still on the phone. Still laughing quietly. Still calling someone baby like it means something. Your throat burns. You swallow it down. You told yourself this wouldn’t happen again. You told yourself it was just to talk. Just to finish what never got finished. Just to say goodbye properly.

But you knew. You knew the second you saw him. This was never going to end clean. Not with him. Not with you.

You open the door. His voice fades behind you as it clicks shut. You hold your bag close to your chest as you walk down the hall, staring straight ahead, blinking fast and hard.

Because if you cry now, you’ll never stop. And he doesn’t deserve to know that he still has that power. He already knows.

You don’t even remember walking back. You must’ve called a car. Or maybe you walked half the way and then gave up. Maybe you blacked out the drive, staring out the window with your lips still swollen and your thighs still sticky with him, flinching every time a memory passed too close. Maybe you held your phone in your hand the whole time and didn’t unlock it once. You can’t remember. You don’t want to.

You’ve never felt less like a person and more like a ghost dragging her ruined body across white marble and velvet hallway carpet. Everything at the hotel is too pristince. Too quiet. No one at the front desk looks at you, but you feel like they know. You feel like you’re wearing it—like guilt is a stain bleeding through your clothes, like they can smell him on you.

You ride the elevator in silence. Your reflection stares back from the brass paneling. Eyes rimmed red. Lip a little bitten. Hair half-wrecked from where he’d fisted it. You don’t fix it. What’s the point? There’s no one left to impress. You get into the room and it feels smaller than it did this morning. Like the walls have leaned in, closing around you. You don’t turn the lights on. You just stand there for a second, letting the dark settle. Your bag slides off your shoulder and hits the floor with a dull thud. Your phone clinks against the dresser when you set it down too hard. And you’re still holding your shoes.

You sit on the edge of the bed and stare into nothing. The shame doesn’t come all at once. It creeps in. Starts as a whisper behind your ribs, an ache behind your eyes, the slow, growing awareness of what you just did. And who you did it with.

Lando.

Your heart clenches at the sound of his name in your own head. Not because it’s romantic. Because it’s sick. Because you want him still. Want more. Want his mouth, his hands, his fucking voice even now—like he didn’t just toss you aside like old gum. Like he didn’t walk away mid-mess and call her. Like he didn’t say nothing when you stood there, humiliated and half-clothed.

You drag yourself to the bathroom and flick the light on. It’s too bright. Makes everything worse. The mirror is a crime scene. Your makeup is half-gone. Mascara smudged. Lipstick faded and smeared. You can still see the mark on your collarbone where he bit you. You run cold water. Cup it in your hands. Splash your face. It does nothing. You strip slowly. Shirt. Jeans. Bra. That ruined pair of panties you shoved into your back pocket like a secret. You drop them all onto the cold tile, one by one, and stand there naked, not touching the towels. Not stepping into the shower. Just standing. Letting the air hit your skin.

You feel used. Your thighs are sticky. The inside of your cunt aches, sore in that way that used to make you feel desired, but now just makes you feel stupid. You stare at the spot on your hip where he used to kiss you, back when it meant something. Back when it felt like worship instead of a routine.

Your exes never fucked you like this. Not even the worst ones. Not even the ones who said all the right things with their mouths and none of it with their eyes. They fucked you politely. Or carelessly. Or selfishly. But never like this. Never like they needed you to feel it days later. Never like they hated you and loved you and wanted to punish you for both.

Lando does.

Lando always did.

You sink to the floor. Slowly. Your bare ass hits the tile and you curl your knees to your chest like you can somehow close yourself off from the parts of you that are still open. Your hair falls in your face. You don’t move it. You just breathe.

You told yourself this wouldn’t happen again. You said it out loud. Like a spell. Like if you repeated it enough, it would become a truth. I won’t let him do this to me again. I won’t let myself want him. I won’t go back.

But here you are. Back. Fucked. Full. Empty.

And still—wanting.

You reach for your phone. Not to call him. Just to look. Some part of you is already anticipating it. Hoping for the text. The breadcrumb. Some half-assed “You okay?” that’ll make you hate yourself more because you’ll respond to it. You always do.

You unlock the screen. Nothing. You check the signal. Perfect bars. You wait. Another minute. Five. Still nothing.

You open his contact anyway. Just stare at it. That stupid name. The photo you should’ve deleted months ago—him grinning at some party, hand in your hair, that cocky fucking smile. You remember the moment. You remember thinking this might actually work.

You close the app. Open your messages. Type something.

“You didn’t have to call her while I was still in the room.”

Delete.

“I know what this was, but you could’ve at least—”

Delete.

You lock the screen. Drop the phone next to you on the floor.

You sit there, knees tight to your chest, bare skin on cold tile, heartbeat echoing in your ears like a countdown to nothing.

You won’t cry. But the part of you that still aches for him—still wants him—knows the truth. This isn’t over. It never is. And when he calls again, you’ll answer. Because you always do.

The morning’s too bright. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Just literally—too fucking bright. The Mediterranean sun punches you in the face the moment you step out of the hotel, and you’re instantly sweating through your shirt. You should’ve worn black. You should’ve stayed in bed. You should’ve never come to this country in the first place.

The streets are already buzzing. Tourists, locals, teams in branded polos. You can hear the distant whine of an engine on a test run somewhere, that sharp scream of speed slicing through the heavy, salt-thick air like a knife. The city’s waking up, but not slowly—Monaco never does anything slowly. She wakes up hungry, already half-drunk, already waiting for someone to crash.

You hope it’s him. You hope he hits the wall. You hope he qualifies dead fucking last. P20. God, give him P fucking 20. It’s petty. It’s cruel. But it’s all you have left. You wrap your arms around your stomach like it’ll hold in the sour twist of jealousy and hurt and sex you still haven’t scrubbed off. He’s probably already awake. Already laughing. Already sending her good morning texts while stretching in those silk sheets you bled yourself into last night.

You duck into a small shop near the marina—overpriced bottled water, sunscreen, last-minute branded merch. A cap with his fucking number is front and center on the rack. You want to set it on fire. You want to smash the display. You want to grab it and scream at the teenage girl fawning over it, he’s not a hero, he’s a fucking coward.

You buy gum and painkillers and overpriced sunglasses you don’t need.

At the register, the clerk asks, “You here for the race?”

You smile too hard. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Your body’s sore in that deep, intimate way. Not just your thighs, not just your hips—but your core, your chest, your fucking heart. Your insides feel rearranged and not in the poetic way. Your stomach is tight. Your mouth is dry. You didn’t even eat dinner last night. Just swallowed him. Let him fill every empty space. Let him win. You keep walking. Past yachts bobbing in the harbor, past velvet ropes and security guards and women with lips like weapons. Everyone’s beautiful here. Everyone looks like they belong.

Your phone stays cold in your pocket. No text. No call. No you okay? You imagine her posting something. A soft-boiled egg on a white plate. His wrist in the corner of the frame. His smile. Her caption: my love.

You hope the car catches fire. You hope he gets lapped. You hope he feels a tenth of what you’re swallowing with every step.

You sit at a café just off the main street. Order espresso. Black. No sugar. Your phone’s on the table. Face up. Still nothing. You chew your gum until your jaw hurts. You glance around. Every man in the city looks like a ghost version of him. Curls and sunglasses and soft voices ordering oat milk lattes. Every laugh sounds like the one he gave her. Your legs are crossed tight. Like if you keep them that way, it’ll keep the shame in. You still feel it. Every time you shift in your seat, you feel the dull ache of him. The stretch. The emptiness. Like he’s still inside you, just in the form of silence.

It’s not that you wanted love. You just wanted to not be discarded. Not like that. Not so fast. Not so quiet.You check your phone again.

Nothing.

You sip your coffee and watch a woman walk by in a Ferrari shirt, her toddler in tow. The kid’s got a tiny McLaren cap on. Your stomach flips. You wanted to be seen. Instead, you were handled.

Just another fucking pit stop. You close your eyes. Inhale. Count backwards from ten.

But the only thing that fills your mind is his voice from last night, low and smug in your ear.

You almost don’t go.

The cab ride feels long. The restaurant feels too much. Too much candlelight, too much glass, too much silver on the table, like it’s all trying to distract you from the fact that you’re still aching in all the places he touched. Your body’s clean, but it doesn’t feel that way. The shower didn’t help. The makeup didn’t help. The dress—tight black silk, slit to your thigh, halter low enough to tempt—feels more like armor than anything else. You wore it to forget, not to remember.

The guy across from you—what’s his name again? You haven’t said it out loud since you saved it in your phone—he’s sweet. Easy laugh. Well-dressed in a way that’s intentional but not obnoxious. Confident, but not a narcissist. The kind of man who should be able to make you forget. You’re nodding along to something he’s saying about race weekend logistics, sipping cold white wine and tasting nothing.

You laugh when he laughs. You answer questions. You twirl your fork in risotto you’re not hungry for. And you look fucking good. You know you do. Hair pinned. Collarbone sharp. Lip gloss like lacquer. There’s a version of you here that could do this. Who should be doing this. Being adored. Taken out. Picked up and shown off. A version of you who isn’t still bleeding for someone who left her dripping on a balcony.

But you’re not her. Not tonight. Not when your heart’s still a clenched fist in your chest. Your phone lights up once.

You glance down.

Lando.

No message preview. Just the name. Just the knot that forms instantly in your throat—tight, familiar, awful.

You don’t react. Not outwardly. You don’t flinch. Don’t gasp. You lift your glass like nothing’s wrong, like your whole body isn’t already curling inward from the contact.

The guy across from you is still talking. Still smiling. Still thinking you’re here.

“—so I told him, mate, you can’t just buy the yacht, you actually have to learn how to drive it,” he’s saying, laughing at his own story, voice too loud, too clean. “Rich kids, man. No sense of reality.”

You nod. Smile, maybe. You’re not sure what your face is doing. Everything sounds underwater.

Your phone lights up again.

Lando.

You shift in your seat. Cross your legs tighter beneath the table.

“Anyway, so we ended up in Saint-Tropez for the weekend—crazy, right?—and I swear to god the guy tried to dock it by just, like, aiming.”

You pick up your drink just to keep your hands busy. The rim touches your lip but you don’t sip. The screen lights again.

Lando.

And again.

Lando.

“Have you ever sailed? I feel like you’d be good at it. You’ve got that… I don’t know, that calm presence. Like you’d be the only one not panicking.”

Your fingers twitch on the stem of your glass. Calm. He has no fucking idea of the whirl-wind occuring in your head this very moment. Your phone buzzes again and this time you don’t even look. Because you don’t need to.

Lando.

Your hand tightens around the stem of your glass. Your lips part like you might say something. Like maybe you’ll stand up and run before this moment becomes what you know it’s about to be.

You look over your shoulder.

Not because you want to.

Because you have to.

That awful sixth sense prickling at your neck, crawling down your spine. Your body stiffens before your eyes find him. Because somewhere inside you, you already know.

And then—

There he is.

Far end of the restaurant. Slipping in through the private entrance like the front door was beneath him. Like he hasn’t made a mess of your insides. Like he didn’t fuck you breathless against his balcony railing not even twenty-four hours ago.

Tan coat. Dark trousers. Curls pushed back like he ran a hand through them on the drive over. Jaw tight, smile easy. There’s a laugh in his throat—God, that laugh—like he didn’t tear yours out with his fucking teeth. She’s with him. Magui. In the flesh. Long legs. Loose hair. White silk dress, delicate little thing hanging off her body like an afterthought. She’s laughing at something he said, hand on his arm, and your gut plummets.

He doesn’t see you yet. Or maybe he does, and he’s just pretending. Your face burns. You want to disappear. Melt into the leather of your chair, vanish into the floor. The guy across from you says something about dessert. You smile. You think you do. Maybe you grimace. He excuses himself to the bathroom, promising to be quick.

You’re already grabbing your phone the second he stands. And now you look, you read, properly.

Lando [9:37 PM]

nice dress

Lando [9:39 PM]

trying to impress him or just make me crazy?

Lando [9:40 PM]

it’s working

Lando [9:41 PM]

you think I won’t walk over there?

Lando [9:41 PM]

you think I won’t remind you what you begged for last night?

Lando [9:42 PM]

you can’t fuck him. you won’t. i can see it on your face.

Your heart pounds so loud you can feel it in your throat. Your hands are trembling against the phone. Your thumb hovers and then you type it.

go fuck yourself

You don’t even get the full breath out before another text lights up.

Lando [9:43 PM]

already did. thinking of you the whole time

Your stomach turns. You look back across the restaurant—and now he’s looking at you. Head tilted. Smile carved into his mouth like a dare. His hand rests on Magui’s lower back as he murmurs something in her ear.

She doesn’t notice you. But he does. His eyes are locked on you like a blade. You want to stand. You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face in front of everyone, tear the candle off your table and set that fucking smile on fire.

Instead—you grab your wine and down it.

Pick up your phone and you type.

what do you want from me, Lando?

Because you know exactly what he’s going to say. And you know you’ll give it to him anyway.

You don’t send another text. You don’t need to. Because you already feel it—his eyes. Continuing to burrow into you across the room. You don’t have to look again to know he’s watching your every move, jaw tight, tongue pressed hard behind his teeth. She’s still talking to him. Smiling. Leaning close like she’s won something.

But you know better. You’ve played this game before. He’s not listening to her. He’s watching you.

Before you know it, the bathroom door swings open and your date returns, all warm smiles and lightly cologned confidence, none the wiser. He slides into the booth beside you now instead of across. And you—oh, baby—you let him. You lean in. Just enough. Just close enough that your perfume slips into his nose and your thigh brushes his. Your knee rests against his under the table and you don’t pull away. You’re smiling now—really smiling, lip caught between your teeth, eyes bright with something vicious.

“Miss me?” you murmur, voice syrupy.

He laughs. “Was only gone a minute.”

You rest your hand on his forearm. Light at first. Then you drag your fingertips down to his wrist, slow and soft like you’re mapping out where you’ll bite later. He pauses, eyes dipping down to your hand, then back up to your mouth.

“You’re… different all of a sudden,” he says, smiling. “Something change?”

You shrug, eyes hooded. “Just realized I like this table better from this side.”

You know what you’re doing. You tilt your head, your mouth just a little too close to his neck, and you laugh at whatever he says next—something harmless. A joke. A compliment. It doesn’t matter. You laugh like Lando isn’t sitting ten tables away, burning. You laugh like you’re not already thinking about unzipping this poor man’s pants just to get revenge on the one who broke you.

You rest your chin on your hand and trace circles on the inside of his knee. You cross your legs in his direction and let your dress slip higher. You sip your wine with your lips parted, slow, tongue flicking the rim.

And then—your phone buzzes again. You check it casually, still smiling.

Lando [9:51 PM]

what the fuck do you think you’re doing

Oh, there it is. The leash pulls tight. Instead of answering, you reach for your date’s collar and straighten it instead, gentle, intimate. He’s blinking at you now, almost stunned, not quite believing his luck.

You feel Lando watching. You can taste it. Your hand drifts down to your date’s thigh. Not obvious. But not subtle either.

“You wanna come back to mine?” you ask, quiet, like a secret.

His breath catches.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

You feel the heat in your cheeks. Not embarrassment—arousal. And rage. And something darker. You want Lando to lose his fucking mind. You want him to picture it—the way you’ll moan for someone else, even if you’re faking it the whole time. You want him sick with it. You want him to feel what he did to you.

Yo grab your bag and stand, letting your hand trail down your date’s chest as you say, “Come on, then.”

You don’t look back. But you don’t have to. You can feel Lando watching you walk away like he’s about to snap a wine glass in his fist. And for the first time all fucking day, you feel a little bit like you won. The cool air hits you the second you step outside, crisp with salt and a faint hint of fuel—Monaco always smells like money and speed. You’re holding his hand. This new guy. The sweet one. He’s talking about the afterparty, asking if you want champagne or tequila when you get there. You nod. Smile. Pretend.

But it’s all wrong. Every step you take feels heavier. Your stomach twists once. Then again. Sharp, then dull, then sharp again. It’s not the wine. It’s not the food. It’s the lie you’re living inside, stretched too tight around your ribs.

By the time you reach the curb, your throat is dry. He’s hailing a car, jacket off, offering it to your shoulders like a gentleman, still thinking this night is going somewhere good. He’s got no idea you’re two seconds away from falling apart.

You stop and pull your hand back.

“I can’t,” you say, voice too small.

He looks over. “What?”

You shake your head. Your smile’s already cracking. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t.”

He takes a step closer, brows pulling together. “You okay? Is there something wrong?”

You press a hand to your stomach. It does hurt now. Real pain. Not from food. From grief. From self-disgust. From the way your body still remembers another mouth, another weight, another name.

“I thought I could,” you say, voice barely above a breath. “I thought I was over it. But I’m not.”

He just watches you. Confused, maybe. Definitely kind, and kind in a way that only makes it worse. You hate that he’s decent. Hate the way he listens without interruption, the way he offers space for your sadness without trying to fix it. He’s doing everything right and it still feels wrong. Because no matter how gently he holds you, how safe his hands are, your mind always drifts elsewhere. Always pulls back to something sharp. Something dangerous. Something that doesn’t even belong to you anymore.

To Lando. To the way his name still lives under your tongue like it has a right to be there. To the taste of him, the weight of his stare from across a room, the way his laugh ruins you even now. To the memory of his hands on your body while someone else wears his heart in public. It’s shameful, the way you crave what hurt you. The way your skin still prickles for him while someone good stands in front of you trying to love you without a fight. And still—he’s the ghost you reach for in the dark. Even now. Even here.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, stepping back. “You don’t deserve this.”

And before he can speak, you turn. He calls your name once. But he doesn’t follow.

You walk. Fast at first, then slower, then fast again. The city glows around you—buzzing, alive, gearing up for a weekend of victory and champagne, of golden boy headlines and photos that will never include you. The heels you wore start to hurt. You carry them, bare feet on warm pavement, heart thudding in your ears like a warning bell.

You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You don’t throw your phone or punch a wall or sink to the floor in some kind of cinematic collapse. That would require an emotion that hasn’t already been wrung out of you. What you do is walk. Barefoot. Purse in one hand, heels in the other, dress still clinging to your skin like it knows it’s part of the performance you didn’t get to finish. You walk like you’re being timed, like if you slow down even a little you’ll notice what your body’s doing—shaking, buzzing, trying not to feel anything too loudly in case someone hears it. In case he does.

You walk back to the hotel. Back to the quiet. Back to the too-cold lobby where the concierge doesn’t even glance up. Back to the elevator that moves too slow, back to the room that feels too clean. Back to the bed where you let him inside you, to the window you pressed your palms against, to the glass that still holds the outline of your spine. You walk back to where last night still breathes in the sheets, where the air remembers what your mouth sounded like when he pulled you open.

You unlock the door with shaking hands. Not trembling—shaking. That kind of shake that lives in the marrow, in the hollows between bones, the kind that doesn’t show up until the moment things go quiet. You twist the handle and step inside like the room might have changed, like maybe it’s not the same space where you peeled yourself out of his grip hours earlier, where your knees hit the carpet and you thought maybe, for a second, that he might look at you and see something. The door closes behind you with that soft hotel click, and it sounds too final. It sounds like the kind of soft that doesn’t care how heavy the silence is on the other side of it. You don’t turn the lights on. You don’t move beyond the threshold. The air feels stale even though the window’s cracked. The sheets on the bed are still half-pulled back from when you rushed to get dressed, from when your fingers fumbled over your bra strap like it mattered, like decency was something you still had access to.

And that’s when it hits you—that feeling. That pulse. That presence.

Not the man you left at the restaurant, not the one who leaned into another woman’s ear while staring straight through you across the room. Not the one who smiled like he hadn’t had his face between your thighs the night before. Not the one who let you walk out without chasing. That version of him is for the public, for the cameras, for the kind of girls who don’t know better.

The one you feel now is the one who told you, under his breath, that no one would ever fuck you the way he does. The one who kissed your throat like it was an apology, like it was a promise. The one who held your hips in both hands like he needed to brace himself against the want. The one who said I love you with a groan and meant it in the filthiest, most broken way. The one who left you full and aching and ruined and somehow still wanting more.

He isn’t here. He isn’t anywhere. But his name is still wet in your mouth, and his breath is still in your lungs, and your underwear is still sticking to you from where he finished without asking, and every part of your body still feels like it belongs to him. And maybe that’s worse. Maybe this—this absence, this phantom weight—is heavier than the act itself.

Because this is what he does. He invades. He stays. He lingers. And when he goes, he never really leaves.

The phone rings just past two a.m.

You stare at it, thumb hovering over the screen, not moving. You don’t answer right away—not because you’re trying to punish him, but because it’s a moment, and it’s yours. The quiet just before. The breath held. The anticipation curled at the bottom of your stomach like something alive. You hate how much you want this. Hate how your body remembers his name before your mouth does. Hate how none of it has dulled, not even now.

It rings again, softer somehow, though you know that’s impossible. It’s just the hour. The way silence thickens around sound this late, the way everything feels heavier when you’re alone. The way he feels heavier when you’re alone.

You press accept on the third buzz.

You stare at the ceiling while the line connects, the glow of the screen fading into the dark again as your hand drops back to the mattress. Your fingers brush the edge of the pillow but you don’t turn over. You don’t shift. You stay exactly as you were—still, flat, undone. He doesn’t say your name. He never does right away. That’s part of the performance. That moment he lets the silence settle just long enough to remind you that he holds the leash, that if you want anything—words, answers, closure—you’ll have to crawl for it.

He sighs, soft, like he’s tired, like it’s been a long day, like this is normal. “Hey.”

Just that. Just hey.

And it’s nothing. It’s nothing and it’s everything, because your chest tightens immediately, stomach flipping like you were still twenty minutes from him and not lying here in the wreckage of what he left behind. His voice sounds rough, maybe from the champagne, maybe from her, maybe from the way he always sounds when he’s just had something and still wants more. You want to hate it. You want to pretend it makes your skin crawl. But all it really does is make you ache.

“You alone?”

The question lands too gently, like he’s not really asking. Like he knows.

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds like it’s coming from someone else. Brittle. Caught in your throat.

A pause. You can hear him breathing. That quiet, familiar rhythm that used to mean something. That used to make you feel safe before it made you feel like a fucking joke.

He clears his throat, and the smirk is audible even over the line. “So? How was he?”

You flinch. You don’t know why—you should have expected it. It’s exactly the kind of thing he says when he’s trying not to ask the real question. When he’s trying to keep the power even while he’s already lost it.

You pause. Too long. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” His voice drops, dark amusement curling at the edges. “You let him fuck you, then?”

Your jaw clenches. You know what he’s doing. You know exactly where this is going. You roll onto your side, tuck the phone closer to your ear, press your thighs together without thinking.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. You swallow. Hard. “No.”

He laughs. Just once. Dry. “Didn’t think so.”

The silence stretches again, and it’s worse this time, heavier, like it’s his. Like he brought it with him and left it in your lap and now you’re the one holding it. You shift onto your side without meaning to, knees curling into your chest, hand still clutching the phone like it might anchor you to the bed.

“Hmm,” he hums, dragging the sound out like he’s picturing it. “Thought so. You always tighten up when you lie.”

You don’t respond.

“You were thinking about me the whole time, weren’t you?” His voice is softer now. Dangerous in a different way. Not sharp. Sweet. “Sitting there all pretty, playing the part, but your pussy was still sore from me.”

You swallow hard, lips parted, phone hot against your cheek. It feels heavier than it should—like it’s holding his whole mouth on the other end. Like if you press it tighter, you might feel the weight of his breath against your skin, humid and amused.

“Lando…” You don’t mean it to come out like that—weak, soft-edged, needy—but it does. It always does when he says your name first, or doesn’t say it at all. When he lets the silence settle until you have no choice but to fill it.

