#not actually called apology dance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

createserenity · 1 year ago

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I have two more half written metas that go with this and I really should sort out getting them finished and posted.

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship dynamic fascinates me and what fascinates me even more is how people perceive them, partly because I seem to have a much more optimistic view of their dynamic than a lot of what I read suggests they do.

With that in mind I started trying to unpick how I see their dynamic and why and what I ended up with was a series of rambles on various aspects, including confidence, trust, silliness and what they ask of each other. This one is about what they ask of each other and why their relationship isn't some weird one-sided thing where Crowley gives Aziraphale everything he could possibly want or ask for.

I see a lot of posts and things suggesting Crowley always rolls over and does anything Aziraphale asks of him. I don’t know to what extent most people really believe this or if it’s just a fun joke (and I’m not saying that’s bad, I think it’s a fun joke too, I love reading all that stuff and it makes me laugh). The point I wanted to make here though is that I don’t think it’s true and also why I don’t think it’s true.

Everything from here on out is my opinion, but I won’t keep stating that in order to make it more easily readable, just take it as a given. If your opinion is different that’s absolutely fine, I love that we can all see this stuff in different ways depending on our experiences and personalities, it’s why the fandom is so fun. (It’s also why my opinion on so many things in season two ricochets wildly from one theory to another).

So back to Crowley and Aziraphale – I don’t think Aziraphale walks all over Crowley, or certainly not to the extent that people sometimes think he does. Also Crowley doesn’t and wouldn’t allow himself to be walked all over anyway. Why is this even relevant? Because I’ve seen people say that in the final 15 minutes Aziraphale finally asked Crowley to do something that pushed him over the edge and that Aziraphale was shocked when Crowley didn’t roll over and do it because Crowley always does what Aziraphale asks. This isn’t at all true for a start, but also this view tends to include a second assumption, which is that their relationship is one-sided and Aziraphale never does anything for Crowley, that he dismisses him and takes him for granted, which also is not true in a lot of ways. I think it’s a fundamental misinterpretation of their relationship dynamic.

First of all why can Crowley’s actions be interpreted as just rolling over and doing whatever Aziraphale wants? Well, the answer to that is three-fold – firstly Crowley is a genuinely unselfish in many ways, he does things for people because that’s the way he is, it doesn’t make him a pushover, it just makes him nice. Secondly he loves Aziraphale deeply. Whether he knows it or not doesn’t matter, he cares for Aziraphale and wants him to be happy. This isn’t the same as being a complete doormat, it’s simply compromising with the person you are in a relationship with and occasionally prioritising them over yourself. Both these things come together in the third thing, which is that Crowley’s love language is acts of service – he enjoys doing nice things for Aziraphale, he enjoys rescuing him, or going along with him and letting him have his own way, so why not do it? The point is he’s never railroaded into it by Aziraphale, it’s always a deliberate choice. He is literally saying, I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

How does Aziraphale see this behaviour?

Well that’s a tricky one, because in many ways Aziraphale is the more complex character, not least because he changes the most over the course of their history together. Is there a slight element of him taking Crowley for granted in some of their interactions, especially in season two? Possibly, but mostly I don’t think that’s it at all. When someone gives you things because their love language is acts of service you develop a (mostly sub-conscious) confidence in that relationship dynamic and if you also have confidence in yourself (which Aziraphale absolutely does – I’ll write more on this another time) then when you want something you ask for things. You ask not because you learn to expect, but because you think you’re worthy of asking and you think that your relationship is strong enough to stand up to the ask. I ask my husband for things all the time, sometimes they’re things I know he’ll give me – these are easy asks (I don’t just mean physical objects, I also mean acts of service such as helping me with something), sometimes though I’ll ask for things knowing he probably won’t give me that thing or without having a clue what his answer will be – these are harder asks, the sort you don’t do early on in relationships because they might break it either in one go or over time. Sometimes a hard ask results in me getting what I want, sometimes it results in a bit of back and forth before I get what I want, sometimes I get a no and I’m temporarily annoyed or upset, sometimes I get a no and I accept it because I knew it was the most likely outcome.

The point is that I ask, and so does Aziraphale. You ask because you have confidence that you are worthy of the ask and also that your relationship is strong enough to bear the request, even if the answer is no. Can a no still be annoying or upsetting? Yes absolutely. Can a no still be wrong on the part of the other person? Also yes. The point is that sometimes the no isn’t wrong and it doesn’t necessarily break the relationship. By the time season two comes along Aziraphale is confident enough in his relationship with Crowley to feel it can bear the weight of him asking.

So what happens when he asks? Does Crowley roll over?

Well no, he doesn’t. One big example of this is right at the beginning of the series, in episode one. Here Aziraphale makes a massive ask of Crowley and he knows it’s a big ask. Even before he tells Crowley what the problem is he’s aware of the possibility of a no. “Is it something I can help you with?” Crowley sayss, and Aziraphale merely shrugs. It’s not because Nina is there, she’s gone by that point. It’s also not because he doesn’t have faith in Crowley’s ability to help him, he always has faith in Crowley’s abilities (this is a whole other thing on trust). What he’s doubting is whether Crowley will help him. It’s why they’re meeting in the café, not the bookshop. He wants to break this one to Crowley a bit at a time – there’s a problem and I need help. I want your help, it’s why I called you, but you aren’t going to like it and I’m not even sure whether you will help so I’m establishing that I need help first, rather than showing you Gabriel immediately, so that you aren’t completely surprised when I present the whole problem to you.

Once they go to the bookshop and Crowley is confronted with Gabriel he offers the help he feels able to give by saying that he’ll drive Gabriel somewhere and dump him. He’s stating his willingness to help (which is important later), but for now he’ll only help in one specific way. What he isn’t willing to do is any more than that, not even for Aziraphale.

Help me take care of Gabriel. Help me sort this mess out, Aziraphale says, and what does Crowley say? No. Absolutely not. You’re on your own with this one. Even after Aziraphale practically begs him for help, complete with puppy dog eyes and the magic word, “I’d love you to help me,” Crowley still says no. That is not the reply of someone who lets themselves be walked all over or who rolls over every time the angel they’re in love with flutters their eyelashes.

Okay so what about the fact that he returns? Well, the stakes have been raised: for a start Aziraphale is now directly in danger, which alters the balance in favour of helping him, and remember he was already willing to help, he said as much, but he was previously only willing to help in one way. Now that’s changed. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do for someone you love when the stakes are raised is a perfectly normal rection in a relationship and does not indicate an unhealthy dynamic. Crowley has now realised that getting rid of Gabriel is no longer an option - his preferred plan (dumping Gabriel somewhere) will no longer work, so the only choice is now Aziraphale’s plan of keeping him in the bookshop and taking care of him.

This is why he returns.

A quick note on the call

Just backtracking a bit here – when Aziraphale calls Crowley to ask him for help Crowley agrees to be over in two minutes. It’s instant, no questions asked and at first glance looks like Aziraphale calls and Crowley comes running just because. But nope. Later we are very clearly told that Crowley knows something is wrong the moment he picks up the phone and Aziraphale starts speaking, “This was your ‘Something’s Wrong’ voice.” Crowley already knows there’s a problem and what do you do when your closest friend calls you and tells you about a problem? You try to help. Whether that’s advice, comfort, physically going around to help out or whatever the situation calls for. Of course Crowley says he’ll be there in two minutes, he doesn’t exactly have anything else on and his friend has just indirectly told him something is wrong. He’d be a pretty shitty person/entity if he didn’t agree to drop round and try to help.

So what about the apology dance?

This whole interaction, that many people say indicates how under the thumb he is actually shows us the exact opposite. What’s the first thing Crowley says when Aziraphale asks him to do the dance? “I don’t do the dance.” This tells us a hell of a lot about their relationship dynamic up to this point – for a start Aziraphale has clearly done the dance before, at Crowley’s request, and he lists off the occasions. The dance is silly and slightly demeaning and Aziraphale has done it several times for Crowley, whilst Crowley has never done it, yet somehow we read this whole scene as Crowley being the whipped one? Um. No. Also heavily implied in Crowley’s, “I don’t do the dance” statement is, You’ve asked me to do this before, I’ve always said no because I don’t want to. You’ve always accepted my no before and I want (expect!) you to accept it this time.

But this time Aziraphale doesn’t accept the no. Just like Crowley wouldn’t go along with his plan earlier, Aziraphale now won’t go along with Crowley’s no. Clearly he has done so in the past, but this time their dynamics are different. They’ve been much more open about their friendship for the past four years, they’ve both accepted that they are at least close friends, if not more. They’ve saved the world together and saved each other. They both acknowledge they “carved (this existence) out for ourselves” and that brings strength to their relationship. Now that Aziraphale has more confidence in what they are to each other, he takes that confidence and tests the limits of what Crowley will do for him, to push them more towards equality. Why should he always be the one to do the dance? Crowley responds by acquiescing not because he would just roll over and do anything for Aziraphale but because he recognises three things. Firstly that Aziraphale is pushing and that this is new and that this means something to him in the context of their relationship, secondly because he reluctantly accepts Aziraphale’s point that it isn’t really fair that he never does it, and finally because the request for him to do the dance isn’t about him refusing to help (Aziraphale was never certain he would), it’s about the fact that he’s broken Aziraphale’s trust by refusing to help (which is a slightly and very subtly different thing). To illustrate this, right before Crowley does the dance, just after he says “fine,” he gets this very brief, soft look on his face – this is him acknowledging to himself that Aziraphale deserves this dance, that he loves the angel and that he’s doing this because of both those things – he could have continued to insist on a no, he clearly has before, but this time he chooses not to.

