#neither do energy drinks
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#bbc sherlock#sherlock holmes#john watson#johnlock#bbc john watson#sherlock x john#sherlockbbc#hedgehog#hydration#hydrate or die straight#stay hydrated#drink water#bean water doesn't count#neither do energy drinks#drink water or else
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I know the general consensus is that hyperaestheticizing your life to social media standards is like... bad but I definitely started eating better when I started analyzing everything under the lens of if it lived up to my aesthetic standards rather than its relative health factor
#like i pretty much took a left turn away from diet culture entirely#meal replacement shakes and energy drinks do not align with my aesthetic values sorry#neither does 99% of candy and most sodas#nor most junk food in general tbh#unless its like... a fancy hamburger with skin-on chips or something#we strike a balance#but I'm definitely like trying to live a life where if something isn't beautiful it doesnt have a space in my life#and I'm definitely healthier for it
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had a thought process that went like
hmm if i have borderline shit and potentially bpd i wonder if i should recontextualize some of my writing -> ive definitely been writing pfeil with borderline symptoms but does emet have them too? he IS really obsessed with eurydice -> hey remember when bpd headcanons were everywhere in the 2010s -> i feel like emet is the most radioactive character to do this about out of context -> changing my url to bpdemetselch to let everyone know my opinions are terrible and im toxic as fuck
#obvs having borderline or traits doesn’t make you toxic and neither do headcanons#i just feel like advertising oneself with that particular url is really like the monster energy drink and airheads sour ropes spaghetti#of URLs.
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i am 0.2 seconds from becoming a fucking menace to society
#Blue Jay Chirps#the ADHD is ADHDing#if i don’t Do Something soon i might die#but it is 3:30am#and i can’t focus#*rattling the bars of my cage* why is it so BORED??#i also might be a little manic rn#but that’s neither here nor there#*throwing pillows at my roommates* wake up. wake up. wake up. entertain me. wake up. i’m bored. pay attention to me.#*muffled screaming*#what if i had an energy drink#would that fix me
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There's my portal
As i said on @bet-on-me-13 'Where is my portal' post, here is my short about their idea. please enjoy.
Danny sipped his coffee, slowly shuffling towards his lab. It had been a long time since he had a ‘run on two coffees and some ecto’ weekend but here he was, Monday morning, on his way to work.
He really wanted to be in bed but he had bills to pay.
Quietly he shuffled into his lab, which he found oddly drafty and oddly bright, considering he hadn’t turned on the lights yet. After flicking them on he moved on towards his desk, passing a big gaping hole in the wall and—
Danny paused, shuffled backwards a bit and then looked at the place where his portal used to be. For a long moment he just looked, then did a slow blink and took another sip of coffee.
After making sure that his portal, including parts of the wall, were really gone, he let out a sigh and held his face. “Who the fuck stole my door?”
With a sigh he pushed his bangs out of his face and walked to his PC, to check the security footage of his Cameras. For once it wasn’t Vlad who stole his shit, Vlad at least had the courtesy to leave a note that he ‘borrowed’ something. It was safe to say that he was surprised to find the footage gone. There weren't many people that could hack through Tucker's programing.
Danny sat there, looking at the black screen of his PC for a long moment before thinking aloud. “Okay, we have one or more people who can; One, break through Tuckers firewalls. Two, physically move a portal weighing around ten tons and, Three, knows their way around Arcane Runes so as to not cause a mass ghost invasion.”
He thought about it for a minute before throwing his hands up. “Fuck this, I’m just going to use the other side to find it.” He got out of his chair before transforming.
Danny focused his power into one of his fingers before poking the air in front of him, the tip of it pierced the fabric of space which he then used to rip it open. He quickly flew through the tear before it sealed again. Despite Wulf teaching him how to do it he still sucked at it, which was the main reason he built his portal.
Once in the Zone he looked around for it. He found it after over two hours of searching, which only served to piss him off to the point where he began muttering curses under his breath.
Standing in front of it, he gave it a quick inspection. After inspecting the Runes, Danny had to admit that, whoever had stolen it, knew his way around them. They pretty much locked out anyone not authorized and or approved by the Caster. Too bad for them, Danny had the ‘Masterkey’ and went through anyway.
John Constantine was holding his face, quietly counting to ten. Neither smoking nor drinking would help in this situation. After reaching fifty he ran his hands over his head, looking at the assembled brigade of idiots in front of him.
“Okay, let me get this straight.” He started, “You,” he pointed at Batman, “found an ‘unknown energy signature’ and went to investigate. Then you found a high security lab with had an active portal to ‘who knows where’ and your first decision was to fucking steal it?!?!”
Superman moved forward, opening his mouth to counter but Constantine didn't let him. “AND you moron helped him steal it, not to mention you!” he pointed at flash, “Help install it here, in the watchtower, without telling anyone from JLD about it?”
Flash looked a bit sheepish at him. “Well, in my defense I didn’t know it was stolen.”
Constantine wanted to bash his head against the next closest bulkhead, maybe that would help.
“Okay, okay.” Constantine facepalmed, trying to stop the aneurysm from building up more.
A deep chill suddenly filled the air and sent goosebumps all over his back, “Oh this is just getting better and better.” Constantine reached into his pocket for a warding charm, before turning around and swearing. He stopped swearing when he saw who had come through. “Oh, hey Phantom.”
“Constantine, why the fuck did you steal my portal?” Danny wasn’t even pissed anymore. He knew the English drunktard too well to blame him. Granted he was obnoxious, didn’t pay back his debt and came whenever it suited him, but Danny liked the man. He didn’t exasperate problems and always did what was necessary.
“Look, I didn’t.” He then threw a thumb over his shoulder, “Those morons did.”
“Constantine, do you know this entity?” Batman already looked on high alert.
“Excuse you! I have a name. And that is my Portal. Explain why it isn't where it is supposed to be.”
“The sensors of the Watchtower found an unknown energy signature, upon investigation we found an unsecured pathway to a different dimension, so we secured it.”
Danny stared at Batman for a solid minute, then simply said, “Oh I'm going to sue your ass so hard your grandkids will feel it.”
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question i suspect you may know the answer to. I'm in Quebec right now, it's well below freezing and I'm having to stay in an uninsulated attic without a sleeping bag or warm enough blankets. I can't sleep because of the cold. Any tips on not freezing to death? I can't feel my face anymore.
-sleep on top of something. Cardboard, Styrofoam, balled-up paper, a mattress, a blanket, dry towels, whatever. If you're stuck with just the floor or ground then it will suck the heat out of you.
-keep the top of your head covered. You lose an insane amount of hear through your head.
-Wrar all of the clothes that you have. All of them. Only remove layers if you start sweating.
-drink warm or lukewarm water.
-mittens are warmer than gloves. If you have neither, put socks on your hands.
-change your socks before going to bed. Do NOT wear socks you've worn all day, even if they still feel dry.
-Cover yourself in blankets, clothes, towels, WHATEVER, but DO NOT COVER YOUR MOUTH AND NOSE. Condensation will get stuck under there with you and make you damp and cold.
-Stick your hands under your armpits or between your legs near your groin. These are the warmest parts of your body.
-if you wake up freezing, pace in circles to warm up. Don't exercise to the point of sweating, just to warm up a bit.
-air is the best insulator. The more air something has in it, the better it is at trapping your body heat. I was serious about crumpling up newspaper
-Stay as far from the windows as you can, and as close to the centre of the house as possible. Ideally away from any stone fixtures.
-If there is a fireplace, light it ONLY IF YOU ARE CERTAIN THE CHIMNEY IS CLEAR. Carbon dioxide poisoning is a risk. If it is clear, use paper and small slivers of wood to get it started, then larger burnables. Fire needs to grow before it can eat bigger foods. If you have no matches, but the electricity is on try a stove burner, or a hot light bulb.
-If you break a light bulb and turn the lamp on, you will get a flame for a few seconds, but only if you have no other options because this is dangerous.
-if you are with people or a pet, this is a great opportunity to cuddle.
-STAY DRY.
-EAT. Making and msintaining body heat burns energy.
-If you suddenly feel like you're boiling, KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON. Paradoxical undressing is a symptom of hypothermia. You ARE NOT HOT, your body is lying
-Suddenly not shivering when you've done nothing differently is an early hypothermia warning sign. CALL SOMEONE.
Leaving this open cause this is all I have off the top of my head. Good luck out there
#My only cold-survival experience comes from being in the woods lol#But I was stuck in an attic with only a small heat lamp one winter in rural Illinois and that sucked ass
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Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.
If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴
💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍
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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.
𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader
𐙚 rating ──── explicit
𐙚 category ──── F/M
𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.
𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).
𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024
𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻
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SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.
The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.
It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.
Why tonight, of all nights?
Why here, of all places?
Why him, of all people?
He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.
She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.
She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.
Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.
She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.
He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.
Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.
Oh, hell no.
Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.
Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.
“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.
Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.
She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.
It makes her stomach twist again.
He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.
It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.
“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”
For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.
Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”
She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”
It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.
Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.
She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.
Against her better judgment, she nods.
“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.
His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.
The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.
Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.
“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.
The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”
The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.
Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”
She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.
They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.
She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.
“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”
Here, as in back home.
“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”
She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”
Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”
She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.
“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”
Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.
She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.
“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”
Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.
He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.
“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.
She shoots him a surprised look.
As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.
“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.
A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”
She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.
He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.
Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”
“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”
She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.
“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”
“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”
A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”
“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.
“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”
Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”
His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”
“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”
Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.
His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”
Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”
For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.
“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.
Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.
“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.
“And?”
She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”
Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”
She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”
Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”
“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.
He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”
She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.
“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.
They remain silent after that.
She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.
He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.
Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.
The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.
On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.
The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.
His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.
“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”
She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.
“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”
It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.
“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”
That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.
Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”
Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”
The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.
“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”
Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.
She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.
It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.
“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”
Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.
“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”
Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.
“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”
“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”
Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.
“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.
Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”
For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.
“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.
Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.
“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.
Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.
He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.
Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.
But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.
Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.
“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”
He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.
“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.
The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.
“No touching,” she repeats, determined.
Lando's hands fall at his sides.
Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.
Nights when he wasn’t there.
Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.
“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.
His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.
“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”
Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.
“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”
Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.
Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.
Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.
On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.
She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.
Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.
“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”
Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.
He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.
“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.
She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.
When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.
“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”
She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.
“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”
Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.
“Mhm, Lan…”
“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”
It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.
In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.
It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.
“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.
In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.
She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.
Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.
“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.
Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.
“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.
The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.
Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.
Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.
Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.
His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.
Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.
He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.
“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.
“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.
He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.
Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.
“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.
“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”
Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.
She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.
In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.
“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.
Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.
“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”
“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.
Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.
“God, I've missed you.”
When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.
Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.
She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”
“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.
“What do you mean?”
Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.
“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.
“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”
She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”
She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.
He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”
“And how did he do that?”
“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.
“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.
“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”
His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.
Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”
He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”
She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”
The admission makes his chest tighten.
Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”
His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.
She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.
“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”
“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”
Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.
“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.
“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.
Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.
THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.
The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.
Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.
The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.
Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.
“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”
She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his hand and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.
“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”
“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.
“Lando…”
“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”
Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.
She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”
Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.
Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.
“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.
“You're so unfair.”
“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.
She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”
His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.
“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.
“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”
“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”
A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.
“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.
Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.
“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.
Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”
His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.
Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.
Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.
Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.
She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”
There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.
She can't.
“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.
Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.
And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.
She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.
But the body remembers.
And the remembering is, oh, so good.
Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.
His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.
Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.
She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.
But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.
“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”
She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.
They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.
Talking can wait.
Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.
“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.
She can't explain it, but she needs it.
“What's wrong?”
She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.
“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.
“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.
Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”
“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.
“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”
Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.
“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.
“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”
“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.
“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”
She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.
“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”
Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.
“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”
She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”
“Promise you,” says Lando.
After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.
Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.
It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.
In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.
“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”
One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.
“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”
Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.
“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”
It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.
“Lando,” she whimpers again.
“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”
She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.
“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”
Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.
“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.
“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me have my way with you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”
Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.
“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.
His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.
And that's enough for him to lose it.
“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.
She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.
“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.
She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.
“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”
She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.
Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.
Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.
Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.
Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.
She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.
“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.
She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.
“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”
Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”
Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.
“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”
She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.
“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.
Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”
“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”
She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.
“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.