“I bet you didn’t even want him to touch you,” he murmurs. Not a tease. Not even mean. Just certain. Like he’s telling you something you haven’t admitted to yourself yet. “You sat through dinner, acting like a good little date, and all you could think about was my hand on your throat. My mouth on your cunt. The way you begged for it on that balcony.”

Your breath catches. The kind of catch that expands across your chest and makes your lungs feel too full too fast. You shift—barely—but the movement gives you away. Your hips tilt into nothing, like muscle memory took over. Your chest rises too quickly. You’re trying to hold it back, but your body’s already mid-confession. You make a sound, low in your throat, too soft to call language. Half protest, half surrender.

And he hears all of it.

“You touching yourself right now?”

You don’t say anything and he takes your silence as a yes.

“Do it.” He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t coax. He never has to. His instructions always sound like they’ve already happened, like you’re just catching up to the inevitable.

“Slide your hand down. Just one finger.”

You move slowly, not because you’re trying to be seductive, but because there’s shame in the familiarity. The way your body responds without hesitation. The way the sheets shift as your hand disappears beneath them. The way your fingertips graze your stomach and you pause—not out of modesty, but reverence. Like you already know what you’re going to find. You press your thighs together, the way you used to when you were trying not to let him see how bad it got, how fast. You hesitate. You want to blame him. But you’re already wet. Already ruined. Your panties cling, soaked and still warm, like your body’s been waiting for this call all night.

“Lando,” you whisper, but it’s not a plea to stop. It’s a surrender.

“Yeah, baby,” he breathes, and it lands deep in your ear, rough and syrup-slick at the edges. His voice has thickened—fuller, slower, like the sound of someone wrapping their palm around a want they’re trying not to show. “That’s right. Show me you still fucking need me.”

You hate how good it feels. Not the words. The tone. The certainty. He never doubts it. Never doubts you. Your need. Your body. He speaks to it like it’s his, and the worst part is—it still listens. God help you—you do.

Your fingers hover beneath the sheet, suspended above your stomach like they’re waiting for permission. Caught there in limbo. Not quite obedience, not quite defiance. The space between his command and your compliance is thin, delicate, the place you always seem to fall into first.

His voice lingers, curls around you like a second skin. Honey-laced gravel. That sound you’ve heard pressed to your shoulder, your mouth, the inside of your thighs. It tugs. Not gently. Not violently. Just effectively. It would be so easy. To give in. To surrender under the guise of pleasure. To let your body chase his voice and pretend—for five minutes—that this is love. That he means any of it. That wanting you is the same as keeping you. That this ache, this pull, is more than just habit wrapped in heat.

But something clenches in your chest. Sharp. A tightness just behind your sternum, hot and specific. A different kind of knowing.

You pull your hand back. “No,” you say, quiet, but not soft. A whisper, yes—but one you mean.

The line stills. His breath shifts—no longer seductive, just audible. A pause, an exhale, the kind that happens when someone wasn’t expecting a refusal.

“No?” he repeats, slower now.

You swallow. Your throat tightens. “Not like this. I’m not—” You sit up in bed. The sheets slip down your chest like they know they’ve been dismissed. Cool air replaces the warmth of your body, and it feels like stepping outside of something. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to say that shit to me after what happened.”

You wait. Expect the smirk in his voice. The pivot. The sarcasm. The cruel, clever deflection that always comes when you try to reach for something with weight.

A beat passes. Then another. You brace yourself for the mockery, the deflection, the teeth. But instead, he sighs. Honest. A sound you’ve only heard a handful of times before. The sound he makes when his armor slips, when he thinks no one’s watching.

“I know,” he says snd it sounds like truth.

You blink.

“I just— fuck,” he mutters, voice dropping low again, but not to seduce this time. Just honest. Raw. “I keep trying to not think about you. I go to sleep next to her, and it’s you I’m dreaming about. I kiss her and it doesn’t taste like anything.”

Your breath catches.

“I thought maybe if I pissed you off enough, you’d stop being in my head. But then I saw you tonight.” He laughs under his breath. “You looked so fucking good. I hated it.”

You’re quiet. Staring at the far wall of your hotel room like it might give you answers.

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” you whisper.

He doesn’t protest. Doesn’t try to sell it as love or misunderstanding or timing or fate. He just waits, still on the line, still breathing, letting the weight of your words—and his silence—do what it always does. Fill the room with him.

“I want to stop,” you say again, but it sounds different this time. Smaller. Your voice loses its bite somewhere on the way out, like your throat already knew it was a lie.

“So stop,” he murmurs. “Block my number. Forget my name.”

You don’t answer.

“Exactly,” he says, softer now, and the smile bends downward in his tone, into something resigned, something rotted. “You won’t. You fucking can’t.”

You close your eyes, let your head fall back against the pillow. The ceiling’s too white, too still. Your chest feels hollow, carved out with something blunt, something dull and wide. Like he reached in with both hands and took, not just the good parts, but the name you say when you’re alone, the thoughts you think when you’re cold, the you that existed before him.

“I miss you,” you admit, and it guts you to say it.

He breathes in like you just unzipped his skin. Like you reached down the line and dragged his ribs apart with your teeth. “Say it again.”

You shake your head, lips parting, but no sound comes.

“Please,” he says, quieter now, the way he gets when he really means something. Like you’ve just put your hand on the door, and he’s begging without pride. “Just once.”

The silence feels like it stretches forever, like the night itself is holding its breath just to hear what you’ll say next. Your fingers tremble where they rest on your chest, tracing the curve of your collarbone like distraction could be enough. It isn’t. You should hang up. You should. But your throat is tight and your stomach’s hollow and your whole body feels like it’s still locked in the shape of his. You wish it didn’t matter anymore. You wish his voice didn’t still pull at the part of you that needs to be seen. You close your eyes and inhale through your nose, a sad attempt at trying to ground yourself in this moment. “I miss you,” you whisper, again. And it cracks something in your own voice—thin and breaking, like you hate yourself for meaning it.

You hear him groan. Deep. Loud. From the chest. The kind of sound that doesn’t start in the throat—it starts lower. Beneath the ribs. That heavy, involuntary kind of noise that escapes before it can be shaped into something cooler, something controlled. It scrapes up through him like the words pulled something raw out of him and left it there, exposed.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You don’t know what that does to me.”

You picture him—eyes closed, jaw tight, knuckles white around the phone. Picture him tilting his head back, one hand dragging over his face like he’s trying to shake it off, like the sound embarrassed even him. Like your voice still reaches places he keeps locked and your thighs clench instinctively, traitorously from the thought of it. Something inside you twists, low and hot and helpless.

“You can’t say that to me and expect me to stay quiet,” he mutters, voice ragged now. You can hear the shift in him, the sudden tension coiling under his words like a wire pulled too tight.

You bite your lip, but you don’t interrupt.

“I’ve been thinking about it since you walked away tonight,” he says, lower, slower, each syllable like a bruise dragged across your skin. “How your hips moved in that dress. How empty your hand looked without mine in it.”

Your fingers slide beneath the sheet again, slow this time, like surrender—like there’s no point pretending you won’t. Not when he’s already in your ear, in your body, in the rhythm of your breath. You barely brush your own skin, but it’s enough to light up everything he left raw. You don’t stop. You can’t. Something in you has already given way.

He exhales, sharp and sudden, like he felt it—like he knew the moment your hand moved. “Are you touching yourself now?”

Your breath catches in your throat, tight and unsteady, and you hate the pause that follows. Hate how long it takes you not to answer, but not to lie either. The silence is its own admission.

“Yeah…” he says, voice dipping. “You are.”

You swallow hard. Hard enough that it hurts.

“I can picture it,” he murmurs. “Your legs spread just a little, that pretty little cunt already soaked for me. You’re rubbing slow, aren’t you? Just like I taught you.”

Your hand obeys without permission, palm pressing down over the thin cotton of your underwear. You gasp—quiet, quick.

“God, I miss the way you taste,” he groans. “I’d fucking die right now to have you sitting on my face, one hand in my hair, grinding like you always do when you’re too far gone to be shy.”

Your hips jerk.

“I’d tongue-fuck you ‘til your legs shake,” he growls. “Wouldn’t even stop when you begged me to.”

You moan, involuntary, soft and choked.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you, baby.”

You slide your hand lower. Inside. Fingers sliding through slick heat. Shame and need pulsing together under your skin. You want to stop. You don’t. Because his voice is the only thing that feels real right now.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick now, every word catching on the edge of a groan. “Nice and slow. Fuck yourself for me.”

Your fingers move without thought, caught between his breath in your ear and the ache blooming low in your stomach. The wet sounds are obscene in the quiet of your room—shameless, slick, and sinful. And he knows. You haven’t said a word in minutes, but he knows exactly what you’re doing.

“I bet your thighs are shaking,” he says. “Bet your fingers are slipping because you’re so fucking soaked. You always were, weren’t you? Always such a desperate little thing for me.”

You bite your bottom lip, hard, your free hand grabbing the sheets beside you, twisting them as your hips start to move.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asks, voice low and reverent now, like it’s prayer instead of poison. “Yeah? You’re close, aren’t you? I can hear it. I can fucking feel it.”

You moan. Soft. Broken.

“God, I miss how you sound,” he groans, the sound raw in your ear like he’s fisting the phone. “I used to make you scream, didn’t I? When I had you bent over the edge of the bed, dripping, wrecked, begging me not to stop.”

Your back arches off the sheets.

The room is too still—dim and expensive and wrong, like every object inside it is holding its breath with you. Fingers move frantically between your thighs, slippery with sweat and want, chasing that high you swore you wouldn’t let him give you again. The bedsheets twist beneath you, cool against your calves, sticky at your back. You’ve kicked them off entirely now, one leg stretched toward the edge of the mattress like you’re bracing for impact. You are.

Outside, the faint drone of the sea whispers through a cracked window. Somewhere in the distance, a car rips down the avenue too fast, tires humming against wet asphalt. Monaco never really sleeps—just hums at a lower frequency, like even the city is in on it. Like the architecture itself is bent toward indulgence and regret. And then his voice drops again—low, measured, threading into the stillness like silk soaked in kerosene. Almost tender.

“You wanna know something?” His voice drops even lower, into something almost tender.

You make a noise. Can’t speak. Don’t trust yourself to. Your eyes are closed but you can feel him—his voice in your ear, his name still carved into the rhythm of your breath. He doesn’t wait.

The words drop like fire in your chest. They land hard. Searing. Like you swallowed something molten and now your lungs are screaming, your spine melting into the mattress. Your thighs jerk. Your fingers falter. The ceiling above you stays dark, indifferent.

“I fucking love you,” he says again, this time harsher. Desperate. “I hate how much I do. But I do.”

It’s not soft. It’s not romantic. It’s a wound splitting open in real time. A confession flung into the dark because he can’t hold it anymore. And you—you shake. You can’t breathe. You can’t stop. Your fingers stop and then start again, harder, faster, like maybe if you come it’ll drown it out. Like you can flood it out of your bloodstream, sweat it out of your skin. But it doesn’t work. It’s still there. In every heartbeat. In every gasp.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“You’re mine,” he breathes. “Even when you’re not. Even when you walk away. I still feel you. Every fucking day. No one else even comes close.”

And your orgasm hits like a crash.

It’s violent. A wave slamming your body against itself. Your legs tense. Your stomach seizes. Your breath breaks into pieces. A sound claws its way out of your throat, and your hand flies up—reflex—trying to cover your mouth, trying to keep it in. You can’t. It’s too late. He hears it. Of course he does. He always does.

“That’s my girl,” he growls. “Fucking knew you’d give it to me.”

You don’t say anything. Can’t. The words won’t come. They’ve drowned under the weight of him—of this. The way his voice still owns the oxygen in the room. The way your body still says yes when everything else is screaming no.

The line is quiet.

You can still hear him breathing, but it’s distant now. Removed. Not soft or hungry anymore—just there. Like a metronome ticking at the end of a hallway. Background noise in a house that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

You curl onto your side, away from the phone. Away from him. The sheets are cold on this side—untouched, undisturbed. Your arm tucks under your head, and your legs curl toward your chest on instinct, like your body’s trying to hold itself smaller. Contain the ache. The trembling hasn’t stopped yet, a slow pulse beneath your skin like something sacred was scraped out with a dull edge.

He should say something.

You should say something. But neither of you do.

The heat is already fading from your skin. It evaporates too fast, like it was never yours to keep. The chill that replaces it seeps under your ribs—quiet and surgical. It settles in your throat like a question you don’t want to ask. You blink at the wall. At the dark. At the soft glow of the city bleeding in from the window. The room’s filled with dim gold and ghostlight, shadows cast by luxury fixtures and memories you didn’t mean to resurrect.

Everything is still. And wrong, you fucking hate how familiar this feels. The after. Always the after. That hollow stretch of silence where he pulls away—not with excuses. Not even with guilt. Just absence. Just a breath you can’t sync with anymore. A distance so thick it presses against your chest like a hand. You’re alone in a room that smells like him. On sheets that remember your back arching. And now it’s quiet. And cold. And exactly like the last time.

When he finally speaks, it’s low. Measured. Like he’s collecting himself. Like the version of him that just broke you apart is already folding itself back into something clean, something that won’t ruin the rest of his night.

“You still there?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

You wait.

You try not to. You tell yourself not to. But you do. Of course you do. For softness. For proof. For anything that makes what he said—I love you—feel like a truth and not just a well-aimed knife disguised as comfort. You wait for the voice that said it to come back with warmth, with meaning, with something that makes the wreckage worthwhile. But all you get is silence.

And then—his voice again. Casual. Neutral. Airy, even. Like a light switch flipped somewhere between your thighs and his pride.

“You gonna be at qualifying?”

It hits like a slap. Not a sharp one. A dull one. Open-palmed and slow, the kind that comes after the fight’s already over. The kind that reminds you who’s still standing. You roll onto your back. Stare at the ceiling like it might peel away and let you float out of this. Your chest aches, hollow and wide. Your thighs are still slick and parted and ruined. Your mouth still tastes like his name. And he’s asking about fucking qualifying. Like this was a meeting. Like this wasn’t a bloodletting.

“No,” you say. Flat. Tired. Honest. Like your voice has finally given up trying to be anything else.

He doesn’t argue. Of course he doesn’t. That would require effort. Would require remembering that you just let him back inside a body that still flinches from the last time.

The pause stretches. Long. Unearned. The kind of pause that should hold regret. But doesn’t. You wonder if he’s already looking at her. If she’s asleep in his bed right now, one leg kicked out from under the covers, soft breathing and sheets still warm from her skin. If he’ll crawl back in like this was just a break. If he’ll kiss her shoulder and curl into her like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just call you from the next room and come in your ear while whispering your name like a prayer. If she’ll roll over and whisper I love you back.

“Okay,” he says, finally.

That’s it. No pause. No catch. No sorry. You don’t say goodbye, won’t allow yourself to give him the satisfaction. So instead, you just hang up. Slowly and quietly. Like if you move too fast, the grief might notice you. Like if you make a sound, whatever just died might come back and ask for more. And then you lie there. Alone. Cold. Numb in the exact places he made you feel again. The wet between your legs isn’t even arousal anymore—it’s humiliation, pooling like proof. The room feels too big. Your skin too tight. Your heart too loud for how little it’s getting back. You close your eyes. And you try—god, you try—not to remember how good it felt to believe him.

You told yourself you wouldn’t watch. Told yourself you’d go out during the race. Walk the port. Maybe take a train out of the city. Catch a ride into Italy, buy a coffee in some no-name border town where no one gives a fuck about Formula One. You told yourself if you left early enough, you wouldn’t hear the engines start.

But you did. You heard them. Sharp and brutal. Like the city itself was exhaling all at once. The engines howled to life like beasts shaking off sleep. And the streets—those narrow, glittering veins winding around the harbor like silk on bone—filled instantly. People spilled out of hotels, bars, yachts. Laughter carried down alleyways. Shoes clacked against marble and cobblestone. Horns. Screams. Sirens. The whole city vibrating in a single fevered pitch, like a heartbeat you couldn’t separate from your own.

And that was it. You felt it again.

That tug. That sick little string wound tight through your ribs. Strung there by him. Still holding. Still pulling. It didn’t matter how much distance you told yourself you needed—when the world turned toward him, you did too.So you ended up outside a bar near the track. Not the private ones. Not the ones with velvet ropes and industry passes and terrace views. Just one of the ones carved into the street-level buildings, open to the chaos, full of heat and sound. Flat screens bolted above the bar. Fans shoulder to shoulder. Bottles sweating in metal buckets. Flags tied like bandanas. Champagne already foaming across tabletops like victory was a guarantee.

You stood by the railing. Arms crossed. Sunglasses still on even though the sun was behind the buildings now. Shadows stretched across the street like tired ghosts. Your foot tapped against the base of a rusted stool, your hip leaned just barely into the edge of the counter like you weren’t really here. Like maybe you were just watching a version of yourself watch him.

The race blurred by.

It always does. Too fast, too clean, too cinematic. Like it’s not real. Like it’s something you could turn off if you found the right remote. He looked good—of course he did. He always does when there’s something on the line. Fast. Confident. Hungry. His car didn’t take corners. It swallowed them. He moved like he was dancing with the track. Like he could feel its heartbeat better than his own. You didn’t blink when he overtook on Lap 42. Didn’t flinch when the leaderboard adjusted like it had been waiting for him all along.

But when the checkered flag dropped? When the whole bar erupted—glasses raised, hands slapped to backs, phones held high and recording?

That’s whens something inside you cracked. It was clean and silent. Like glass under pressure. You watched the screen. Watched him throw his fists into the air inside the car, helmet still on, adrenaline turning his voice to something breathless and boyish through the radio.

“Fuck, man! We did it!”

And he sounded happy. Not like he’d sounded on the phone. Not like last night. Not like someone torn in two. He sounded whole. He sounded free. You stood still while the rest of the bar screamed and spilled and toasted and laughed. While confetti machines burst at the table beside you. While someone popped a bottle and poured foam into a stranger’s cup like they’d both waited their whole lives for this.

And you—still in your sunglasses, arms locked across your chest like armor—you felt like you were being erased. Not slowly. Not softly. Violently. Like the footage of him crossing that line was actively overwriting you. Like every frame of his win was bleaching your name from his mouth. Then you saw her.

Not up close. Not at the podium. Just a flicker. A flash of white on the screen behind him. Behind the fence. Her hair. Her silhouette. Her hand.

Raised in a wave. And the way he looked at her—god. You thought you’d collapse.

You don’t know why you’re here. You already booked your ticket back to Italy. You packed your bag with one hand while brushing your teeth with the other, You checked out of the hotel like it was a fire you had to get away from. You had a plan. You were going to leave before the city woke up, before the papers hit the stands, before your own stomach could catch up to the shame curling in it.

But then you didn’t. You didn’t leave. You didn’t get in the car. You didn’t do the smart thing, or the sane thing, or even the thing you promised yourself you would. Instead, you walked. Shoes in your hand, face bare, heart kicking like it wanted out. You walked past the marina. Past the crowds still drunk off the race. Past the café where your phone first lit up with his name. You told yourself it was a loop. A muscle twitch. A final look.

You knew it was a lie and now you’re here. You ride the elevator in silence, arms crossed, your teeth sunk so deep into your lip you can taste blood. The hallway stretches out in front of you like something cinematic—floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, pale wood on the other, recessed lights humming low like they know what you’re doing. You don’t even knock. The apartment door is already cracked open.

Of course it is.

He’s inside. Shirtless. Sweaty. Champagne-drenched hair curling messily across his forehead. Still wearing his fireproofs, halfway unzipped. His chest rises with breath that’s only just started to slow. He smells like victory. Like sun-warmed metal and sweet rot and something you used to beg for. He looks good.

Of course he does. He turns when you step in. Smiles. The real kind. That one that used to mean I knew you'd come.

But it fades the second he sees your face.

“Hey,” he says, cautious now. “You okay?”

You shake your head once. Quick. Like it might stop the tears from crawling up your throat.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” you say. But that’s a lie.

He steps forward, slow, cautious, like approaching an animal he’s already wounded once and isn’t sure won’t bite again. His arms stay loose at his sides, fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to reach for anymore—your waist, your wrist, your forgiveness.

“You—uh, did you see the race?” he asks, and it’s not small talk. Not really. It’s a test balloon. A toe in the water. Like maybe if you say yes without venom, maybe if your voice stays level, he can convince himself none of this is a disaster.

“Yeah,” you snap, the word scraping up your throat like it came with splinters. “You were amazing. Congratulations.”

His smile twitches back onto his face, but it doesn’t land properly. It hovers at the corners like a glitch in the system. Like he knows it’s too late to fix the part of him that doesn’t know how to be soft when it counts.

“Thanks,” he says, and it should mean something. Should carry weight. But it floats.

You step closer. Not because you want to be near him, not anymore. But because the distance feels dishonest. Like if you’re going to bleed in front of him, he should at least have to watch it happen up close. Your voice shakes when you speak, but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t care if he hears what it costs you. You want him to.

“Why wasn’t I ever good enough?”

He blinks. His head pulls back just slightly, like you slapped him. Like the words hit somewhere he wasn’t guarding. His brow creases—not out of confusion, but something worse. That dawning realization that this conversation isn’t going to end where he thought it might. That this isn’t another soft landing.

“What?” he says, but it’s not really a question. More like a deflection. A delay tactic. Something to stall the blow he knows is coming.

Your heart’s beating so hard it feels physical now—like it’s trying to break out of your chest and throw itself at his feet in one last act of desperate, humiliating honesty. Like it still wants him even as you drag yourself through the fucking wreckage of that want.

“Why have I never been enough for you to choose?” you ask, and your voice cracks on the word like it’s never been said out loud before. “Not fuck. Not sneak around with. Not call when you're lonely or bored or drunk at some goddamn afterparty. I mean choose. I mean claim. Why have I never been the one you tell people about?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes. His throat works around it. His eyes drop to the floor and back up again, and for a second—just a second—you think he might lie. Might try to salvage this with some half-truth about timing or image or circumstance.

“Why her?” you whisper, and this one hurts more than the rest—not because of what it means, but because of how quietly you ask it. Because it comes from the part of you that’s already accepted the answer. “Why does she get to be seen?”

He looks at you like you’ve just thrown a grenade at his feet, like he doesn’t know whether to jump on it or run. And maybe that’s always been him—too cowardly to save you, too selfish to leave you alone.

“I let you inside me,” you say, and now your voice is breaking for real, cracking down the middle like an old fault line that’s finally splitting open. “And you walked away. I let you hear me. I told you shit I’ve never said out loud before, not even to myself. I gave you everything. And I didn’t say I loved you, not because it wasn’t true, but because I knew it didn’t fucking matter. Because I knew, no matter how much I gave you—no matter how deep I let you in—I’d still just be the thing you come back to when you’re bored. Or lonely. Or drunk. Or broken. But never when it matters.”

He doesn’t speak. Not right away. Just stands there in the center of his spotless, silent apartment—an altar to success and self-control—still radiant with the remnants of the win. His chest rises in slow, shallow pulses, adrenaline still flickering beneath skin damp with sweat and victory. There’s a gleam across his collarbones, the faint shimmer of champagne that never got wiped off, dried sugar crusted along the edge of his jaw like celebration had kissed him and refused to let go. His hair’s a mess—curling, golden, clinging to his temples like he earned the chaos. And maybe he did. Maybe he earned every fucking second of it. But all you want is to ruin it. To drag your hand across his face and wipe the triumph off like it’s blood that doesn’t belong to him.

Because he looks too happy for someone who’s left you bleeding this many times. But when his eyes land on you—finally, fully—something shifts. He’s not smiling anymore. Not smirking. Not playing cool or disinterested or oblivious. He’s just looking. At you. Carefully, as if he’s cataloguing damage. Like he’s not sure if you’re about to cry or scream or throw a glass, and the fact that he doesn’t know is maybe the only honest thing he’s ever done in your presence.