I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

All right, what about the car thing?

What about it? Lending your car to the person you love is very normal. Ok so the car means more to Crowley than a normal car does to us, but the point still stands. Aziraphale is making a reasonable request here. Does he expect a yes? Absolutely, because he also knows it’s a reasonable request given where their relationship is. Does he flirt to get his own way? Hell, yes. Does Crowley know exactly what Aziraphale is playing at? Also a hell yes. And Crowley totally plays up to it, he’s not as opposed to it as he claims. He’s playing up his “no” and his grumpiness for effect, to encourage Aziraphale’s silly flirtiness. Look at the difference between this no and the no he gave Aziraphale earlier. There’s no anger here, there’s no real sense that he thinks Aziraphale is asking too much, he’s playing a role in their relationship and they’ve both played this game before. Look at that little slap of the hand, which Aziraphale responds to equally playfully. The game even continues after Muriel turns up at the shop, when it’s already quite clear that Crowley is going to let Aziraphale use the car (he’s already taking the plants out). Even in the back-room Crowley still teasingly grumbles about trains whilst Aziraphale smiles flirtily, and Crowley playfully withholds the car keys when Muriel interrupts them. They both know Aziraphale is going to end up with them, there’s no point to him not directly handing them over in spite of the interruption, it’s just an excuse to tease Aziraphale back. I mean, look at him – he spends the rest of the conversation wiggling his hips, grinning smugly and confidently handling the Muriel problem by talking about love. Aziraphale’s very overt reaction tells you all you need to know about the dynamic of this one.

Two can play at this flirting game, angel.

But he follows him around like a little puppy!

Well, yes and no. Sure he follows him around whilst he goes around asking all the shopkeepers to the meeting, but he does that because it’s fun for him. He’s curious, Aziraphale is acting oddly, doing something he’s never done before and Crowley wants to know what it is. He’s always found him fascinating – what silly and ridiculous thing is the angel up to now?

Also wanting to hang out with the person you are in love with isn’t at all strange or a sign you are in some sort of weird relationship where only one of you calls the shots. It’s normal. Crowley knows Aziraphale has a tendency to be silly or do unexpected things and he wants to watch him do them and also flirt with him whilst he’s doing them. Looking grumpy and reacting to Aziraphale’s silliness with disbelief is how Crowley flirts-without-flirting. Both of them know, understand and like that dynamic, and he has that role not because he’s unhealthy levels enthralled with everything Aziraphale does but because of the levels of trust they have spent millennia establishing.

What Crowley doesn’t do is wait around for Aziraphale. Look at the scene where Aziraphale daydreams about Job. In that scene he’s aware Aziraphale has something else to show him (the record clue), but he doesn’t stick around whilst Aziraphale ignores him. He could have sat down somewhere in the shop and waited – he’s got an eternity, waiting an hour or so is no big deal, but waiting around like that would suggest he really is a doormat, just waiting for the next time Aziraphale shows him any attention. He doesn’t do that, instead he goes off and does… well, something. There’s a lot of speculation over what it is, but whether he goes off to read Pride and Prejudice or just wanders off to find something more interesting to look at than the back of Aziraphale’s head, he’s clearly saying here that he has a life outside of whatever Aziraphale wants to do.

Also side note - you know what else he doesn’t do for Aziraphale? Adjust his driving style. Aziraphale clearly hates it, it makes him nervous and he even asks Crowley to change several times whilst they’re in the car together, but Crowley never does. This is how I am angel, accept it or don’t, but this is the line and I’m not changing this for you. Related to this is his refusal to accept Aziraphale altering the Bentley. Aziraphale tries to persuade him, “But it’s pretty,” and Crowley really isn’t having it. It’s another hard line and he’s not going to let Aziraphale cross it.

Anything else?

There’s a few other examples that I’ve seen listed in the, “Crowley does whatever Aziraphale says/wants” evidence piles. Things like Aziraphale assuming he’s going to get the drinks in the pub. Well, someone has to get them, and it makes perfect sense that they both assume it’s Crowley here because he’s the one more comfortable with pubs. Having a role that you take on within certain situations in a relationship is healthy and normal, imagine how exhausting it would be to debate who is going to do every little thing all of the time.

In the first series the coat cleaning is another example often cited, but this is something Crowley is perfectly happy to do. Aziraphale is flirting, which is delightful, and he’s not being asked to do anything difficult or dangerous. I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you, which is totally different from, you always ask, I always give, and you always take.

What about Aziraphale. When does he give?

All the damn time. We just don’t notice it as much because Crowley asks different things of him. His love language is acts of service towards others, but he doesn’t really ask or require them in return. Sometimes he gets them from Aziraphale anyway (Holy water anyone?) Also notably in the Globe Theatre when he’s clearly the one pushing the Arrangement, and Aziraphale more or less agrees to do his work for him (“That doesn’t sound like hard work”) even before he’s asked, before they’ve gone through their little dance of Crowley pushing and Aziraphale supposedly-reluctantly agreeing.

The other things Aziraphale gives Crowley are much more nuanced, and much less measurable to us as the audience, but he gives them constantly, or more or less constantly, throughout their relationship. He gives him acceptance (although he occasionally partially withdraws it, such as in the bandstand scene), his silliness (which is more important than it first appears), a safe space (not just the bookshop, but also a safe space for Crowley to air his real views without fear of consequence, which is important irrespective of whether or not he persuades Aziraphale to agree with him), his physicality (by 1826 he’s really in Crowley’s space so much of the time) and most importantly he gives Crowley himself. Crowley constantly pushes Aziraphale to grow as a person, it’s one of the original reasons he entertains developing a friendship with him. What he asks of Aziraphale is for Aziraphale to think – really think – about what he believes. And Aziraphale does so, but only for Crowley. Humans have constantly questioned religious beliefs throughout history, they’ve written books, made speeches and even had wars over religious doctrine and the problems, inconsistencies and absurdities within it. Crowley is saying nothing to Aziraphale that he won’t already have indirectly heard from humans and dismissed or ignored. But when Crowley says it, he thinks and he changes. That’s what Crowley asks of Aziraphale and it’s what Aziraphale gives him.

What was the point of all this waffle?

Well, honestly there isn’t much of one. Only that their relationship is much more balanced than some suggest and I think I just wanted to spell that out. It also has an implication for the final 15 minutes. There’s no way Aziraphale goes into that with some sort of fake confidence that he can persuade Crowley to follow him to heaven simply because Crowley always follows him – Crowley doesn’t, he has very clear limits that he enforces with Aziraphale and Aziraphale knows this. He might feel confident for other reasons (such as thinking Crowley will be happy to be an angel again) or something else entirely different might be happening (so many theories!) but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing to do with thinking Crowley always does what he asks, because he very clearly doesn’t.

It's also why Crowley waits around afterwards to watch Aziraphale leave. It’s a way indirectly of saying one final time, I love you and I enjoy making you happy… but this is something I cannot give to you.

#good omens meta #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable fandom #crowley #aziraphale #relationship dynamics #what they give to each other #apology dance #it's actually called the 'I was wrong' dance but I'm not sure that has a tag #i was wrong dance #oh look it does #acts of service #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale

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flux1563 · 12 days ago

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The Porn Shoot ft yunjin

Tags : Squirting, creampie, pussy gape, video call sex, male reader

Words : 7730

"You're up next, Yunjin," the director called out, his voice slicing through the muggy summer air. The bustle of the film crew around her grew distant as she stepped into the spotlight. Sweat trickled down her neck, sticking her shirt to her skin like a second layer of glue.

Yunjin took a deep breath and focused on the beat of the music pumping through her earphones. She had practiced this routine a hundred times in the mirror, but the pressure of the cameras and the expectant gazes of the group made her heart hammer like a drum in her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the chaos, and when she opened them, she saw the text from her manager, Y/N, again. "Can u come to my car, i need to tell u something." The words danced in front of her like a mirage, taunting her.

With a furtive glance at the director, she made a split-second decision. She mouthed an apology to her groupmates and dashed off the set, the clack of her heels echoing down the alley. The car was parked at the end, a sleek black sedan that had become a second home over the months of their relentless schedule. She could see his silhouette through the tinted windows, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the orange ember burning like a beacon.

Her heart was racing as she opened the door and slipped into the cool, leather embrace of the passenger seat. The scent of smoke and cologne filled the air, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "What do you want to tell?" she said, her voice wavering slightly.

Y/N turned to her, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might actually have some news about their upcoming tour or maybe a surprise visit from the record label. But instead, he leaned in and kissed her, his cigarette dropping to the floor mat with a hiss. Yunjin's thoughts froze as she processed the suddenness of his action. She'd never seen this side of him before, and the warmth of his mouth on hers sent a jolt of surprise through her body.

But she didn't pull away. If anything, she leaned into it, her own stress and pent-up desires taking over. The kiss grew more urgent, his hands tangling in her hair as she gripped the armrest, their breaths mingling in the close quarters of the car. The fabric of their clothes whispered together, the sound a stark contrast to the loud silence that enveloped them. Yunjin's body responded in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying, her skin tingling with a heat that had nothing to do with the sticky weather outside.