He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”
His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.
There’s none.
“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”
Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”
She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”
Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.
“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.
“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.
PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT
MASTERLIST
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Being a bit of a doomer in the tags
#so I've been experiencing Stress and Anxiety for the first time in my life#I've dealt with many negative emotions but i used to be a super chill guy#severally depressed but not anxious or stressed#but now I'm legitimately worried about my heart#and it's obviously stress but i don't know how to deal with stress!!#and I'm also addicted to energy drinks and zolpiden and I'm very close to start smoking again#so yeah#grad school is going great#I have no idea how I'm going to be a TA next semester bc I'm such a mess#i can't do 1 (one) singular thing right#i might have fucked up my internship and I'm too afraid to send an email or ask someone#bc i might find out that i have in fact fucked up#or make a fool of myself or seem unprepared#which i am#but i don't like to show it#i have no idea what to do with myself and neither does my therapist apparently
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JUST NEED YOU - CS
No Nut November - Day 3
NNN Masterlist...
-➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort
Being awake late into the night repeatedly created such a messed-up sleep schedule and it was taking its toll. Ever since the triplets made a new schedule to fit around meetings and events, they found themselves filming into the dark hours of the day so that they could publish a higher quality video.
Chris was always energetic, and he portrayed that during every free opportunity. However, today was slightly different. Him and his brothers planned a stream about midday, along with a late filming session. Nothing he couldn’t handle until his team wanted to have a sudden meeting about his upcoming Fresh Love merch drop. It was early in the day compared to what he was used to.
The meeting wasn’t anything special, but it cut into the hours of rest he hoped would get him through the day. He wasn’t even sure of the meeting wasn’t necessary or a topic that couldn’t be discussed over a few strings of emails.
Then the streaming session followed. So many interactive tasks messed with his brain. Reading out the subs, communicating with the chat, following the requests, playing games while having to make the content engaging with commentary, it was becoming too much. Everything started to blur together, and his brothers could see that. They picked up on the subtle changes of their brother and brought the stream to a close.
“You going to be okay for filming dude?” Matt’s voice caught his attention and dragged it away from the day dream he didn’t even know he was having,
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just a little tired but I’m fine. I’ll grab an energy drink or something.” He shrugs, hiding the mental exhaustion on his face behind a meek smile. His brothers chose not to bring it up again and trust Chris with his words.
“Alright then, see you later.” Chris mumbled a goodbye to Nick, leaving the room to grab a drink from their fridge. The crack of the can giving him some hope that he’d feel more awake. But that’s the opposite of what happened.
The triplets had scheduled a car video for this Friday and if Nick wanted to have it edited by then, they had to film tonight. He was sat in the passenger seat, his third drink laying in the centre console. The filming started promising. Even with no topic, they each found small topics of conversation to entertain. He felt the drinks start to wear off and he couldn’t help but feel more agitated. Bantar turned into insults and left his mouth before he could process. Guilt filled his stomach as more words came out, eventually falling to silence.
When the camera finally stopped showing the red light, Chris sunk into his seat. Overstimulation ran through him by now and he hated it. Every cell in his body practically vibrated and he didn’t feel okay.
“Matt?” He offered a sincere tone to his brother, not opening his eyes while he leant back.
Matt glanced over to his body, evidently full of fatigue. “Yeah buddy?”
“Could you drop me at y/n’s house, please.” His brain felt fuzzy, he needed to just take his mind off his life for a moment. With his own home full of cameras, social media plans and reminders of what he had to do next, he needed a secondary. Your place held sanction to everything that made Chris feel calmer, safer. Away from cameras, away from his job and into your arms. When Matt hummed in response the car grew silent once more. Relief flooded him and a gracious smile twitched at his lips.
Neither Nick nor Matt uttered a word about the situation to Chris. They understood. There had been times where both of them had been in the same boat. The weren’t about to ridicule and tease Chris for that. Chris was just staring out the window at this point, falling silent which allowed the aux’s music to be heard. His eyes traced the painted lines on the road awaiting the moment those lines turned into the gravel of your drive way.
Chris knew you were home, he had been on and off messaging all day. Every few hours he’d receive a text from you just asking about his day. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to seek your attention after a harsh day, today was no different.
He found himself stood in front of your door for mere moments before pushing the door open. His breathes instantly levelled and a feeling of relief filled his body as he took in the familiar surroundings. “Baby?”
“I’m in my room, Chris!” It didn’t take him long before he wondered into your bedroom.
When he pushed the door open, the scent of your vanilla candles breezed past him, the light casting a soft glow against your skin. You were stood by your closet, organising out piles of clothes freshly washed and dried. He couldn’t help but admire the way the flickered candle lights lit up the room. You feel his eyes baring into yours.
“What’s s’matter babe?” You don’t lock eyes with him briefly as you stretch your body to place a t-shirt away. Chris dawdled towards you, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth.
“Too fucking much, m’exhausted and stressed.” His arms easily wrapped your waist, the feel of your skin making him sigh softly. You felt the pressure of his face, buried into your neck as he breathes in your scent.
“Would you want to lie down for a bit?” A small giggle passes your lips when Chris’s grip on your waist gets tighter. “Thought you’d never ask…”
Reluctantly, he let go of your body only for his hands to find yours, dragging you both towards your bed. Your bodies align so easily so that you were lying on his chest. Peppered kisses trace your features gently. Chris loves these moments more than anything, the times of the day where he could just be him with no camera or responsibility pushed into his face.
You settle your body in his arms, his heartbeat prominent when you placed your head flat on his chest. Chris’s hand finds his way to your scalp, running his fingers back and forth.
“You want to talk about your day?” You whisper softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze once more. Something in the way you look at him makes his body relax further.
He is quick to shake his head, planting a kiss on your lips. “ Jus’ need you…”
@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa23 @emilyfaith2003 @zariyam @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone
© ENDEREIES 2024
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I just had the most finnish social interaction of my life.
For backstory, Finland has a bottle/beverage can recycling system where most drink containers have a return deposit of a few cents - from 10 to 40 cents depending on the size of the bottle or can. All grocery stores and most convenience kiosks have a bottle return machine (which english wikipedia apparenly refers to as "reverse vending machines", which amuses me) where you can return the empty containers and receive a receipt which the cash register trades for money. The return isn't much but they add up surprisingly quick, and it's pretty common for people who are in the need for such cash to seek for and collect bottles and cans for recycling money.
I was going on errands on foot today, and had gotten myself an energy drink as a little treat on my way. Once I had gone through it I naturally held onto the bottle instead of throwing it to the trash, because bottles are money and 20 cents is 20 cents. On my way I saw an old man with a long grey beard, in a dirty t-shirt, approaching slowly on a bicycle. As he got closer he looked at me, glanced at my bottle and then back to me, while I looked him in the eye, glanced at the scraggly plastic bag hanging from his bike handle, and then back to him. Had his bag been full of recycling cans like I had first assumed, I would have stopped him right there and asked him if he'd like to have my empty bottle as well.
However, he had other assorted stuff in the bag, and therefore it would have been rude of me to assume that he is gathering bottles, and in return it would have been rude of him to stop me on my way to ask me if the bottle is empty and whether I'd like to be rid of it. But I saw him glance at the bottle and he saw me glancing at his bag, so both had reason to assume that he had more use for it than I would. But stopping strangers to address them like that is rude, so we passed each other without saying a word.
However, I was a stride away from a bus stop (which he had just passed) and I paused for a second to put my empty bottle on top of the trash can attached to the bus shelter. Looking over my shoulder to look at the old man, I saw him turning to look over his shoulder at me. So I nodded at him and he nodded at me, turning his bike around to retrieve the bottle as I left it there and kept walking. Neither one had said a word, but with a few seconds of eye contact, two pointed glances and a few quick nods, we managed to communicate through mutual assumptions, context clues and vague gestures that we could both do each other a favour.
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early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will
in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.
warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine
a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee
The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system.
Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.
You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you.
Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else.
Sometimes he just looks… edible.
And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you.
“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch.
Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing.
“Hi. You look nice.”
“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”
“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”
“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”
Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested.
“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”
Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies.
“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”
That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it.
“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”
You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid.
“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”
Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character.
Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie.
His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—
“Yes you do.”
Always so convinced he’s right, this one.
It’s annoying. And kind of hot.
“Uh, I promise you I do not.”
“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”
You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you.
“Yeah? Wanna bet?”
“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”
“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”
“You think we should move?”
You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar.
“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”
Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer.
Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you.
He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults.
“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”
“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”
Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver.
“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”
Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway.
“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”
Your knees bump. You lean into it.
“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.
“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”
“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”
Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.
“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile.
“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”
“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”
“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”
“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”
His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark.
“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”
He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap.
“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”
You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers.
“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”
He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous.
Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear.
“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”
“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”
He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.
“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”
Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty.
You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.
His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute.
You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper.
“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic
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❝𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘢.❞
harumasa x afab!reader
genre/warnings: suggestive, nsfw mentions, he’s just a boy loser guys idk what you want me to say
summary: you are order, and he is chaos. He thinks you’re his type, and you think he deserves a good tease for the trouble he’s caused you.
wc: 1.8k
Asaba Harumasa was convinced that Deputy Chief Tsukishiro had made up her mind to finally put an end to his existence.
Now sure he liked to skimp on his paperwork every now and then, or call out sick for multiple days in a row, or do whatever he could to clock out early, or fall asleep at his desk (all things he firmly understands don’t help his case), but this? Convincing the Chief to let her handpick an “executive assistant” to run the Section 6 office like a real prison? He was sure it violated some law against war crimes and torture.
You were everything his existence in the unit contradicted and he knew it from the moment you stepped through the doors of their suite in a perfectly pressed skirt suit and a terrifyingly cool expression on your face.
It was like Yanagi spawned a twin of herself, one that’s sole purpose was to work every kink in the system out by force and relieve the paperwork load so effectively that even the dedicated Deputy Chief was able to clock out of work on time. Your critique was swift and harsh, and the execution of your corrections to the administrative side of their work just as damning. Within a week the sound of your heels clicking on the tiles was enough to draw a fear response out of him and Soukaku (though she was spared more of your wrath and gained your affections, further solidifying his theory that you are yanagi’s more evil twin).
You were order. You were dependable. You were the warden of a paper prison that ruled with an iron fist.
And you were totally his type.
He didn’t even realize it in the beginning, after all, you were like a monster from one of his nightmares. Very little slipped past your keen eye, forcing him into the submission of not cutting corners and actually doing his job. You were particularly hard on him, but he had to contribute most of that to the fact that he resisted the change as long as he could before he lived in fear of the snap of a folder of incorrect paperwork back onto his desk and a disapproving glare on your face.
Maybe it was the fact that you were never inherently mean about things too. You were very fair and worked diligently to boost morale, he couldn’t count the times you footed the bill for drinks after a big mission, and you always offered praise for improvements. You had everyone’s coffee order memorized too, everyone coming into the office bright and early to a hot coffee or tea of their preference already on their desks next to a neatly printed agenda customized to their schedules. Oh, and those tight little skirts you wore over your sheer stockings certainly didn’t help him to not like you, but that was neither here nor there.
The first to arrive and the last to leave, your dedication pretty much knew no bounds, and that’s exactly how he ended up in the position he was in now.
He had made it through his night shift by the grace of whatever powers existed in the universe, and promptly crashed on the sectional tucked into the corner of the office, choosing not to expend the energy to walk back to his apartment when he would have to be at the office first thing in the morning for a big meeting anyways. The plan was to wake up early enough to hit one of the locker room showers to freshen up and get himself looking half decent.
The plan died immediately upon him snoozing his first alarm. Then it shriveled a little more with the second snooze. The third snooze was him digging the plan up to kill it again. By the fourth time he was basically dancing on the grave of his plan and digging his own grave while he was at it, because there was no plan conceived that involved you showing up early.
It was muscle memory triggered by the click of your heels as you entered the suite that shocked him out of sleep as he practically rocketed upright with bleary eyes and a sleep muddled brain struggling to catch up with his body’s dramatic response. It was enough that you fully paused in your tracks, coffee cup hovering millimeters from your lips as you eyed him with thinly veiled confusion.
“Good morning, Mr. Harumasa.”