You step further into the apartment. The floor is cool under your feet, too clean. Everything here is intentional—curated—like even his grief would be expensive. Your arms are still crossed tight over your chest, but it’s not a defense anymore. It’s just something to hold while the rest of you starts to come apart in slow motion. The tension in your shoulders doesn’t brace you—it betrays you. It trembles loose. Not strength. Not anymore. Just unraveling in real time.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, and your voice barely makes it past your teeth. It sounds like someone else said it first and handed it to you to carry. “I told myself I wouldn’t. I watched you win and I felt sick.”

He shifts his weight, opens his mouth, but you hold your hand up. You’re not finished. If you stop now, you’ll never say it.

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t care. Tired of pretending that what we had was just sex. You know it wasn’t. You know. We talked. We laughed. You let me in. You made me feel like I wasn’t crazy for needing you. And then every time I get close to believing you—really believing you—you disappear. Or worse, you show up like nothing happened and expect me to melt for you. And I do. God, I always do.”

His gaze drops. His jaw clenches. But he still doesn’t speak. And that silence—it’s not passive. It’s precise. It’s brutal in its precision. Like he’s figured out by now that anything he says will only confirm how much worse he made it. So he doesn’t say a word. Just lets the weight of what you said sit there. Lets you carry it alone, like you always have. And that silence? It hits harder than anything he’s ever said. Than every lie. Than every I miss you that came too late.

You take another breath, but it doesn’t settle. It just wobbles on the way out, shakes loose in your throat like it’s trying not to turn into a sob.

“I just want to know…” you start, and your voice is thinner now, worn down to something soft and splintered. “Why I’ve never been enough. Not once. Not for a full day. Why I’m always good enough to fuck. To call. To cry to when you’re falling apart at three in the morning. But never good enough to stand next to in daylight.”

Your hands shake, but you keep going.

“Why it’s always her when I’m the one who knows how you take your coffee. When I’m the one who told you to breathe before qualifying, when you couldn’t stop pacing. When I’m the one who stayed.”

That’s the part that undoes you a little. That last word. Stayed. You weren’t supposed to say it—not out loud. It’s too naked. Too pathetic. But it tumbles out anyway, like the truth was tired of waiting for permission. And it lands. You see it shift something in him. His eyes flick toward the floor, then back up. His fingers twitch at his sides, curling briefly into fists, then flattening again. His shoulders rise with a breath too deep to be casual—like he’s dragging something up from the part of him that doesn’t usually speak.

“I never meant for it to get this far,” he says finally, voice raw around the edges, like he’s chewing on the words even as he gives them up. “I didn’t think I’d need you like that.”

You almost laugh, but it’s not funny. It’s sharp. Bitter. It curls in your mouth like acid.

“You needed me,” you echo. “But not enough.”

He steps toward you then. Slowly. Cautiously. Like he’s approaching a live wire. Like he thinks there’s still something left to salvage in the wreckage.

“It’s not that simple,” he says.

But you shake your head before he can finish the thought. “Yes, it is.”

And this time you don’t snap it. You don’t spit it out like a weapon. You just say it flatly. Like a fact that doesn’t care how he feels about it.

“You either love someone,” you say, “or you don’t.”

“I do love you,” he replies. Just like that. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been true, and always been enough.

But it costs you everything to hear it. Every little ounce of composure you’ve been clinging to. Every version of yourself that held out hope. It’s not relief that hits you—it’s grief. Not longing. Not even disbelief. Just loss. Again. All over again. Because now that he’s said it, now that the words are out, you know for sure: his love was never the kind that saves you. Never the kind that holds you in the light. His love only ever lives in the dark.

You look at him, and something twists in your chest—not from happiness, but from mourning.

“Then why has it always felt like I had to beg for it?” you whisper. “Why has it never once felt like it came freely?”

He doesn’t answer.

Doesn’t lie. Doesn’t soften. Just stands there, mouth parted like he wants to say something, anything, but he knows. He knows whatever he gives you now will only make it worse. So he says nothing. And the silence between you—thick, heavy, final—says everything.

You stare at him—not the Lando the world loves, not the polished boy in champagne and fireproofs and grins for the cameras, but the one in front of you now. Quiet. Flickering. Human in the worst way. The kind that disappoints just by standing still.

Your arms drop to your sides. Not in surrender. In exhaustion. Your limbs feel too heavy to hold upright, your ribs ache from holding in this pain for too long. You’re sagging under the weight of it.

“You love me,” you repeat, hollow now. Like the words are ash in your mouth. “But you’re still with her.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just lowers his eyes, clenches his jaw, like maybe he hates himself for it. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just tired of pretending it’s not true. And that’s the answer. That’s the only answer you’re going to get. There’s no grand speech. No twist in the narrative. Just the sharp silence of reality pressing down on you like gravity finally remembered your name.

And somewhere behind you, the elevator dings.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando #lando fluff #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando smut #Lando X reader #Lando Norris x reader

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myscentarchive · 3 months ago

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Powdery Tobacco - dossier

Inspired by Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille

Top: Tobacco, Ginger, Apricot Heart: Honey, Vanilla, Cocoa Base: Tonka Bean, Dry Fruits, Blond Woods

Eau de Parfum Unisex

Powdery Tobacco (inspired by Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille) sublimates the unique scent of tobacco leaves. Fruity and sweet honey facets of tobacco are highlighted, and lit up by a touch of ginger. Then, the fragrance unfolds at the base for more depth thanks to vanilla, tonka bean, and gourmand notes of dry fruit and cacao.

Opulent, highly qualitative, and assertive, Powdery Tobacco (our impression of Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille) perfectly reinvents the cozy atmosphere of the lounge in a London club.

Physicals

2 mL spray

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societalenemynumberone · 11 months ago

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how we feeling about Legally Blonde!Reader + Hazbin Hotel?

Post hcs or no?

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amandabbbbb · 9 months ago

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summary: after the scene where ward drops rafe at barry’s and tells him to not come home but barry’s sister pogue!reader tries to comfort him even though rafe is soo mean to her like woah but it’s a happy ending

tw: mention of drugs, idk rafe cries a lot, parental issues, rafe calls reader kid and bitch once

word count: 762

“don’t come home, son,” ward says, his voice cold and final, as he walks away from his only son.

“where do you want me to go?”

“dad! dad!” rafe’s desperate calls echo into the night, but ward doesn’t look back, leaving rafe alone in the darkness in front of barry’s and your house.

“hey, barry, open the fuckin door! i know you got the coke, dude, come on. please just open up!” he’s begging on the verge of tears. “barry, if you don’t open this god damn door, i’ll fucking smash it down myself. i need coke, man!”

you slowly open the door, and before he even sees you, rafe shoves his way inside, causing you to stumble back slightly. he collapses onto the couch, his movements frantic and erratic. “barry, what took you so long? christ, give me your best coke. i need that shit now, dude” he demands, his voice thick with barely-contained emotion. when he finally looks up and sees you instead of barry, he quickly swipes at the tears streaming down his face, trying to hide his vulnerability.

“oh, hi, rafe! sorry, i had my headphones on. wanna listen? oh my god, are you crying?” you ask, your voice laced with genuine concern.

“no, jesus fuck, y/n, where’s your brother?”

“oh, um, i think he’s down by the shipyards doing a deal. sorry, rafey,” you say, offering a gentle smile.

rafe pulls himself up quickly, furiously searching for the drugs he so desperately craves. “where’s his coke? i know you know where he keeps it. go find it. don’t just stand there helplessly. you’re so goddamn stupid! fuck!”

“why are you being mean to me? you’re never mean to me… i don’t know where barry keeps the coke, rafe.”

he yells at the top of his lungs, “it’s like you have no fuckin brain. you’re just a useless dumb blonde.” (sorry i’m blonde)

the harsh words cut through you, and you can’t bear his anger. you turn and flee to your room, tears pricking your waterline, blurring your vision as you go.

your whole teenage years, you knew rafe as your older brother’s richest client, who he secretly would rip off. but as the years went by, he started buying barry’s more hardcore drugs, not just weed. you got to know rafe more as barry’s regular client. he would constantly stick around, always flirting with you and bringing you gifts when barry wasn’t looking.

“y/n, don’t shut me out. don’t be a bitch, come on, open the door. i need the coke. you don’t understand, help me here, okay,” he pleads.

you’re scared. you’ve never seen him like this; he’s always treated you like a princess. you yell as he bangs at your thin bedroom door, pushing the wood so hard it starts to crack. “go home, rafe!” your voice shaky and filled with fear.

the banging stops suddenly, your words echoing in the sudden silence. the quiet stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. cautiously, you peek out of your bedroom door thinking maybe he finally listened to your advice. “rafe, you there?” you call out.

he’s sitting on your couch, tears running down his face, hyperventilating. “i can’t go home. i’m a liar, an addict, a thief, and i can’t be trusted, so my dad said he can’t have me in his house. i have nowhere to go.”

you slowly approach the couch where rafe sits, his face hidden in his hands. his body is shaking, and the room is filled with the sound of his ragged breaths. “rafe…” you say softly, your voice trembling as you try to offer some comfort. “you, um, can stay here tonight.”

he looks up at you, his eyes red and desperate, filled with a depth of pain you’ve never seen in him before. “i don’t deserve you, kid. fuck, i’m so sorry. i never wanted you to see me like this. i thought i had everything under control, but now you probably hate me or some shit…”

you sit beside him, offering a soft, reassuring smile. you put your hand in his. “it’s okay rafey. i could never hate you. we all have moments when shit falls apart. it doesn’t change how i see you. you’re tired. i’ll set up the couch for you.”

rafe’s eyes search yours, a flicker of regret softening his expression. “i didn’t mean to take it out on you,” he says, his voice low and raw. “i just… i don’t want to be alone. y’know, on the couch. not tonight.” the words hang in the air, heavy with his unspoken need to hold you tonight.

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wh1msic4lwasab1 · 1 month ago

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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི His⋆♱⋆Affliction ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

snyopsis: The vampire Alucard finds an injured traveler at his doorsteps, and nurses her back to health. Though what happens during your recovery is woefully unexpected, but intrinsically welcomed.

tags: porn w/plot (rare for me lmao), he fell first but you fall harder type trope, yearning, pining, slow burn (i tried), passionate, penetration, cunnalingus, cum eating, fingering, hair pulling, marking, biting, bloodletting, creampie, praise, usuage of “darling”, “dear”, “da draga mea” (“yes my dear” in romanian). L bomb gets dropped bc yk what, hell yeah?, pathetic alucard bc absolutely yes

word count: 11.5k wowza

a/n: a true passion project i love you alucard THANK YOU @cosmicporos for helping me with ideas for this fic mwah and also @eridanusco for informally requesting LMAO. Also sorry i dont know how to end fics pls let me live guys pls i tried :(

(click the title for a playlist! I listened to it a billion times when writing this)

Sounds of a distance neigh grew closer and closer to the ear of the blonde dhampir- who sat desolate inside cold walls. Your loyal steed, galloped you to the tall castle doors, pacing back and forth, whining for attention until The Alucard finally came down and took your lumbering body inside, and your horse to the stable of course, he’s not a monster…as much as he beleive so.

After what seemed to feel like a coma, you open your eyes to the stinging rays of sunlight that pass your eyelids; Waking up to a room unfamiliar and a man even moreso.

Alucard sat in a wooden chair that smelled of the same cedar he tended the fire with.

As the scent and the sight hit your senses, you rustled up and back into the corner of the walls in a hurried panic.

Alucard's eyes widened a bit, surprised by your wake. He gently placed his occupying book down and slowly got up from the chair, holding his hands up as if to show you he meant no harm.

"Easy, easy now...calm down. You're safe."

“Who the hell are you-“ you question in fright at his fanged teeth.

He gave a slight frown, eyes shifting a bit as he studied you.

“This is my home, your wounds…you’ve been here just short of a day.”

He explained, keeping his distance to not further frighten you- pointing to your abdomen.

“You're- a vampire?!!”

He chuckled slightly, not amused by the fear in your eyes but understanding your reaction”

"Half vampire, actually” He went on, “But I mean you no harm, you have my word."

“You could be lying”.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation in his voice at the accusation

"You'll have to trust me on that, won't you? If I wanted to hurt you, I could've done so long ago. You were passed out and bleeding on your horse's back."

Realization hit you, his arms crossing over his chest as you stay silent in protest.

"You were quite injured, I patched you up the best I could and kept you in this room to rest. Please allow me to heal you back to health completely.”

You stay in the corner of the bed with your hands clutched onto the thick fur blanket. You give him a nod, accepting his proposal, although reluctantly.

He nods back, sensing the fear and uncertainty radiating off of you but appreciative that you aren’t too stubborn.

"It would've been wrong to leave you to bleed out in the woods." He said, slowing returning to the fire and book.

“I didn’t know vampires had morality.” You retort, slipping out of your mouth without much thought.

He but only chuckles, you can almost hear his smile as he speaks, low and soft.

“I’ve had my share of…distasteful humans. But your horse made a good case for you, you know.”

You have to almost stop a smile- becoming more comfortable by the second with his seeming civility.

Not too comfortable, though, feeling the bandages around your waist.

He looks back and sees you touching them through your shirt.

“Can I see them?” He asks, walking closer to you now with a voice of concern.

You nod.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch you unnecessarily, reaching out and gently unwrapping the bandages, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed the wounds beneath.

You wince slightly at the cool air hitting your broken skin, your stomach flexing inwards and your lungs expanding.

He pauses for a moment as you flinch, his eyes flicking up to your face.

"I'm sorry, I'll be gentle," he says softly before continuing to unwrap the bandages, revealing the cuts and gashes on your body. His expression hardened again as he took in the extent of your injuries, his fingers tracing lightly over the wounds, gentle and steady.

“How do they feel?” He asks, taking all the bandages off and reaching to the nightstand for more.

“Fine” You reply.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I can sense your emotions, you know. And you're not very good at hiding them."

You feel your brows contort into irritation, you dont even know what for- maybe your innate distrust.

"What, you're mad that I can read you so easily?" He replied with a smile, enjoying your annoyed expression a little more than he thought.

“It's a bit annoying…” You say, raising your brows, with a sprinkle of sass.

He smirked again, his lips playful.

"Well, I'm sorry if it's annoying. But you're quite expressive. It's hard not to notice when you look like that.”

“Like what-?” You retort.

“That.” He replies quickly, making you swallow your words.

You watch as he redresses your wounds, taking his time to wrap the bandages around your waist and stomach.

You take that time to look at his face more carefully than before- being this close to a vampire wasn’t something you think you’d live long enough to be able to observe like this.

You noticed his light amber hair, his yellow eyes and long lashes that gave him an epicene charm. You couldn’t keep your curious eyes from wandering over his features, he smelled like oud and iron.

When he was done, you looked out toward the open window, the sill swaying back and forth as the wind dance.

“How long will they take to heal?” You ask as you look back down at his hands.

"It depends. The wounds were quite severe, so it may take a while for them to fully close. The medicine should accelerate the healing process, but it's not instantaneous.”

“Okay- well, if it's fine i'll return to my town then by tomorrow.”

His expression shifted to surprise at your statement.

"You want to leave already? You're not fully healed yet, it's not safe for you to go back out there. They could open, get infection, you could get-“

“I don't wish to bother you any longer- you've already helped me enough.” You state. You’ve been quite wary about vampires- raised to practically believe they were spawns of hell itself.

He raised an eyebrow, his surprise quickly replaced by a hint of irritation

"Bother me? Nonsense. You're a guest in my home, and I don't intend to just let you wander off into danger when you're just as injured as when I found you.”

“It's still an inconvenience…”

He lets out an annoyed sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're insufferable, you know that?” It's not an inconvenience. You're my responsibility now, whether you like it or not.”

You let out an equally annoyed huff, but you don’t bother to object anymore, clearly stuck and indefensible.

“Fine”. You breathe out.

He gave you a firm nod, satisfied that you had agreed to stay.

"Good. You'll stay here until you're fully healed. I won't have you running off and getting yourself killed out there."

He watched you as you settled back into bed, his expression softening slightly

"I'll be back to check on you later. Try not to do anything reckless while I'm gone." He says, walking out the door.

“Wait!” You shout.

He pauses in the doorway, turning to look at you.

"Yes?"

“What’s your name?”

“Alucard”, is what you hear before the shut of the door.

You hear his descending footsteps on the floor of the castle, plopping your head back into the goosefeather pillows as you stared at the brick ceiling, trying to get comfortable again, as much as you could considering your circumstance.

Hours had passed, and sleep didn’t miss you on its way.

Alucard had come back to your room, opening it after not hearing any confirmation at his soft knocks.

He saw your sleeping state and moved quietly as to make sure sure not to disturb you, scanning over your form, taking note of your condition and whether you were in any pain or discomfort even if your unconsciousness.

He leaned over and placed a hand on your forehead, checking for a fever or sweats.

After making his observations, his eyes lingered on your hair, fingers carefully brushing against a few strands as he withdraws his hand.

He found himself captivated by the color and texture, a hint of curiosity flickering within as the sunlight filtered through the window and casted a warm glow over your skin, the smooth contours of your face and neck.

He looked at your physiognomy in almost jealously, envious of your humanness. The feeling of your warm skin coursing with blood that hadn’t yet gone through the process of death. He brushed his knuckle softly against your cheekbone but quickly removed it once he felt you slowly stir away.

You crack your eyes open and flutter your flashes as the setting sun pokes at your lids again.

“Is it evening already?”

He nods, his voice low and quiet, walking around the corners of the room to light the candles scattered around to offer some light before the moons arrival.

"Yes, it's getting late. You've been asleep for quite a while."

You let out a long drawn yawn and attempt to sit up near the headboard.

He watches, eyes tracking your every move. He can see the pain and stiffness in your movements, a pang of guilt tugging at him for not being able to do anything for you in that moment.

"Careful," he murmurs, voice taint with concern. "You're still injured, remember? You shouldn't be sitting up yet. Let your body heal."

“I can't just sleep all day.”

"Yes, you can”…He continues, trying to push through without the conversation. “You're still recovering. You need to take it easy and let your body heal itself. Sleeping is the best way to do that." He crosses his arms over his chest, a hint of frustration in his voice over your seemingly unmovable persistence.

You frown at his scolding, crossing your arms back.

"What's with the pout? You look like a petulant child."

You scoff, leaning your head back and mouth slightly agape.

“That's rude...”

He chuckles, a smirk growing at your response.

"Is it? I was merely stating the truth.

You're acting like a spoiled brat who doesn't want to listen to their caretaker."

“I'm just tired of sleeping so much...”

“Well I can’t just let you run around and frolick can I?”

You pout again, knowing he’s right but not wanting to agree out of…pettiness.

He shakes his head and sighs, “Stay here, I’ll bring you some food”.

“Yeah sure i’ll stay! No problem Doctor!” You say with fringed enthusiasm. “Can’t really go run and frolick can I…?” You mumble after.

“I heard that.” He says as he walks out, making you chuckle a bit.

As you wait, your stomach growls even more, wondering what kind of food you’ll be given. With all the wealth and luxury displayed in just the small portion of the castle you’ve been limited to witness- you had set your expectations high….unfortunately.

He comes back not more than an hour or so later- hair tied up in a low messy bun and what seems to be flour on his pants.

You see Alucard bring in a tray of a small loaf of bread and a bowl of what smelled like plain chicken stock, small floating pieces of carrot.

He sits down next to the bed, putting the tray on the edge of the bed before helping you sit up just a bit so you could eat.

You look at him and then the food- the silence and your inactive made him scoff.

“Are you hands broken all of a sudden? Do you need me to feed you?” He says bluntly, raising his brows in disbelief of your shamelessness.

You gave him a shrug and innocent expression smile- but he lets himself fall to your poorly executed manipulation.

He tears a piece of the what you can only imagine is some kind of buckwheat bun, as he dips it into the plain soup.

“Fattening me up so you can eat me?” You say as the soup soaked bread moves closer to your mouth.

He rolls his eyes and holds it closer to you to take a bite.

Before you open your mouth to accept the bread, you catch a wiff of the smell and…your head tilts away swiftly.

“Oh gods- you don’t even need to fatten me that’s gonna kill me first!” You say as you shake your head.

“What? Stop being dramatic. It’s just bread, here” He says, tilting your head back toward his face and the bread.

“Where did you get that? Did my horse produce it?!”

Alucard furrows his brows and scoffs.

“I made this…it took a while by the way.”

Your eyes widen- not knowing if you should be surprised and touched that he attempted to make you food or if you should be alarmed at how horribly it went.

“Oh…”

He sighs, “Is it really that bad..? What do you humans even eat besides bread and beer?”

You scoot back a bit, creating a good distance away from the bread.

“Is this- just chicken stock?” You ask, trying to find any kind of compliment to give him.

He looks at you deadpanned, and you have to stifle a smile.

“I should have gave that carrot to the damn horse…” He mumbled before getting up to leave with the tray.

“Wait wait!” You laugh as you protested, waving your arms back up to urge him to stay.

“I’ll try it…since you went out of your way.”

He sighs, giving you another chance and placing the tray back on your lap.

You have to gather more courage than you might have ever before- taking the same piece of bread he tore and counting your blessing before putting it into your mouth.

Truthfully- the chicken stock made it somewhat bearable, masking the stale like gummy texture of the bread…and swallowing it before it could bother you too much.

Alucard watched at the bedpost, arms crossed as he observed your expression.

You look up at him after the first bite, tilting your head back and forth and twisting your arm to try and say it wasn’t too aweful.

He lets outs a chuckle and sits back down on the chair; occupying his earlier read as he waits for you to finish your meal.

As soon as you’re finished, he glances at the empty bowl and plate, a hint of relief in his eyes

"You ate everything, good. It's important to keep your strength up while you're recovering."

You simply nod, not wishing you further frustrate him over his cooking inability.

"Get some rest now. You need it."

He takes the tray and turns to leave, but once again hesitates at the door, as if his body screams at him to stay longer than needed.

Looking back at you; his eyes roaming over your face as if committing it to memory.

“I never got your name, now that I think about it. I think I’d like to know what to address you as.”

You hesitate for a moment- but it’s the least you could offer, formality wise.

“Y/n.” You respond.

He replies in almost a whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/n." He smiles.

He won’t be going to bed anytime soon but he hopes your rest is committed.

“Goodnight, Alucard.”

Again is the shut of the door, and you know you won’t see him again til the next morning.

After he leaves the room, he stand in the hallway for a moment, lost in thought- he feels a heaviness in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. It’s been a long time since anyone has said his name at all- nor with as much tenderness and void of disdain as the way in which you spoke it.

The next day comes, much like the last in its configuration, just as the next few would likely follow.

Alucard comes in and moves quietly around, tending to the small fire in the hearth and tidying up a bit around your room; keeping his movements soft and silent, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere while you sleep.

He notices the moment you start to stir, his eyes flickering towards your sleeping figure on the bed. He watches you wake, and a hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips as he watches you blink sleepily.

“Goodmorning”, you hear from the vampire, chuckling as he sees you stretch. “Sleep well?”.

You reply with a nod, yawning greatly before giving him a “Mhm”.

He feels a sense of relief wash over him, glad that you were able to get some restful sleep. Moving closer to the bed, his eyes scan over you for any signs of discomfort.

"That's good to hear. How are you feeling? Any pain?"

You shake my head, truthfully feeling much lighter than the previous day. You sit up so you can present your wounds to him.

He nods in approval, satisfied assurance while he steps closer to the bed until he sits on the edge, gently reaching out to examine your wounds, his fingers lightly brushing over the bandages that cover your injuries and unwrapping you.

"They're healing well. You're lucky you didn't sustain any serious damage."

He relays, his palms trailing down your sides as he tries to feel for any swelling, and you seem to find your throat a bit dry.

He can hear you gulp, and he reluctantly pulls his hands away and starts to wrap you with new bandages, rolling your shirt back down.

“Thank you”, you reply, trying to fill the empty space between you two, even if it’s just verbal.