Breaking away, he whispered, "You're so beautiful." His hands slid down to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing the exposed skin of her collarbone. The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but wonder what had brought this on. Was it the intensity of their work, or something else entirely? The question hovered at the edge of her mind, but she didn't dare voice it, afraid to ruin the moment.

He reached for the hem of her shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. She watched as his eyes widened with excitement when he saw the bare skin of her stomach. Her heart hammered in her ears as his fingers traced a line up to her breasts, teasing the fabric of her bra. The anticipation was almost too much to handle, her body already humming with need. She hadn't felt this alive in weeks, not with the constant pressure of perfecting their performances and meeting endless demands.

As Y/N's hands grew bolder, Yunjin felt a mix of emotions - fear of getting caught, confusion about the sudden turn of events, but mostly, a fierce, unbridled craving for more. Her own hands found his face, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as she straddled him on the plush seat. The engine of the car hummed beneath them, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of their hearts. The world outside the tinted windows faded away, leaving only the two of them and the electric tension that crackled in the air.

With a gentle tug, he peeled her shirt off her shoulders, revealing her lacy bra. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight, and he leaned in to kiss the spot just above the fabric. She gasped, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her. Her hands trembled as she reached behind her to unclasp the bra, letting it fall away. His warm palms cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her hardened nipples. The heat of his touch sent bolts of sensation through her, and she couldn't help but arch into his hand.

Yunjin's skin was sticky with sweat and desire as she leaned back into the seat, her breaths coming in shallow pants. He kissed his way down her body, peeling off her tight jeans and panties in one fluid motion. She was laid bare before him, her pussy swollen and glistening in the dim light. His eyes roamed over her, and she felt his gaze like a caress, leaving her skin alight with anticipation. The sight of his hunger for her was intoxicating.

Her nipples were bright pink, peaked like cherries at the end of a warm summer's day, begging to be tasted. He took one into his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. She moaned, her back arching off the seat, her hands clutching at his hair. He switched to the other one, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and she gasped. The pleasure was exquisite, a perfect balance of pain and pleasure that had her legs trembling.

Her pussy was meaty, the skin a deep, flushed red that spoke of desire. He kissed his way down her body, his breath hot against her skin. His tongue traced the delicate folds, and she quivered under his touch. His fingers slipped inside her, exploring her wetness with a gentle insistence that had her hips rocking against his hand. He groaned against her, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through her. She felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but also so powerful.

"Keep going, your mouth is so good," she gasped, the words spilling out of her like a confession. His tongue circled her clit, teasing it mercilessly until she was panting. Her fingers curled into the leather of the seat, her body tightening with the beginnings of an orgasm. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her body sing with pleasure.

He looked up at her, a smug smile playing on his lips before he plunged his tongue deep inside her. She moaned loudly, the sound muffled by his mouth. Her pussy build the pressure until she was sure she couldn't take anymore. "I'm gonna cum, Y/N," she whimpered, the words barely coherent. "Is it okay to squirt?"

"Just do it, Yunjin," he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. And with those simple words, the dam burst. Her body convulsed as she came hard, her juices spurting out and soaking the seat beneath her. The scream that tore from her throat was primal, echoing in the confined space of the car. She had never been so uninhibited, never felt so alive.

He didn't stop though. If anything, the feel of her squirting around his fingers only spurred him on. He began to pump his hand in earnest, his two digits sliding in and out of her slick channel with an ease that spoke of experience. She could feel herself tightening around him, her orgasm still riding her like a wild wave. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, but she didn't want it to end.

"Yes, Y/N," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "Right there, keep touching it." He chuckled against her skin, his breath hot and heavy. He knew just where to touch her to send her over the edge again, and he wasn't about to let her down. His thumb found her clit once more, rubbing it in a slow, circular motion that had her bucking her hips against him.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth parted in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave. The squirt grew more intense, spraying against his hand and the leather seat. It was a mess, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she knew was the exquisite sensation of his tongue swirling around her clit, his fingers still pumping in and out of her. The warmth of his breath against her skin only added to the sensory overload.

"Three squirt," she heard him murmur, his voice a low rumble in his chest. She could feel another climax building, her body a tight coil ready to snap. "Four squirt," he said, and she lost count as the contractions took over. Her pussy clenched around his digits, her squirts becoming a continuous flow as she rode the waves of pleasure. She had never felt like this before, never knew she could.

Her body was a symphony of sensation, each touch and kiss a note that played in time with the pulse of the bass outside the car. She could feel the vibrations of the music video shoot through the pavement and up into her very core. The world outside didn't matter; all that existed was the rhythm of his hand and the warmth of his mouth.

Yunjin's pussy was a machine of pleasure, squirting in time with his expert ministrations. Each pulse of her orgasm was a gush of wetness that soaked the seat, a testament to the power of his touch. Her legs were trembling, her muscles quivering as she rode the waves of ecstasy. She could feel herself growing wetter with each passing second, her body responding to his every command.

"Fuckk so much squirt from ur mouth and fingers," she moaned, her voice thick with arousal. She had never been so vocal before, but something about the way he played her body like an instrument brought out a side of her she didn't know existed. It was raw and primal, and it was exhilarating.

He sat up, his eyes gleaming with lust. He unzipped his pants, revealing his hard cock, which stood at attention like a soldier waiting for his orders. Yunjin couldn't help but stare, her mouth watering at the sight. She had never felt so hungry for someone, so desperate to feel them inside her. "Please," she begged, "just fuck me already. I can't wait anymore."

But Y/N had other plans. He reached over to the center console and pulled out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip before leaning back down to her pussy. The coolness of the liquid on her sensitive skin made her jump, and she watched in amazement as he began to rub the water onto her clit with his thumb. The sensation was strange, but it soon gave way to a new kind of pleasure as the water mixed with her juices. He worked her clit in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Wait," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I want to make you squirt five times again before I fuck you."

And with that, his mouth returned to her pussy, his tongue dancing over her clit while his fingers plunged in and out of her wetness. Yunjin's eyes rolled back in her head, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She could feel another orgasm building, her body tightening around his hand. He was relentless, his mouth working her clit like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. She could feel her pussy clench and release, a symphony of pleasure that had her toes curling.

"One," she gasped, her voice trembling as she felt the first spurt of wetness. "Two," she moaned, her hips bucking against his face. The squirts grew stronger, her body convulsing with each wave of ecstasy. "Three, four..." she lost count as the orgasms rolled through her, each one more intense than the last. She could feel herself getting wetter, the squirts turning into a torrent that soaked his hand and the car seat beneath her.

Yunjin was panting, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. But He wasn't done yet. He sat up, his hand still buried in her pussy, and leaned over to grab the bottle of water again. He brought it to her mouth, tilting it so that the cool liquid spilled over her tongue and down her throat. The contrast of the cold water against her burning desire was exquisite. "Five," she whispered, her eyes glazed with lust.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust of his fingers, she felt it - the fifth orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. Her pussy clenched around his hand, spraying water and juices everywhere. She screamed his name, the sound echoing through the car. He watched her with a mix of awe and satisfaction, his own arousal palpable in the tense air.

"I want you to suck my dick," He said, his voice strained with need. "But we don't have enough time."

Yunjin nodded, her body still trembling from the intensity of her climax. She knew the risks of getting caught, but she couldn't deny the desperate craving to feel him inside her. "It's okay," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "Just fuck me now."

With a feral growl, he positioned himself between her legs, his cock slick with her juices. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, sprawled out on the car seat, her chest heaving and her pussy glistening with need. Then, without further warning, he pushed inside her, his cock sliding in easily due to her squirts. Yunjin's eyes went wide as she felt the stretch, the sensation of fullness that was so overwhelming it was almost too much to handle.

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, the initial penetration sending her soaring over the edge once more. Her pussy clamped down on his cock as she came, her muscles contracting in a delicious symphony of pleasure. He groaned, the feel of her tight pussy milking him almost pushing him over the edge.

"Why you so sensitive?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Do you need it this bad?"

"Your cock is just so fucking big," Yunjin managed to gasp, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt every inch of him fill her up. It was true; his size was something she had never experienced before. It was almost painful, but in the most exquisite way. Her pussy stretched around him, the sensation of being so utterly filled sending her over the edge again.

"I can feel it," she whispered, her voice barely a murmur. "Your cock is touching every corner of my pussy." His eyes darkened with desire at her words, his grip on her hips tightening as he began to thrust in earnest. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the car, punctuating the quiet night air outside. The leather of the seat squeaked beneath her as he fucked her hard and fast, each stroke pushing her closer to another orgasm.

Her squirts grew more intense, her pussy contracting around his shaft like a vice. It was as if her body was trying to milk him dry, to pull every ounce of cum from him. Yunjin's moans grew louder with each thrust, her voice hoarse from the screams of pleasure that had torn from her throat. She had never felt so alive, so wanted. The way he claimed her, so rough and unyielding, it was as if he owned her, as if she was nothing more than a toy for his amusement.

Yet even as her body responded to him, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. This wasn't supposed to happen, not with her manager, not when they had a music video to finish. But the feeling was quickly drowned out by the fire that raged through her veins, the need to feel him deeper, to come again and again.

Her legs were trembling, her body slick with sweat and desire. Each squirt seemed to come more easily now, her pussy gushing like a fountain each time he hit that perfect spot. He groaned, his movements growing more erratic as he felt her tighten around him, her orgasms pushing him closer to the edge. "You're so good, Yunjin," he panted, his hips slamming into her with a ferocity that was almost scary. "So fucking good."