“Good morning, Miss (y/n).” He yawned out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he squinted into the bright office lights.
While you found it humorous to watch the wheels in his brain slowly begin to turn in real time, the brutal hand of time waited for no one and you were nothing if not punctual. Your lips quirked momentarily as you checked the time, eyes darting from your dainty wristwatch back to your dear newly awakened coworker.
Asaba Harumasa’s lack of care for the precision of his work uniform was a hill you had chosen not to die on from the very beginning. You weren’t the dress code police after all, and he wasn’t so dramatically out of regulation that it irked you or anything like that. Most days. But today wasn’t most days, because most days you had a solid hour of silence to prepare for your day, and he would saunter in fashionably late, pass you some lame pickup line, then slink back to his desk where he promptly assumed the look of a kicked puppy until his paperwork was done and he could leave. He had been so methodical about this routine that this disturbance almost took you by surprise.
Almost.
It did bring you a new challenge however. He looked like a total wreck. His hair was matted on one side while the other dramatically cowlicked out in three directions, there were sleep marks on the side of his face from the couch upholstery, his tie was loosely hanging on to one side just pinned enough by his rumpled collar that it hadn’t fully fallen off, his shirt was wrinkled to high heavens and unbuttoned down to his navel revealing a very well sculpted chest, and were those the outline of abs you were seeing—?
You cleared your throat as you averted your eyes, thanking your lucky stars that he was still half clinging to this side of reality. How embarrassing it would have been to be caught practically ogling his body like some degenerate teenager! You are not one to stare, let alone ogle. It was completely uncharacteristic, you were a dedicated administrative assistant after all, you were immune to anything that threatened the routine flow of your workplace.
Right?
Right. Your carefully crafted defenses had not failed you, and it was simply an undiagnosed heart condition that had rendered you breathless every morning for the past three months as you locked yourself in a stall in the women’s bathroom to calm the hot flush that burned your cheeks and the thundering of your heart behind your ribs at the coy tone of his voice as he hammered you with another pick up line before walking away like nothing ever happened.
This was simply a new hurdle to your morning. Nothing more, nothing less, and you had a duty to perform on the behalf of your entire section to ensure the morning went off without a hitch. Definitely no ulterior motives.
You sighed heavily as you set your coffee and bag down on the edge of his desk before propping yourself upon the flat surface, a hand coming down to tap it impatiently.
“You look like a wreck. Come here, Asaba.”
If hearing his surname fall from your pretty painted lips wasn’t a wake up call for his brain enough, the sight of you in all your glory seated upon his desk certainly was. He practically scurried from his spot on the couch to you as if efficiency was going to save him from the wrath of the office warden, electrifying eyes dancing nervously as he attempted to readjust his tie.
“Take it easy on me boss, I had a long night and—,” he never finished his thought as your manicured nails wrapped around his tie, yanking him forward till his hands braced against the desk on either side of you, caging you between him and his own designated workspace.
This close and he could smell the pretty floral undertones of your perfume as he sucked in a shaky breath, eyes blown wide compared to your own ever-cool expression. You met his gaze, stifling the smirk that threatened your lips.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Harumasa? Not feeling chatty this morning?” You pressed, your thighs parting just enough to slot his body between them.
He really hoped there was a merciful god out there somewhere that was orchestrating all of this, cause he was feeling so damn tired but he was ready to die a happy man between your thighs if you’d let him. He swore your skirt had to be a little shorter today ‘cause how else was that lace edge of your stockings peeking out from under the hem of your skirt? If you slid your leg up a little higher he’s sure he’d get a peek of your pretty thigh fat bulging over the edge of the elastic band snuggly bound around your upper thigh.
His fingers twitched as he felt his blood run south at the very thought, catalyzed by the way you leaned in so close, hands running from his chest to his waistband in a sinfully slow manner.
“Oh, don’t tell me no one’s ever…,” your tone was sultry as your breath tickled his ear, your fingers latching around his buckle as you slid your body closer to the edge of the desk, feeling him shudder as he failed to stifle a nervous squeak.
“Helped you get ready?”
He would love to say that he pinned you to his desk and gave you exactly what you were asking for, that he kissed you stupid as he wrestled that damn skirt up just high enough to press aside those lace panties he just knows you love and sink into your pretty cunt and make you beg for him. That your nails left a burning impression down his back that seared his skin as perfectly as the hot kisses that stained the column of his neck every shade of your favorite lipstick. That the office of Section 6 sounded more like a filthy wet dream straight from a porno than a sterile work environment, and that he would never be able to look at his desk without remembering how pretty you looked bent over it crying for him.
There’s a lottttt of things he would love to say. At this point mostly profanities as he blinked stupidly back at you, your hands busy as you neatly fastened his tie all the way up to the base of his throat, his shirt now perfectly tucked and buttoned as well.
You hummed in satisfaction at your work, hands bracing his shoulders as you guided him away from his desk so you could slide gracefully off it yourself, pausing just to smooth your skirt.
“See, isn’t that better?” You said with pride, swiping up your coffee cup as you took a sip, marching to your little desk in the corner as if nothing had ever transpired.
“Now go fix your hair and get ready for the meeting, the others should be arriving soon.” You called over your shoulder, never looking back in fear of your expression cracking at how bewildered he looked.
Oh, he would certainly be fixing something in the bathroom, but his hair was the least of his concerns right now.
Rey 2024, crossposted to ao3
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Redamancy ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full
Part II out now!
{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (with a hint of bestfriend!jisung?)
{ Genre } - NSFW, the trifecta (s/a/f), frenimies to friends to lovers? idk but we'll get there in the end
{ Synopsis } - Han Jisung is your new bestie & technical colleague, of course you befriended the rest of his members. Group nights became a tradition, & tonight involves liquor and drinking games for the first time. Truth or drink?
{ WC } - 6.7k
{ Warnings & tags } - 18+ MDNI, NSFW, smut, angst, fluff, drinking, breath play (choking), swearing, dry humping, use of 'babygirl', mention of wet dream, talk of edging, talk of domming, talk of choking, talk of exhibitionism, all of ot8 is suggestive af when they drink, reader and jisung are PLATONIC I promise they're just touchy, they're all giggly drunks so overuse of laughing chuckling and giggling, chan is kinda dumb in this he just... is in denial land but we'll find out more about that later, unrealistic work scenarios, unrealistic dorm setup? idk lol
{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated with the actual skz, and is a fictional piece. I DO NOT own Stray Kids, this fic is just influenced by them!
{ A/N } - Okay I know I took forever to post & this intro is hella long & I'm sorry! Once again, I will say this is my first skz fic. I come from the world of AO3 & dramione. I am out of my comfort zone lol. First time posting stories on tumblr too! So if I missed anything please let me know <3 there will be a part 2, I've already started writing it! The plot is weak af, but gimme a few more stories and I'll find my groove. Promise! Unbeta'd, be gentle with me ♡
It was supposed to be a relatively chill Saturday night, so you were excited. You just got off work, and had arrived at Jisung's. He swung the door open smiling and pulled you inside, into an immediate hug. Everyone said their greetings, and then Jisung went immediately to whining.
"Finally, what kept you so late?"
You took your shoes, mask, sunglasses, and hat off, letting your curls fall down your back. Then you unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugging it off your shoulders and exposing your fitted white tee. You gave your jacket and bag to Ji so he could put them away. You always arrived in 'disguise', in baggy clothing so that no one suspected anything. Though you thought it was ridiculous. It doesn't matter how baggy the sweat pants or hoodie is, there's no hiding the curve of your ass.
You were a content editor at JYPE, and had become really good friends with Han Jisung. Friendships between idols and staff certainly aren't forbidden, in fact they're encouraged to an extent... as long as no lines are crossed. But it's pretty much an ignored rule. Anyways, you were a small 'behind-the-scenes' employee, not a manager or assistant or makeup artist. Not anyone directly involved with any idols. No one off the street knew who you were. Still, over the last almost year or so, you and him became besties. You frequently shared meals together at work, had sleepovers, you even went camping. You were basically glued to each other. It could easily be taken the wrong way by the media and fans. Hell, it gets taken the wrong way by co-workers, other idols, and even his group members. Although they've mostly accepted that's not the case. It's a given with the way you two act though.
Your relationship is definitely platonic, confirming pretty early on that neither of you felt anything more than friendly love for each other. But you both love teasing the other suggestively. You suppose that's partly why you two got so close so quickly. Your personalities are so similar, it's like you share the same singular brain cell sometimes.
"Editing, per usual." You finally reply with a sigh, "We had to cut A LOT out of nexz's new video. They're so high energy, they slip up a lot, especially with the swearing, but nothing we can't handle."
"Gotta love kids." Chan snorts while sipping a beer.
You smile awkwardly in response and look around the room. Everyone is here, all with their preferred beverages, and chatting away or scrolling.
Ji comes back with a drink for you, he knows you're partial to tequila and always keeps it on deck. Normally, you spend every weekend you can together, which sometimes is not as often as either of you would like. Sometimes you'd both head back to your place, and just have all nighters, binge watching anime and gorging yourselves on junk food. More recently, like tonight, you get invited over to hang with him and the rest of the boys.
It usually results in a few drinks and a movie, or talk about work. Sometimes you just play music and talk and vibe, or try to cook food together when you get the munchies... Which more than likely results in Minho taking over because he just can't help himself. However the nights play out, they're always fun, and you're gradually getting closer to the rest of the members too. Although no one can compare to the bond you have with your Jiji.
"I don't wanna watch a movie tonight, my eyes hurt too much." He starts complaining.
"Poor baby." You tease and run your fingers through his hair, laughing.
"When are you two just going to come out with the fact that you're in love?" Seungmin asks.
You roll your eyes, "When dwaekki's fly."
"I can easily make that happen." Changbin laughs.
"We could play a game?" Felix suggests, already looking flushed from the alcohol.
Jeongin gets excited, "Let's do a drinking game! It's been a while."
"I don't believe I've ever played a drinking game with y'all."
Hyunjin hums, "Mm, you haven't. Mostly because we get crazy, we've never brought up the idea."
This piqued your interest, "More crazy than I've already seen? I don't think that's possible."
Minho chimes in this time, "You forget we're a group of men sometimes, I swear. Mix alcohol and suggestive games, it definitely gets 'crazier' than you've seen, inappropriately crazy."
You level him with a smirk, "I'm down."
"That's my y/n!" Ji says, while pulling you to sit in his lap, "Fearless."
You giggle and lean into him while Minho just narrows his eyes at you and purses his lips. Something tells you he's up to something, but you're ready for any challenge.
"Fine. Then we'll play something easy, truth or drink. If someone refuses to answer, they drink. Whoever finishes their drink first loses." Minho says.
"What does the loser have to do?" You ask.
"Pay for everyone's lunch every day for a month!" Changbin says.
"Deal." You say.
You're an open book, Ji knows this. There's no question you won't answer.
Everyone is up now, getting new drinks & refills before the game starts. You can't help but notice that Chan didn't get up, he looks a little nervous for some reason. He was always the most worried about you being around so much. In the beginning it definitely came across like he didn't like you. Now you know that's not the case... you think. He tolerates you now to say the least. You couldn't blame him too much, he was just protective of his boys. You actually found it incredibly sweet, or maybe it's just that stupid soft spot you have for him.
He always tried to keep you at arms length from the group. Not wanting anyone to get too close to you. Until Jisung put him in his place, as best he could anyways.
You were in Ji's lap, watching Spirited Away. He was drawing imaginary lines and shapes on your back, while you rested your head on his shoulder, facing the tv. His head was resting on top of yours as well, and a blanket covered you both.
Chan walked in seeing this, and nearly had a stroke. He said we were being inappropriate. And specifically made it a point to tell you to be more professional as a member of the staff. Short version: know your fucking place, you're overstepping.
You scoffed at him, prepared to confront him about his growing disdain towards you. Let him know he's the one being inappropriate, downright childish. But Ji nudged you onto the couch and got to him first.
It was kind of cute watching him standing there, ears becoming red and getting in Chan's face. Cute in the way that it was like a maltese puppy trying to stand up to a doberman. Then he proceeded to yell at him about how he was way out of line. Saying he was being flat out disrespectful and that he was done with the ridiculous way he has been acting about you. The last thing he said was that he didn't know what got into him, and that he'd never seen this side of Chan before.