He pauses for a moment, surprised by your words. He hadn't expected you to thank him, and the sincerity in your voice catches him off guard.

He clears his throat again, trying to maintain his demeanor.

"You don't need to thank me. I'm just doing what I can to ensure your recovery."

You smile and nod, impressed by his humbleness.

“Do you think, I can go outside now?

Maybe for a walk.” You ask.

He hesitates, considering your request. Youve been confined to the room for almost a week now, and the thought of you getting some sun wasn’t the worst.

"Hm...I suppose it would be good for you to get some fresh air. But only for a little while. You're still recovering, so you shouldn't push yourself too much."

You smile even wider, glad that he wasn’t cruel or unreasonable.

“Thank you, will you join me?” You offer.

He feels his brows contort with confusion, but he can't help the small smile that follows.

"Me? You want me to go with you?"

“Well i've never been to this part of the country- i’m not so used to it.

He chuckles softly, finding your naiveté endearing

"I see. Very well, I'll accompany you on your walk." He replies, coming back to the edge of the bed and helping you up, putting out his forearm for you to hold yourself up with- making sure you don't stumble or fall.

"Take it slow. You might be a bit unsteady at first."

You hold on tight, feeling your limbs finally stretch out after hours of laying down with not much breaks.

He watches you carefully, his eyes following your every move. He notices the warmth of your hands on his arm, gripping and clinging to him so tight, and the closeness of your body sends a current through his body- and he finds himself putting a bit more effort into trying to push down the strange feelings that are bubbling up inside him, because of you.

"Easy there. Don't push yourself too hard."

Once he makes note of your posture, he slowly releases your arm, though keeping a hand hovering nearby, just in case you need support.

“Do you happen to have any clothes?” You ask, wanting to get into something more fresh compared to your tattered and messy clothing.

"Yes, I think I do. Stay here.” He says, quickly moving out of the room to retrieve them and arriving again only minutes later with a neatly folded stack of garments in his arms.

He hands them to you, his eyes flickering over your figure as he does so.

"These should fit you. Let me know if they don't."

You take the small pile with both hands and go to the washroom of your familiar room to change.

Alucard waited patiently outside the door, his mind racing as he imaged you changing inside- hearing the rustling of fabric and wanting to ask if you needed help but he didn’t want to overstep- didn’t want to make you suspect anything more of it all.

Desperately he tried to push the thoughts down into the back of his head, but they keep creeping up, making his heart race and his palms sweat a bit.

When you emerged back out in the clothes he gave you, his eyes almost widened, a faint melancholy in his gaze.

“What…you look like you want to say something.” You ask.

He looks back into your eyes as he’s snapped out of his thoughts.

“Sorry- sorry…no you look fine. It’s just that” He rambled on, “The clothes belonged to my mother, they suite you.”

Your brows rise at the information and your stomach drops a bit- feeling sorrow for him in his dark undertones. But you stay silent.

“Alright”, he continues, draping a red scarf around your neck.

“Keep this on, it’s cold in the mornings.” He says as he pulls your hair up from the scarf and lays it behind your shoulders, fingers brushing your ears slightly as he stands much closer now.

You only nod, allowing him to open the door and lead you out of the room for the first time.

When you step out of your enclosure of a room, you feel the smooth velvet carpet rolling out into the deep hallways of the ancient castle, soothing the soles of your bare feet as you walk alongside Alucard, looking around at the ceilings and the fixtures that adorn the home.

He watches as you take in the grandeur of the castle, a hint of pride in his eyes. He’s lived here for so long, but he sometimes forgets how impressive it must look to outsiders

"It's a bit much, I know. But it's been in my family for generations."

“No, it’s beautiful. Really.” You assure, taking everything in as you finally get to explore the place you’ve been locked up in.

He smiles again at your words, feeling a small swell of warmth in his chest. Expecting you like most people to be intimidated or scared by the castle's size and antiquity, but he can tell you seem genuinely impressed by it.

"Thank you. My father, Dracula, had it built many years ago. He desired opulence." He says with cadence.

As he explains more of the building’s interior, you both finally reach a exit. You can hear the chirping of birds and the wind on the other side as if a portal to an unexplored grove were near.

Alucard pushes the heavy doors open, revealing the sprawling gardens outside. The morning sun is casting a warm golden glow over the landscape.

The gardens- a riot of color, with blooming flowers and lush greenery filling every inch of space.

He watched as you step out into the grass. He can't help but find the sight of you barefoot in the garden endearing, your toes sinking into the soft earth as you breathe in the sweet spring air.

You open your eyes and look up, appreciating the sky from below opposed to the window from a distance as to which you were forced to do for the past few days.

Alucard, though, doesn’t follow your gaze. He instead can't help but admire the way the sun catches in your hair, and on your skin, making you look like you're glowing. A second, much more beautiful sun.

He finds himself staring for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty.

He also notices the way you hold the shawl closer to your body, and he wonders if you're cold or if there's something else you're trying to hide. He tries to resist the urge to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair out of your face again, wanting to feel just an atom of your being, as if to merge them with his.

He step closer, concern etched on his face

"Are you cold?"

You look back at him, your brows contorted and a soft look of vulnerability on your face.

“A little”, you admit.

He sees the goosebumps emerged on your soft and sunkissed skin, and he frowns slightly.

He takes the coat off his back, and drapes it over your shoulders

"Here, this should help." He says as he pulls you closer to him, your shoulders rubbing up as he keeps the draped jacket close around you, a bit too big but enough to warm you.

You give him an appreciative smile, and he returns one right back.

He watches you return your eyes back on the scenery, his gaze softening as he sees the way you admire the beauty of the world around you.

He’s seen this view countless times before, smelled the same air and felt the same breeze pass him by. But somehow, it seems more vibrant with you here with him now.

“Would you like to go back inside now?” You ask.

He shakes his head, not wanting the moment to end just yet.

"Not yet. Let's stay out here a little longer. Is that okay?” He asks softly.

You nod, happy that he’s willing to indulge you in just a bit more time outside.

You can’t help but feel his eyes glancing to you every now and then- and you try to ignore the urge to get closer to him.

Not for warmth, or because of the cold, or anything other than the flickering need to be closer to him.

Something entirely separate, something entirely unfamiliar.

After another few minutes, you two decide to come back inside to prevent any possibility of you catching a cold.

Alucard shows you a few more hallways and rooms along the way, pointing them onto and providing a little history lesson every now and then, not wanting to bombard you with his entire lifetimes worth of stories. When you arrive back at your room, he watches you settle back into the bed. A strange mix of emotions swirling within him. he wants to stay with you, but he knows he should give you some space.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment before speaking up again.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be around."

You smile and nod, “Thank you”. You whisper.

“Of course. I'll be in the library if you need me." He hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to say something more, but then he turns and walks away, leaving you alone in the room, leaving the door open this time- as if inviting you to join him.

Maybe you’re just thinking too much into it.

As he sits down on the wooden library chairs, trying to concentrate on the book in his hand and the ink that sticks to his quill, his thoughts keep drifting back to you, wondering what you're doing in your room and if you're comfortable.

He can't shake the feeling that he's being drawn to you like a moth to a flame- in an inseparable trap he set himself. His affliction.

Lost in his own mind, he snaps out of it as he hears a knock at the library door. He looks up, setting his book down to calls out.

"Come in."

You hear his command, opening the tall doors and peaking your head in to find him.

He looks up as you enter the space, his eyes widening slightly as you approach closer and walk down the sparse steps- secretly trying to hide the fact that he was thinking about you just seconds ago.

"Ah, I wasn't expecting you so soon.

Is everything alright?" He asks, feeling his heart suddenly accelerate.

“Yeah, sorry” You reply, handing him back his jacket, “you just forgot this”.

As he takes the jacket from you, his finger brushing against yours for a brief moment that he curses himself for not keeping it a second longer.

He looks at it for a moment before looking back at you.

"Ah, thank you. I didn't realize I had left it behind." He says in a more hoarse tone than usual.

You chuckle and nod, “I also didn't realize.” You say in a lighthearted tone.

He chuckles softly in return, his eyes locked on yours- Acutely aware of the way your scent fills the air around him, intoxicating him with its sweetness.

"I suppose I was too distracted this morning to notice."

He finds it harder and harder to resist the urge to reach out to you, to pull you closer to him with each growing second.

You break the short lapse of silence, your eyes trailing down to the desk full of books and sheets of freshly inked script.

“Reading?”

He also glances at the books on the table, trying to compose himself.

"Ah, yes. I was just doing some light reading. and annotation. Trying to take my mind off things." He says before looking back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. H can feel the tension between you growing, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions

“What, uhm- kind of things?” You ask, immediately feeling as if you overstepped.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should be honest with you. but he can't bring himself to lie.

"You." He speaks.

You nod, understanding as you touch your wound on your side- Assuming he’s referring to your injuries, knowing how much he cares to treat you. Pushing away the initial thoughts of affection, not wanting to get your hopes up.

He nods, a small sigh escaping his lips. He conflicts with himself- wanting to tell you every preoccupied thought he’s had of you since the moment he found you on the back of his horse.

"Yes, that. And other things." He slips in quietly.

“You should rest, you’re not well enough to be up for so long.” He says a bit more sternly.

You furrow your brows a bit in unease, wishing he elaborated.

“Right.” You respond plainly.

He sees the disappointment in your eyes and immediately regrets his words. He didn't mean to push you away, but he's afraid of letting his guard down, of getting too close to you.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated with himself

"I just... I don't want you to overexert yourself."

“It’s fine-“ You reply quickly, not wanting to invest more emotional energy into the exchange, exiting the library and walking back to your room, each step heavy and unrelenting as if your body rejects being away from him.

He watches your back as you leave, his heart sinking at the sound of your steps descending in volume. He wants to call out to you, to tell you to stay, but the words stick in his throat like a lozenge.

He sits there for a moment, frozen in place, before cursing himself under his breath. He knows he's messed up, but he's not sure how to fix it just yet.

Alucard remains in the library, pacing back and forth restlessly, still. He can't focus on anything, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

He curses himself for being so awkward and aloof, for not being able to express his feelings properly even if they aren’t all fleshed out and appropriate.

He wants to follow you, to make things right, but he's afraid of what might happen if he does. So he stays in the library, brooding and frustrated, feeling more alone than ever.

You on the other hand, stay cooped up in your room. Equally frustrated- pacing around the bed unaware of how similar you both seem to cope.

You stay until the sun sets, wondering if he’ll show anytime soon to check up on you like he has been- angrily ruffled into the bedsheets as you almost wish you never went to the library, wishing you just left it at the peaceful garden walk from this morning.

“Fuck it?” You think to yourself, just go. “Just get up…walk over to him and figure it out? Right?” What even is there to figure, maybe, you were just overthinking.

You put your hand on the doorknob, resting before you swing it open.

As you prepare to take the first step out your eyes widen at the sight of him right infront of you with his hand raised.

He freezes in his tracks, surprised to see you standing in the doorway. He hadn't expected you to open the door just as he was about to knock, and his face looking more pale than before, somehow.

He looks at you, heart racing as he takes in the sight- feeling a mix of relief and nervousness, unsure of what to say or do next.

“…Hi.” You break the silence.

He swallows hard, his palms feeling clammy. He forces himself to speak, his voice sounding hoarse and awkward

"Hey. I was just coming to check on you." He drew on.

“I was also going to find you.” You confess.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised by your words. He hadn't expected you to be looking for him as well, his hopes rocking up.”

"Were you?"

“Yeah well- it's evening so I figured you'd want to check up on me again.” You sidetrack, dancing around the idea of anything else.

He nods, feeling a pang of guilt.

He had been avoiding you all day, and yet here you were, still thinking about him and his routine. Sure, he was too, but he hated the idea of burdening you with such heavy feelings in his care.

"Right, of course. I should've been more on top of it."

You nod, letting him into the room as you go to sit down on the bed as he follows you, his heart pounding in his chest. Why?

He can feel a tension between you two, one that’s been bubbling and thickening like a witches brew.

He tries to focus on the task at hand, but his mind keeps drifting to other things as he approaches you, his hand trying not to linger too long- prudent in his action.

He keeps his gaze clinical as he examines the wounds, rolling your shirt up and unwrapping the bandaged, but it's hard not to notice the softness of your skin beneath his fingers.

He gently touches the edges of the scars, his touch cautious as he checks for any signs of infection or irritation.

He’s aware of how close he is to you, how intimate the situation is, how for the past few days that he’s tried to ignore- scared of pushing himself onto you in any way.

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and it's making it difficult for him to concentrate as he can see you watching him.

He glances up at you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment.

“You look worried....”

He looks up at you again, his expression serious.

"It's just... the scars are still a bit red. I'm worried about infection."

You nod, your expression also turning more stone.

He frowns, his fingers tracing the edges of the scars lightly.

"I'll have to keep a closer eye on them. Make sure they don't get worse."

You nod, wincing slightly as he touches them.

He immediately stops touching the scars, his expression softening.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He whispers.

“It's okay- it just stings a little”. You assure.

But he still feels a pang of guilt at the thought of causing you pain, even if it was accidental.

"I'll try to be more careful. I just want to make sure they're healing properly." He goes on, feeling himself open up more- wanting to tell you just how much he cares.

He wraps you back up in new dressing, rolling your shirt down again and leaning down toward you.

“Hold onto me, I’ll help you up.” He says softly, putting his arms around your back as you wrap yours around the back of his neck, holding into him for support as he helps you up onto your feet without too much trouble.

For just a moment your chests press up- but soon letting go.

Alucard steps back, not wanting to cross any lines- but gods is his mind absolute chaos right now.

The feeling of your body closer than it’s ever been- the feeling of almost embracing you was too much for him to handle.

You clear your throat, leaning back against the bedpost, “Earlier today...in the library...”, you go on.

He perks back up, “Yes? What about it?”

“I'm sorry if i seemed too insistent, you probably wanted to be alone”…

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Don't apologize. You didn't seem insistent at all. If anything, I found your curiosity endearing."

He sends you a smile, a softer look.

"And I must admit, it was nice to have some company in the library for once. I've been alone for so long that l've almost forgotten what it's like to talk to someone…”

You smile back, “Me too.”

He returns your easygoingness, “You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

“I'm not, it's making me feel better too.”

He chuckles, a bit deeper this time.

"I see. So you're not just a beautiful woman with a sharp mind, you're also honest."

“I hope to be”, you reply wittingly.

“Honesty is a rare quality, you know.

Most people will say anything to get what they want, or to avoid hurting your feelings. But you... you seem to speak your mind without a second thought…Especially about my bread.”

You roll your eyes place and scoff, “I’ll never hear the end of it from you.”

“I’m still hurt.” He says, feigning offense.

The two of you exchange a few more pleasantries, both reveling in the fact that your issues from earlier have been mended and quickly forgotten. Thankfully.

Alucard glances out the window, seeing the darkness of the night outside and hearing your yawn.

"It's late. You should probably get some rest, as much as I wish to keep talking.” He adds on quickly.

You nod, opening the door as he walks out into the doorway.

“Goodnight, dear.” He says politely.

You respond with a kiss on his cheek, quick and gentle.

“Goodnight.” You say with a soft smile, and and shut the door on his dumbfounded face.

He stands there for a moment, stunned by your unexpected kiss.

His hand comes up to touch the spot where your lips had been, a look of surprise and... something else on his face. He shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he turns and walks away, heading to his own room and recalling the experience with every step. He tries to tell himself that it was just a polite gesture, nothing more, but he can't help the way his heart flutters at the thought of your lips on his skin. He knows any semblance of sleep won’t be easy- not after your stunt.

You sleep deeply through the night and into first light, unable to hear Alucard knocking at your door.

He knocks a second time, a tray of breakfast food in his hands.

Upon your lack of response, he enters the room quietly, his eyes immediately going to your bed to check on your condition- smiling softly as he sees you still asleep, setting the tray of food on a nearby table.

He walks over to the bed, his footsteps light and quiet so as not to wake you. It’s almost noon, and he wants to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of extreme exhaustion- considering the irregular surplus of sleep.

He continues to watch your face- finding himself getting used to the peaceful sight of your sleeping form.

But he notices a look of distress on your face, becoming concerned. He sits down on the edge of the bed, observing intently, his eyes narrowing as he realizes you're having a nightmare of some sort.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should wake you up, but the conviction on your face convinces him to act.

"Hey...wake up." He gently shakes your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your terrors.

He watches as you rise up in a jerked motion- breathe quick and heavy, pupils dilated and expression that of terror.

He places a comforting hand on your back.

"Shh... it's okay. You're safe now. It was just a dream." He says as he rubs your back in soothing circles, his touch gentle and reassuring. He looks at you with concern, his eyes filled with worry

"You were having a nightmare... do you want to talk about it?"

“I don’t really remember it-“ You say in a defeated tone, more annoyed than anything.

"Okay. But if you do, I'm here to listen."

“Thank you”, you say with a faint smile, his hand now on your shoulder.

"Of course.“ He glances over at the tray of food he brought in.

"I brought you some breakfast. You should eat something. It’ll take your mind off it perhaps?”

You take the tray appreciatively, nodding but still disoriented.

He notices the slight change in your expression. He tilts his head slightly, studying your face.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit... dazed."

“Sorry- i'm just- still waking up”

He chuckles softly, amused by your sleepy state “It's alright. I understand."

He sits on the edge of the bed again, watching you pick up the food, satisfied that you're finally eating something.

He leans back against the headboard of the bed, content to just sit with you for a while.

"How are your wounds feeling today? Are they healing well?"

“Oh- yes I think so”, you say, putting the tray next to you and turning to face him, lifting your shirt up to let him examine them.

He runs his fingers gently over the healing cuts under your bandages, making sure they're not infected or still bleeding

"Good. They look like they're healing nicely. You'll probably be fully healed in a few more days."

“A few more days...alright”. You start to think to yourself, wondering what'll happen then- considering that you’ll have no need to stay here once you’re healthy.

He notices the look on your face, the slight furrow in your brow as you think to yourself. He lowers your shirt, his gaze fixed on you

"Is something wrong?”, he asks, getting closer to you as he tries to coax it out of you.

You simply shake your head.

He raises an eyebrow, not quite believing you. At all actually.

"You know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?"

“I know…” You say, unconvincingly once again.

He reaches out and gently takes your hand in his, his touch gentle and comforting

"You can trust me, you know. I won't judge you. I swear it.” He says with a gentle expression.

“Yeah- yeah I know.” You say quickly, your face developing a rouge at his sudden act of affection. Or maybe it was just- care, a polite gesture of friendship.

You go back to eating your breakfast, slipping your hand out of his.

Even while enjoying your morning meal, your stomach is heavy with the residual feelings of your nightmare- frustration that you can’t seem to remember what made you feel so ill.

“Do you ever get nightmares?” You ask Alucard.

He looks to face you- a bit unprepared for your question but honest.

“At times, they seem more like recollections than fantasies of my mind.”

You furrow your brows, looking done at your food and playing around with it.

“I can’t remember what I was even dreaming about- but it’s a strange feeling.”

You go on, opening up about the discomfort of your body.

He frowns, feeling a mix of sympathy and concern for you. He pulls you closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could take it away from you."

You let out a surprised sound- hands hesitating to wrap around him.

He can feel your surprise, unrelenting. He holds you tightly against his chest, one hand gently stroking your hair

"It's okay," he murmurs softly.

"You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. Alright?”

You feel your brows scrunch up and your body lighten- as if he’s shared some room in his body for you to lay your afflictions bare. To take some of the pain from you and lock it away in himself.

With contemplation- you hug him back.

He holds you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head

"That's it," he murmurs. "Just relax. Let me hold you."

His words soothe you like a balm, mending together pensive feelings of melancholy you weren’t even aware of before.

You feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, sniffling before he gently rocking you back and forth as he tries to soothe you

"Shhh, it's okay. Let it all out," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness and compassion.

"I've got you," he continues.

You use every second to try and pull yourself up together- but he wraps around you close, holding you together as you fall apart in his arms.

He continues to whisper words of comfort, his voice low and soothing

"You're doing so well. Just keep breathing. In and out, that's it."

After a few minutes of much needed exhalations, you recover well in the vampires arms.

He feels a sense of relief wash over him as you relax against him. He gently tilts your chin up.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks gently, his hand still stroking your hair.

You let out a cathartic sigh, nodding.

He cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from your face

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. You had me worried for a moment there."

“Sorry...I guess I just haven't had someone hug me a long time.”

He shakes his head, his hand still cupping your cheek.

"You have nothing to apologize for.

And don't ever apologize for needing comfort. Everyone needs a hug sometimes."

As you calm yourself more, Alucard decides to give you some space to recollect yourself, clearly needing it.

“I’ll give you some space. I’ll be in the library, if you need anything.” He reminds, before bidding you a goodbye after making sure you ate.

You take deep inhales and deeper exhales, your mind ringing with his voice guiding you through breathes.

The room becomes quiet and dark, you're left alone with your thoughts. The memory of Alucard's touch and his warm smile are all you can think about, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now- deciding it’s better to find out for yourself than wonder.

Alucard looks up as you enter the library.

He sets down the book he was reading and smiles softly.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

You smile and nod, walking closer.

"Come here," he says, patting the chair next to him. "You can keep me company."

You gladly take a seat, eyes roaming over the various books and sheets covering the desk- similar to yesterday’s spreads.

He notices how close your face is to his work. He closes the book, gently tapping your forehead with it.

"You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep reading like that," he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

You pout and rub your forehead.

“Rude…” You say in a whisper.

You scoot closer to get a better look at the writing, your elbows folding on top of the table.

As you observe the scripts, Alucard is more concerned with how beautiful you look- even when you’re concentrated, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest- quickly pushes those feelings aside, not wanting to ruin the moment with his own desires.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, noticing the pause of his writing and his gaze.

He blinks, realizing he's been caught staring. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Ah, nothing," he says, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just lost in thought for a moment."

You nod, going back to watching him work, putting your head on his shoulder with the close proximity.

He freezes for a moment, completely caught off guard by your sudden closeness. He can feel the warmth of your body against his, and the scent of your hair filling his senses.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

He can feel your laughter vibrating through him, and it's a pleasant sensation.

"What's so funny, human?" he asks, playfully.

“Nothing, you've just….been on that page for a while. You can’t read can you? Tell me the truth.” You play around sarcastically.

He glances back down at the book, realizing that he's been staring at the same page for several minutes now, obviously at that.

He lets out a soft chuckle, embarrassed that he got so distracted by your presence once again, finding it to a troublesome, reoccurring issue.

"Ah, I guess I am a bit distracted," he admits, his gaze flickering back to you.

“No no it’s okay, lots of people can’t read you know. Don’t be embarrassed”, you continue with your nonsense joke.

You pretend to look around, your eyes going around left and right as he shakes his head.

He shuts the book, setting it aside and turning his full attention to you as he pushes it away.

He turns his body towards you.

"You're a distraction," he teases, poking your side gently.

“Hey!” You exclaim, “you invited me to sit here”, you digress, poking him back.

He chuckles and dips his finger in a small pool of ink, swiping it on your nose, making you backup a bit and give him more room for defense.

You gasp at the sudden cool touch of pigment- and run after him as he walks over quickly to the books nearby.

“This is not fair at all!” You exclaim, watching him dodge your attacks with ease.

“That seems like a personal issue, yes?” He says as he walks deeper into what seems like a maze of shelves.

As you get more and more competitive- you finally land a hit on him: a decently sized dab of ink landing on his cheek.

As it lands you run off- not wanting another hit of solvent somewhere on your face.

But of course…to your disadvantage, you can’t necessarily outrun a vampire.

Easily, he catches up to you- pinning you against the bookshelf. He stands over you, his body caging you in, as he holds up his finger- ready to mark you with another proof of failure.

"No escape now," he teases, his hand slowly and tauntingly smearing ink around your chin.