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she could only manage a breathy "Ahh..." as he brought her to climax after climax. It was as if her body had become a machine solely designed for his pleasure, each squirt a testament to his skill. The car rocked with their movements, the leather seat sticking to her skin as she bucked and writhed beneath him. The world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of lust and passion.

His grip on her hips grew bruising, his thrusts deep and punishing. He was relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure, pushing her to heights she had never dreamed of. And she was powerless to stop it, her body responding to his every demand. Her pussy was a fountain of desire, squirting uncontrollably with each stroke of his cock. The sound of their lovemaking filled the car, a symphony of wetness and passion.

Her orgasms came in waves, one after the other, each more intense than the last. She could do nothing but gasp and moan, her voice reduced to a series of breathless "Ahhhs" that seemed to fuel his lust. His eyes were locked on hers, watching her unravel beneath him with a hunger that was almost frightening. But she didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of him inside her, the way her body responded to his touch.

Yunjin's pussy was a fountain, a never-ending source of wetness that only grew more intense with each thrust. She could feel it gushing out of her, soaking the seat, the fabric of her panties sticking to her skin. The sight of her own juices pooling around his cock was too much to handle, and she squirted again, the force of it pushing him deeper inside her. "Ahh, yes," she moaned, her back arching as she gave herself over to the pleasure.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she could only manage to breathe out the word, "More." Her body was a playground for his desires, and he took full advantage, his hips pistoning into her with a rhythm that was as mesmerizing as it was punishing. Each time she thought she had reached her peak, he pushed her further, his cock hitting that magical spot that had her squirting uncontrollably.

Yunjin's pussy had become a machine, churning out a deluge of liquid with each powerful thrust. The sound of her squirts filled the car, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to crescendo with every gasp and moan that she couldn't hold back. Her thighs were slick with her own juices, the sticky mess a testament to the intensity of their passion.

All she could do was let out a breathy "Ahh," over and over again, her body no longer under her own control. Each time he pulled out, she felt the emptiness keenly, only to be filled once more by his thick, pulsing cock. It was as if her body had a mind of its own, eagerly welcoming him back with a fresh spray of wetness. Her orgasms were a blur, each one more intense than the last.

Her pussy was a fountain, a never-ending stream of liquid desire that soaked the seat beneath her. The leather stuck to her skin, the fabric of her clothes plastered to her body as she squirted in a rhythm that matched the beat of the music thumping outside the car. The sight was mesmerizing, a visual symphony of passion that had her mind reeling.

"Why haven't you cum yet?" she panted, desperation lacing her voice. Yunjin's body was on fire, each pulse of pleasure making her want more. She could feel the tension coiling in his body, his muscles tight with the effort of holding back. It was a delicious torment, knowing she could push him over the edge at any moment.

"What do u mean, Yunjin?" he asked, a hint of frustration in his tone. "We just began fucking for 10 minutes."

"It's just..." she panted, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. "It feels so good, every part of me wants you to keep going. But, I can't help but wonder if it's because I've been holding back for too long."

Y/N chuckled, the sound deep and rich in his throat. "Don't flatter yourself, Yunjin," he said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and desire. "It's not just you. I'm a man with needs, and you have a very... responsive body. It's like you're made to make me feel this good."

He leaned in for another kiss, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before delving back into her mouth. His hands roamed her body, squeezing and caressing, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She felt his cock pulse against her inner thigh, the head slick with her juices. The pressure was building inside her once again, a coil of need that threatened to snap.

"I don't have the stamina of a monster," he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and ragged. "But it's because of you, Yunjin. Your pussy is so fucking sensitive, so slutty. It's like it's begging for more."

Yunjin felt a blush creep up her neck, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. His words were crude, but the truth in them was undeniable. She had never been with someone who could make her feel like this, who could coax so much pleasure from her with such ease. Her body was his playground, and she was more than happy to let him explore every inch.

"Are you having enough of squirting, Yunjin?" he asked, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down her spine. She bit her lip, trying to form a coherent response. "I-I don't know," she stammered. "It's just... it's never been like this before."

Her eyes were indeed going blurry from the overwhelming sensations, and her mind was a haze of pleasure. Each squirt felt like a release of pent-up tension, a pressure valve letting out a flood of desire. "It's okay," she murmured, "keep going."

His strokes grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Yunjin could feel his cock swelling inside her, the head rubbing against her G-spot with each powerful thrust. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, urging him on. Her pussy was a vice, squeezing him tightly with each contraction.

"I think I have enough of squirt," she gasped, her voice strained. "I can't take it anymore." Her mind was indeed a blank canvas, the only color being the overwhelming pleasure that consumed her. Her eyes were glazed over, the world around her fading to a blur as she focused solely on the feeling of his cock pounding into her.

"Where do you want me to cum, Yunjin?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. "In your mouth? On your tits? Or do you want me to fill your pussy up?"

"In my pussy," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. The words were a declaration, a silent admission of the depth of her craving for him. She felt her pussy clench around his cock, her body begging for release.

Y/N groaned, his control slipping as he thrust into her with renewed vigor. He was a man on a mission, each stroke aimed at filling her to the brim. The car rocked in time with their movements, the windows steaming up as the night outside grew darker. His eyes were wild, his face a mask of pure, unbridled lust.

Yunjin's pussy clamped down on him, her muscles spasming with every thrust. She was close, so close to another mind-shattering climax. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on. "Cum in me," she whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of their skin slapping together. "I want to feel it, all of it."

His eyes narrowed with determination. He pulled out, his cock slick with her juices, and flipped her onto her stomach. He spread her legs wide, exposing her pink, swollen pussy to the cool air of the car. With a growl, he plunged back in, his strokes frantic and wild. She was so tight, so wet, that every inch of him was coated in her squirt. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pressure that was driving him to the brink.

He knew he didn't have much time; the film crew would be looking for her soon. The thought only spurred him on, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the need to mark her as his own. He reached under her, his hand finding her clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, his fingers coated in her juices. The sound of her wetness filled the car, the slap of his hips against her ass a rhythm that matched the beat of the music outside.

Yunjin's squirts grew more frequent, her pussy gushing around his cock with every stroke. She was close, so close to the edge, but he wasn't going to let her fall over just yet. He wanted to feel her tighten around him as he came, to know that he had pushed her to the brink of pleasure and beyond.

With the powerful thrust, he hit her G-spot, and she let out a scream that was muffled by the seat. Her pussy clamped down on him like a vice, her juices spraying all over his cock and balls. Y/N could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing to almost unbearable levels. He leaned over, his hand still working her clit as he whispered in her ear, "Take it all, baby. Take every drop."

Her pussy was a fountain of pleasure, a never-ending geyser of squirt that coated his cock with her desire. He could feel her muscles clench around him, her body begging for more. "Cum for me, Yunjin," he growled, his voice hoarse with need. "I want to feel you milk me dry."

With each stroke, she could feel herself getting closer to the edge, her body wound tight with anticipation. Her squirts had become a steady stream, soaking the car seat beneath her and making the leather stick to her skin. She gripped the edge of the seat, her knuckles white with the effort of holding on. "Fuck me, Y/N," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "Fuck me until you fill me up."

His grip on her hips tightened, his pace increasing. His cock was a relentless force, driving into her with a ferocity that left her breathless. She could feel his balls slapping against her ass, a delicious sensation that only added to the pressure building inside her. His breath grew ragged in her ear, his teeth nipping at her neck as he approached his climax. "I'm going to cum," he grunted, his voice strained with effort. "I'm going to fill you up."

Yunjin's body responded to his words, her pussy clenching around him like a fist. She could feel the hot pulse of his cock, the precursor to his release. The thought of his sperm filling her up was almost too much to bear, pushing her over the edge once again. Her squirts grew more intense, the car seat beneath her a soggy mess of desire.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N released, his hot cum spurting deep inside her. He groaned, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into her welcoming depths. Yunjin felt the warmth spread through her, a feeling of completion that was as overwhelming as the orgasms that had come before. Her pussy spasmed around him, her squirt mixing with his cum in a delicious mess that coated his cock.

"I can feel it," she whispered, her voice shaky with pleasure. "Your sperm so full in my womb." The words sent a shiver down his spine, his cock twitching with the last remnants of his orgasm. He had never heard anything so erotic in his life, and the knowledge that he had claimed her so completely had him feeling like a king.

Yunjin's breath was indeed heavy and short, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were glazed with desire, and her cheeks were flushed a deep shade of pink. She was a vision of beauty and wanton lust, and he couldn't believe she was all his. Slowly, he pulled out his cock, the sound of their mingled wetness filling the car.

He leaned back, his chest heaving, and watched her for a moment, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Then, with a smirk, he said, "Thanks, Y/N. I'll go back to shooting again."

His eyes lit up with a mischievous glint, and he reached out to grab her hand before she could move. "Hold on, it's not over yet, Yunjin," he murmured, his voice still thick with lust. "I want you to ride me this time."

With surprising agility, Yunjin repositioned herself above his lap.

Her legs trembled as she straddled him, his cock standing tall and proud, still slick with their combined juices. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving his as she reached down to guide him back inside her. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance, and she gasped at the feeling of fullness that washed over her again.