Chan was silent, looking intensely into Jisungs eyes. But he never backed down, so Chan poked his tongue to his cheek, then retreated to his room for the whole night. You had to scoop Ji off the floor right afterwards. He had let his knees buckle, and fell to the floor once Chan was gone. Citing that he wasn't sure he was going to live through the night to see the morning sun. Typical dramatic fashion for your best friend. But you soothed him, fluffing up his ego about 'defending your honor'. His words, not yours.
As that night went on though, the tiniest bit of worry coursed through you. Chan hadn't come back out. Not even when the other members came home, trying to knock on his door to greet him. Or when the food was ready to be served, you had even given knocking a try. Only after Hyunjin begged you to, because 'He already doesn't take care of himself. He needs to eat.' No, you didn't see him again that night until you had already walked out the front door. He slipped out behind you shortly after, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you.
You thought he was going to continue the argument for a moment, but no, he was apologizing. Not much more was said afterwards, but his apology was genuine and heartfelt, so you accepted it. You two ended up hugging it out, and thank goodness no one saw that, because it was incredibly cringeworthy. He had no more major issues after that. But he was still unexplainably awkward around you, but it's not like you were any better. You two simply didn't know how to interact with each other for longer than 30 seconds. And that was pushing it. You suspected that might not ever go away. He likes to keep his walls high and strong, and you're stubborn at times.
But of course, despite that stubbornness. You developed some sort of feelings towards him. Feelings you refused to acknowledge, well tried to refuse. You would push those feelings down deep within your heart, put them in a little box, and tape it shut trying to forget it's there. There was no need to pine over the man, he had stay to do that for him, and who knows who else in his life. Somehow that box always ended up ripped open again.
There was never a reason to act on these feelings. Not to mention, you think you'd be breaking SO MANY rules. Putting your job, his job, hell everyone's job at risk. Or worse, making a fool of yourself when he would downright reject you.
You keep watching him, now he's shaking his leg up and down, seeming agitated. Maybe he just doesn't want everyone getting into a vulnerable state of mind while playing? Maybe he's worried somebody will say or do something wrong? That someone will cross a line, as he loves to say?
Trying to ease his negative feelings, and extend yet another olive branch. You toss a throw pillow at him, hitting him in the chest and pulling him out of his thoughts.
He looks at you, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, and you just chuckle nervously at him saying, "Don't worry, it's like Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."
"God how fuckin' corny was that?" Ji teases you, poking your side making you giggle more.
To your relief, Chan is laughing with you, and shaking his head, "I just want them to behave."
"Oh relax, we're all grown. We're all friends. So we'll get to know each other more intimately, big whoop." You shrug.
"Mmm..." He replied, before raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "Whatever is spoken about tonight, doesn't leave this room."
"I swear you're the one with anxiety sometimes, not me." Ji mumbles.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah... dad." Hyunjin says as he sits next to you and Ji.
"As if that announcement even had to be made, I swear, and you wonder why we call you old." Seungmin comments.
Once everyone is settled in with their drinks, Minho directs Chan to start the game.
"Jisung, when was the last time you cried?"
He laughed, "You're trying to embarrass me because you know it was this morning, but I am confident and secure in the fact that I am a sensitive man."
He said the last bit with his hand over his heart, and his eyes closed, effectively making everyone chuckle.
"My poor baby, why were you crying?" You question teasingly.
"Please don't bring it up, he'll start blubbering all over again. Stupid, sad, dog rescue videos." Seungmin mumbles.
"Minho!" Ji shouts, pointing at him dramatically, "This question is for you. If you had to kiss someone in this room on the cheek, who would it be?"
"Hyunjin." He said bluntly, making you and everyone else laugh while Hyune just rolled his eyes.
"Would you kiss me back?" He asked him, eyes full of hope and bottom lip jutted out and pouting, trying to act cute. And succeeding, honestly.
Hyunjin acted like he was pondering the question, but ultimately was the first to take a sip from his glass, "I decline to answer."
He looked to you next, a suggestive smirk on his face, making you the next victim, "Y/niiieee..."
"Oi, be respectful." Chan scolds immediately, not liking the look at all.
"All I was going to do was repeat the question!" He said defensively, "Y/n, if you had to choose, who would you kiss on the cheek?"
You tried hard to keep your eyes from trailing over to Chan, a tingly feeling spreading across your skin at the mere thought of innocently kissing his cheek. Instead you chose the easy answer, because it wasn't a lie. You'd also kiss your best friend on the cheek any time.
"My Jiji of course," And you took his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks between your middle finger and thumb, and plant a loud smooch on each of them, "he probably only asked because he wanted one anyways."
He just chuckles, letting you baby him and Seungmin fake gags.
"Minnieee..." You pause trying to come up with a question, "when you dye your hair next, what color would you want?"
"Green, my entire head green."
"That would look interesting." You laugh.
You all go 'round in circles for a few rounds, completely forgetting about the rules of the game. Having now finished your glasses from casually sipping throughout the game, most of you have switched to occasional shots. You're starting to feel warm and tipsy. Of course the more you all drank, the more the questions started to get more... amorous. Which is exactly how you all assumed this game would go. No wonder Chan was so anxious.
However looking over to him now, he's definitely having a good time. Like every other person, he loosens up while drinking, but tonight he seems even more so.
"Y/n," Chan starts with a sly look making your skin buzz again. Among all of you, he is 100% the most inebriated right now, "when was your first kiss?"
"Yah! He tells us to be respectful, but look how he is after a few drinks!" Changbin yells laughing.
Chan loses it, "You're right Binnie, you don't have to answer or drink." He says in between fits of squeaky laughter.
You think you could listen to him laugh all day.
You shake your head and snort, "I've answered worse questions playing this game before. I was 13 when I had my first kiss."
Hyunjin nearly spits his drink out, because again, no one is drinking just as punishment anymore, "13?!"
"Well, yeah, it's a pretty normal age in America... I think..." you started to blush, "why, how old were you?" you ask Hyunjin.
He hesitates, but eventually he spoke, "I was 18."
The rest chime in saying they were also 18 or 19. With the exception of Felix who said he was 16.
Without even thinking you start to say, "Aaah, see I was 18 when I-" and you're abruptly stopped with Ji's hand slapping over your mouth.
Your eyes go wide, caught off guard, but understanding as you almost blurted out unnecessary information. Nothing that Ji hadn't known obviously, it's just that everyone else doesn't really know you on that level.
"Jagi, you only had to answer the one question, adding extra info, that's not how you play the gaaaaame." He says in a sing-song voice, "Hyunjin it's your turn to ask someone."
"No no no no! What was she going to say?" Chan chuckles.
When you looked at him, he winked at you, and you had to stop yourself from going limp in Ji's arms. He knew damn well what you were going to say. Why is he teasing, no torturing you like this?
You peel Ji's hand off your mouth to respond "It's not your turn, you'll have to wait to ask me that."
The group starts laughing and shouting, teasing Chan who is ignoring it all, just staring at you with curious eyes and his tongue in his cheek. Does he know how hot he looks doing that?
"Okay, so then I'll ask you. What were you going to say?" Hyunjin asks calmly, trying to fight the smile off his face.
You pour yet another shot, and knock it back thinking, what the hell, "I was going to say I was 18 when I first hooked up with a man."
Some members looked surprised, the game taking an obvious turn. However Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan started laughing again.
"I knew that's what you were going to say." Felix slurred.
"Yeah I was definitely teasing you on that, because I knew." Chan followed.
"Mmm, well judging from the shocked faces of everyone else, you two seem to be the only psychics." You try to joke, wanting the attention off of you suddenly.
"No, don't get us wrong, not all of us are as innocent as you think." Seungmin says defensively.
"Oh really now?" You respond, one brow quirking up.
Seungmin just turned red, and sat back in his seat. To which Chan started laughing, yet again. He's a giggly drunk, and you love it.
"Don't tease my puppy, babe." Ji slurred, trying to reach his arm to console Seungmin, but ultimately failing.
"I mean I was 18 too, with the same girl I first kissed." Hyunjin shrugged.
"But what do you mean 'to a man'?" Jeongin asked with a shit eating grin on his face.
You promptly turned into a tomato, and started choking on air.
"You're not that slow pabo, obviously it means she's been with women too." Ji says, rather loudly and speaking freely, all while patting your back.
You're quiet. It's not like it's a secret, you've never hidden your sexuality. But it never came up in conversation with anyone here, except Jisung.
Wanting to ease the tone, Felix speaks up, "Well I was 18 when I first hooked up with a dude."
"I was 21, but everyone already knows that story." Ji slurred.
The whole conversation triggers another group laughing fit. Except for Chan, who is looking at you with those dark eyes again. And... is he blushing? Or is that the alcohol? He eventually snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and slowly smiles at you reassuringly.
You mentally kick yourself for getting your hopes up, of course he couldn't ever think of you like that. You're imagining things.
"But then, how old were you when you first hooked up with a girl?" Jeongin asked again, genuinely curious.
"A lot younger than 18..." You trailed off laughing, "I'll just say in high school."
"The air is different outside of Korea." Changbin says suddenly, sounding thoughtful.
Hyunjin nearly collapsed laughing, slapping Minho on the knee repeatedly, despite the glare he was shooting him.
"Well I just answered a bunch of questions in a row so that means I get to ask two people a question. And the second person I ask gets the next turn." You say, making up new rules.
"So... Chan." He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and you just smirk, knowing you're trying to get back at him, "How old were YOU when you lost your virginity?"
He gulps and looks around at the group before answering, "I... was 18."
"Chan-hyung, you never answered us when we would ask you! Why answer her?" Jisung whines.
"I honestly don't know, maybe it's the liquor. None of you ever asked me drunk." He starts giggling.
"Okay so question 2... Binnie!" He gulps and looks at you with wide eyes, "Are you more of a boob guy?" You say grabbing your own, not even really thinking about it, "Or an ass guy?"
Changbin started laughing and answered, "Definitely ass, but I appreciate boobs too, equality."
"I am just learning so much about my fellow members lately." Seungmin whispers.
"Is that a bad thing?" You giggle.
"Not at all, it feels strangely comforting, letting loose like this." He replies and smiles softly at me, "It's been a while."
"It's freeing!" Jeongin yells abruptly, throwing his hands in the air.
"Aye, my question is for you then Min. Have you ever had a wet dream?" Changbin asks.
"... what guy hasn't? Don't all guys get them?" He asks looking around.
Then you chime in again frankly, "Girls can get them too you know."
Why does it feel like you've opened pandora's box on your sex life, in every single aspect?
Ji starts laughing, nodding his head vigorously and you know where this is about to go.
"Really now?" Felix says, mimicking your exact tone from earlier, "What was it about?"
"Mmmm... it's not your turn to ask," Then you turn to Seungmin, "And if you ask me, I will absolutely drink and not answer. No way I'm explaining a sex dream right now."
Seungmin just rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.
"But I wanna knooooooow," Jisung whines, "You looked so cute having one last weekend, you never told me what it was about."
Everyone was watching you two closely now, waiting to hear how he knew what you looked like in that situation.
You turned around and smacked his arm, "We weren't going to mention that ever again! Remember?!" You attempt to be angry, but you can't help it and end up smiling.
"Okay, well now I'm curious since you two are bringing this up." Minho says with a glint in his eye.
"Y/n may or may not have had one when I slept over, and I woke up to her moaning and hump--"
This time it was your turn to slap a hand over his mouth, "Jiji, Sungie, my love, my sweet sweet SWEET best friend. I don't want to kill you, but I will." You say in a dulcet tone.
He raised his hands, eyes wide and nodded his head. You couldn't help but laugh, apparently you're a giggly drunk too.
Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Chan adjusting himself in his pants. But then you reminded yourself that it was just wishful thinking and an alcohol induced hallucination. Horny hallucination. God you needed to get over him and under someone else. This unrequited shit wasn't for you.
"I'm so never going to drop this you know, I wanna know what the hell happened." Minho smirked at you, to which you flipped him off jokingly.
It's Seungmin's turn next, and he's just staring at Jeongin with a blank face, "Have you ever had a one night stand?"