You roll your eyes and chuckle- the both of you breathless from the chase.

He can feel your small breathes mingle with his- noticing your chest pressed up against his.

He looks down at you, his eyes locking onto yours, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

He rubs your bottom lip- except you don’t feel anymore ink rubbing into you, just the touch of his skin, his eyes glued to your supple lips as you look at his gaze.

“Alucard…?” You whisper softly.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes still glued to your flushed cheeks and the staggered breathe that escapes from your mouth.

“Hm?” He responds, finally flickering his eyes up to look at you.

“Yes dear?”

As your eyes lock, you feel a force that only pushes you to an immeasurable distance into him- and he responds immediately.

As if endless moments of pining finally meet its destiny- the kiss is tentative at first, a slow exploration of each other's mouths.

He takes his time, wanting to savor every moment of this, wanting to make sure that you're comfortable and enjoying it too.

Your arms wrap around each there- Alucards large frame pressing you into the bookcases behind you as his hands hold your sides- your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

He groans softly at your hands on him, your tongue meeting his in a heated dance. He's surprised by how easily you fall into rhythm with him, how well your bodies seem to fit together.

He revels in the sounds you're making, the way your body trembles against his. He descends his kisses to your cheek and then neck- feeling your pulse racing under his lips. He continues to kiss and nip at your neck, his fangs scraping gently against your skin as he moves down to your collarbone- the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin absolutely electric.

Your fingers grip slightly at his hair, running through them as he lavishes your shoulder with his sweet kisses.

Your body starts to arch into his touch. His hands on your sides tighten, holding you in place- his breath heavy as he starts to speak between kisses.

“Stop me…please, please stop me if you don’t want this…Stop me, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pleads, kissing up to your ear as his other hand snakes up to hold the side of your neck, pulling his face to look at you again, his aureate eyes piercing into yours.

You let out deep breathes from your nose, swallowing the lumps in your throat as your half lidded eyes meet his, nodding just enough to assure him before diving back into his lips.

He groans again at the feeling of your lips, his grip on your thighs tightening. He presses his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jawline and to your neck once more. He can't resist the urge to mark you, his teeth meeting kisses and sucks at the sensitive flesh.

“Alucard-“ You interrupt.

He growls against your neck, his teeth almost sinking into your skin just enough to leave a mark

"Yes, my dear?" he murmurs, his voice low and yearnful.

“You….can drink, if you want to.” You go on softly, seeing his eyes flicker with an immediate importance.

He lets out a shaky breath, his control hanging by a thread. He can feel his fangs lengthening, his body practically vibrating with need as he gulps.

"You shouldn’t say such things to a dhampir," he growls, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your pulse point once more.

He can feel your heart racing, the scent of your blood is enough for him to go mad- the sound of your blood that pumps through your veins sounding like the perfect symphony.

"Last chance to change your mind, y/n.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, holding his chin and tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I want to feel it…feel you.”

Your words cause his self-control to shatter. He can't hold back any longer, the need to taste your blood overpowering everything else, any sense of responsibility or moral compass gone- your declaration of want is all it takes.

He sinks his fangs into your neck, a deep moan rumbling in his chest as the taste of your blood hits his tongue. You feel the two long needles puncture your skin smoothly- the pain quickly subsiding as you feel his lips plant themselves on your skin and his breathe blows kisses over your skin over and over- his chest puffing out as he gets closer and more greedy.

You felt his hands clutching at your waist as if his fingerprints could weld onto your skin like iron.

The pain and pleasure mingled, creating a heady cocktail that clouded your senses.

The room spun around you, the world narrowing to the sensations of his fangs in your skin and the blood leaving you and nourishing him, his heart pounding in sync with your own.

You felt his hardened length, insistent, pressing against your thigh, a silent testament to the desire coursing through him while the taste of your blood intoxicates him- the taste like ambrosia, all while he can feel your body trembling against his, can hear the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips.

He can smell your arousal, the scent driving him wild with desire. He drinks deeply, his tongue lapping at the puncture wounds on your neck to encourage the flow of blood.

His grip on you almost bruising as he grinds against you-feeling himself losing control, his body acting on pure instinct as he takes what he needs from you, as if you were providing him with life force.

He finally pulls back, his fangs leaving your neck as he looks at you- your blood on his lips staining them as if he devoured a mound of cherries.

You smear the droplet across the corner of his lip- the red hue replacing what was once ink, pressing your lips onto his.

He moans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with

He carries you over to the nearest surface, which just so happens to be the desk you were just at. He sets you down on it, his body pressing against yours as he continues to kiss you hungrily and messily.

He chuckles against your lips, enjoying the way you groan as he pushes the books off the desk to make space for you. He lifts your hips slightly, grinding his hardness against you through the layers of fabric between you- growling in approval as you open your legs for him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses himself against you even more.

He nips at your collarbone, his lips trailing down to your chest as he begins to unbutton your shirt with deft fingers.

“May I?” He asks before completing removing it at your confirmation.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you exposed to him

"Gods, you're perfect," he murmurs, his hands moving to cup your breasts as he leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, your head tilting back as moans spills from your mouth- his tongue swirling around it before he gently nips at it with his teeth, the small remnants of your blood on his lips painting your chest in blotches.

His other hand moves to your other breast, his large hand almost completely covering it as he squeezes and kneads the soft flesh.

“Fuck-“ You groan, feeling his fingers tweaking at your sensitive buds while you feel him grinding even harder onto you his fingers trace patterns on your skin as he continues to worship your body.

Your fingers deftly unbutton his shirt, letting it fall open - his head perks back up to capture your lips once more.

Your hands trail down to his belt buckle.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your ear as he whispers

"Eager, are we?"

“Can you blame me…?”

"No," he murmurs. "Because I want you to be. I want you desperate and needy for me…burn for me, like I burn for you.” He groans against your ear, his hands trailing up the sides of your thighs and gripping your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt.

“Stay still”, he whispers, his voice much more playful now. “Let me check the rest of these wounds? Yes?” He mentions, slowly letting the tie of your skirt undo itself as he slides it down, humming in approval as you lift your hips for him.

His cold hands touch your bare skin and you almost flinch, but you welcome them.

“Draga mea…you’re stunning.” He groans, looking down to appreciate your skin under the moonlight seeping from the overhand windows of the library.

You feel the light seeping into your skin and more noticeably his hands becoming more

bold, more desperate, and daring. So are his kisses, descending down your neck to the valley of your breast, worshipping your skin as he kneels down to get on both knees while his face is met with your core- your cunt throbbing loud enough that his ears are sure to pick up on it.

He parts your thighs further, his hands gripping them tightly as he continues to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He's close enough now that you can feel his hot breath on your aching core, but he's deliberately avoiding touching you where you need it most.

“Alucard…please-“

He looks back up at you, cutting you off before you can beg.

“Adrian. I need you to call me that now.” He says, placing a kiss on your core through the fabric.

“Okay?” He adds, waiting for you to nod before he slips the fabric off and finally darts his tongue out to tease the sensitive skin just above your clit, smirking into your folds when he heard your breathe hitch.

He moves his tongue down slightly, tracing around your clit.

He can see how wet you are, your arousal dripping down, tasting it.

He starts to lap at your clit, his tongue swirling around it in tight circles before dipping down to tease your entrance as your moans spill out, hand tangles in the his hair, gripping his golden strands and making him groan into you, eyes darting up to meet yours- lost in the taste and scent of you, completely consumed by the desire to make you feel good.

You feel your hands gripping tighter, the heavy cinch in your abdomen ready to snap.

Minutes that felt like hours of him reverently pleasing you- you tremble and gasp.

He doubles down his efforts, his tongue and lips working even harder to push you over the edge. He can tell you're close, your body trembling and your breath coming in short gasps

“Adrian- I’m-!” You whine, your legs loosening their clasps around his face as you cum on his tongue.

He groans loudly as you cum, his tongue eagerly lapping up every drop of your release. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive flesh even as you ride out your orgasm.

He finally pulls back, his face wet with your juices as he looks up at you. “You’re so beautiful when you cum. I want to make you do it over, and over.” He said, rising up to his feet- resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his voice filled with raw emotion, lips brushing on your ear.

“What do I do to you?” You reply, pulling your head back to look up at him.

He gazes back down at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your innocent eyes. His hand cups your face, fingers tracing your supple face.

“You make me want things I never thought I could have. Things I don’t deserve." He admits, almost like confessing a sin to you, leaning in to kiss you again, pressing his lips against yours in a tender caress.

“I almost want to keep you here. Just for myself- look at how selfish you’ve made me, draga mea”. He speaks, a smooth accent painting his last words as he pecks kisses to your jaw, chuckling deeply as he feels your hands unbuckling his belt and letting it fall.

Both of your hands frantically pull at eachother- the innocent chuckles and soft kisses between the seconds it takes for him to undress and spread you apart- ready to give you the attention you need.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. He looks into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and possessiveness

"Are you ready for me, love?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Are you ready to feel me inside you?"

“Yes- please, need more Adrian.” You plead.

He slowly pushes in, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate thrust.

He looks down at you, his eyes locked on your face as he watches your expression

"Relax for me, love," he murmurs, his hands stroking your thighs gently. "Let me in."

You nod, breathing in and out softly as he helps you and reassures you with soft words and gentle caresses.

“You’re doing so well, keep going for me. Breathe…Fuck- just like that.”

He can feel your body relaxing around him, allowing him to slide in further with each slow glide of his hips.

When he finally bottoms out, he feels your walls clenching down on him- making him bite down on his one lil til it bleeds.

The same blood hits your lips over and over on an tangle of kisses, his pace getting faster and more intense as he starts to lose himself inside you- his heart beating in sync with yours as he fucks you on the desk that starts to creak now.

“Fuck- it's so...” You groan, your stomach pooling with the same feeling just moments ago.

"So what, love?" he asks, his voice rough. "Tell me. Tell me how it feels. Tell me everything.”

You whine softly- felling each thrust hammer into you even deeper as he urges you to speak.

“So...fucking good...” You admit, wholeheartedly.

He shudders at your words, his cock twitching inside you. He nips at your ear, his breath hot against your skin

"My perfect little human," he groans, his hands roaming over your body- your walls tightening hearing him whisper to you.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" he whispers again, his voice low and seductive. "Being told how perfect you are? Hm?”

You can’t reply even if you wanted to- and you most urgently did. Only whines and moans escape your lips.

He chuckles, his smirk widening as he sees the effect his words have on you

"You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "So beautiful, so sweet. I wonder how many times I can make you cum tonight."

“So close- Adrian!”

He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your breathing ragged and uneven

“Come for me, darling” he whispers, his voice smooth and sickly sweetened. "I've got you. I'll take care of you."

You look up at him once more- your big pleading eyes grasping for a piece of his soul to gaze into.

Looking down at you again, his eyes meet yours. He's momentarily struck by the vulnerability and trust in your gaze, and it almost brings him to his knees completely.

"God, I love you," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion- almost as if he had no time to think before he spoke, as if it would change anything.

Your heart thumps, unable to tear your gaze away.

“A-Adrian-“ You moan out- his cock still pumping in and out of you and hitting every spot to make you cry out- ultimately making you spill all over him as you cum.

He lets out a shaky breathe feeling you release.

He’s never said those words out to anyone before, never dared to hope that he would ever feel this way at all.

He buries his face in your neck, his movements becoming more desperate as he clings to you, still going even as you’ve finished.

"Say it," he begs, his voice rough. "Please, say it. I need to hear it."

Your thighs twitch around his waist- overstimulated and sweaty, “love you…Adrian-! I love you…” You reply, clawing your nails at his back.

He groans into your neck, his own orgasm washing over him in a powerful wave.

"Oh, gods-" he gasps, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. He holds you tightly, his body shaking, licking at the wounds he planted on your neck from earlier, wanting to taste the crimson of your being, just a little more.

As the blood draws, each drop hitting his senses, he knows he is binded tightly to a world he cannot live in without your presence. His Affliction.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

1K notes · View notes

cutehoons02 · 2 months ago

Text

The ghost of your heart

Heeseung pt

*pairing: pervy ghost Jake x popular Cheerleader

*trope: Enemies to lovers/He fell first,but she fell harder

*synopsis: Ghosts don't exist, right? Y/n is the captain of the cheerleaders and it's exactly the stereotype of the classic blonde girl with everyone at her feet. Still, there is something dark about her, can see the lost souls, as well as ghosts, and Jake, is a soul standing in limbo between being dead to be human again but the world of the dead has given him a mission, if he wants to be reborn as a human, he must make Y/n more tender and loving with people than she was with her deceased grandmother; but what would happen when he is the one who falls in love with her?

*tags: Lots of humor, Jake loves to scare but at the same time flirt with the protagonist, the protagonist is perverted as is Jake, bratty girl,smut, a lot of kisses, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (shower sex) normal sex-anal sex, fingering (f. receives it) masturbation, pet names (princess, baby, darling, beauty) (jakey, ghost boy, golden retriever) dark and gloomy scenarios, this story is written for an audience over 18 years.

11.6k (🌫️)

(English is not my native language)

In the heart of a small village, surrounded by dense forests and an everlasting grey sky, stood the best university in the country. A place that seemed normal, but which hid disturbing secrets. The students said that the campus was built on an ancient cemetery, and it was true that under the imposing gothic structure of the university, there was a cemetery now forgotten by almost all humans and that sometimes, between the deserted corridors or in the woods around, There were whispers, cries or noises as loud as possible. But Y/n, the cheerleader queen, didn’t believe in that nonsense.

She was too busy being perfect: a dazzling smile, an imposing presence, and that brazen boldness that made everyone crazy, including professors. Her only weakness? The grandmother was the only person who had taught her to love something beyond herself. But since she died, life for Y/n was just a game of appearances.

She wanted to become the best and most famous cheerleader in the country, so she decided to move to the USA to work and dance for a team of professional cheerleaders!

In the world of the dead, a young spirit watched everything with bright eyes. Jake was unlike other ghosts: half human and half ghost, living between two worlds, and his mission would decide it forever. If he had completed the task assigned, he would have had a second chance to live as a mortal and experience all those emotions again that he had long lacked.

But the mission was far from easy.

"You must change the heart of Y/n," said the Overseer, a disturbing figure with empty eyes and cavernous voice. " It’s not just about scaring her. You have to teach her to love, and to see beyond herself. But be careful... If you fail, you will remain forever in Limbo."

Jake, with his golden retriever smile and a worrying inclination to be a little pervert, was not the best fit for the job.

But he was also stubborn. And then, he loved challenges and Y/n could be a beautiful challenge.

It was midnight when you found yourself on the empty stairs of the university library. You wondered why the campus was so quiet when a cold wind made your skin crawl.

"Strange," you mumbled, clenching your jacket.

Then you saw him, another of those stupid ghosts or ghosts that you could see, you couldn’t stand it, you wanted to see your grandmother already dead for a year but instead, you always had encounters with dead ghosts hundreds of years ago.

A tall boy with sparkling eyes and a smile that was a mix of charm and danger. Jake. Just didn’t seem... alive. The shadow that enveloped him was too thick, and the air around him vibrated with energy.

"Who are you?" you asked, trying to seem indifferent, even if your heart was pounding in your chest.

Jake came a few steps closer, creaking the floor beneath him. 'Shame. A girl like you shouldn’t be in such a place at this hour. Do you know that bad things happen here?'

"Don’t make me laugh. Are you just another loser trying to scare me?" You stared right into his eyes, oblivious to the strange energy emanating from him.

Jake laughed softly, a sound echoing in the empty walls of the library. 'Oh, baby. You don’t know how lame I can be.'

Then, with a gesture of his hand, he turned off all the lights in the corridor. Darkness enveloped you, and for the first time, you felt your blood freezing.

Jake approached slowly, his boots echoing in the library’s silence, he stood motionless, arms crossed over the chest, head slightly tilted to one side, his usual little challenge smirk on his lips.

'What is it, beauty? Are you scared?' he asked, his voice deep and a little hoarse. His eyes were peering at you as if they could see directly into your soul.

"Scared? Of you?" you laughed. "Don’t make me laugh. You’re just a... dead boy."

The last words were spoken with insolent lightness, and Jake stopped, narrowing his eyes. You liked to tease.

'A dead boy, you say?' he repeated, the voice that went dangerously low, like a whisper creeping in his mind. With a lightning motion, Jake was in front of you, so close that you held your breath. A strange scent enveloped you, something fresh and unsettling, like the earth after the rain.

'Are you always so sure of yourself?' he asked, lowering his face to a few centimeters from yours. His intense gaze nailed you to the spot, and for the first time, your jaw clenched.

But you were not the type to be intimidated. Not by him, at least you barely moved, letting a smug smile form on your lips. "It’s a shame, you know?"

Jake raised an eyebrow. 'What would be a sin?'

"Whether such a handsome boy is... dead or half dead," you said, stepping on the last word and carefully studying his reaction.

Jake froze. A moment of silence that seemed to hang between them, and then he laughed, a low, dark sound that made you shiver. He ran his hand through his black, messy hair, letting it fall back on his forehead.

'Nice little bit of a tease. Is that how you think to get rid of me? With a compliment? I’m not dead yet, darling, but not so desperate.'

He watched you for a long moment, letting his gaze run through your body, slow, almost brazen. You felt exposed, and vulnerable, but you didn’t want him to see the uncertainty in your eyes.

'Although... I must admit that here, in the world of the living, there is something I miss,' he added, bowing his head and looking at you like a predator.

"Ah yes? What would it be?" you asked, crossing your arms to hide the sudden restlessness.

'The girls,' he replied, with a smile that was a mixture of tenderness and malice. 'They are so alive. So... warm. I miss having a girl in my arms, I miss being touched but the thing that I miss most is sex. It’s hard to ignore, especially when you’re stuck in the world of the dead. You know what I mean? '

You felt the redness on your cheeks, but you tried to keep up your usual sarcastic tone. "Well, I feel sorry for you. You seem to have a rather serious problem. Here at the university, there are many girls, surely there will be some who will be extremely desperate for cocks that would get fucked even by a ghost"

Jake laughed again, but this time there was a darker note in his voice. He stepped back, letting his figure be swallowed by an unnatural shadow. 'Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll find a way to have fun and maybe one who will be desperate to have my dick inside you will own you!"

Before you could answer him in tone because you were seriously angry with him, you felt something touch your neck, like a cold wind. You sprinted backwards, turning around but there was no one there. When you looked back in front of you, Jake had disappeared.

But his voice, low and bewitching, whispered in the silence. 'See you soon, princess.'

You stood still and for the first time, you didn’t know if you were excited or terrified. Maybe both.

Jake spent most of his time watching you from afar, hiding in the shadows. You were a queen in your realm of appearances. He saw you laughing at your best friends' jokes, playing with the boys, and beating the hell out of the cheerleading field. Even the frost seemed unmoved: you kept trying your moves with a ruthless determination, every movement a silent cry that said look at me.

But Jake knew: that security was a mask. Yet, even knowing it, he could not take his eyes off you. There was something about you, a fire that bothered him and attracted him at the same time.

'What a waste,' Jake mumbled one evening, watching you return to the college dorm with the usual provocative smile on your face.

One week later, Jake decided to take a break. A ghost needed to breathe, and the cemetery under the university was his refuge. The stones were covered in mist, and the only sound was that of the wind whispering through the branches of bare trees.

Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon were sitting on the tombstones, legs crossed and bored expressions on their faces. They were also half dead, like Jake, but with a much darker, more perverse, and cynical temperament.

<< Are you still wasting time with that girl?>> asked Sunghoon, raising an eyebrow.

Jake gave him a sharp look. 'It’s not a waste of time. It’s my mission.'

Sunghoon laughed softly, shaking his head. "She doesn’t seem like the type to change easily. She thinks she’s a goddess," said Heeseung

"It’s different than it looks," Jake muttered, almost to himself.

"Different, eh? Sure, keep telling you," Hee replied sarcastically.

Jake was about to fight back when something caught his attention. A figure was walking through the cemetery, wrapped in a soft sweater and simple jeans. She walked with a slow and uncertain pace, holding her arms close to her chest as if to protect himself from the cold.

Y/n.

For a moment, Jake stood motionless, incredulous. He was used to seeing her in makeup, impeccable, and in clothes that enhanced every detail of her body. But now... she was different. Simple, human and there was a strange fragility in her that she had never noticed before.

She stood before an old tombstone, kneeling. She took out a small bouquet from the coat and carefully placed it in front of the tomb. Jake approached, remaining in the shadows, trying to see better.

The name of the grandmother of Y/n.

Y/n was on his knees, hands folded, while he whispered a prayer. His voice was so low that Jake could not understand the words, but there was something in the tone that struck him: a deep, sincere pain.

Jay leaned slightly, intrigued. -Is that the girl you’re trying to change? She doesn’t look like her either. -

Jake didn’t answer. He was too focused on Y/n, for the first time, the mask he wore every day wasn’t there. There was no false smile, no queen pose. There was only one girl who, however much she tried to hide it, suffered.

He remembered what the Overseer had told him: the only person Y/n had ever loved was his grandmother, but that wasn’t enough.

Loving a memory was not enough for the world of the dead. Y/n She had to learn to live, to love someone in the present, someone who was there with her, who taught her that life was more than a race for perfection.

<<Interesting,>> Sunghoon muttered, breaking the silence. <<Perhaps there is hope for her after all. But not for you>>

Jake ignored him, his eyes still fixed on the cheerleader. He felt a strange sting in his chest; it was not compassion, nor mere curiosity something deeper, something he did not want to admit.

Y/n slowly stood up, arranged the flowers, and whispered a final greeting. Jake remained hidden in the shadows, watching her leave.

When he was sure he couldn’t hear it, he whispered: 'Perhaps there is more in you than you want to make believe, princess. But it won’t be so easy for you to hide it from me.'

Then he turned to Sunghoon, a mischievous grin masking his anxiety. 'How about a bet? I want to see how long it takes for him to collapse.'

Sunghoon laughed. << You don’t bet to win. You just want to have fun.

Jake ran his hand through his hair, the smile spreading. 'Correct. Why should I not? If I fail, I will remain forever in this form but if I win and make love I can have my life back as a human.'

You were clinging to your sweater, shivering at the frost that seemed to wrap all the wood under the cemetery. The fog was so thick that you could barely see your steps, the world around you reduced to a set of shadows and muffled sounds. You could hear the branches breaking under your shoes, and now and then the wind would whisper the leaves over you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt... small. There was no party music, no glittering lights, or the admiring eyes of the people around you. You were alone, immersed in the wild nature, in the heart of a forest that seemed to almost breathe around you.

Your fists clenched. You weren’t the type to be intimidated, not even by nature. You would never let anyone even anything-make you feel vulnerable.

After a few steps, however, something changed. The fog began to dissipate, and a figure was seen in the middle of the dirt road leading to the university. You stopped suddenly, your heart popped in your throat.

There was someone.

The figure was tall, with broad shoulders and a dark aura that seemed to absorb the little moonlight that filtered through the trees. When you took a step forward, you recognized him immediately. Jake.

He wore the same mischievous smile that he had seen that night in the library, but this time there was something more. Something more dangerous. His eyes were shining, as if he knew something he didn’t.

'Are you coming home, princess?' the voice rang in the air like a creepy whisper.

You raised your chin, trying to keep control. You couldn’t afford to look weak. "Are you following me? You have nothing better to do in your... world of the dead?"

Jake chuckled. 'It’s not me who roams the woods in the pre-shadow. You’re the one who decided to take a solitary walk in such a place. By chance were you looking for me?'

You got over it, ignoring the shiver that ran down your back. "Not everything is about you, ghost boy."

Jake did not move as you passed by him, but his gaze followed your every movement. The jeans you wore hugged your legs perfectly, and the soft sweater made you look even more human, even more vulnerable. Jake slowly licked his lip, an almost instinctive gesture.