Without warning, Y/N grabbed her hips and pulled her down, impaling her on his shaft in one swift motion. Yunjin's eyes went wide, a high-pitched squeal escaping her lips as she felt him fill her up completely. The suddenness of it all was shocking, but oh so delicious. Her pussy clenched around him, eager to feel every inch of his length.

"Fuck," she screamed, her voice echoing in the small confines of the car. "You're so deep, it feels like you're hitting my womb."

Her body began to quiver, her legs shaking as she struggled to keep herself upright. She felt the pressure building again, the familiar sensation of an orgasm approaching. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she threw it back, her pussy spasming around his cock. He watched in amazement as she began to squirt once more, her juices drenching him and the car seat beneath them.

"Fuck," she moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and disbelief. "That feels so good, Y/N. I love you."

The words hung in the air, a declaration that neither of them had expected. His eyes searched hers for any sign of doubt, but all he found was a mirror of the desire and affection that burned within him. He leaned in to kiss her, his mouth claiming hers in a fiery embrace that stole the very air from her lungs. "I love you too," he whispered, the words a gentle caress against her swollen lips.

With newfound determination, Yunjin began to ride him, her hips moving in a sensual dance that had his cock sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy. She was a vision of beauty and passion, her breasts bouncing with each movement, her hair a wild cascade of silk that framed her flushed face. His hands roamed her body, his fingers digging into her hips as he guided her movements, urging her to take him deeper, to show him just how much she craved his touch.

Her eyes closed, her mouth formed a perfect O as she took him in, her walls tightening around him like a glove. She was in her element, her body moving with an instinctual rhythm that seemed to have been programmed just for this moment. And as she moved, her breasts swayed, begging for attention. He couldn't resist the temptation.

He leaned forward, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Yunjin's eyes shot open, her back arching as a fresh wave of pleasure crashed over her. He sucked hard, drawing a gasp from her, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back as she rode him with a newfound ferocity.

Her pussy spasmed around his cock, a fresh squirt of juices coating him as she neared another orgasm. With each movement, she could feel the pressure building, her body begging for release. His eyes never left hers, his gaze intense and unwavering as he watched her unravel. He knew she was close, and the anticipation was killing him.

He reached up, his hand wrapping around her neck in a gentle yet commanding grip. His thumb stroked the pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of her heart as she rode him. His other hand found its way to her clit, his fingers moving in a slow, deliberate circle. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through her body, making her squirt even more.

Her eyes snapped open when the sound of her phone ringing pierced through the haze of lust. It was the cameramen, their anxious voices crackling through the speaker. "Yunjin, where are you?" they called out, their words a stark reminder of the world outside their passionate bubble.

His eyes widened with excitement, his grip on her neck tightening ever so slightly. "Give me your phone," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. Without hesitation, Yunjin handed over the device, her eyes never leaving his.

He took the phone, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he accepted the call. "What's the problem, guys?" he said, his voice deceptively calm. On the screen, the cameramen's faces were a picture of frustration and worry. "Yunjin's just busy with another shoot right now, a porn shoot"

Yunjin's eyes widened in shock, but before she could protest, he flipped the phone to show her riding him, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Her pussy was still spasming around his cock, and the sight of her in such an exposed and vulnerable position was too much for her to handle. She squirted again, her body betraying her in the most delicious way.

The cameramen's voices grew louder, their concern morphing into shock and excitement as they realized what was happening. He held the phone out, his thumb hovering over the speaker button. "Do you want them to hear you cum, Yunjin?" he whispered, his voice a seductive taunt. "Should we give them a little show?"

Yunjin's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her at the thought of being watched, of having an audience to her pleasure. The phone vibrated in his hand, and she felt a new pressure building inside her. Her pussy was a furnace, the heat of their combined lust threatening to consume them both.

Her protests died on her lips as he pushed the button, the sounds of their passion now echoing through the phone's speaker. The cameramen's gasps and murmurs of approval were like a drug, making her body even more responsive to his touch. She could feel the camera's eyes on her, watching every move she made, and it only served to heighten her arousal.

Her pussy was a furnace, her squirts coming in a steady flow that soaked the car seat beneath them. Each stroke of his cock sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, and she could feel the tension building once more. Her body was a symphony of sensation, every nerve ending singing with desire. His hand remained firm on her neck, his grip just shy of painful, as he continued to pump into her with a ferocity that left her breathless.

Yunjin's eyes flickered to the phone, the sight of her fellow groupmates' faces watching her on screen only fueling her passion. She wanted to protest, to tell them to stop, but the words were lost in the haze of pleasure that consumed her. Instead, she leaned back, her breasts thrusting towards the camera, a silent invitation for them to watch. The thought of their eyes on her, seeing her in this vulnerable, wanton state, was a thrill she hadn't anticipated.

"I can't stop squirting, Y/N's dick is so big," she screamed, her voice raw with passion. Her pussy was a fountain around him, her juices glistening in the dim car light as they continued to fuck. The camera feed was a blur of skin and movement, a testament to the intensity of their encounter. His smile grew wider as he watched her reaction, his cock swelling even further at the sound of his name on her lips.

Her walls were tightening around him, each spurt of her orgasm gripping him like a glove, the sensation unlike anything he had ever felt. His own climax was approaching, but he held back, wanting to savor the feeling of her tightness, her wetness, her desperation for his cock. "Look at them," he murmured, tilting the phone so she could see the groupmates' faces, their eyes wide with shock and excitement. "They're watching you, Yunjin. They know how much of a slut you are for me."

Her eyes went wide with a mix of mortification and arousal, and she threw her head back, her breasts bouncing with each thrust as she screamed out his name. "Y/N, your dick is so big, I can't stop squirting," she moaned, the words a desperate plea for more. The camera crew's voices grew louder, their encouragement spurring them on like a twisted cheering squad. The thrill of being watched was intoxicating, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that had her pussy contracting around him with renewed force.

His hand tightened around her neck, his other hand now gripping her hip, guiding her movements with a roughness that she found oddly reassuring. He was in control, and she was his to take. Her breath hitched as she felt another orgasm building, the pressure in her abdomen growing to a crescendo. "Do it," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Make me cum for them."

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a savage growl, he bucked his hips up, his cock slamming into her with a force that made her entire body shake. The car rocked with the intensity of their lovemaking, the windows fogging up completely as the outside world was forgotten. The music from the set outside had turned into a faint background melody, a rhythmic pulse that matched the beating of their hearts.

Yunjin's pussy was a vice around him, her muscles rippling and spasming as she squirted over and over. He could feel the heat of her, the tightness of her, the way she clung to him like a lifeline as he brought her closer to the edge. His strokes grew deeper, more powerful, each one pushing her closer to the brink. And as she watched the stunned faces of her groupmates on the screen, she realized that she didn't care.

Her body was his playground, and she was more than willing to perform for their eager eyes. The knowledge that they were watching, that they could see her in this raw, primal state, only served to make her more desperate for his cum. She braced herself, her hands gripping the headrest as she bounced on his cock, her juices soaking them both.

He could feel his orgasm approaching again, the tension in his balls almost painful. He watched the screen, the sight of her squirting for their cameramen's eyes making him growl with possessive lust. His hand moved to her clit, his fingers working it with the precision of a maestro, bringing her closer to the crescendo that would match his own.

"When I cum, you squirt for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. His words sent a shiver through her body, her pussy clenching around him in anticipation. He knew she was close, her breathing had turned into pants, and her eyes were squeezed shut as she rode him.

"Yes," she moaned, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll squirt for you, Y/N. I'll show everyone how much I want you." The idea of being so open, so exposed, was terrifying, but she couldn't deny the thrill it brought. Her body was no longer her own; it was a vessel for his pleasure.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered, "Good girl." His hand tightened on her neck, his other hand guiding her hips to match his rhythm. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flexed with each powerful thrust. His cock was a steel rod inside her, filling her completely, stretching her to the point of pain and back to pleasure again.

"Fuck, your pussy's so tight," he groaned, his voice a mix of awe and lust. "I'm going to cum deep inside you, mark you as mine." The words were like a spell, and she felt herself respond, her pussy clamping down around him as if to pull him closer. "Fuckk ur cum is so good, Y/N," she panted, her words a desperate plea for more.

With a growl, he thrust into her one last time, his cock pulsing with his orgasm. She felt his warm seed spurt into her, filling her up to the brim. The sensation was overwhelming, and she let out a scream that was part pleasure, part pain, part love. Her pussy contracted around him, milking every drop from his cock, and she squirted once more, the force of it so strong it sprayed onto the car windows.

Y/N pulled out of her, his cock glistening with their combined fluids. He was still hard, still eager, but he knew that this was a moment to savor. He leaned back in his seat, panting, and pointed the camera at her soaking wet pussy. The sight was obscene, beautiful, and utterly intoxicating. Yunjin's eyes widened with shock as she realized what he was doing, but she couldn't find it in herself to be embarrassed. Instead, she lay back against the car seat, her legs spread wide, and allowed him to film her in all her post-coital glory.

"Look what I've done to Yunjin," he said, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction that sent a shiver down her spine. "You're so fucking beautiful when you squirt." He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste the remnants of their shared passion. The phone was still recording, the camera capturing every moment of their intimacy, broadcasting it to their unknowing groupmates and crew.