He pauses for a moment and then finally answers, "No, I haven't."
He looked at you now, asking his question, "You know what I have to ask now, right?"
"Go ahead." You challenge, fully prepared to choke down another shot and not answer his question, and he smiles.
"What's one of your kinks?"
You were unprepared for that question. And how could you know he would ask that, these men like to fuck around with your head.
"Relax, I just wanted to see your reaction." He says before chuckling.
You glared at him for a moment, halfheartedly. They think they can just retract questions when they get scared that they went too far. Screw that, you're answering.
"I guess the most simple one I have is edging." You shrug.
"The most simple one?!" Hyunjin asked.
"What are you a masochist? Edging is the worst, feels like torture to me." Ji says.
"But the build up is so delicious, and the end result is so worth it. It's so intense." Felix chimes in, "Choking too, that can be intense."
"Hm, breath play might actually be my favorite." You admit.
"Damn y/n." Ji says, eyeing you with a smile, "You're full of surprises, even to this day."
You shrug again, "Everyone has different kinks... What's one of yours?" You ask him.
He ponders for a moment, "I like being dommed sometimes."
"Big surprise." Minho says and you all laugh.
"Good one though," You nod, "That's one of mine too."
"I think I'm an exhibitionist, to an extent of course." Hyunjin says next.
"That's also not a surprise." Minho replies.
You can't help but let your eyes wander over to Chan again, while everyone else is sharing different things they're into in bed. The liquor has everyone speaking loosely. But Chan doesn't seem to care about it anymore.
You find him staring right back at you, that same look in his eyes from earlier, and you feel heat spread in your stomach, and wetness starts to pool in your panties. Maybe you weren't imagining things.
But you don't notice that Ji's observing both of you in his drunken haze. Not too faded to ignore you and Chan eye-fucking each other.
Your heart starts racing the longer you hold eye contact, and you start shifting uncomfortably on his lap, before looking away and deciding to get up.
"Alright... I need some bread to soak up this alcohol, and then I need to get home because it's already 2 in the morning." You say with a shaky breath.
"Yeah, I'm wasted right now," Jeongin says and stands, "Bed's a good idea. Goodnight everyone." And he leaves to his room.
Ji grabs your wrist, preventing you from moving, "You're not going anywhere. We're all drunk, you can't drive and no one can bring you back home."
"Fiiiiiiine," You say, "but I still want bread."
"You and your bread fixation whenever you drink." Minho mumbles, heading to the kitchen anyways to grab you some.
When he comes back he hands it to you and you start munching away happily, doing a little dance.
Meanwhile, Felix is trying to tug Chan's arms to make him stand up, but he's fighting him on it and whining. Clearly he exceeded his limit tonight drinking. He probably won't even remember the looks he was giving you, you think.
"I don't wanna go to bed." Chan whines.
Felix finally succeeds in pulling him up, "C'mon mate, you definitely need to sleep this off. You'll be miserable tomorrow. Let's get you some water too, hmm?"
Chan reluctantly holds his arm, and follows him down the hall, stumbling over his own two feet along the way. You can't help but laugh at the sight.
More of the boys say goodnight and head off to their rooms, but Ji and Minho stay with you in the living room, chatting a little longer before bed.
Ji starts going through his bags, determined that you left some pajamas here from when you slept over previously, and he kept them in a bag to give back to you. He pulls out the nightie, that you honestly forgot you brought here. But you see why you didn't ever wear it at the time. It's dark green, spaghetti straps and has lace along the bust line. It also has slits on each side of your thigh, and only covers you to the middle of your thighs. Your go to sleepware was always nighties or large tees, they're comfortable and sometimes you get hot at night. Mix in the fact that you were drinking tonight? You're already feeling overheated. But wearing this?
"Jiiiiiii, don't you have any t-shirts I can wear?" You whine.
He's already under the covers, fighting sleep, "Sorry babe... haven't done laundry... Nothing clean..."
You whine again before taking it and heading across the hall into one of the bathrooms. It was this or sleep in your sweats, and that idea sounded entirely too suffocating to you.
You slip the nightie on and brush your teeth with your designated toothbrush you had there. Jisungs idea, after you had too much tequila one night and he diligently held your hair back as you got sick.
You sigh as you're leaving, and make your way towards Ji's room. Before you reach the door though, Chan walks out of his room. He's in a black tank top, and red boxer briefs... your eyes immediately trail down and go wide. His outline clear as day. But you change your view quickly, hopefully before he notices.
It doesn't help though, now all you're doing is eyeing his arms, the muscles cut throughout them. The veins that trail all the way down to his hands. God, his hands... What wouldn't you let those hands do to you...
He scratches the back of his head, and the movement snaps you out of your gaze. You find him staring back at you for a second before answering, "Sorry, I'll just..."
You start to shake your head, "No, no. No reason to apologize." You chuckle and start shifting on your feet. You feel the skirt of your nightie swaying with you. It opened the slit wider, and Chan immediately looked down at your exposed thigh. He inhaled quietly, sucking in air through his nose.
Any other day, you'd be scrambling to cover yourself. Feeling insecure and too bare. You don't know if it was the liquor in you, but tonight? Being on display? It turned you on.
You clenched your thighs together, almost involuntarily, and Chan didn't miss that.
Time seemed to be moving too slow. He stepped towards you, nearly closing the gap between you. He's only inches away, and looking down on you. His eyes have that dark, smoldery look again. He raised his hand and brushed the curls off your face and behind your ear. When he rests his palm against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his touch. It's so warm, and comforting. As if it was always meant for you.
When you open your eyes, you can clearly see the lust in his is only growing. He's not holding it back anymore, biting his lip as he stares at you. You almost whimper in anticipation.
"This is your opportunity to walk away if you're not okay with me kissing you." He says lowly.
You closed your eyes, and his lips met yours. The first few seconds were sweet and soft. Almost too innocent for the heat of the moment, but then he deepened it. He was pulling you by the waist into him, running his hands down and resting them on your ass. You could easily feel how hard he was for you, even through the thin fabrics. This time you let the whimper out, and he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. When you tried to do the same, he didn't give you the chance. Instead he slipped his tongue in. It was like he was lost in desire, and greedy for more. You couldn't help it when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.
He groaned and started backing you into the wall, his lips never leaving yours. He grabbed your thighs in each hand, and hoisted you up, slotting himself between them. Your legs naturally wrapped around him, and he started rocking his length against you. His pace was achingly slow, but still delicious.
You moaned and slipped a hand up to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back with his eyes closed. He half hisses, half groans, and you can't help but rock your hips against him harder, hoping to hear more. He grips your thigh tighter, and leans down to press a quick kiss to your neck, before licking and sucking on it. He's meeting each roll of your hips with rough thrusts. And even clothed, you feel how perfectly he's rubbing your clit.
Your head is so clouded with need. Need to be touched. Need to touch him. Need to feel him inside of you. You don't even think twice when he glides his hand up your stomach, and over your breasts. He gives one a light squeeze before moving up to wrap his fingers around your neck, and your brain loses all sense for a moment.
He's just resting his hand there, but you wish he'd do more. You're not sure if this man knows just how pliant you are for him right now.
Then he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, "Can I touch you?"
His warm breath gives you chills, and you nod your head as best as you can. But that doesn't suffice him, he stops his movements against you and his grip around your throat tightens. You think you could probably get off on it if he tightens his fingers just a bit more, but he doesn't, instead he says, "I'm going to need words, babygirl."
Your hips buck into him, and you breathe out a quiet "Yes. Please..."
With that, he yanks your face closer to his by your neck. He's squeezing ever so slightly tighter around your throat. He bites your lip and you groan. But he's quick to silence you with his tongue.
Letting go, he trailed his hand back down your body and to your core. Slowly he started to rub you through the thin lace. You were so sensitive, that when he found your clit and pressed a circle into it. You couldn't help but breathe out his name. He pushed your panties to the side, and when he felt you for the first time you felt him smile against your lips.
"Babygirl... fuck, you're so wet for me."
And as he whispered that, he slipped a finger in you. He set a steady pace, dragging against your walls with a curl. Each pump hitting your sweet spot, and the heel of his hand creating delightful friction against your swollen bud. His breathing was heavy in your ear, breaking through all your helpless whimpering. When he added a second finger, you couldn't hold back anymore.
"Chan..." You moaned louder this time, while simultaneously letting your head drop against the wall with a thud.
He pulled his lips off of you, eyes wide when he met yours. He started blinking as if he was coming back to reality. When he looked into your eyes again, he looked startled.
"What's wrong?" You pant, feeling hot and dizzy, wishing he would keep moving his hands.
Instead, he quickly slips his fingers out of you, and sets your feet on the floor. Then he backs away.
"I'm sorry, y/n... I don't know what came over me, that was incredibly inappropriate and out of character." Chan mumbled.
Your heart sinks, as you feel the sting of rejection. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, and you immediately felt the oncoming headache from holding them back. You shouldn't feel so emotional and upset. This was all spur of the moment. But you do, you feel devastated.
Regardless, you clear your throat, "I understand." You force an unsettling chuckle out, when a sob threatens to escape instead.
He puts on a blank face that feels so cold, and responds with "Don't forget to drink some water, stay hydrated... I'll be heading to bed now, you should too."
All you really want to say is don't leave, because you want to finish what was started. Because you've wanted this for so long. Because the box you kept away in the depths of your heart had ripped open once again. And all the languished emotions were here, front and center, aching to bear it all to him. To let him see. Confess. But that would be selfish, he's clearly uncomfortable with it all. He probably regrets it. An alcohol induced affair. In his eyes, a complete mistake.
So instead you say, "Okay."
Because that's all you can muster before the tears start to fall. You turn away, going back to facing Ji's door.
"Goodnight y/n... Sleep well." He says, and puts a tentative hand on your shoulder.
You shrug it off, and escape to Ji's bedroom. To your surprise he's sitting up in bed, and ushering you come to him with his arms open and bottom lip pouted out.
You run to him, a bit dramatically and fall a part in his arms. But you can't help it, you sealed these emotions away for too long. You were too hurt at the moment to even try pushing them back down.
Jisung is your life saver, he's comforting you, rubbing his fingers on your scalp and rocking you back and forth to try and calm you. He gives you time before you have to explain why exactly you're having a melt down.
"Chan's an idiot." He finally says.
And you lean back to look at him, confused on how quickly he's put two and two together.
"Well you weren't exactly quiet. Between your exaggerated moans and his animalistic grunting right outside my door, of course I heard it." He rolled his eyes jokingly and that earned a laugh from you.
You smacked him lightly, "I was lost in the moment... don't judge me."
"Jagi..." He says, and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, "You've liked him for so much longer than a moment."
Your heart starts pounding faster again. How could he know that. It's the one thing you've kept from him, from everyone, hell you even denied it to yourself for as long as possible. Was it that obvious? Who else knows? You go to speak, fear written across your face.
"No. You were not obvious, in fact you're an amazing actor. I'm sure none of the other members noticed, and definitely no one else at work knew." He answers before you can even get words out.
You nod slowly, "So then, how'd you know?"
He smiled proudly, "I'm a people watcher, I see all."
You smack him again, a little harder this time.
"Alright, alright, but I really did see all the looks you'd give him when no one else was watching... I know what longing looks like, and..." he trailed off.
You knew that wasn't all, "And?"
"Aaaaand... maybe that night you had that wet dream. You were moaning his name while humping the pillow..."
"You never told me that!" You shoved your head into your hands, distraught.
"Well I didn't want to embarrass you! I honestly didn't think you looked at any of us that way until then. Like I said, a good actor. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to."
You sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just a stupid crush, it'll pass."
"You're grown, you don't have to apologize to anyone for liking someone. But y/n," He cupped your cheek forcing you to look at him again, "this isn't just a simple crush, is it?"
With that question, you felt the tears spilling all over again. He pulled you to lay down with him, holding you tight against him and letting you cry it all out. Somewhere between his low humming, and your quiet weeping, you fell asleep.
When you blink the sleep away from your eyes the next morning, you're still entangled with Ji. He's literally wrapped around you like a koala.
You snort out a laugh and go to check the time on your phone. 7:30 am, entirely too early. You decide to try and fall back asleep, but last night's events rush back to you. Dread fills your chest, and your fight or flight kicks in. You're trying to gently escape Ji's hold, and not hyperventilate. The latter is more difficult but, since that man can sleep through anything, you were able to succeed.