'I never said that everything revolves around me,' he said, his voice low and caressing. 'But admit it, princess... a little attention does not mind, right? '

You stopped to watch it. "What do you want from me, Jake? Why don’t you go and torment someone else?"

Jake came a few steps closer, the shadow of the mist that seemed to follow him like a cloak. 'Cause you’re different. You don’t scare easily. Don’t pretend to be someone else, at least not in front of me. And... you’re funny when you try to be tough.'

Shook your head, a forced smile on your lips. "You’re pathetic, you know that? I can’t believe you got a second chance to live and you’re wasting it, stalking me."

Jake stopped right in front of you, so close that you had to look up to look him in the eye. 'I’m not wasting anything,' he said, the tone fading, becoming darker. 'I’m just... studying my prey.'

"Prey? I warn you I could become extremely bad, I’m not afraid of a perverted fan" you answered, with a grin of defiance.

Jake laughed slowly, leaning slightly towards you. 'I don’t know how much I’d like to be perverted with you, Y/n.'

His words were a whisper, but the way he spoke them that note of desire and mischief made you blush, why were you blushing at a ghost? Were you so sick and desperate at the same time?

"If you’re done playing, I have more important things to do," you said, trying to seem disinterested.

Jake watched you go away, his smile widening. But he wasn’t done. Not yet.

'See, princess,' he murmured, more to himself than to you, 'it’s not just a mission. It’s a damn game... and I can’t wait to win.'

And with one last look at your figure disappearing into the fog, Jake dissolved back to the cemetery.

The gym was filled with cheers and applause as the university cheerleaders performed for the annual competition. You were perfect as ever: every jump, every movement, every smile was executed with impeccable precision. You were the star of the team, and you knew it.

But when the time came for the big final jump, something went wrong. The girl next to you, an insecure freshman who desperately tried to keep up, mistimed, making you lose your balance for a moment. You immediately ended the performance with grace, but that little mistake did not go unnoticed.

Behind the scenes, you were furious.

"You’re a disaster!" you yelled at the girl, your hair still tied in a perfect tail as you approached with a look full of anger. "Do you have any idea how much work it took to prepare for this race? And you ruin everything because you can’t count to three?"

The girl, younger and frightened, tried to justify herself. 'I’m sorry, really... it won’t happen again, I promise!'

"It won’t happen again because you won’t have another chance," you said with a cold smile that seemed more like a threat. "You’re not made for this. If you can’t keep up, go."

Jake, who was watching from the other side of the gym, crossed his arms over his chest. His dark eyes were fixed on you, and a cynical grin formed on his lips.

'Interesting,' he murmured to himself. "So this is the real you. We’ll see if in the future you still behave like this spoiled girl and bitch to people!"

He was not surprised.

He had always known that beneath that perfect facade was a wicked and ruthless side, but seeing it in action confirmed that there was much work to be done with you. And he was more than willing to be your executioner.

The next day, you were sitting with your legs crossed in the communication room, playing with a pen while waiting for the professor to announce the couples for the project. You hated group work, especially when they did it with computer science students. Those guys were mostly antisocial nerds who didn’t even know how to maintain eye contact, let alone have a conversation.

When you read your partner’s name on the paper the professor handed out, you raised an eyebrow. Jake Sim.

"Who the hell is this?" you mumbled, convinced he was just another loser. When you walked into the empty classroom you thought you’d already find that loser Jake Sim, but there was no one. The space was unsettling, the kind of silence that was not normal in a university full of noisy students. You took a few steps forward, the sound of your heels clanging on the linoleum floor.

The air was cold, and a strange feeling struck you as if someone were watching you. "What the hell is going on here?" You grumbled, with a note of annoyance in your voice.

Just then, the door behind you closed suddenly, the loud sound made you jump and you turned to snap and ran towards the door trying to open it, but the handle did not move.

It was locked.

Shook your head, trying to calm down. "It will be a joke of some idiot," you said aloud, to convince yourself more than anything else. "Stupid nerds... think they’re gonna scare me with these things?"

You took your phone out of your pocket and activated the front camera to check on the trick-a habit that never gave up, even in moments like that. But when you looked at the screen, your blood froze in your veins.

Behind you, reflected in the camera, there was a figure. Jake.

His figure was shrouded in a shadow almost palpable, and his eyes shone like small beacons in the darkness. He was behind, too close, with that usual mischievous grin that seemed to say: I got you.

You yell, dropping your phone on the ground. You’re sunflowers of snap, heart that beat so hard to hurt her. "Are you crazy?!" You screamed, Jake laughed softly, a low, hoarse sound that rang out in the empty classroom. 'Oh, princess, finally some emotion from you. Isn’t it funny being scared?'

You stared at him, the eyes wide. For a moment you seemed almost vulnerable, an absolute novelty for you. But your fear soon turned into anger.

"You’re a sick man! What did you think you were getting by doing this?!" you slammed, clenching your fists. "I can’t believe you’re Jake Sim. You’re a monster!"

Jake tilted his head, amused. Monster? Interesting. I thought you were used to being on top of everyone, and looking down on others. But look who feels vulnerable now...'

You hated him. For the first time in your life, you felt a genuine, burning hatred. And he seemed to taste it.

"I hate you," the voice charged with anger that you couldn’t control.

Jake was silent for a moment. Those words had a different weight, an intensity he didn’t expect. For a moment, he seemed almost pleased. Then, in an instant, everything changed.

His dark, ghostly figure began to change. The shadow that enveloped him dissipated, and before you appeared... a boy. A human.

Not just any guy. Jake was tall and slender, with wide shoulders and a perfect jaw. His dark hair fell on his eyes, and his smile was a mixture of mischief and temptation. He wore a simple sweatshirt and jeans, but the effect was devastating, it was extremely attractive for a half-ghost, ghost, and human.

"What... what the hell..." you stammered. Jake stepped forward, his evil grin still on his face. 'Now do you believe it, princess? I’m Jake Sim. And I am much more than you thought.'

You backed away, but he was too fast. He approached you, until he was close enough to bend slightly, his face a few centimeters from his.

"I hate you," you repeated to him.

'Perfect, because hate and love... are much more alike than you think.'

The tension between you was palpable, almost suffocating. Jake stared at you for a moment longer, his smile widening even further. Then he walked away, turning to the door which opened itself with a left creaking.

'See you at the next meeting, princess,' he said, leaving the room with a slow and confident pace.

You glanced at your phone as you were getting ready to go shower, tired after training. The deadline of the communication project was getting closer and closer, and that ghost of Jake seemed to take it very seriously. He played with you, disappeared, and reappeared when you least expected it, leaving you more confused and frustrated every time.

"How the hell do I work with a... ghost?" you murmured, taking your hand through your sweat-soaked hair.

An idea crossed your mind, making you burst into laughter. "Ghosts are not called with the Ouija board?"

You took a sheet of paper and a pen, drawing quickly a circle with letters and numbers, just for joking. Then, with a theatrical voice, you began to evoke him.

"Oh, great and powerful Jake Sim, grant your presence to this poor mortal who desperately needs to finish a project!" you said, laughing. But nothing happened, of course. Jake never showed up when needed, but he knew how to show up at the most inopportune moments.

You took off your workout clothes and wrapped yourself in a towel before heading to the bathroom.

A nice hot shower would calm your nerves and give you the strength to face all that chaos.

The water was boiling, relaxing you completely as the room filled with steam. For a moment you allowed yourself the luxury of forgetting everything: Jake, the project, the university, the pressure to be always perfect.

But when you opened the bathroom door to enter your room, you suddenly locked it. Jake was there, lying on your bed as if he were the master of the room. His dark hair fell back on his forehead, and he wore a simple unbuttoned shirt, revealing the pale skin and dangerously smug smile that you now knew all too well.

'You took a long time,' he said nonchalantly, braiding his hands behind his head as he stared at you with that cheeky and hungry look on his face as he watched you as you had only a towel covering your body.

"What the hell are you doing here?! How did you get in?"

Jake laughed softly, the sound low and melodic. 'Princess, you called me, remember? Big and powerful Jake Sim, you said.'

You had a hand on your forehead, unbelieving. "It was a joke! I didn’t think that... that..." The words died in your throat as you noticed the way he was looking at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes, Jake slowly got up from bed, the smile becoming even more mischievous. 'You know, I came while you were in the shower. For a moment I thought to reach you. But then I remembered...' He approached, your body a few centimeters from your '...I’m not a fan of water. Too... wet.'

You stepped back, but Jake came forward, narrowing the distance.

"Jake, I’m not kidding. Get out of my room. Now."

Jake tilted his head, his grin turning into a satisfied smile. 'Oh, princess, but I’m not kidding at all.'

He reached out a hand, the cold fingers brushed the hot skin of your naked leg and the contrast between the cold of his touch and the warmth of your body was almost paralyzing. Jake watched your every reaction, his dark eyes shining with malice.

"You’re so hot," he muttered, letting his hand slide slowly down your leg. "It almost feels... unnatural. Perhaps it is the fire that you have inside, or perhaps it is just the effect I make on you." You shook your head, slowly but surely his long and cold fingers slowly ran down your thigh until they went under your towel, and felt your cheeks warm up but when it was about to touch you heard the phone ring and maybe it was your salvation or Your punishment?

You looked at what and who had written to you and read:

Hi Y/n, how about going out tonight? I’m sure you’d have a lot of fun. What do you think?"

He was a campus boy, handsome, charming, and popular, but you didn’t care. After all, no guy seemed to make you beat your heart or turn you on. Although you would never admit it to anyone, Jake could stir up something inside of you that no one else had ever touched.

But when Jake noticed you were laughing while writing insignificant things to another boy, his attitude changed. In a moment, he ripped the phone out of your hands, reading messages quickly.

"What’s so funny?" asked Jake, the air suddenly getting heavier and you looked at him in surprise.

"He’s just another guy who wants to go out with me."

Jake looked up, the look of those who do not accept being ignored. 'Don’t like girls who do not pay attention to me' he said, the voice that now had a lower, lower, almost dangerous tone.

You laughed nervously, almost embarrassed by Jake’s overreaction.

"Jake, it’s not that I’m ignoring you. And anyway, I don’t care to date. I have more important things to think about, like the project, the study, and the university. I don’t need another guy to push my life,"

'Really?' Jake stared at you intensely, his face approached yours. His mouth was just a breath away from yours, and his cold breath touched your skin. 'But you don’t understand, Y/n. I’m not just any guy and I’m not a loser. I’m dead,

You stepped back, for a moment surprised by his raw sincerity. But Jake didn’t let you get away this time. Without warning, he took you by the hips with force, drawing you toward herself and opening your eyes wide, unbelieving. Jake always had you teased, but now... there was something different in his way of treating you.

"So?" you tried to get away from him, but Jake wouldn’t let you go. "You’re half dead, that’s true, but I can’t help it. You can’t expect me to give you all my attention or to walk into the world of the dead so that you’ll become a human again, Jake. I’m not who you think I am."

Jake looked at you intensely, a grin that became even darker.

Before you could escape them again, Jake kissed you. His cold and soft lips found you surprised but at the same time... There was a kind of urgency in that kiss that made you tremble. It was as if, for millennia, Jake had never had physical contact with a human being, as if your flesh were calling him. His hand moved along your body, touching your skin with a delicacy that made you shiver. You felt the cold of his fingers, but at the same time, there was an unknown heat creeping inside you.

It was as if Jake was exploring something he had never touched before, a feeling he couldn’t even describe.

Jake’s body held you captive, but you couldn’t tell if it was fear or desire that tied you to him. The kiss was like a play of lights and shadows, between the cold and the heat, between Jake’s past and his present. With a quick movement, Jake made you lie on the edge of the bed and slowly opened your towel and saw your legs trying to close but with his strength he opened them again and saw your pussy covered in pink panties and already saw that you were excited for him.

'Look who is now that desperate girl who was so sure of herself with me the first time we met? I bet I’ll make you scream my name in a few minutes when I fuck you with my tongue.'

You didn’t want to show him that you were so desperate and excited that a stupid ghost would fuck your pussy but his kisses were all over the inside of your thighs, squeezing, licking, and sometimes biting your skin. You held your breath and groaned as he rubbed his cheek against your thigh, he was waiting for your approval to proceed further and all he did was excite you even more.

"Please..." you whispered in an awkward voice. You heard Jake’s eerie laughter and to your surprise, you didn’t expect Jake to lick you directly over your panties, right where your lips were. Your eyes have opened wide, and a guttural groaning has left your throat unintentionally. The sensation sent an electric shock that ran straight down your body, and you prepared as it taunted you, pressing its hot mouth and wet tongue against the already wet barrier of your underwear.

"Jake... oh my god." It seemed like he was having a good time, licking from top to bottom,

Waving his tongue and licking every single crack as if he were a hungry man but at the same time he was teasing you and ruining you; he wanted to destroy you, he wanted to see you give in and go crazy just for him. With a tear, he took off your pink panties full of excitement and for the first time in your life you felt alive, each lick fed a flame that burned more and more hot until you were practically singing her fucking name. The tip of his tongue surrounded the lump on top of your sensitive folds and you groaned as you felt him grinning in your pussy all in good show for him lucid and excited.

'Mmmm, I’m destroying my favorite little human just with my tongue and it’s so nice to see you so vulnerable, I could break you in two at this moment but at the same time it’s so nice to hear you scream my name' he mumbled gloomily as he kept flattening his tongue on your folds, chuckling while you tried to pull his hair to hold you still. 'When you come I want you to shout it for me, okay baby otherwise I won’t make you come'

You were so embarrassed, disappointed in yourself but at the same time doomed because you wanted to come and you wouldn’t have cared if it was a ghost or a human at that moment. Jake decided to put a single finger in your pussy and you screamed as you felt your walls clenching around it, the feeling of something filling you was almost enough to push you over the edge. His rhythm accelerated and when his tongue began to touch your clitoris in time with his finger you swore that it was over for you.

"I’m so close, Jake pls" Waves of unbridled pleasure swept you away as the ghost continued his cares all along, and you heard in the distance the sound of your voice shouting his delirious name.

Jake stood between your legs, spraying soft kisses on your thighs and you couldn’t help but see the boldness of that boy in being so talented with his tongue. If he was so good with his tongue what would he do to you with his dick inside you? You shivered when he walked away from you and saw that he had a funny smile but at the same time evil that did not promise anything good and licked his fingers with your excitement and after a few seconds you heard his scary laugh throughout the room and dissolved in the air Who brought with him the cold as sharp in your whole room.

It had been a few days since that meeting in your room with Jake and finally, you had not seen him for almost a week and you were more relaxed, you were settling into the bathrooms of the university, your heart beating hard in your chest while looking at the mirror. The upcoming game and show were about to begin, and although it was more than an hour away, you felt the tension grow in every fiber of your body. You used to be commanding, always perfect, but that day something tested you. And then, as if fate wanted to add more meat to the fire, the door of the bathroom opened slowly, and when you looked up, crossing her eyes.

The girl who had knocked you down a few days earlier. You yelled at her, insulted her, and asked her to leave the team. You wanted to put her in her place. But now... now the girl looked completely different. It was clear that he was looking for something, you raised an eyebrow, your attitude indifferent, but underneath, your heart began to beat a little faster.

"What are you doing here?" You said in a tone of voice that did not hide contempt. The girl seemed undecided, but at last, with a deep breath, she came to you, her face tense but determined.

'Just wanted to say... I’m sorry for what happened, but I worked hard. Look.' The girl took out her phone and started showing videos of the training she had done alone in the days after the fall. Her determination was evident: hours spent improving, perfecting himself, without the help of anyone.

You watched those videos in silence, your eyes slipping from one movement to another. The girl no longer looked as weak as she had seen the day before, and a small glimmer of respect lit up in you. For a moment you felt vulnerable, as if you were looking at a part of yourself in that girl.

"Why should I give you another chance?" You asked in a cold tone, but something in your voice was betraying a slight opening. You never gave anyone a second chance, but something in that scene was making you doubt.

The girl, with a shy smile, stepped forward. 'Because I can do it. I promise you I won’t let you down.'

"Okay, but if you don’t, I’m gonna kick you out of the team for good. Do you understand?" The girl nodded in delight, but before she could say anything I added in a harder tone. "Don’t try to hug me, because I won’t accept it."

But as soon as you said those words, the girl gave you a quick hug, and you stayed stiff as if you had been frozen. You didn’t want it, but something in you maybe that little part that could feel human, had allowed it to happen. You were about to push the girl away, but before I could do it, a low and incredibly cold voice whispered on your neck, making you freeze on the spot.

'We are taking giant steps' The voice was grave, almost like a whisper far away, and you felt a shiver along your back.

Before you could react, cold hands leaned on your shoulder, almost as if they were complimenting you. You’re shot, and you saw it. Jake.

He smiled, his usual grin, but there was something different in his gaze as if he was looking at something more, something Y/n could not decipher.

'Oh, maybe you’re not as bad as I thought,' he said, his voice a mix of sarcasm and something darker. "I’m seeing you change. But don’t forget who you are and that you are the only way to make me relive all those emotions that you could feel for free if you opened your heart just a little bit at a time for someone! '

After the race, you were feeling euphoric. You had given your best and everything was going well. Despite the adrenaline still flowing in your veins, you felt relieved. The victory had brought a sense of peace to a hidden corner of your heart so you headed to the private bathroom that you had as team captain in the dressing room, hoping to have some quiet moments to relax a little.

But as soon as you entered, a strange feeling ran up your back. You were alone. Alone with your shadow and those thoughts that you could not stop.

You sighed, you wanted absolutely to drive away the words of Jake "You are the only means to me to revive the emotions" god hated it because you had to manage to make it become human, and then how?

You took off your cheerleading outfit and put in the shower, trying to concentrate only on the water that was running on your skin. But something had changed in the air. There was a feeling of frost that you couldn’t get away from. A feeling that made you think someone was there with her.

And then he heard it: the rustle of footsteps that belonged to no one else, his presence, the one you could never escape. Jake. His cold breath touched your skin, making you shiver, but you couldn’t get away. He had waited for her.

'Congratulations for the race' said Jake, his voice low and warm, but the tone was more sharp than usual. You did not turn around and continued to lather your hair, but felt the look of him on you and despite the anxiety that grew inside you, there was something that kept you curious. Like a butterfly attracted by light, but not knowing that light would be its destruction. Suddenly, without warning, Jake walked into the shower and pushed you hard against the bathroom wall. You tried to fight, but his cold and strong hands held you firmly in place. His breath was close, too close. His lips touched your skin, but he did not kiss it immediately.

"I was waiting for you. After all, where did you think you were going to run?" he said with a grin.

You did not let yourself be intimidated and with a mischievous smile you sunflower and lit the jet of hot water, directing it against him. You remembered that time when he did not tolerate water in his ghost form so you sprayed the water spray on his face and then on his body. Jake’s face twisted as if it were a reaction to the feeling of getting wet. His transparent clothes made him more like a golden retriever puppy, but something demonic was hidden behind his eyes.

With a lightning snap, Jake pushed you against the tiles with such force that you had no way to react. His wet and cold skin was superimposed on yours, the warmth of his body mixing with the ice emanating from him. You felt a shiver up her back, but it was not only fear. There was a deeper, more dangerous feeling: desire and I made you laugh as you saw him so helpless just because of the water.

'Don’t dare more’ Jake whispered in a guttural voice. His cold breath caressed your skin as his hands clenched tighter to your hips. 'I’ve had enough of you, of your stubbornness. I’m not your game. I’m not your pastime.'

Jake’s hands slid down your wet body, revealing his vulnerability but also his resistance. It was like a challenge. He was testing you, and you had no choice but to respond.

"I don’t care what you think," you whisper, but your voice is a little shaky. "I hate you, Jake. You’re just a ghost to me."

Jake looked at you with a cruel grin, dark eyes shining brightly like you’ve never seen before. 'It doesn’t matter what you think. We’re more alike than you think. You’re just too proud to accept it.'

His hands slipped to the neck, his cold touch that seemed to tear away all resistance. Jake’s lips came close to kissing you, but this time there was no sweetness. There was anger, desire, and an uncontrollable need to make you his. You did not back away, but your mind was becoming more confused, You started to take off his sweats and untie his pants and found him with only Calvin Klein boxer shorts and brought back to the sight that even a half-ghost wanted to have some fashionable and sexy things.

He pulled you closer to him and took you in his arms and you couldn’t resist the urge to rub your pussy fully exposed against the fabric of his underwear, slowly rocking back and forth. He moans slowly as you continue to kiss and you take advantage of this opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. His spit tastes like the chocolate popcorn they sold during the game.

With a gesture you made him slip his boxers on the ground and you saw for the first time his cock it was so big and already erect that he could destroy your pussy but Jake had other plans for you; 'You’re a too crazy sweetie, who is the one that is desperate to have my cock inside of you?' Rolled your eyes when you felt his lips tickling and biting you a shag while you held tight to his arms not to fall and slip.

'Answer me or I’m going away at once' You did not with your head, you didn’t want him to leave, you needed him.

"I need to have you Jake, I want everything of you and yes I am extremely brazed but at the same time desperate to need a half-ghost and human dick" Jake laughed at your words and with a slow gesture he put you down and you didn’t understand what he was doing until you felt that he slowly stroked your pussy which already had some sticky cum and put it in his fingers and then turned you over and you had your face almost attached to the wet tiles and cold from the shower.

'See if my favorite human can get it both from behind and in front of my cock, If you are so desperate to want it,’

you sunflower for fear but also excitement and saw Jake tickling your hard ass for the countless hours of training after a few seconds you felt a finger enter your hole and you started to squirm but at the same time you were Excited and you trusted him.

'Stay still princess or I’ll hurt you' and while he kept lubricating you slowly adding another finger gave you small kisses on the neck. You put your hands on the shower tiles and his hands took your ass and forcefully pushed his cock full of your excitement into your ass, you screamed for the strange feeling, for the initial pain, for scorching but after another 2/3 pushes you started moaning his name repeatedly.

"Jakey is too much, oh my god" Jake started laughing when he felt your ass getting closer and closer to him, you wanted to show off a good girl but by now your body was one with his, Jake’s venous hands are slipping under your pussy, the eyes that rotate towards the back of the head as his pushes become slightly faster and irregular and his fingers start to tease your clitoris getting swollen for all those stimulations you felt.

"Fuck Jake, it’s so good" moans painfully as Jake slid into your ass, grabbing you, using you, and ruining you as his hips bounce against your ass, shaking you with the force of every move. Your groans grew louder with each push, and you felt his warm breath against your neck, yet he did not stop, becoming only more possessive second by second.

'Damn, baby, you’re getting fucked so good by a fucking ghost, where do you want it to come?' Jake’s accented voice was pinching against your skin, while pushing inside you, felt the balls that are slapping your ass at his relentless rhythm. A hot, burning pleasure rises your spine, emitting a low, almost imperceptible squeal as it pinches your clitoris again.

You didn’t know what to say, your head wasn’t thinking anymore, you just wanted it to go on "Faster" moaning, without realizing how much his cock was controlling your mind at the time.

'Answer me where you want that comes Y/n, or I can fuck your tits with my dick'

You did not with your head, you wanted to feel it inside of you. “In my pussy, I’ve been so good lately" Jake shoved his cock in your ass again and after a while, he turned you around, had flowing locks of his black hair stuck to his forehead for sweat and a smile that promised nothing good but at the same time could not take his eyes off you.

Like a rabid demon, he takes you back in his arms and then pushes herself into your pussy and feels primordial and violent traction before he bangs you back into his cock and feels the tears build up in your eyes.

"Jake!" You cried again, hearing your pussy throbbing while it was restocking, you were extremely fucked by him, you kissed him and pulled his hair while he buried himself inside of you, his cock contracted inside your pussy a couple of seconds later, indicating that he was close to orgasm and your legs wrapped around his waist even more, holding him close to you as he kept pushing inside of you. His eyes rolled back, his cock spilled threads of cum deep into your pussy and you kept hugging him and kissing him while realizing that maybe you were extremely ruined, how could you feel for a boy who at that moment was human but soon would turn back into a ghost?