Her makeup was indeed a mess, smudged and running down her cheeks in rivulets. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, a wild halo of desire that framed her flushed features. Yunjin couldn't help the feeling of pride that swelled within her; she was his creation, a masterpiece of lust that no one else could claim. Her pussy was still gaping, the 'O' of her lips swollen and red from his relentless attention. And she could feel his cum, thick and warm, slowly leaking out of her, a testament to their shared climax.

The phone in his hand was forgotten for a moment, the live feed still broadcasting their intimate moments to the shocked crew. The cameramen stared, slack-jawed, at the screen, their eyes glued to the sight of Yunjin's squirt-soaked pussy. The other groupmates had gathered around, a mix of horror and fascination playing across their faces as they watched their manager claim her in such a primal way.

The members of Lesserafim voice was the first to break the silence, thier eyes glued to the phone. "Yunjin, can we get fucked like you?" Their murmured, their voice filled with awe. The question hung in the air, thick with the scent of desire and curiosity. Yunjin's heart skipped a beat as she stared at the screen, her thoughts racing. The idea of sharing this intense pleasure with her group was both terrifying and exhilarating.

With a smoldering gaze, Yunjin leaned into the camera, her voice a seductive purr. "Of course all of you can," she said, her words dripping with promise. She watched as the shock on their faces turned to excitement, their eyes sparkling with the same hunger she felt.

He smirked, his hand sliding down to her still-quivering pussy. "But not until we're done here," he added, his thumb swiping through the mess they had made together. He could feel her tense up at the thought of sharing, but the excitement was palpable.

"Look at me, baby," he whispered, his eyes locked on hers as he brought his hand to his mouth, tasting her juices. "You're so fucking sweet." He knew that she was watching him, could feel her gaze on him as he licked his thumb clean, savoring her taste. The thought of her grop wanting a taste too only made him harder.

The cameramen's shouts grew louder, their voices a cacophony of lust and excitement. "Yeah, we want a turn!" one of them called out. "Please, let us fuck her too!"

His smirk widened, his eyes darkening with a predatory glint. He knew he had her full attention, and the power he wielded was a heady aphrodisiac. He turned to Yunjin, his voice a seductive whisper. "They want you," he said, his hand still playing with her sensitive folds. "Should we give them what they want?".

#yunjin smut #le sserafim #le sserafim smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader

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cruel-as-sin · 4 months ago

Text

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

pt. 2

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett xmen #wolverine #wolverine x reader #old man logan #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #old man logan x reader #cas one shots

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coffeefleecy · 2 months ago

Text

Secrets Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them.

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

Word Count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: smut, scent kink, possessive behavior, masturbation, face-sitting, cunnilingus, dirty talk

Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

You.

Everything about you drives Caleb insane and you are the one person he won’t - can’t -be upfront with. How could he be? You make him go fucking stupid. He can barely think around you, let alone speak and be entirely honest with every disgusting, depraved thought twisting around in his mind. He has to filter himself around you to spare the both of you.

“Caleb?” Your voice sends shivers up his spine.

“Hm?”

“Did you want to watch that new rom-com with me tonight? I’ve been seeing it everywhere and I’m afraid I’ll get spoiled if I don’t watch it soon!”

He observes you over his cup of coffee and tries not to fixate on the foam that’s gathered by your bottom lip.

“Whatever, I don’t have anything going on tonight.”

He fucking hates rom-coms, but there’s a lot of annoying shit he’d do just see that pretty smile play at your lips. He’d walk barefoot over hot magma just to hear you laugh. Hell, he’d probably take a waterboarding session if it meant you’d drape those gorgeous fucking legs over his lap.

“Thanks,” You beam at him. “Your place?”

Caleb returns your smile and laughs.

“Sure, but you have to bring food this time. I’m getting sick of you stealing all of my groceries.”

It goes unsaid that he’d let you rob him blind and max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to.

“Deal! I’ll bring whatever you want, just send me a text when you get home!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb thinks he has time. You are always a little later than you said you’d be and it truthfully never bothers him in spite of his nagging need to be early to everything. The problem is that you’re knocking on his door and calling out for him as he’s in the middle of fucking his fist, desperate to get some relief and stave off the cravings for you as a precaution. Your voice is blood in shark infested waters, sending him into overdrive as he bucks into his hand.

“Caleb!”

His name on your lips has him whimpering and forces him to bite into the sleeve of his shirt to keep from alerting you to his activities despite the walls and door between the two of you. He squeezes the base of his cock to the point that the unshed tears of pleasure he’s been holding back begin to trail down his face, frustration and lack of release seizing his entire body. Your knocks get louder and the impatience permeates from your side of the wall until it feels like an actual, tangible weight.

Caleb’s throat is raw as he snarls and stuffs himself back into his pants, completely unsure of how to proceed. He has to get you to stop knocking and there’s no way he’s going to be able to finish with you beating down his door, so he picks the lesser of two evils and grits his teeth to greet you.

“Finally,” You huff angrily when you’re met with his red face. “Woah, what happened to you?”

“I thought you were going to be another half hour,” Caleb says, ignoring your question. “I just finished working out - I thought I had time to take a shower.”

“Oh, by all means,” you wave your hand nonchalantly as you push past him, arms laden with bags of snacks and drinks. “I’ll just hang out on my phone or something. I don’t mind!”

Caleb’s thankful for your lack of attention to detail, taking your fixation on settling in to adjust himself in his sweats. It would have to be one fucking cold shower.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Just find the movie and we can get started after I get out.”

You hum, more focused on laying out all of the snack choices than sparing a glance in his direction.

“Sounds good, take your time. I may borrow some clothes, is that okay?”

Caleb winces. Yes. No. God, he wants to see you drowning in his clothes but he’s terrified of what it’s going to do to his already fucked libido.

“Just take what you want, you know where to look.”

Caleb’s shower is wholly unsatisfying; the frigid spray of water does wonders for his erection but sharpens his mind and instincts to serrated points and he’s come to the conclusion that nothing can slake his desire for you no matter how much he tries to snuff it out.

The whole process is around five minutes in total, mostly because he wants to maximize his time with you. Caleb carelessly runs a towel through his hair, faint droplets of water still clinging to the tips of some strands in his haste to get to you. The neatly folded stack of fresh clothes he’s placed surreptitiously on the counter calls to him like sirens as the cool air pricks at his skin, gooseflesh decorating his body.

Being cold is less embarrassing than being hard, he thinks.

He dons a comfortable pair of loved sweats that have been through the wash maybe a few too many times, no structure and all snugness to the fabric. The shirt he’s selected is sleeveless and the armholes are stretched so wide it fits him more like a poncho. He’s caught you staring at his arms a few times when he’s worn it, more likely in awe of how his workout routine is treating him and less likely that you want to rip it off of him, but he likes to pretend it’s the latter.

Caleb sees you’re perched on his couch and wearing his sweater and faded pajama bottoms when he joins you in the living room and a warm feeling spreads in his chest at the thought of you being so comfortable in his space. His fingertips twitch at his sides, flexing and stretching to give his brain something less dangerous to focus on. He can hear you humming to yourself faintly as you scroll through the options on his screen, your face the portrait of unwavering concentration complete with you worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

He wants to bite it.

“I see you’ve helped yourself to my closet,” Caleb remarks teasingly.

“Huh? Oh, I thought you said it was okay!”

“I did, you know me well enough to know I’m joking. Don’t give me that face,” He adds when your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Your clothes are just more comfy than mine are,” You pout.

“They look better on you than they do on me,” He concedes, focusing on the television screen to keep himself from fixating on that very true fact.

“I don’t know how true that is, your arms look gigantic in that shirt.”

Pride blooms in the back of his throat with a delightful burn. There’s something in the way you praise him that makes him feel like he’s pleased you - like he’s made the right choice and he’s climbing in the ranks of your favor.

I did good.

“I gotta keep up the workout routines - how else am I meant to have the energy to hang out with you?”

That earns him a scoff.

“Please, you and I both know that you look forward to this. Kinda lame that your sister is your only friend.”

“You’re not my fucking sister.” Caleb admonishes you with an eye roll.

“Okay, geez,” You backpedal, pressing the play button on the remote. “I don’t know why it bothers you so much - if you hate me, just say so.”

“I don’t hate you, you’re just not my sister,” Caleb grabs your legs and hauls them over his lap - a position neither of you are strangers to. “Would you rather I hung out with you out of obligation for the sake of some false familial title or would you rather it be of my own free will?”

“Just watch the movie, Caleb,” You relax against the back of the couch and stretch your legs more comfortably across him. “And don’t even think about falling asleep - I’ve got my eyes on you!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening on the screen in front of him because you’re absently rubbing your legs together in his lap. He’s going to need a mouthguard around you if he has to grit his teeth anymore; he fears he’s lost quite a bit of surface area over the years. Normally, he grins and bears it, but with how pent up he’s been for the past few days and his precautionary self-love session getting cut short, he’s a little more anxious than usual.

He doesn’t truly mean to use his evol - he tries not to, if he can help it - but he needs you to stop squirming or he’s going to have bigger problems than you being annoyed with him.

“Caleb!”

“What? Stop movin’ around! You’re jostling me.” Caleb snaps defensively.

“I’m ‘jostling’ you? You don’t have to use that on me to get me to stop, just ask next time,” You scoff, fighting fruitlessly against his evol. “Caleb, let me go, I’ll just move away.”

“I didn’t want you to move, you’re just… distracting me. You can keep ‘em there, just try to sit a little bit more still.”