You get changed back into your clothes, and leave a note for him saying that you're leaving and you'll text him when you get home. You can't bear to face Chan, let alone anyone else who might've heard you two last night. So you decide to skip out on the usual coffee and breakfast routine. You all have that tradition after a drunken night, but you know Ji will cover for you with everyone anyways.
You're rushing down the hall, wanting to grab your things and head for the door. Panic is starting to bubble over, and you're haphazardly covering yourself up to be unnoticeable. As you're slipping the mask over your face, a voice stops you.
"Morning... don't you want to stay for breakfast?"
You can't bring yourself to look at Chan, those words only setting the box of emotions in your heart on fire. You know he only means it in the way that it is an unbroken tradition. No matter how sick one of you gets, group breakfast is a must for recuperation. No one has skipped it in the months you've been doing it. We all take care of each other. But the idea makes your mouth bitter, because you wish it was just you two. Alone. Making breakfast the morning after earth shattering sex. And the fact he doesn't mean it in that way in the slightest makes tears prick back into your eyes.
Yes, you know you're being petty. You should stick it through for your friends. Take a page from Chan and act like nothing ever happened. You just can't find it inside you to care, you need to go home and lick your wounds before facing anyone here again. Call it childish, but you didn't care.
You're struggling to find words and just blurt out, "No thanks." And rush out the door, heading to the safety of your car.
You left Chan standing there. Unbeknownst to you, hurting just as much.
Special thank you to @jeonginsleftcheek who encouraged me through finishing this! I had finished it, and then accidentally deleted the entire ending. But in turn, that was a good thing I think... because now there'll be a part 2! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know and I'll start one! Feedback is always cherished, but be gentle pleeeeeeeease ♡
#bangchan x reader#bangchan x you#bangchan x y/n#bangchan x female reader#bangchan smut#bangchan angst#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x female reader#bangchan fanfic#bang chan fanfic#bang chan smut#bang chan angst#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz smut#skz angst#stray kids fanfic#stray kids smut#stray kids angst#smut#angst#fanfic#fan fiction#choking#hand fixation#bang chans hands#best friend!jisung#kaysungshine fics
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PASSENGER PRINCESS - connie springer x black!reader
summary: your... best friend takes you on your weekly late nights drives. but, this night is different: both of you are aware of the tension between y'all even though neither of you address it- until tonight. warnings: marijuana usage, best friends to lovers, eventual smut, yk car sex, french kissing
you just had got off work, and today really wore you out. it was the usual: your manager was getting on your nerves, there was this lady who tried to argue with you over the counter, and you had to train probably the most incompetent teen who had just got hired. all you knew is you need a blunt and a nap.
as you're laying on your bed ready to kick your clothes off, your phone buzzes. a text from connie, probably the only person you have patience for right now. it reads 'you home?' to which he knows you are, he found out when you get off work (because he listens, of course. totally didn't do his own research before you even told him directly). the minute you text back he's calling your phone, and you roll your eyes a bit 'cause you already know he wants to bother you now.
"hello, sir?" you can hear him smack his lips.
"man, you not even tired! i'm 'bout to head out anyway, just wanted to see what you was doin' right now."
"what, you trynna pick me up?"
"don't ask dumbass questions, you want me to pull up or not?"
you smile to yourself, and get up to change out your work clothes. "mmm... yea. c'mon."
"bet." *click*
soon enough, you see his car pull up from your apartment window and make your way out the door. as you walk down the stairs, you can't help but grin to yourself. no matter how bad of a mood you're in you would never miss an opportunity to chill with his fine as- you mean, the only tolerable dude you know.
you open the car door, the smell of weed hitting your nose. "yooo!" connie greets you with a smile, and a wood in hand. he already had started to roll up before you even made it to the car.
"nigga, what did i tell you 'bout smoking outside here?! if i get in trouble, it is not gonna be my fault!"
"you'on wanna hotbox?" he asks obviously, making you roll your eyes as you buckle in your seatbelt.
he starts the car up and places one hand on the wheel, ready to find an empty parking lot. he notices how you stare outside the window, hand resting on your cheek. "work piss you off?" you simply reply with, "why?" and he says "you not talkin' like usual and actin' all bothered."
he was right, work did piss you off. but for some reason, he was making you especially nervous today. "ion know, just my manager was on dick today. and i had to train this lil' boy he was pissing me off too. i know he a kid but damn, this why i ain't wanna be a trainer in the first place. i already work overtime most of the week i don't be having the energy for that shit, y'know? he keep giving me all these things to do like my schedule not already tight and i'm busting my ass just to still not get promoted yet." it was nice to get stuff of your chest like this because it really calmed you down. better yet, he knew how to calm you down. he knows how to listen while making sure you're still having a good time.
he eventually pulls up to a gas station. "well, don't let that shit bother you. you probably gon get promoted anyway cause you actually do your job. besides, if that don't happen, i been telling you to quit anyway." getting out the car, he pulls his hoodie over his head and comes to open your car door. "now c'mon." "i don't want noth-"
"i said c'mon, mama, i'm getting you snacks! and i want some too i'm not leavin' you in here."
having no argument, you get out and walk with him inside. since it is late, you're the only ones in there and there's only one cashier in sight. the mid aged lady smiles at the two of you as she notices the door bell ring. you both grab a drink of choice from the freezer and make your way to the counter. he sees your eyes dart to a bag of chips, and he picks it up to place it down before you grab his hand. "you don't have to, con." he ignores you, sliding it to the cashier to scan. "oh, stop it, you act like i haven't payed for your hair before."
"your total is $12.59"
he pulls a 20 out his pocket, handing it to her a taking his change. as you both leave, she says "by the way, you two are such an adorable couple!" but, before you can correct her, connie replies
"thank you, ma'am!"
now, you're both sat in the car laughing at the interaction that just happened. "thank you? for real?" you say through giggling. connie simply shrugs, "i ain't wanna make her feel bad!" in your mind, you began to question his response still. why didn't he say no? "i mean shit, you don't look bad so." he stops, furrowing his eyebrows and side eyeing you. "oh, if i was ugly you woulda had a issue?" you look to the side as he pretends to start to be offended. "well, yeah duh." he laughs in response, you following after. "alright, dude."
eventually, he pulls into a random parking lot. you see a bench and a sign, so you assume this is just some park in the area. luckily, no one's here anyway. connie's hand finds the back of your headboard as backs up into a spot. "found this spot like yesterday, nobody really around at night. plus it's chill, i wanna talk to you and ion wanna be bothered seeing other people around."
you can't help but focus on his jawline as he looks back, barely paying attention to the words coming out his mouth. "you even listenin' to me?" he snaps you back into reality. you turn back in your seat as you smack your lips and he chuckles, settling back into his seat. he picks up from where he started, rolling a blunt for the both of you. once he finishes he pulls out a lighter from his glove department, bringing it to his mouth. your eyes pay good attention to his eyes glancing down at the wood, his fingers, his mouth as he inhales, and the way he looks at you after he puffs out smoke.. god he looked fine.
"damn, you gon' take it?" he asks before you even get the chance to zone out completely. you mutter "my fault" before taking it and bringing it to your own mouth. now, its his turn to examine your movements. you don't even notice him eyeing you: the way your acrylics look as you hold it, your makeup still looking nice after a full day of work, your closed lids, the way you're slightly titling your head back... fine as fuck he thinks to himself. he takes off his hoodie as his body warms up. when you look back at him, you see his toned arms in the moonlight and your face begins to heat up. "you feel better, ma?" you nod in response, attempting to contain yourself. however, he can't help but examine you and you begin to notice. "so, what you wanna talk abt?"
he uncharacteristically fiddles with his thumb and looks down. "well shit..." you take another hit, still making eye contact with him. "after that thing just happened it kind of reminded me even more," he takes a pause. he puts his hand out, and you pass the blunt to him before he continues. he brings it to his lips, slowly inhaling. then as he exhales,
"what if we was a couple?"
you take a second, nearly being took out your high that barely started coming over you. "oh.. uhm-"
"not like that, just what if, y'know?" he quickly interjects to save himself from possible rejection. "yeah of course....well, ion know like i said you not ugly." you end up shrugging. sure, you guys are friends, but it would be a complete lie to say you haven't thought about it yourself. you had just never planned on voicing it. "well, what do that mean?"
"i don't know, you not ugly. if we talking hypothetically you my type i guess." you explain, avoiding saying how you actually feel. "i guess is crazyyy." he leans back in his seat, throwing one of arms behind his head as he takes another hit. "so, i'm yo type?"
you feel yourself start to smile. "now what do you mean, sir?" he simply laughs. "i think you pretty too, y/n." his statement catches you offguard, and you find yourself speechless. he only laughs more and looks straight at you, now half-lidded with red hued eyes. "you ain't notice me starin' at you for how many times you been in my car? and you the only girl i really be having in my car, you basically my passenger princess."
the name passenger princess makes you feel warm in a place that you are not willing to acknowledge. "...well, i been starin' at you too. surprised you ain't notice" he's quiet for a second, then looks down at his lap with a smirk. "i did." you smack his arm and he's now in a fit of laughter as he relishes in your embarrassment. after a minute, he smiles at his eyes cant help but focus on your lips. "what?"
he takes a minute to think over the choices he's about to make. and after some thinking, he comes to a conclusion. "...c'mere, mama."
you stare at him for a second, questioning if this is a good idea. but, the way his arms look after removing his hoodie and the way he's manspreading is definitely blinding your judgement. so, you find yourself climbing in his lap just slightly raised up enough so you're not actually sitting on him. but, his hand wraps around your waist and makes you sit down. "aw c'mon, why you bein so shy? it's just me." and he's right. this isn't even the first time you've been this close to him or sat on his lap. your friendship has very little... boundaries. or better yet, you two have a closer platonic relationship than others.
he stares back at you as he raises the blunt in his hand to your lips. you take a hit, blowing smoke directly in his face. you both smile and laugh softly, connie biting his bottom lip. "you so goddamn fine, i swear."
all you respond with a soft giggle as you lean closer into his chest. he wraps an arm around your shoulders and holds eye contact. finally, you both slowly lean in, closing the distance between your faces. his lips instantly catch yours and set a steady pace. he tastes like soda and indica, but right now that is so delicious to you. subconsciously, you slowly move your hips on his laps in rhythm with the movement of your lips on his. he lowly grunts and pulls away. "woah, what you trynna do?" he mumbles, eyeing your body on top of his. "shit, i been holding in a lot, con... i'm on what you on."
his eyes find your thighs, then comes back up to your red, lazy eyes. "you sure, ma?" you bite your lip, "yeah... you want to?" a soft chuckle leaves his lips and he leans back in, centimeters away from your lips. "i been wantin' to do so much to you, y/n, i wanna make you mine.."
his lips crash onto yours and his hands immediately find your ass, massaging the plush skin hidden by your leggings. your tongue finds it way into his mouth and he matches you, tongues dancing with each other. you can feel his boner from under you, and you hope he can't feel you throbbing on top of him. he pulls away again, and tugs at the hem of your leggings.
"can i move these, baby?" he asks. you nod, and he pulls them down to your knees. you shimmy them off knowing you're better off without them restricting your ankles. in return, he scoots you back and he unzips his pants, pulling them down to reveal his stiff hard dick under his boxers. nearly drooling, you eagerly move back up and kiss him again. you grind your hips on his lap once more, moaning into his lips at the feeling. his hand go to guide you and kneed on your ass. he groans into the kiss, you making him harder than he already was.
then, you pull away. he takes a second to look down and notices the wet spot forming on his boxers. he smirks to himself, "damn, baby you that wet?" you look away, still grinding on him. he laughs to himself at your reaction then slides his hand down, pulling your underwear to the side. this thumb finds your clit and you gasp at the sudden contact. he rubs slowly, eyes glued down. he pays attentions to the way your hips begin to buck upward at his touch. then, he slowly slides two fingers into your entrance. "o-oh fuck-!" you moan out. looking back up to you, he licks his lips and focuses on you. "like that, mama?"
you hum in response, eyes closing with pleasure. grinning, he curls his fingers and earns a louder moan sliding out your lips like butter. the sound of you and your wetness as he plays with you is music to his ears. "c-connie..." as you moan out for him, he perks up teasingly. "hm, baby?" you open your mouth to speak, and cut yourself off with another moan. "i- fuck.. i need you"
"need what, babygirl?"
you whine, knowing he's making you say it. "..need you t' fuck me, bae.."
with that, he slips his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and keeping eye contact as he licks them clean. while he does this he lets you pull him out his boxers, dick springing out. you already had a feeling, but he's big. you stroke him slowly, taking notice of how he squirmed in your touch. "fuck, y/n.." his hips buck upward and his lids close for a second, slightly throwing his head back. you end up throwing off your underwear, leaving you in only your hoodie you left the house in.