When you came back to the room after cleaning you were a little embarrassed but also relaxed, Jake slowly approached you with a towel in hand, the mischievous smile that he could not hide even when trying to be serious. 'Sit down,' he ordered softly, pointing to a chair by the bed. You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to obey or challenge it, but in the end, you dropped on the chair with a half-puff.

"What are you doing, are you drying my hair now? I thought that after having me you would be gone forever!" you teased him.

Jake turned on the hairdryer, tilting his head in a theatrical gesture. 'Oh, queen of sarcasm, I do you a favor. Your hair is a mess, and I don’t want you to go around scaring people. You know, that’s my job and then it shows that you didn’t understand yet understand anything about me.Y/n'

Jake’s cold hands gently lifted your long wet hair. As he passed the towel you felt again that familiar shiver of her not entirely human touch, a mixture between ice and heat that always left you a little confused. Then the heat of the hair dryer began to replace that feeling, wrapping it in unexpected comfort.

You tried to mask a slight smile. "I would never have believed it, you know? Jake Sim, half ghost, half devoted hairdresser."

'Shh, don’t ruin the moment until now you’ve been good to me,' he replied with a smirk. 'I might surprise you with how good I am at taking care of you in any way from the physical, to the listening and more.'

The sound of the hair dryer filled the room, but not enough to cover the rhythm of your heart that seemed to accelerate every time Jake got too close. Jake, on the other hand, seemed focused, his eyes followed every movement of your hair as if it were a sacred ritual. When he finished, he turned off the hair dryer and let his fingers slide through the soft and dry locks, almost caressing them.

'Perfect,' he murmured, leaning over to you. 'Too perfect to be true.'

You shook your head and looked at him with rosy cheeks. "Are you done staring at me or do you want to set up a beauty salon?"

Jake touched your face with the back of his hand, tilting his head as if he were looking for something. 'You know... you taste too good,' he whispered in a low tone and loaded with dangerous intimacy. 'Always feel it, every time I approach you. I wonder how long I could resist without feeling it forever.'

Before you could answer, he stooped down and kissed your forehead with an unexpectedly tender gesture. 'Don’t tempt me again' he added with a mischievous grin, his gaze shining with something dark and irresistible.

"You’re the only one who tries yourself," you provoked him, trying to hide your heart’s crazy beat.

Jake walked away with a sneering smile, but before he let you go, he bent down again, his cold breath on your neck. " Who knows, I could get used to this... taking care of you and having you mine forever. '

Jake had dropped on your bed, broken as usual, his hair still wet falling into soft locks on his face. 'Okay, Y/n, your turn to be helpful. After all, I was a great hairdresser for you,' he said with that provocative grin.

"Don’t make me regret letting you dry my hair. Now stand still and let’s see if you can’t be the usual clown in a ghost version."

With a towel in your hand, you came closer and sat down, but instead of standing next to him, you snuggled up on his legs, taking him completely by surprise. Jake looked at you with slightly blurred eyes, his mouth bending into a funny smile. 'What are you doing?' he asked, but his voice was softer than usual.

"I take care of you, just as you did me," you replied, purposely avoiding his gaze as you began to gently dab his hair. "Now shut up, golden retriever, or you’ll ruin everything."

Jake laughed, the deep sound that clanged in his chest, but he let it. 'Golden retriever? You’re kidding me, right?'

"Perhaps," you replied but did not give him time to reply. You slowly ran your fingers through his soft hair, stroking it as if it were something natural. "Wow, your hair... is so soft. Seriously, what did you use when you were still... well, human? Baby shampoo?"

'Admit it, you like them' he replied with a half smile, closing his eyes as your hands kept moving with an unexpected delicacy.

His breath slowed down, and for a moment it seemed almost vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the usual Jake you knew always trying to scare you, tease you, or that of a few hours before as he destroyed you physically and mentally in the shower.

You watched him, surprised by how... beautiful he was. Your heart leaped, and a strange feeling invaded you. You were doomed. You were falling in love with him, a guy who wasn’t even completely human. You tried to drive that thought away, but the way Jake let himself go under your hands distracted you too much.

While you were finishing drying his hair with the hairdryer, your fingers lingered a moment on his neck, almost without thinking about it. Then, before you could stop, you bent down and left him a light kiss, almost imperceptible, on his cold skin.

Jake opened his snapped eyes and looked at you, a flash of surprise mixed with fun crossing his gaze. 'Wait a moment,' he began, the smile that was widening into a grin. 'Are you saying that, for once, you’re the physical one? The lady I don’t want to let go, don’t tell me that you like me and that I’m making you truly a human!'

You immediately retracted, trying to maintain an indifferent expression as the heat invaded your face. "Don’t get too excited, Jake. It was just... a moment of compassion."

"Compassion?" he repeated, laughing as his hands laid on your hips to hold you close. ‘Oh no, honey. You’re doomed. Admit it, you like taking care of me. I may be your pet evil ghost.’

You shook your head, but the smile you tried to hold back betrayed your cold face. "You are unbearable."

'But you adore me and you can even admit that you will miss me if I die at all,' he answered, his voice a whisper as he touched your face with his fingers,

Leaving you speechless again and with that strange feeling of fear that you had to lose him forever as it happened with your grandmother.

His words pierced your heart like a cold and sudden blow. That possibility, the idea of losing him completely, was more frightening than you wanted to admit. He was not normal, he was not human, yet he had changed your world for a couple of months now. You looked at him, trying to find words, but your throat seemed closed by a knot.

Jake raised an eyebrow, his smile returning to be a slight provocation. 'Knew it. You’re too stubborn to say, but I know you’d miss me.'

You looked down, then breathed deeply, trying to dominate the emotions that were struggling to emerge. When you finally looked up at him again, your expression was different: more vulnerable, more sincere. " Not sure I could stand it, Jake," you admitted in a low voice. "If you disappeared forever. I’m not good at... these things, but you..." tried to find the right words. " You are more than I want to admit, and if you left... it would be like losing a piece of myself."

Jake stood still for a moment, his gaze staring at you intensely. Then his smile softened, turning into something more authentic, more tender.

'I knew it,' he said, gently pulling you toward him. 'I knew that beneath all that hardness there was a part of you that could not resist me.'

You gave him a little blow on the shoulder, but you let him hold you. It was warm, hotter than you would ever have thought possible for a being that was not fully alive. You took refuge against him, closing your eyes as you felt his slow and steady breath. "You’re unbearable," you murmured against his chest.

'And you are adorable when you try to deny the obvious,' he replied, his voice that vibrated softly.

‘Now stop fighting with yourself and relax. You’re safe with me.'

Jake squeezed you tighter, and in the silence of the room, the world seemed to stop. His hand traced a slow and reassuring path down your back, and you let go, feeling strangely safe. You weren’t ready to confess everything, not yet, but you knew that Jake had understood. He knew you too well. But you didn’t know that maybe it was too late and you had to confess your feelings...

A ray of sunshine seeped through the curtains, hitting your face and woken you gently. For a moment, she stood there, still half asleep, waiting for you to feel that strange familiar feeling of Jake next to you. But when you sunburn, you find only a void next to you, the cold pillow, as if no one had ever been there.

Your heart was tight. You quickly got up, looking around the room. There was no sign of Jake, nor his cheeky smile, nor his teasing. The only thing that remained was that slight, unmistakable cold smell, like the distant echo of his presence.

Closed your eyes, clenching his knees to his chest. Maybe it was silly, but the absence of Jake hurt you already, more than you were ready to admit.

You found yourself running with the cold wind that hit your face, strangely the day was sunny but your phone gave -5 degrees, shoes sinking in the now frozen mud, and ran to the entrance of the cemetery below the university. Your heart was beating crazy, confused, and broken at the same time. You were running to the cemetery without thinking twice, desperately looking for a place where you could feel at least a fragment of peace, a little comfort.

You knelt before your grandmother’s grave, trembling hands holding the cold stone as if it could answer your pain. "Grandma," you murmured with a broken voice. "I’m... am I in love with a ghost?”

Of someone who shouldn’t even exist? Is this my destiny?"

Warm tears were flowing down your cheeks as the silence of the cemetery seemed to crush you. You didn’t dare to go see Jake’s grave. The only thought of it was squeezing your chest in a vice. If he had disappeared forever... you wouldn’t be able to bear it.

At first, you despised him, you hated him with all your heart but slowly he managed to make you feel emotions that you hadn’t felt in a while, you were better with everyone and you were also weaker.

You did not stand alone for long, though. Behind your back, the sound of light steps and familiar voices made you turn around. Hoon, Heeseung, and Jay slowly approached their faces halfway between the amused and the serious. It was strange to see them there, in that sacred and sad place, but they did not seem to be disturbed by the atmosphere. After all, they were ghosts.

'Then,' Jay began with a crooked smile, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket 'Did you come here to cry? It’s not like you, Y/n. The last time I saw you crying was when they buried your grandmother.

Heeseung crouched next to you, looked at you with an almost compassionate look, and said in a calm voice: -You know, Jake would hate to see you like this. -

Hoon instead merely crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby tree, his icy eyes peering at the cheerleader with an almost sharp curiosity. << Don’t want to know? >> asked, tone devoid of emotion. << Do not you want to go see his tomb? Maybe there is something that you do not know. >>

"I can’t," you whisper, looking down. "What if it wasn’t there? What if it was all over?"

Jay laughed softly, shaking his head. 'Do you realize how dramatic you are? Come with us, we’ll help you find out.'

Hoon pulled himself away from the tree and reached out to you, his face still impassive but his voice softer. << If you don’t do it now, you’ll regret it. Trust us. >>

You stared at them for a moment, hesitating, the heart that was hammering into your chest. Then, with a deep breath, you grabbed Hoon’s hand. Perhaps it was time to face the truth, whatever it may be. You held Hoon’s hand as if it were the only hold that would keep you from collapsing completely, Heeseung, with an unexpected sweetness held your arm, almost protecting you from the frost that seemed to invade every part of the cemetery. No words were exchanged during the walk; the air was heavy, full of emotions that nobody dared to pronounce.

When they finally reached Jake’s grave you stopped, your eyes rested on the stone. The date was fresh, almost as if it had been traced only a few hours earlier. The date was yesterday. The day you made him understand, in your own way, that you were in love with him.

You fell to your knees before the tomb, trembling hands brushing the cold surface. " No... no, it can’t be," whispers in tears. Your face twitched into a look of heartbreaking pain as tears poured down. "Why? Why now?"

Jay leaned down beside you, laying a hand on your back in a surprisingly gentle gesture to him. 'Don’t cry like that, Y/n. You know Jake would hate to see you like this.'

Jay’s words were lost in the despair that clouded your mind. Every fibre of your being cried out in pain, for the regret that you did not say those words aloud.

As the three friends tried to comfort her, a familiar figure approached silently from the cemetery gates. Jake. But this time it was not the spirit you had known. It was almost entirely human. His hair was brown and shining in the sunlight, and beside him was the Death Overseer, a mysterious and imposing figure.

Jake stopped a few steps away, looking at the scene with a mixed expression of relief and sadness.

The Overseer looked at him sideways, his voice deep and calm. "You have completed your mission, Jake. You made her fall in love. Not a ghost, but your true essence. Even when she hated you, even when she tried to deny it... she loved you."

Jake didn’t answer immediately, his eyes were fixed on you. He saw you kneeling, destroyed, and felt your heart clench in his chest. For a moment, he wondered if it was right to come to you.

Heeseung was the first to turn and notice Jake’s figure. His eyes widened in surprise, but a slow grin formed on his lips. -Well, well,- he muttered, with the tone of someone who had just seen a miracle.

Jay turned right after, his face lit with a look of admiration. 'Here he is, our hero,' he said, laughing quietly.

Hoon was the last to turn. For a moment, his gaze remained impassive, but then a crooked smile sprayed on his face. << You arrived just in time,> he said with a cold but smug tone.

You heard the whispers of the three and slowly raised your eyes, following their glances. When your eyes met those of Jake, time seemed to stand still. The tears that still wrinkled his face stopped halfway, and your breath was blocked.

"Jake..." He stepped forward, his face serious but lit up with a slight smile. 'Don’t cry anymore, Y/n,' he said, his voice as warm as never before.

"You... you did all this to me! You left me alone to suffer! I hate you, Jake! I hate you so much!"

Jake stood still as you slammed up, your fists clenched down your hips. Without thinking twice, you began to strike him in the chest, his blows strong as your hands trembled.

"I can’t stand the fact that you’re here now as if nothing had happened! You made me fall in love, you turned my life upside down, and then you left!"

You screamed, each word accompanied by a fist on Jake’s chest.

He let you do it. He said nothing, did not even move to stop you. He stood there, in silence, letting all his anger and your pain spill over to him. At last, when you began to give in, your hands slowed down, sliding against his chest, until they tensed the fabric of his shirt.

"I hate you... I hate you because I can’t stop loving you..."

Jake, without saying a word, wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you hard against him. His grip was firm, protective.

'Sorry," said Jake, his voice low but full of sincerity. "I’m sorry for making you suffer, for all the pain I’ve caused you. I never wanted to hurt you, but I can’t leave you. Not now.'

You let go of his arms and Jake lowered his face towards you, his warm breath against your skin. Then, with a slow and gentle movement, he took your face in his hands and kissed you.

The kiss was sweet, but full of all the passion, remorse, and love they had accumulated. For a moment, it seemed that the whole world was disappearing around them.

But a golden glow interrupted that moment. You turned and, to your surprise, you saw the soul of the grandmother that was slowly dissolving, wrapped in a warm and reassuring light.

"Grandma..." you murmured.

The figure of the grandmother smiled softly, her gaze full of love and pride. He approached you, touching your cheek with an ethereal hand, cold and warm at the same time.

"I’m proud of you," she said, her voice a whisper that seemed to come from every direction. "You’ve found someone who truly loves you. Someone worth fighting for."

"Grandma, don’t go..." whispered, but the figure of the woman smiled and shook her head slightly.

"It’s my time, baby. But yours... has just begun."

With a last smile, Grandma disappeared, leaving you there with Jake.

'She was right, you know,' he said with a slight smile. 'You have such a big heart, Y/n... and I’m the luckiest to have even a piece of it.'

He squeezed it hard at you and Jake closed his eyes and embraced you again, promising himself that he would never let you feel alone again.

Hee, Hoon, and Jay exchanged a look as they watched Jake and Y/n walk away hand in hand, an almost surreal image: a half-ghost and a human girl entangled in a love that seemed to defy all natural law. Jay puffed, leaning against a nearby tree, his usual ironic smile painted on his face.

'Who would have ever known, eh? Jake, our romantic hero,' he said with a laugh, shaking his head.

<< Ridiculous,>> Sunghoon replied, crossing his arms and looking away, his gloomy gaze that seemed to be digging into nothing. << It is nothing but a weakness. He is tying himself to something that will destroy him. >>

The grandmother of Y/n appeared not far away, still wrapped in that ethereal light. His gaze, however, was fixed on them, a funny smile that promised nothing good. She approached slowly, her words a whisper that seemed at the same time a command and a mockery.

"What about you three? Do you think you will be like this for eternity? Alone, bored, judging others as they move forward in life?"

Jay chuckled, Hee shrugged, but Hoon stood still, his icy gaze pointed at the woman

<< I need nothing, much less love,> said Hoon, in a low and sharp voice. <<Humans are weak. Love makes them even more fragile. And we are half dead, remember? There is nothing for us there. >>

The grandmother came even closer, staring at him with a keen curiosity. " Oh, Hoon," she said in a sweet, almost maternal tone, but that carried with it a hint of defiance. "Are you sure? Don’t you feel a bit jealous? Look at Jake and think there might be something more for you too?"

Hoon laughed, but the sound was bitter. << Jealous of what? To be bound to a fate that depends on an illusion? No, thank you.>>

"We’ll see," replied the grandmother with an enigmatic smile. "Love has strange ways of getting into even the coldest hearts." He turned to Hee and Jay, his smile becoming softer. "What about you? Will you just look?"

Jay raised his hands in surrender. 'Hey, don’t get me in the way. I’m fine like this. Let’s just let Hoon fight with his demons.'

Hee, becoming quieter, shook his head but said nothing.

The grandmother dissolved with a slight glow, leaving them alone in their solitude. Jay and Hee exchanged a glance, then they looked at Hoon, who seemed to be immersed in his thoughts.

<< Don’t say it either,>> said Hoon before Jay could open his mouth.

'I said nothing,' Jay replied, with a provocative grin.

Hoon sighed, annoyed, but his mind kept returning to the same question. There was something about seeing Jake and Y/n together that irritated him deeply. Not because he was jealous of Jake, but because a part of him hated the fact that love had found a way to insinuate itself into their broken existence.

But, out of sight, fate was already preparing its next move. Someone was about to enter Hoon’s life and who he had perhaps already met in a past life, someone who would upset his every belief. Not a simple or banal love, but something as dark and intense as him. And perhaps because of this, inevitable.

Taglist: @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki

Comments and rebblog are appreciated

(I was able to finish it first:)

904 notes · View notes

livwritessometimes · 11 months ago

Text

Enough For You - Lando Norris

: Lando Norris x Reader

: All Y/n wanted was to be enough for Lando

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - I had been so busy with work that this kept on getting delayed but anyways it's finally here! lmk what you think.

…

liked by landonorris and 72,393 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: Running around the city with my favourite papaya boy (Osc yk it's always you he paid me to say that)! At this point I deserve an award for how many years I've put up with your antics <3

view all 56,921 comments

oscarpiastri: Wow so this is what betrayal feels like (It's okay i know I'm your favourite, let little Lando Norris have his fun)

-> landonorris: i- bitch please I'm older than you

-> yourname: @/landonorris shhhh let the grown ups talk

*liked by oscarpiastri*

landonorris: oh please you love it!

-> yourname: do I now?

-> landonorris: 😏

-> User73: THIS SEXUAL TENSION AHHH!!!!!

-> User21: And then they say "we're just friends" ya just friends my ass

User93: Hmm so Lando spent his only day off during race week with y/n....interesting

Y/n waved as she watched Lando drive away from her doorstep. Today had been like a fever dream. When Lando called her, asking to spend time with her, Y/n was over the moon. It was like wishing for something and having it come true. As she entered the house, she got a text from Lando:

Lando 🧡: I had a lot fun! thanks for keeping me company today!

Smiling to herself, Y/n made her way into her bedroom. There at the vanity mirror was a photo of her and Lando from when they were 18 years old. It was the night they both went for a bonfire with some of their friends. It was also the first time Y/n realised that she was madly in love with Lando. She doesn't know if it was the melted marshmallow that he somehow managed to get in his hair or the fact that he noticed her getting cold amongst so many people at the bonfire and offered her his hoodie, a hoodie that she still wears to this date, but somehow, surrounded by friends, all Y/n could see was Lando, sitting on a wooden log, looking back at her from between the flames that rose from the wood.

As she got ready for the night Y/n got another text from Lando:

Lando 🧡: Just got home

Lando 🧡: Again thanks for today, everyone I called was busy or just didn't want to go. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there

And the bittersweet feeling was back again. For Y/n, Lando was the sun; he was the center of everything. There was not a day that went by without him not being on her mind - their impromptu coffee runs, their inside jokes, their stolen glances. Yet every time Y/n let herself believe that something was going to happen between them, she was always met with disappointment. It seemed like she was always a convenient option for Lando. Someone he'd come to when he had no one around but would easily disregard when he found someone more exciting. Y/n thinks about all those times she spent crying because she felt used. About the time when Lando threw her a birthday party and then proceeded to spend the entire night hitting on almost every girl present at the venue. The worst part is that Y/n wasn't even mad; instead, she was sad about the fact that she wasn't one of the girls. All she would ask for at every birthday wish, every 11:11, every rainbow she saw was for Lando to finally see her.

Y/n could feel herself get emotional, so she decided to browse through her phone, when she got a notification on Twitter.

liked by User32 and 87,989 others

👤: landonorris

LN4Updates: Lando Norris in today's twitch stream!!

view all 78,932 comments

User32: hmm ok let me quickly just go and bleach my entire head 🏃🏻‍♀️

User43: He does seem like he would like blondes more

-> User51: What do you mean?

-> User43: Idk blondes are prettier, they seem to have more fun and lando is the kinda guy that enjoys that ig

Yourname added to their story!

seen by carmenmmundt and 65,821 others

| User93 replied to your story

-> are you perhaps maybe idk just taking a wild guess here could be absolutely off dying your hair b****e??

One thing that Y/n was extremely grateful for in her friendship with Lando was being able to befriend George. Over the years, he had become like a brother to her, and because of George, she also got to know Carmen. She was like a breath of fresh air, and Y/n doesn't know how she would manage her life now without Carmen by her side. The moment they met, it was like they had known each other their whole lives. Carmen was always protective of Y/n. All those times that Y/n found herself crying over Lando, Carmen was always there with her, consoling her. She knows that Carmen wants the best for her and that she's disappointed that Y/n is dying her hair to make Lando like her more, but how can she not? The boy of your dreams likes blondes more, and she would do anything to make him like her. Looking up at the mirror, Y/n stared at her tied-up brunette locks. In the reflection, she caught sight of a book kept on top of her table. She let out a bitter chuckle, remembering the time Lando had posted that book and talked about how impressed he was with it. Like an idiot, Y/n got that book and read it word for word, in hopes that Lando would think that she is smart and that they have more in common than he might think. Instead, Lando barely even registered her comment about the book; he was more focused on the waitress who was taking their order.

liked by landonorris and 4,92,372 others

👤: yourname

whowhatwear: In this month's cover story, we uncover all the aspects of Y/n L/n's personality we don't get to see on the internet. From starting her modeling career to being heavily involved in Formula 1 ("I got into F1 because of a close friend of mine and since then I have done everything I can to support women in motorsports"), we discuss life struggles, personal growth and more in this month's cover at the link in our bio.

view all 81,372 comments

Yourname: Thank you so much for having me!!! I can't wait for everyone to see this month's edition <3

*liked by whowhatwear*

User88: umm hello since when did you go BLONDEEEEE 👱🏻‍♀️

-> User02: I swearrr! i screamed so loud when I saw thisss

carmenmmundt: SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!

*liked by Yourname*

-> Yourname: Ahhh thank you Carrr 💕

-> User66: I want what they have!

landonorris: You look absolutely breathtaking in this one @/yourname

*liked by Yourname*

User09: I feel like I have died and reached heaven <3

User69: Serve queen 👸🏼

landonorris: Can't takle my eyes off this post!!! Running to get the copy 🏃🏻💨

*liked by Yourname*

liked by landonorris and 76,730 others

👤: landonorris

yourname: Did someone say tanning season ☀️

view all 68,488 comments

User88: And then they say "we're just friends"

-> User02: I swearrr

landonorris: Prettiest blonde I know

-> yourname: 🙈🙈

User93: @/landonorris whatever you're recording over there, we better get that clip or else

landonorris: The sun came out pretty good didn't it 🤭

-> yourname: It did! I wonder who the artist was

-> landonorris: Must be someone amazing, I mean mad skills right there 🔥

-> User43: HE DREW A SUN ON HER!!!!!!!

liked by yourname and 102,832 others

👤: team_quadrant, riabish

landonorris: SPEEDCO is out now on quadrant.gg check it out!!! Also watch me and ria slay

view all 85,925 comments

riabish: Letsgooo 🙌🏻

riabish: The best looking duo out there!!!

-> landonorris: you know it 😏

User62: you guys look soo goood togetherrrr

-> User55: ikrrr like date already!!

landonorris added to their story!

seen by User06 and 91,298 others

| User06 replied to your story

-> Love Party Boy!Lando 🍾

Lando quickly posted a story before he kept his phone back and continued to talk to the girl in front of him. George, Lando, Charles, and a couple of other drivers had decided to go clubbing before race week, and so here Lando was surrounded by friends, enjoying himself. So lost in his conversation, Lando did not notice three pairs of eyes on him. From afar, Y/n, Carmen, and George watched Lando interact with some blonde girl. The three of them had decided to come together for the club.