Caleb almost expects you to retreat when he releases his hold on you, but you simply shoot him a half-hearted glare and stay put, too comfortable with his hands draping over you to want to move. He must have a look on his face, because you’re surveying him quietly.

“Got something to say?”

“Nothing, you just look a little flushed. Do you think you’re getting sick?”

“No, I -” Caleb is cut off by the cool, relaxing feeling of your hand against his admittedly glistening forehead.

“You feeling okay, Caleb? We can call it early.”

Caleb’s answering smile is tired; lackluster, though you know he would never ask you to leave or take you up on your offer to do so.

“Nah, ‘m fine. Stay. I’ve just had a long day.”

You pull away to lean back against the couch and prop your head up by tucking your palm to cup your jaw. If you notice that Caleb’s head falls slack to chase your hand, you don’t say anything.

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

Caleb’s eyes flash with a slight glint of something you can’t quite place before he turns his attention back to the television.

“I’m fine, really - don’t worry about me. I thought you’ve been wanting to watch this! Pay attention.”

“I am paying attention - it seems like you’re the one that’s distracted. Whatever. Caleb, I’m cold.”

“Want a blanket?”

“Just come closer – you’re like a heating pad.”

Caleb sighs dramatically while he opens his arms for you, silently panicking and begging you to make good on your promise to sit still. He can feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest and prays you can’t hear it.

“Seriously, you doing okay?” You ask, muffled into his shirt as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Seriously, pipsqueak - I’m fine. Stop buggin’ me and watch your movie.”

Caleb takes the opportunity to pull you closer to him, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes in the scent of your shampoo. He’s always been so sensitive to smells and it kills him that you give off the most intoxicating one. It’s almost funny, he thinks – how primal human beings can be and how little it takes to reduce them to a lesser state; all instinct.

Fuck, does he have to fight every single one of his instincts when he’s around you. He wonders if it’s like that for you, too, but your face is an open book and you’ve never had a thought he hasn’t been able to decipher. It’s torture for him to know he’s the only one suffering, though he’s at least thankful for your ignorance when it comes to his own issues. You make him feel like a fucking creep and sometimes he wonders if he actually might be.

“You’re so cozy, Caleb,” You groan, the sound doing absolutely heinous things for his self-restraint.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, I mean it - you’re like a giant teddy bear.”

Your body molds itself to his, sending his thoughts to dangerous places and making him wonder if you’re ever truly aware of how you’re affecting him and just playing dumb. Your track record with guys leads him to believe that you’re just that innocent - he knows, he’s shared a home with you and the walls aren’t exactly thick.

“Gonna give me any room to breathe or are you hoping that I absorb you through osmosis or something? I mean, really - ah -”

Caleb is cut off by your thigh sliding between his legs in what he hopes is an innocent attempt for warmth.

“Oh, sorry - did I hurt you?”

Your naivety is fucking delicious. Caleb swallows the knot in his throat and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Ignorant to the source of his discomfort, you shrug it off and slip your arms around his waist.

“You’re being weird today.”

“How am I being weird?” Caleb demands, though the irony of his defensive tone isn’t lost on him.

“Just jumpy. Jittery – I don’t know. I know you said you had a long day, but you’re never this tense around me.”

Maybe if you’d just shown up when you said you were going to and let him fucking jerk off in peace, he wouldn’t be having this problem.

“Sorry,” Caleb’s reply is breathy; strained. “It really is just that I’ve had a long day.”

“Don’t be sorry,” You chide. “Just let me know if I can help. I don’t like it when you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean forward to push some hair out of his face and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Your thigh rubs against him even more with the proximity and you’re essentially unknowingly straddling his leg. A sharp, high-pitched whimper bubbles in the back of Caleb’s throat, too sudden for him to suppress it and too loud for you to not have heard it.

“C-Caleb?” You manage after a beat of incredibly uncomfortable silence.

“Don’t,” He manages through gritted teeth.

“N-no, did I hurt you that time? I’m sorry, I -” You scramble to move off of him, but freeze when you feel something rigid twitching between your thighs.

Caleb wraps his arms around you to keep you from squirming and escalating this situation even further, but all the motion does is push him between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath, tremors racking your body at this new feeling.

“Don’t - don’t fucking move,” Caleb warns desperately, his voice wobbly and breathless. “Just - just give me a second.”

Your eyes narrow, and whether it’s from years of being bossed around or from the intense urges to push him further, you grind down on him. The effect is instantaneous and the sounds that fall from Caleb’s lips will be seared into your brain forever in the form of whines so needy and broken that it sounds like in agony.

“Don’t make me use my fucking evol on you, you brat,” he spits out, though the words are less like he’s threatening you and more like he’s begging you.

Images of you spread out, forced down by his unwavering gravity while he’s knuckle deep in your tight cunt flood his mind, the dam of his restraint shattering and splintering into dust. His chest heaves as he swallows a gulp of air, desperate for anything to quell the tremors racking through his body at the feeling of you pressed so closely against him. His worn sweatpants are so thin, he can feel the heat between your thighs burning him. You give him no chances to catch himself before he falls and jerkily roll your hips into his.

“What the fuck are you doing, pipsqueak?”

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly, but make no moves to get off of him.

“We can’t come back from this,” Caleb warns shakily. “Once you cross that line, we can’t come back from it.”

“Is this why you’ve been so worked up today?” You demand, though your voice lacks conviction as you grind into him with unpracticed and shaky determination.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“So show me.”

Caleb’s cock is so painfully hard in his ratty sweats and your breath so close to his neck has him leaking precum. He’s given you so many outs and is running out of willpower rapidly. You take every last one of his nerves and stomp on them, leaving nothing but destruction in your wake as you invade every pore and cell of his body and hold him hostage.

“Please, please,” He begs. “I can’t - I can’t hold back anymore -”

You swallow his desperate and pathetic pleas down with the faintest press of your lips to his, innocent in intent with no thought behind the action. It’s like you’ve flipped a switch in him. A deep, almost unsettling growl rips from the back of his throat and before either of you can stop it, he’s got you splayed out on your back with his knee pushing insistently between your thighs. His lips crash into yours yet again, though his kiss is entirely mask off and undisguised as he forces his tongue into your mouth like he’s worried he doesn’t have enough time to memorize your taste.

You reciprocate as best as you can with uncertain licks and nips, but Caleb seems almost annoyed when you fight for dominance with the kiss. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb and pries your lips open with his tongue, conquering your mouth with the sweet tang of apples and desperation.

“Need it,” he pants into your mouth after breaking the kiss to beg. “Need you, need all of you, please -”

A choked moan wrenches from your lips as Caleb lunges forward to cover your body with his and decorate your neck with evidence of his love. His teeth leave small indents that he laves his tongue over to soothe, comforting you like he’s always so good at doing.

“You can,” You encourage, craning your neck to expose more of it to him. “Feels so good.”

“Please, fuck - let me get a taste, I’ll do anything,” Caleb whines as he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. “Just spread your legs, let me in - no - wait, sit on my face. Please, I’m fucking begging you to sit on my face so I can make you feel so good.”

Caleb sounds drunk; absolutely dizzy with the prospect that he gets to see you like this, let alone touch you. His tone has taken on a light, airy and high-pitched kick, breathless and needy like he can’t get the words out fast enough.

“I’ve - I’ve never done this before,” you pant, face burning bright with the inklings of shame that come with inexperience.

“No one’s ever touched you like this before?” Caleb’s head snaps up and when you see the fire in his eyes, the heat between your legs feels like an inferno.

“Never – never wanted anyone,” You explain, though you’re not sure why you feel like you have to. “No time.”

“You saving yourself for me or something, Pipsqueak?” His words are light and playful on the surface, but you can hear the tension, like he’s going to come undone at any second.

“I -” You can barely speak, his words rooting you to the spot and sending shivers down your spine. “Did you want me to?”

“Can’t just say shit like that,” He groans. “Fuck, are you sure this is okay? Please call me off, please - I really meant it when I said we can’t come back from this - I can’t come back from this.”

“Want you C-Caleb,” You stammer, so overcome with all of these new feelings that you can’t even vocalize what it is that you want. “Please.”

In lieu of a response, Caleb dips forward to kiss you again, savoring your taste and whining into your mouth at the friction between your bodies. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s so hard he’s aching and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s leaking through his sweats at this point, too dizzy with you and the fact that you want him in any capacity to care.

You help him with your - his - sleep pants and clumsily shimmy them down your legs, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold air hits your newly exposed skin. Caleb’s teeth sink into your bottom lip and he covers your mouth with his to swallow your cries of pain and pleasure.

“Please,” Caleb begs as he trails kisses down your jawline. “Please let me taste you - wanna eat you out so badly, please, please -”

“I trust you, b-but if it tastes bad or your grossed out please don’t feel like you have to -”

Caleb scoffs.

“Gonna drink up everything you have to give me until you can’t give me any more,” He slips his hands underneath the sweater you stole from him and yanks it off of you with no preamble, impatient to get to his meal. “Know you taste so fucking good, I just know it…”

Your lust outweighs your confusion at his last statement and instead of questioning it, you thread your fingers through his silky locks and take a mental snapshot of the image of him pressing kisses into your stomach.

Caleb makes a note to pay special attention to your chest the next time he gets a chance – prays that there will be a next time – but he’s far too focused on the scent between your legs that his mouth fills with saliva at the thought of finally getting to taste you.