"take yo time, okay?" he says softly as you lift up. you nod, and finally begin to sink down onto him. he bites his lips as he feels your slick coating him as you slide his dick into you. your hands grip his shoulders as you sit all the way down, feeling every inch of him. you both moan at the feeling. after a few seconds, you start moving up and down on him. your head falls into the crook of his neck, moaning onto his skin and sending chills down his spine. "f-fuck...baby.."
his hands find your hips, following your movements. "damn baby, just like that.. ride that shit.." you pick up the pace and your grip on him tightens. he now goes to grips your ass, helping move you up and down on all his length. "fuck-! 's so big.." you're whining and moaning into his shoulder, working yourself on him.
connie starts to move his hips in unison with you. "yeah, you like that shit? he starts grinning, looking at your face buried into him. "mhm.. love this dick.." your slick is staining his boxers even more as it drips down while you coat his dick in arousal. "i know, mama, this pussy takin' me so well... you wet f' me." he smacks your ass, earning a small gasp out of you. "look at me, ma."
you lift your head and he smiles at you, admiring your current state. "sexy as fuck.." he moves to massage your hips before pecking your lips. "love you, princess." your heart flutters, as well as your pussy, and your lips form a small smile. "love you, pa" you circle your hips on him and he hums with satisfaction, curses falling out his mouth. "yeah, just like that.. so fuckin' good.."
you ride him with intent, doing it like you had always did in your fantasies. "you feel so good.." you moan, your hole gripping him tighter. "fuck.. i know, ma, i know. takin' this dick so well."
a knot begins to form in your stomach and your eyes squint again as you look back at him. "baby, 'm gonna cum.." you moan, now moving up and down faster. in response, he begins fucking up into you at the same pace.
"mhm c'mon, nut all on this dick." your moans grow in volume and you become putty in his hands. "fuckfuckfuck!" you cry out as your eyes close shut, and you're slamming your ass down on him as you chase your high. he moans as he watches you, holding you tighter. "yeah, there you go mama..." soon, you begin writhing on him as you cream on top of him, painting his dick white. you can feel the strings of your own cum as he continues to thrust into you, reaching his own orgasm. "c-connie! fuck!"
"'m close baby, 'm close, i know." his breathes are frantic and his head is thrown back. "holy fuck, baby.. shit-!" he pulls out as he jerks himself, releasing himself on your ass. you both lay on each other, out of breath as you come down. he looks at you, a smile growing on his face. "don't you go fuckin' somebody else like that, you mine now."
you smile back tiredly, leaning in to kiss him. this kiss is slow, and loving. you pull away, "and you mine."
© rumisgf
#i was listening to brent and pnd the entire time writing this think that def influenced the tone#persian rugs came on and BOYY#connie springer#connie x black reader#connie x reader#connie springer x reader#connie smut#aot smut#aot x black reader#connie x black reader smut#connie x reader smut#attack on titan#black reader#black reader smut#eren yeager#jean kirstein#mikasa ackerman#levi ackerman#connie springer smut#sasha braus#sasha blouse#jean kirschstein#connie springer x y/n#connie springer x black reader smut#connie springer x you
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unwelcome • pt 2
read part one here
stepdad!mingyu x fem!reader
words: 3.8k
warnings: this is pretty fucked up. stepfather relationship, infidelity, mingyu n u are not good people rly, brat/brat tamer dynamics, mean hard dom!mingyu, daddy kink, dirty talk, punishment, pussy slapping, gyu refers to you as ‘daughter’ and himself as ‘father’ in a sexual context a couple times, not really dubcon but there’s certainly a power imbalance, breeding, pregnancy mention, heavy degradation, choking etc. this is pretty intense.
you’ve been appropriately warned of the content of this fic and are solely responsible for what you consume. don’t like, don’t read. hate is blocked.
-
it’s been a week since the incident in the kitchen— since mingyu had finally snapped, since you felt his firm hands and long fingers restraining and touching you as he pleased. since the event that you thought would have changed everything with your stepfather. except it hasn’t.
mingyu has said nothing about what transpired that day, and neither have you. you tried to, once, but a hand around your neck and whispered warning that “that wasn’t what you thought it was” had shut you down quickly. he’s still strict, but it’s from a distance now— he doesn’t scold or reprimand you, but nor does he praise or really interact with you in any way. you never thought you would, but you miss it. you miss him.
your mother is gone, again. she seems to have picked up on the energy shift in the house over the past week and, like you, doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. so she’s chosen to stay away, assuming that whatever’s going on will resolve itself as it always does. you had hoped it would too— except mingyu won’t let you get near him.
today you’ve been mulling it over; holed up in your room with your blanket around your shoulders. you’d gone down earlier to grab a piece of toast; you’d felt your stepfather’s eyes on you the whole time you were in the kitchen, but you paid him no mind, grabbing your toast and quickly retreating back upstairs without a word. you wish you hadn’t heard his sigh of relief when you walked away.
you can’t live like this anymore, you know that. whatever thick, immobilizing tension is separating you two, pulling at one and pushing at the other, needs to break. and you will break it, even if just to have back the annoying, obnoxious man you used to hate. it’s better than… whatever this is.
you discuss it at length with your best friend, pearl, over drinks at your favourite bar downtown. she’s the only one you could turn to with something like this— the only one you can trust not to judge you. not that you don’t deserve to be judged; you’ve done an awful thing, after all. you’ve allowed your mother’s husband to touch and finger you. you’ve not just helped him to betray your mother, but you’ve betrayed her yourself.
you’re past that now, though. you’ll make it up to her later. and if mingyu’s willing to do that to his own step daughter then clearly he’s not the right man for your mom anyway. it doesn’t make you feel a whole lot better.
but pearl doesn’t judge you; she never does. you’ve known each other since you were babies, for one, but more importantly, she has (to your annoyance), been saying from the start how utterly delectable your new stepfather is. if anything, she’s probably annoyed she didn’t get to fuck him first.
she listens silently and thoughtfully as you run her through the events of last week, tapping her manicured nails against the wood of the table. by the time you finish, a sly, knowing smile has reached her face.
“isn’t it obvious?” she asks.
you hesitate, confused. “isn’t what obvious?”
“what you need to do,” she says. “to fix this.”
“not to me,” you say. “i mean, i need to fuck him, i think. but i can’t do that when he barely even talks to me now.”
she shrugs, twirling the little cocktail umbrella between her fingers. “so make him jealous.”
“what?”
“piss him off, y/n,” she says. “bring someone home and let him see that you’re moving on. i guarantee you he won’t like it.”
you slump back in your seat, thinking for a moment. it’s a good plan— if it goes right. if it goes wrong, well… you doubt anything could be worse than this. “okay,” you say. “i’ll do that.”
it takes two more days to find the nerve to bring home a boy from your campus. you were careful to choose someone you wouldn’t have to interact with after today if it all went catastrophically wrong, which means the TA in your thesis group who makes eyes at you from across the room is off the table (sorry, wonwoo), but who you’ve seen and interacted with enough that it won’t seem weird when you invite them home with you.
you have no real intentions with joshua, but he’s nice enough, around your age and very horny, so you figure he’ll do fine; indeed, he can barely keep his hands off you as you walk into the house and accidentally-on-purpose make your presence known with a loud laugh. his wandering hands only leave you when your stepfather rounds the corner into the lobby.
he’s dressed in his pyjamas still, and he looks tired and irritated until he spots the boy next to you— and the non-existent, certainly non-platonic gap between you. in an instant he’s awake and the irritation is gone, replaced with anger. his palms twitch at his side, desperate to break the calm demeanor that he’s hanging onto by a thread. little slut.
“what’s going on here?” he asks. he tries to keep his voice cool and leveled but the resulting sound is low and dangerous, like a predator about to strike.
joshua swallows and you feel him tensing up nervously beside you. whether it’s to calm him down or to provoke mingyu further, you're not sure, but you grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. joshua relaxes slightly, and mingyu’s eyes narrow.
“hi,” joshua finally says. “i’m jo–”
“i don’t give a rat's ass who you are,” mingyu says sharply. “tell me what you’re doing here and what your hands are doing on my daughter, now.”
joshua’s eyes widen and he seems to shrink further into himself, wishing he was anywhere else. “look, man,” he says, “i don’t want any trouble. we were just gonna hang out.”
“yeah?” mingyu asks. “not anymore. plans changed, i’m afraid. we’re busy this evening.”
“oh yeah?” you challenge. “busy with what?”
mingyu says nothing, just raises a cool eyebrow at you with a blank expression. you feel joshua’s gaze flicker between the two of you in confusion and discomfort.
clearly, he wants nothing to do with this. you don’t blame him; and he’s served his purpose anyway. you’ll make it up to him another day. buy him a coffee or something. doesn’t really matter right now.
“i’m just gonna go,” he mutters. he catches your eye as he walks past, face contorted half in sympathy and half in fear— fear for you, it seems. if only he knew that you’re halfway to getting exactly what you wanted.
“see you around, josh,” you say, but your eyes are already locked with your stepfather.
the door slams shut and he’s on you instantly, hand on your neck as you’re shoved harshly against the wall. the impact is so sharp and sudden that it sends the small painting hung up next to you crashing down, but neither of you notice; not when you’re looking at him with such lust and he’s looking at you with such ire. you could cut the tension between you with a knife, but even then, you’re not sure if it would break. the tiny gap between his face and yours and the heavy breathing as he looks you up and down is electrifying like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
“min—”
“shut up,” he says. “i’ve had it with you.” his voice is almost shaking with rage and he stares at you for a moment before his large hand impacts the side of your face. you shriek in pain and surprise, reaching to clutch your stinging cheek but he grabs your wrist with the hand that had just slapped you, holding it firmly above your head.
“fucking slut,” he says. “parading your little boy toy through my house as if i wouldn’t know what you’re doing. debasing yourself like a cheap whore. is that what you thought i wanted?”
your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. you both know the answer but you don’t want to say it. he shakes his head, chuckling dryly.
“no, it’s not,” he says. “because you never cared or even thought about what i might want. only ever thought about yourself, didn’t you?”
you feel yourself shrink under his gaze and the venom of his words and he smiles briefly. his eyes roam your body, lingering on your chest that rises and falls with your heavy, panicked breathing. fuck, he’s practically drunk on the power he has over you right now.
his grip on your neck tightens momentarily— just enough to remind you of how small and breakable you are under his grip. “too fucking cock drunk to think about anything else,” he says lowly. “fuck. i should‘ve made your friend stay so i could fuck you in front of him, shouldn’t i? teach you both a lesson.”
his words hit you in the stomach, knots of arousal twisting in your gut. you know he sees the way your thighs clench together at the image. “i…” you trail off; you have nothing to say. he knows it too. he lifts his hand from your neck to stroke your cheek with a surprising tenderness.
“pretty thing,” he mutters. “my little girl.” he’s silent for a moment, eyes raking over your face, so small and fragile in his strong hands. his grip tightens, squeezing your jaw. “apologise,” he says.
you frown, confused. “for what?”
he snorts like it’s obvious. “provoking me, for one,” he says. “using that poor boy to get a rise out of me. and being a rude, bratty little girl simply because i wasn’t giving you enough attention.”
you roll your eyes before you can think it through and he’s quick to react, his hand slapping you again before returning to your neck. “no respect,” he mutters. “you obviously need an attitude adjustment. and that’s exactly what daddy’s gonna give you.”
you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the name he’s given himself, but it’s no use. your stepfather is far too tuned in, far too in control, to let anything slip past him. his lips curl into a thin, sneering smile. “liked that, did you?” he asks. “you like being fucked by your fucking father?”