Y/n felt like laughing at her fate; no matter what she does, he still won't pay attention to her the way she wants him to. Even with her now blonde hair, he was still talking to someone else. Lando made his way towards the trio with the girl from earlier. "Hey, mate, how's it going?" he asked George before turning towards Carmen and saying, "Carmen! It's always a pleasure to see you. You look fabulous, by the way." Lando turned towards Y/n and gave her a nod before taking a sip from his drink, not bothering to say anything else.

"Good mate, don't you want to, say, compliment Y/n too?" George asked, having seen the look of hurt on Y/n's face when Lando didn't say anything about her. "Nah mate, yk it's just Y/n; she's not the compliment type," Lando said before laughing and throwing an arm around Y/n's shoulder.

Pain, hurt, and embarrassment. That's all Y/n felt under Lando's embrace. She could see the girl from earlier smirking at Y/n after Lando's comment. Suddenly she felt hot, the kind of hot that makes you want to disappear entirely. Carmen saw right through Y/n's fake smile after what Lando had just said. She knew Y/n needed a moment alone, away from this scene and, most importantly, away from Lando. "Y/n I wanted to go touch up my makeup. Would you accompany me to the restroom?" Carmen said and grabbed Y/n's hand, pulling her towards the restroom.

George and Lando went to the bar to get another drink when George said, "You know, that was kinda mean back there." Lando looked at George, confused. "What you said to Y/n," said George. Lando just shrugged and said, "Yk, how it is with me and her, we're always like this." "Do you know she likes you, like more than a friend?" George couldn't help himself; he knew he'd hear from Carmen and Y/n about this, but he just couldn't control himself. "What?" Lando looked at George, a little shocked. "Ya man, she does. Idk why you keep on chasing these meaningless girls when you have someone as amazing as Y/n by your side, and what for some hours of pleasure?" George said this before he took a sip of his drink and looked at Lando. "Why didn't she say anything?" George just shrugged at that. Lando's mind went back to all the interactions they've ever had, trying to piece together a moment that might confirm this theory that George had just blurted out.

Meanwhile, in the restroom, Carmen was trying to calm down Y/n "He's just stupid; don't listen to him. You know how many people have come up to try to talk to you today. Don't let him ruin your night," said Carmen. Y/n running hands through her hair, "Ya, but none of them were him, and now he just went ahead and embarrassed me in front of everyone like that." Taking a deep breath, Y/n said, "I think I want to go home. Ya, I'll see you tomorrow for the practice." With that, Y/n rushed out of the restroom and towards the exit.

Lando saw Y/n leave in a rush and followed her. "Y/n," "Y/n wait up." She heard Lando's voice but continued to make her way towards the exit to book a cab for herself. "Wait up, where are you going? And are you booking a cab? It's not safe to take a cab this late," Lando said as he caught up with her at the exit. "It's okay; I'll manage just fine. You can go back to the party now," Y/n replied bitterly before typing in her address. Just as she was about to confirm the cab, Lando took her phone from her hand. "WHAT?" Y/n said a little louder than she had intended to, making a few people look their way. "I'll drop you; please, let me," Lando said before he took her hand and led her to his car.

The journey was filled with silence; not a single word was exchanged between the two of them. Not even a single glance—well, not from Y/n at least—because Lando kept looking at her every few minutes or so. Growing tired of this weird air in the car, Y/n asked, "Do you want to say anything?" Lando just looked back at her without saying anything. "If not, then please stop looking at me again and again," Y/n said. "I can't help it; you look absolutely stunning," said Lando. Y/n scoffed at that comment before saying, "Oh, why the praise? I thought I wasn't the compliment type." Lando internally regrets saying that now. "Look, I know that you like me. George told me," Y/n felt her heart drop, waiting for Lando to continue, to tell her that he was not interested in her and that she could never be his type- "And I want to give this a try," said Lando, breaking her from her thoughts. "Whatt?" Y/n, not believing her ears, asked again. "What do you mean by you want to give this a chance?" Lando stopped the car at the traffic light before turning to look at Y/n. Taking a hold of her hand, he said, "I want to see where this goes. We have such great chemistry, and everyone else also seems to think the same. I want to give us a try." "So, what do you say, Y/n, L/n? Will you date me?" Lando looked at Y/n, expecting her to answer; what he didn't expect was for her to pull him in for a kiss. It was only when the car behind them started honking that they pulled away from each other. Lando drove Y/n back to her house. The car was filled with silence again, but this time, rather than tension, it was filled with this newfound excitement.

liked by yourname and 182,822 others

👤: Yourname

landonorris: Another week, Another race!! let's make the most of this one 🧡

view all 85,925 comments

User22: Ummmm so are you not gonna talk about how YOU'RE KISSING Y/N

User01: Ofc betrayed by my favourite driver 💔

Yourname: Let's get podium this week

*liked by landonorris*

-> mclaren: Yess let’s goooo 🏆

*liked by landonorris, Yourname*

liked by User22 and 101,282 others

👤: f1

Formula1Updates: Sebastian Vettel bids farewell to Formula 1. Lewis Hamilton organized a celebratory dinner in honor of the legendary Vettel. All drivers gather together with their wives/girlfriends to celebrate the fantastic journey of Seb. Here is a photo of all the drivers outside the restaurant. Click the link in the bio to learn more!

view all 65,029 comments

User22: The end of an era!!!

Y/n looked around at all the people that had gathered here to celebrate Seb. She had not known him for that long, but when she needed him; he was there for her. It is funny how they first met; it was the race after Y/n's birthday, and Lando had invited her to the paddock as a way to make up to her for ignoring Y/n during her birthday party, which he threw. Y/n was so excited to spend time with him, but all that excitement died down when she got to know that Lando had also invited some of his other friends. Still, she tried to get along with everyone for Lando's sake but it was of no use. Lando barely exchanged a few words with her, instead he spent his entire time with his other friends, which included a bunch of models from Instagram. Y/n remembers how she had gone for a walk in hopes to make her self feel better when she ran into Seb. He just had a way with people, upon seeing her Seb immediately knew something was wrong and what was meant to be a quick 5 min walk to clear her mind turned into a 2 hour ranting session for Y/n. Rest is all history, since then Seb sort of took Y/n under his guidance, always giving her advise when she needed it.

Y/n felt someone stand next to her, and when she turned, she was face-to-face with the man of the evening himself. "Not getting bored, are you?" Seb asked Y/n while giving her a little nudge. "Of course not, just sad that I won't get to see you in the paddock anymore," Y/n said as she let out a sign. Gently pulling her in for a side hug, Seb said, "I see you got the guy!" This caused Y/n to turn her attention to Lando. There he was, the boy she had fallen in love with a long time ago, falling in love with her too. It was as if he could sense her gaze, because at that moment Lando turned to look at Y/n and smiled at her before going to talk to more people present at the party. "Yes, now you no longer have to listen to me mope over him, huh?" Y/n said as she smiled at Seb. "Just know that if he ever breaks your heart, I'll slash his tyres," Seb playfully threatened as he took a sip of his drink. Y/n laughed at his comment before excusing herself to go talk to Alexandra and Carmen.

After a while of chatting, Y/n started to wonder where Lando was. Making her way around the room, she saw him talking to some brunettes. So many people were invited that Y/n had no clue who most of them were. As she made her way towards Lando, she saw the girl raise her hand to fix his hair. Y/n could feel jealousy brewing in her. Quickly making her way towards him, she threw an arm around his waist and greeted him. "Hey, babe, where have you been? They are about to serve dinner; I thought I should come and get you," Y/n said as she looked at the girl in front of her. "Oh yeah, let's get going. I'll talk to you later, Luisa. It was lovely meeting you here, and again, you look amazing. Have a great night," Lando said as he wrapped his arm around Y/n and started walking towards the dining area with her. Y/n forced herself to smile; she told herself that it's okay; Lando is with her now. All these meaningless compliments to other girls are not going to do anything to change that. At the end of the day, she gets to go home with him, not them, and that's enough. Y/n knew there was no point in dwelling on this; it was not going to do her any good, and if she brought it up, it might cause a fight between them. So instead, Y/n turned her attention to the food in front of her and the people around her. Taking part in their conversation, so she could forget the thoughts plaguing her mind.

liked by landonorris and 76,730 others

👤: landonorris, carmenmmundt

yourname: Too many memories, too many people to tag! What a dinner it was Lewis! Gonna miss having Seb around 🫂

view all 68,488 comments

sebastianvettel: Gonna miss terrorizing mclaren with you @/Yourname

*liked by Yourname*

-> mclaren: 😟

lewishamilton: Thank you Y/n <3 Really glad you we're able to make it

*liked by Yourname*

carmenmmundt: It's you and me against the world 💕

-> Yourname: Forever and ever 🤞🏻

*liked by carmenmmundt*

User68: Okay but way hasn't Lando commented???

liked by yourname and 120,732 others

👤: maxfewtrell, luisinhaoliveira99

landonorris: Had one of the best trips in Dubai!!! Can't wait to visit again 🌵

view all 82,032 comments

maxfewtrell: Best part was when you fell from the camel 😂

-> landonorris: what the hell mate!! you were supposed to keep that a secret

User01: Shirtless landooo 🤤

User48: Omgggg Lando and Luisa look so cuteeeee

-> User03: Dudee he has a gf why would you ship him with her??

-> User48: Honestly I think they look better together

Y/n felt hurt and disappointed. Boys trip! That's what Lando had said, so when she saw him post pictures with Luisa, she felt her heart sank. For a moment, Y/n was still ready to ignore this; maybe she was there at the same time, or maybe they did plan to go. Who cares? She trusts Lando, and that's all that should matter. But all the comments under his post talking about how he looks better with Luisa and how Lando and Y/n should have never gotten together made her question everything.

Unable to think straight, Y/n called Lando:

Lando: Hey, babe (he greeted cheerfully)

Y/n: (For a second, Y/n wanted to forget about all of this and just not make things worse between them) Hey Lan, How was the trip?

Lando: Oh, it was great. I had so much fun; the boys and I went on a safari and all too!! It was just amazing

Y/n: Oh, did the boys have fun?

Lando: Yes, it was honestly one of the best trips I've ever been on

Y/n: Why was Luisa with you guys? (Y/n went straight to the topic, tired of beating around the bush)

Lando: (hesitant) What do you mean, she came on the trip with us?

Y/n: You never told me she was also going. Why did she go anyway? I thought it was just an "all boys trip," or is Luisa one of the boys now?

Lando: What do you even mean? Of course not. Luisa came because I invited her. That day at Seb's dinner, we had such a good conversation that I asked her if she wanted to come with us. I mean, what's the big deal anyway?

Y/n: What's the big deal? The big deal is that you failed to mention to your girlfriend, who is still me, that you were going on a trip with another girl who, by the way, you met a couple of weeks ago. And now you're telling me you invited her?? Do you see why I am having a hard time trying to wrap my head around this?

Lando: Honestly, you're making a bigger deal than it actually is. Ya, so I invited her. It's not like I fucked her or anything, and forgive me if inviting a friend on a trip is a crime.

Y/n: A friend I'd still understand; she's not your friend Lando, and if anything, you should have asked me to come and not her!

Lando: Is that what the problem is—you're jealous I didn't invite you? Honestly, Y/n that's just pathetic, even for you. Your constant need to be around me 24/7 is so annoying sometimes. Do you ever think that maybe I invited Luisa because I can't stand this clingy behaviour of yours? But, of course, you'd never think about how you might be at fault here. I just feel like you can never be satisfied, like ever. Every time I talk to a girl, you have an issue. I mean, if it's such a huge issue, then let's just end things. That would make things a lot simpler for the both of us.

Y/n: No, wait, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry if you felt like that. I had no idea that you were feeling like that. I swear, I don't have an issue with you interacting with other girls. It's just all these comments online that have been getting to me.

Lando: You know, they always say random things. People ship me with any beautiful girl they see me with, but that doesn't mean that it will come true. You should be so easy to control that even meaningless comments get to you.

Y/n: Ya, I'm sorry

Lando: It's okay. Now, what are you doing tonight? There is a party I want to attend, and I wanted to know if you'd like to come with me

Y/n: Oh, nothing, I'm free. Pick me up at 8?

Lando: You got it! Anyway, I should get going.

Y/n: Bye, I love yo-(Lando hung up before she could finish)

Signing to herself, Y/n opened her chat with Carmen

Y/n: Hey, sorry to inform you at the last minute, but something came up and I won't be able to make it tonight. (Y/n felt guilty about ditching Carmen on their movie night. She knew if she told her the real reason, Carmen would be extremely upset with Y/n, but more than that, angry at Lando)

Carmen 🤎: Is everything okay??

Y/n: Ya, ya, everything is fine. I just remembered this thing I had to complete that I forgot because I kept on procrastinating.

Carmen 🤎: Ofc you'd do that 🤦🏻‍♀️ How many times have I told you to use the planner I gave you? It would make life so much simpler for you

Y/n: Ikkkk I'll use it again next time!! I swear 🫶🏻

Carmen 🤎: Good 😌

Yourname added to their story!

seen by carmenmmundt and 73,028others

| carmenmmundt replied to your story

-> You're out partying again??

Yourname: Ya! Lando got invited to this club so now we're here patyinggg

| landonorris replied to your story

-> Where did you gooo?? come backkkkk i msisss youhhh

Yourname: are you drunk?? lol ok I'm omw to find you <3

liked by User82 and 81,728 others

👤: landonorris, luisinhaoliveira99

LN4Updates: Lando Norris and Luisinha Oliveira were spotted in the Mclaren vicinity. The two previously went on a trip together to Dubai. Fans on Twitter are convinced that these two are seeing each other and that Norris and Y/n L/n have broken up, but there is no confirmation from all the parties involved. From what we can gather, Norris and Oliveira seemed to have a friendly conversation. Some fans present at the race claim that they saw Norris being a little more affectionate towards Oliveira, but nothing can be said for certain. Is this the end of Norris and L/n, or is there more to the story?

view all 62,972 comments

User20: NOO don't tell me they broke up!!!

User82: Honestly I kinda knew this was gonna happen. I mean Y/n is not really Lando's type. I was really surprised when they had announced they were dating

-> User08: Okay but who asked you for your opinion?? They are perfect

-> User77: I'd have to disagree. Lando and Luisa are more compatible you just don't want to accept the fact that lany/n are not that great

Y/n was fuming. She felt as if someone had slapped her right across the face. Even after letting Lando know about her concerns and reservations about him hanging out with Luisa, he went ahead and did it again. Was this the reason why Lando urged Y/n to take a break from the constant travelling? So that he could have Luisa in the paddock with him? Y/n was disgusted; she felt used and discarded. She changed everything about herself—her hair, the way she dresses, the way she talks—hell, she even started to go to his stupid parties with him to make him like her more. There is always a breaking point in everyone's life, and Y/n had reached that.

Y/n could feel hurt and anger taking over when she heard the front door of her house open. Lando was home from the race. Without wasting a second, Y/n barged into the living room, only to find Lando relaxing on the couch. "How dare you!" Y/n screamed at Lando. If she wasn't so mad, she would have laughed at Lando's confused expression. "What? What do you mean?" asked Lando. "Don't play dumb with me. I told you how I felt about her, and yet you still invited her to the paddock." Y/n could feel tears pricking her eyes. "What? Luisa? How many times do we have to go through this? At this point, I might as well date her. Because clearly, that's what you think I am doing anyway. You might as well make your wish come true," Lando finished. "I hate you, Lando Norris. I fucking hate you so much. I changed everything EVERYTHING for you. I wanted to be like all those girls you usually like. I changed the way I wear makeup; I changed my freaking hair color because you said you liked blondes more in a stupid stream." Y/n let out a shaky breath before continuing. "When you told me you wanted to give us a try, I was so happy. It felt like the universe had finally heard my prayers. I was so happy that I spent the entire night lying on my bed with a huge smile on my face. You know, I always feared that this would happen. I knew that you'd leave me the second you'd find someone more exciting," Y/n said as she wiped the tears streaming down her face. "I had no idea you felt like this," Lando said. For a second, he almost sounded genuine, like he finally saw how his actions had affected Y/n. "I'm sorry you felt that way," Lando said as he looked back at her. "It's a little too late for sorry now, Lando. You have done the damage," Y/n said. "I said I was sorry. Why can't that be enough for you? What do you want me to do? Stop talking to every girl I ever see." Lando said, getting frustrated with how things were going. "I should have known that this was just a waste of time. I would have had such an easy life if George hadn't opened his big mouth and blabbered about how my life would be much better if I just gave you a try and stopped chasing after meaningless pleasure. If only I had known that I was just choosing one meaningless pleasure over another," Lando said as he finally let his frustration take over. Y/n couldn't take it anymore. "Get out! Just get the hell out of my house. I don't want to see your face ever again. I regret the day I met you. I regret it with every fibre present in my body," Y/n said as she watched Lando leave her house, but not before slamming the front door shut.

Y/n broke down, sinking to the floor. She took her phone out to text Carmen.

landonorris added to their story!

seen by luisinhaoliveira99 and 91,298 others

| luisinhaoliveira99 replied to your story

-> ❤️‍🔥

liked by luisinhaoliveira99 and 100,789 others

👤: luisinhaoliveira99

landonorris: Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years 💕

view all 71,873 comments

User02: Wait does this mean that Lando and Y/n are no longer together??

-> User54: Did you not see the story Lando posted the other day?? I think that was enough to confirm that 💔

User98: He used lyrics from loverrr!!!! this boy is down bad

luisinhaoliveira99: Can we always be this close! Forever and ever <3

*liked by landonorris*

User82: I'm happy that he is happy but isn't this too soon? like he just broke up with Y/n. I mean the least we can do is wait for a month or something not just a few days!!!

-> User66: That's so true! I was thinking the same thing. I mean unless....This has been going on for a while! That's the only explanation cause why else would he jump into a new relationship so quickly??

-> User82: I mean it could be! Do you think this is why George unfollowed Lando??

Y/n saw Lando's post, confirming that he was with Luisa. Y/n hated that girl. She had everything Y/n could have wanted, and she didn't even have to change herself to get Lando's attention. Tired of feeling sorry for herself, Y/n made her way to her bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, all she could see was a part of her that she no longer liked. A pathetic part of her that tried everything just so she could get a boy to love her longer. Frustrated, she got into her car and drove to the salon she always goes to. It was about time she felt like her old self again, and the easiest step in that direction was getting rid of the sad blonde locks that covered her head.

Yourname added to their story!

seen by carmenmmundt and 65,821 others

| User93 replied to your story

-> Yessss the queen is backkkkk 👑

liked by User22 and 101,282 others

👤: Yourname, shawnmendes

F1Gossip: Bye bye Lando! Y/n L/n, the former girlfriend of Lando Norris, was spotted getting cozy with singer/songwriter Shawn Mendes. The two reportedly first met when they were doing a campaign together for Tommy Hilfiger. Ever since the announcement of Norris's new relationship, L/n has become radio silent. Apart from posting a single story and work-related content, L/n has left her fans guessing about what's been going on with her life. Neither Mendes nor L/n have commented on the paparazzi photos that captured them looking anything but friendly. Is there a new couple on the block or are they "Just Friends?" Stay tuned for more updates on this situation!

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User11: Ohhhh not the "Just friends" shadeeee 🫢

liked by Yourname and 143,086 others

👤: Yourname

shawnmendes: Nothing to see here, just me, my beautiful girlfriend, and our little baby 🦮

view all 121,872 comments

Yourname: The most perfect family I could have ever asked for <3

-> shawnmendes: ❤️

*liked by Yourname*

carmenmmundt: When do i get to meet the most handsome boy in the world???

-> georgerussell63: what do you mean? I just saw you

-> Yourname: 😀

-> shawnmendes: 😀

-> carmenmmundt: 😀

-> georgerussell63: 😌

georgerussell63: The baby in question is a grown ass dog that tried to chew my shoes the other day

-> Yourname: Your fault, should have just let him bite you instead 😒

-> georgerussell63: 😨

-> mercedesamgf1: please give us our George back safe and sound 🥺

User33: Omggggggg Y/n looks so hapyyyyyy and they have a doggggg together!!!! my hearttttt

liked by User22 and 68,028 others

👤: f1

AllthingsF1: Trouble in paradise? Lando Norris and Luisinha Oliveira were seen engaged in a heated argument right before today's qualifying. This comes at a time when Norris has been going through a rough patch these past few races; from constant crashes to DNFs, Norris can't seem to catch a break. Is this off-track drama affecting his performance, or is this simply a coincidence? Some also believe that this could also be the result of Y/n L/n announcing her new relationship. Could this be the downfall for Lando Norris, on and off track?

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liked by User22 and 101,282 others

👤: landonorris, mclaren

F1Tea: Lando Norris is out of the race again! After yet another crash, the chances of Norris and McLaren doing well in the championship seem to be decreasing, race by race. Many fans blame Norris for getting distracted and not performing at his best. Some believe that this poor performance is the result of issues Norris has been facing in his personal life. After his breakup with Luisinha Oliveira, Norris has not been coping that well. Norris also seemed to like a few tweets (now unliked) about his relationship with Y/n L/n. Norris broke up with L/n a few months ago, after which the two have not been in contact. He also immediately got together with Oliveira after their breakup. It's about time that Norris gets out of this slump he's been going through if he wants to hold on to his Formula 1 dream.

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Y/n closed her phone when she heard the front door open, following which she heard a loud bark, and before she knew it, through came her little fur baby, ready to give her all the cuddles in the world. She looked up from her spot on the cough and saw Shawn enter the room holding up a bag of muffins. "Blueberry?" Y/n asked with a hint of excitement in her voice. "You know it! I saw it on my way back and knew how you were craving these. So I got a bunch of them," Shawn said as he kept the baked goods on the counter and made his way towards the couch. "What happened?" Shawn asked, noticing how Y/n looked a little distracted. "Nothing; I just got a text from Lando," Y/n said before looking back at Shawn. "Why? Did he say anything stupid? If so, let me know, because then he'll have to deal with me," Shawn said as he stroked Y/n's leg. "No, he just said he misses me. You know, if I hadn't met you and realized what being in an actual relationship is like, I actually would have gotten back with him," Y/n said as she petted their dog, who was exhausted and almost asleep after a morning run with his dad. "But I am glad that I found you. I have never felt more like myself than when I am with you. I just want to say that I love you so much and I love our little family," Y/n finished. Shawn quickly got up from his place and tackled Y/n. "I love you too. So much, you won't believe it, and I can't wait to expand our little family," Shawn said, smirking at Y/n before he started peppering her face with kisses. Laughter was the only sound that filled the L/n-Mendes household as they spent the rest of the afternoon talking and watching old movies.

Yourname added to their story!

🎶 I Like Me Better by Lauv 🎶

(I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time! I like be better when I'm with you 🩵)

seen by landonorris and 93,842 others

| shawnmendes replied to your story

-> 💙

Lando looked at Y/n's story, and all he felt was pain. Not only did he lose a person who truly loved him, he also lost one of his best friends. Being with Luisa was exciting; it made him feel young and full of life. The idea of settling down seemed so foreign back then that Lando couldn't have cared less about how his actions might have affected Y/n. He knew it was wrong to flirt with multiple women, even though he was in a committed relationship, but all of that felt like nonsense to him back then. But as he lay in bed, sad and alone, Lando realised just how much of an impact Y/n had on his life. He lost the girl, and now he's on the verge of losing his career as well. Lando felt a tear roll down his face. One became two, two became four, and before he knew it, he was full of tears. There was nothing Lando could do; he laid the bed with all his actions, and now he has to sleep in it. Tired of it all, Lando finally let sleep take over him, hoping that when he wakes up later, his heart will feel a little lighter.

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