“mingyu,” you whine. your face burns at the humiliation of not just his words, but the truth of them— mingyu is your stepfather. he’s married to your mother. and you’d do anything to have your hands on his dick right now.
“no,” he says. “you don’t get to call me that. if you could act like a mature fucking adult then maybe i’d let you but you can’t, can you? you’ve been a little fucking brat since i met you and it’s about time i treated you like one.”
there’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen since that day in the kitchen, only now it burns both brighter and darker than before. as he finally releases his grip of you against the wall, only to drag you by the hair through to the living room, you get the feeling you’re about to see mingyu in a way even the episode in the kitchen couldn’t have clued you into.
he shoves you down, watching you stumble to the floor with a surprised shriek. you sit yourself up, leaning on your hands as you stare up at him where he towers above you— tall, imposing, and terrifying.
he’s silent, watching you closely before he sighs and walks over to sit himself down on the couch. “come here.”
your legs are shaking as you struggle to pull yourself up from the floor. his jaw twitches, fists clenching. you’ve never looked so pathetic, never felt so humiliated and you still have all your clothes on. he reaches out to pull you towards him and you stumble forwards until you land on his lap— over his lap. you feel your short skirt flip up over your ass from the sudden motion, exposing your black lace panties. he chuckles, grabbing one of your ass cheeks and squeezing it firmly. your breath hitches.
“mm,” hums appreciatively. “this is how i like to see you, daughter mine. bent over and ready to submit.”
you squirm, thighs clenching at the low timbre of his voice; the deepening of it as he calls you his daughter. jesus. this is so fucked up.
his finger trails the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your pussy. he fingers at the hem of your panties, right next to your pussy, watching the way you react to his touch as he teases the edge of your underwear like he’s inspecting it. he sees the wetness seeping through the black fabric and chuckles. “that desperate, baby?” he asks.
you say nothing, still processing the situation you find yourself in and he slaps your ass harshly, making you jolt. “answer,” he says darkly. “or i’ll just spank you and send you to bed without release. is that what you want, little girl?”
“no,” you gasp, shaking your head fervently. you won’t deny it; the idea of being spanked by mingyu, not for sex, not for foreplay, but solely for punishment, is embarrassingly tantalising. but you’ve been waiting too long to have him touch you like this again and if you don’t get to feel his dick inside you tonight you might actually go insane. “no, i don’t,” you say.
he laughs, pinching the sensitive skin of your thigh and rubbing the red mark soothingly. “look at you,” he chuckles. “so bratty and disrespectful but so quick to submit once i use a bit of force. can’t believe i wasted my time on your mother when i had this little kitten here waiting for me.”
his words are like cold water as they wash over you— your mother. this isn’t just your stepfather— this is your mother’s husband. this is the man she loves and relies on, who swore to be hers for the rest of his life. and you’re bent over his lap and trying desperately not to grind against his thick, strong thigh. you’re the worst daughter ever.
and if you weren’t before, you certainly are when you mewl out a desperate, “please, daddy, fuck me.”
“hm,” he says. “such good manners, i’m almost tempted.” his finger trails along your panties before finally sliding over your covered pussy. you gasp, squirming again when he ghosts over your clit. he presses down a little, enough to make you pulse slightly, then lets go. “what a shame you had to be such a brat.”
you make a noise of confusion, craning your head around to see mingyu sliding your panties down to your ankles, exposing you fully to him with your skirt by now halfway up your back. you catch his gaze and he raises an eyebrow. “turn around,” he says. “i’m gonna teach you how to fucking act around me.”
swallowing, you obey, turning around to bury your head in the pillows of the couch. you feel him raise the thigh you’re bent over, giving him easier access. you close your eyes, bracing for the first hit against your ass. you’re ready for it, you think— what you’re not ready for, is for him to suddenly tilt you forwards and start slapping your pussy instead.
the first strike makes you shriek and he gives you no time to recover before continuing. your pussy is far more sensitive than your ass, not to mention dripping, but he hits you with the same brute strength he’d used on your ass and face. the pain is white hot and searing and you hear the impact of each slap; and the wet, squelching sound of his hand against fluid gushing from you. strings of cream are connecting to his hand, following it each time he pulls away to wind up for another hit. you feel him hardening beneath you and adjust yourself a little without realising, trying to grind against his cock subconsciously. he grabs your waist to tug you back into place and delivers an extra hard swat right on your clit.
it’s so painful and so arousing that you don’t even notice when it’s over. not until he’s pulled you off his lap and pressed his leaking cock against his entrance do you finally realise what’s happening. he’s going to fuck you. finally.
he leans over where you’ve found yourself on all fours on the couch, lips pressing against your ear. “ask me to fuck you, baby,” he whispers. you gasp as he rubs himself against you and he chuckles. “c’mon, filthy girl. ask me nicely.”
“p-please,” you stutter. all your nerves are on fire and pushing against your skin, senses heightened as he slowly starts to push into you. “more,” he groans.
“daddy,” you gasp. his hands are on your waist as he guides himself into you, moaning at the way you sob his name. “fuck,” he grunts.
when he finally gets in all the way it’s overwhelming; mingyu is huge, beyond huge, and you’ve never been this full before. you feel him pressing against your cervix even without moving yet there’s none of the pain or discomfort that someone of his size would usually bring. it feels right. like you were made to take him and he was made to take you.
he starts moving without a word; slow thrusts that get faster and harder until he’s completely pounding you, fucking into you desperately like a wild animal. he sounds like one, too; you both do, yelling and grunting as you pushing yourselves deeper into the other. his grip on your waist is bruising but comfortable and you sink into it, lost in pleasure.
you chant his name on repeat — “daddy, daddy, daddy” — the only word that comes to you as he fucks you open. he leans over you, pressing his face into the back of your neck and kissing down the top of your back before straightening up again, angling himself to go deeper.
“you love this, don’t you?” he spits. “love being whored out by your stepfather. is that why you moved back home? to make yourself available to me?”
you groan at his words, clenching around him. you both know that’s not true, but it may as well be— you certainly won’t be moving back out again anytime soon now. you want to stay with him, be available for him— a waiting hole for him to use. fuck, you're depraved, but so is he; he groans when you say it out loud, thrusting harder. “that’s right,” he grunts. “just a hole f’me. just a fuck toy for your daddy, yeah?”
you choke, crying out when he slams into you again. you reach your arms back, trying to touch him and he grabs them, folding them against your back and holding you down.
“i knew it,” he laughs. “knew from the moment i met you that you just needed some dick. knew it had to be mine, fuck.”
“yes,” you gasp. “yours, yours, gyu, has to be yours.” you’re babbling and delirious now and he’s fucking high on it. he presses more of his weight onto you, trapping you beneath him— as if you’d ever want to get away.
“good girl,” he whispers. “i’m gonna fuck you every fucking day. every time that bitch leaves the house you’re gonna come and fucking present yourself to me, understand? gonna come offer up your holes to daddy.”
“yes,” you whine. “always, daddy.”
“i’m never fucking your mother again,” he says. “i’ve got this perfect little pussy now instead and it’s all mine.”
by now the sensations of his dick slamming into you have become a constant rhythm, allowing you to cling to it as you go dumber and dumber on his cock. you could stay like this forever; split open and abused while he spits filth into your ear; but you can tell from the clenching of your pussy and the throbbing of his cock that you’re both close to the edge. he grunts, grabbing your hair to pull your head backwards and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “good girl,” he says, movements speeding up. “i’m gonna cum in you. gonna put a fucking kid in you. you want that?”
you know mingyu knows you’re on birth control; he’s seen the pills you keep in the medicine cabinet and heard you discuss your prescription with your mother. but fuck, the idea of him getting you pregnant, your own stepfather knocking you up, is so twisted and exhilarating that it propels you towards your orgasm. you feel yourself releasing over his dick, drenching the couch and he makes a noise of delight. “didn’t know you squirted, baby,” he moans. “that’s so fucking perfect, god.”
“daddy,” you moan. “mingyu.” you’ve gone limp on his dick now, fucked out and exhausted but you’re smart enough to recognise that this stops when he’s finished. he’s almost there, though, you can tell; his grip on your tightens, moans getting louder until he spits out a “clench, slut,” and releases into you the moment you obey.
he collapses on top of you once he’s done, face pressed into your back. you’re both filthy; covered in sweat and cum and drool but you don’t care. you’ve never felt so satisfied in your fucking life.
mingyu pulls you into his arms and you relax into his hold, breathing deeply against his chest. it’s perfect peace, utter bliss— while it lasts. minutes later he jumps up, looking panicked.
you stare up at him in confusion. “mingyu?”
“your mother’s coming back,” he says. your stomach drops. “in 30 fucking minutes.”
panic takes over and you force yourself to your feet; it’s dizzying and disorients you for a moment, but mingyu is quick to catch you when you stumble, helping you steady yourself before he releases you. mercifully, most of the mess is on the two of you; the couch is pretty much clean. mingyu orders you into the shower and you obey, scrubbing away all the evidence of what you’ve just done. you hear him run past your room a few minutes later, and when you emerge, you’re both clean and in your pyjama. only the way he looks at you as you walk downstairs together gives away what’s happened.
your mother looks tired when she walks through the door, but smiles sweetly when she spots her husband and daughter waiting in the kitchen for her. she plants a long, wet kiss on mingyu’s lips and you feel your stomach twist in envy. looking away, you turn back to see his eyes on you, dark and scrutinising as your mother sits down at the table.
“how are my loves?” she asks. you smile weakly at her, wracked with guilt but at the same time wishing she would just get the fuck out so you can fuck her husband again.
mingyu puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it fondly, but his eyes never leave you as he speaks.
“we’re perfect.”
-
requests open! feedback, reblogs and comments are appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤
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#svt hard thoughts#svt hard hours#svt smut#seventeen smut#mingyu smut#kpop smut#kim mingyu smut#mulloey writes
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The holiday season is quite lonely for Simon 'Ghost Riley'. Gaz, Johnny, and Price might not have the best relationships with their family, but it's decent enough for them to take time off for Christmas and spend time with their folks.
More importantly, they're still alive for them to spend time with, something that can't be said for Simon's family.
He thought you'd take time off, too. You're a bubbly American lass, not only the only female of the 141, but the youngest. A hacker, hand picked by Kate herself. Despite your brutal profession, nothing indicated you had any baggage you were lugging around.
So, imagine his shock when you're one of the only poor assholes left on base.
Simon wouldn't lie, he was curious. You weren't his favorite person, too close to his Johnny for comfort, but he still wanted to ask what the hell you were doing there. He didn't, though, knowing it'd be cheeky, since he'd never divulge his past to you.
At least, he never intended to.
Come Christmas Eve, you and Simon were drinking together and playing a game of cards. The conversation flows easily, and you even laughed at his stupid dad jokes. As the evening dragged on, the liquor loosened inhibitions. Somehow, you confessed you didn't particularly care about patriotism or terrorism, but needed a way out of your home. He confessed the military was all he was good at, and he wasn't interested in learning new skill sets.
Soon, you two ditched cards for twenty questions. Normally, he wouldn't agree, but normally, he wouldn't enjoy your company, so why not? He wasted no time diving into your past, asking why you needed to leave home. You replied your mother had died young, your father was shitty, and his many girlfriends were allowed to do whatever they want with you. The military allowed you an easy out, and a way to pay for school. You kept the energy, asking why he didn't go home for Christmas. He answered his flat was lonely, he had no friends outside the 141, and his family was dead. That confession was more than most knew; only Price was aware.
After a while, the questions became more sexual. He can't remember how it started, something about him having a fat arse. Whatever it was, the night ended with you in his bed, your plush cunt snug around his cock. He should've felt bad about bedding a drunk, vulnerable woman a decade his junior, but you mewled so pretty for him, he couldn't care.
Neither of you were under the impression that it meant anything, that it was more than a drunken one night stand. Some might call it a mistake, a complication, an abuse of power, blah blah blah. But, fuck, he had no regrets. And for some odd reason, the coming days didn't seem quite so daunting.
#fem reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#task 141#141 task force#the 141#141!Reader#holiday fic
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