His fingers tremble as he impatiently paws at your underwear, scowling at them like they’re personally wronging him. Caleb rips them down your thighs and groans as a long strand of your arousal stretches with the soaked fabric.

“ ‘s fucking wet,” He croons, quietly tucking your underwear into the pocket of his sweats as he presses his lips against your entrance.

His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he inhales, a shudder racking his entire body in a frigid rush at your potent scent.

“Smell so fucking good - it’s all mine,” He mutters under his breath, almost as if he hadn’t meant to even speak those words aloud.

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a heavy stripe up, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly can.

“C-Caleb,” You whine.

“That’s right, say it,” He says proudly before covering your pussy with his tongue, his name on your lips acting like a shot of adrenaline.

You’re so wet that you can’t tell where your arousal stops and Caleb’s saliva begins. His fingernails bite into your ass cheeks, pulling you as close as he can physically be to you, fucking you with his tongue and working his jaw even though it’s screaming in protest from the effort. It’s so messy, you’re almost embarrassed to look at him as he ravages your cunt like he’ll die if he’s pried away.

“Tastes so fucking good, knew it,” He moans hoarsly, voice watery and high-pitched in a way that makes him sound like he’s crying.

“I c-can’t - I don’t know what’s happening,” You cover your face with your hands as he pulls his tongue out of you and sucks your clit between his lips, the pressure and suction so hard that it almost hurts. “I just -”

“You gonna fucking come for me?” Caleb demands, dividing his attention from devouring you to look up at you.

You hear him practically growl, animalistic and angry, before you feel him prying your hands from your face.

“Fucking look at me, do you understand me?” His beautiful eyes burn into yours, determined and hungry. “Did I say you could cover your face?”

“No, it’s just,” Your voice shakes, wavering slightly as you try to catch your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing - I don’t -”

“Hey, hey,” Caleb’s tone shifts and his gaze softens. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Caleb presses kisses up your stomach, trailing his lips up to your sternum, collarbone, neck and finally your lips. He’s covered in your essence, lips soaked and swollen from his relentless drive to make you come for him. He pries your lips apart with his tongue, flicking it against your bottom lip before sliding it in, forcing you to taste yourself.

“See how good you taste,” He breathes into your mouth. “Could eat you out all fuckin’ day.”

“C-Caleb,” You protest, feeling the dregs of your shame flutter in your stomach.

“Want you to ride my face,” He continues desperately, body trembling above yours. “Get you nice and wet and let you fucking cover me with it.”

“Wh-Where did you learn to talk like this? I didn’t know you were capable of that!” You half-heartedly swat him with a trembling hand.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” He hisses, the words heavy like a looming threat. “I’ve got shit locked up inside my head that would make you want to run.”

“Tell me,” you encourage him, mind void of any rational thoughts as he sucks scarlet roses into your neck, covering you in marks you have no energy to protest to. “What?”

“You sure you wanna know?”

“Just wanna hear you - wanna hear your voice,” you breathe, trembling when his teeth dig into your throat.

“Yeah? Wanna hear how badly I want to fucking wreck you? You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, pipsqueak.”

The term of endearment he usually refers to you as sounds like venom; sarcastic and mean as he teases and taunts you - like he’s got an inside joke he’s not letting you in on and he’s getting off on bullying you for it.

“Don’t be mean, Caleb,” You whine.

He pulls away from ravaging your neck and actually fucking laughs, the sound sending thousands of pinpricks embedding themselves into your slick skin, forcing you to tremble and writhe beneath him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb, you and I both know you like it when I’m mean to you,” His grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger to force you to look at him.

“Caleb -”

“You don’t even know what to do with it, do you?” He coos, patronizing and chock-full of false pity. “So fucking pathetic that you want me to tell you what I want to do with you and you wouldn’t even understand it.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I - “

He scoffs as he roughly jerks your head to the side, stealing the words from your mouth and examining and admiring the marks he’s branded you with proudly.

“Look at you begging for me without even knowing what you want. Fuck, I love seeing my marks all over you.”

“Not begging,” you huff, the long-standing game between the two of you to break the other persisting even into adulthood.

“You will,” Caleb promises. “And you’re gonna beg for me to make you cum. I’m not gonna ask again, get that fucking pussy on my face before I make you.”

You’re speechless as he leans back on the couch, the portrait of debauchery with kiss swollen and spit-slick lips, cock straining against his pathetic excuse for sweatpants. His chest rises and falls as though an immeasurable force is pressing against him, breathing labored as he fixes you with a challenging glare, pupils so dilated you’d worry he’s high on something in any other context.

“I - I don’t know if I can, Caleb I don’t want to suffocate you.”

“I want you to fucking suffocate me, here - I’ll do the work for you,” Caleb snarls, reaching forward to dig his fingers into the backs of your thighs. “Come here.”

You cry out as he yanks your body forward and forces you to straddle his chest. He spares no time, terrified that he’s wasting the nanoseconds that he isn’t touching you as he manhandles you into the perfect position. He’s got you straddling his face, eyes burning in the frenzy your scent drives him to as you drip messily onto his face. Caleb inhales, breathing you in as he digs his fingernails into your thighs to press you as closely as he can to his face.

His tongue is frantic, probing and searching with no rhyme or reason other than to collect everything you have to give him, You tremble above him, overwhelmed with the feelings as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, white hot wires licking flames of pleasure everywhere inside you, synapses giving way to delicious electricity.

When Caleb sucks your puffy clit into his mouth, you shake so violently that you’d be worried about falling if he weren’t fusing you to his mouth. Caleb is whining, loud and unashamed as he drinks you in, his own hips bucking into nothing as he chases the phantom feeling of you on top of him.

“C-Caleb, I can’t -”

Your words bubble and fizz in your throat, dying out as Caleb doubles his efforts to drive you to blissed out silence.

“Use me,” He pants as he comes up for a momentary breath. “Ride my face, please - I wanna make you feel so good, please just use me.”

“What about -”

The feeling of his tongue probing inside of you silences you entirely, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream. Caleb moves his hands from your thighs to settle at your hips, fingertips digging into them as he moves you like he wants, taking all of the effort so you can just feel. Caleb’s tongue feels impossibly long as he explores parts of you that even you haven’t managed to reach through solitary experimentation.

“Fuck it,” Caleb grunts, and before you can ask what he means or if he’s okay, you can feel his evol weighing down on you.

“Just for right now,” Caleb tries to explain, though he’s too wrapped up in freeing his hands to make sense of it to you.

You don’t have to ask what he means by that, because as soon as he no longer has to anchor you to his face with his hands, he’s got his tongue on your clit and shoving his index and middle fingers inside of you. He’s met with no resistance as your slick gushes out and drenches his hand. Caleb’s tongue flicks at your clit with concentrated and relentless pressure as he pistons his fingers in and out of you, building speed with your every cry and whimper. He can feel you tightening around his digits and by the way you’re trembling, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“Caleb - I can’t; I don’t know what’s happening, I’m -” You’re babbling incoherently, a scared edge to your tone as you surrender to the pleasure and exhaustion.

“Gonna come for me, just let go, be a good girl.”

Caleb’s encouragement and new nickname for you cause something to snap, the sound of his voice and feeling of his tongue and fingers taking your body hostage. You hate when Caleb uses his evol on you to bully you, but the feeling of his command forcing you onto his face as he demands pleasure from you has you sobbing his name. You give into him as that tightly wound coil inside of you snaps, your whole body going limp as your brain short-circuits, black dots fading in and out of your vision.

It barely registers when his evol releases you because as soon as the force is gone, he’s catching you with his arms and maneuvering your trembling body down his own so he can hold you to his chest.

“Good girl, you did so good for me,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair to soothingly stroke it. “You okay?”

“I’m - I’m okay, what about you?” You manage between deep, shuddering breaths.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But - you didn’t -”

Caleb shifts beneath you and it registers that he’s trying to keep his lower half away away from you. You look back and notice a spreading wet spot at the front of those sweats of his you hate so much.

“I did,” He says sheepishly as you turn back to meet his gaze. “That was more for me than it was for you. Did I push you too far? Do you feel okay? Fuck - I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry after that.”

Your voice is watery and Caleb notices immediately.

“No, no I’m not sorry it happened, I just try so hard around you to keep it all locked in, but I couldn’t. You drive me fucking insane, you know that right? Like you have to know how stupid you make me.”

“That bad, huh?” You joke.

“Worse. Give me a second to catch my breath and then we’ll get cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay – Caleb?”

“Hm?”

“Can I … Um… is there anything I can do for you?”

Caleb laughs, fighting the urge to divulge how badly he wants you to fuck the last couple of decades of frustration out of him.

“I don’t think you wanna open that can of worms tonight, you already can’t move. Just let me take care of you. There is something you can do for me next time, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Just send me a fuckin’ text if you’re gonna show up early!”

#caleb x mc #love and deespace #lads #love and deepspace caleb #caleb xia #lnds caleb #caleb smut #lads smut #love and deespace smut #caleb x reader #caleb x reader smut #lads x reader #caleb x you

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gukcnt · 6 days ago

Text

۶ৎ A MONTH APART AND A LIFETIME OF LOVE —

“You can take it,” he mocked, his voice muffled against your core. “You’re gonna take my cock later, and it’s even bigger. Gotta get you ready, angel.”

pairing: dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre: established relationship, slice of life, romance, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, explicit smut, long distance separation, possessive!jungkook, protective!jungkook, angry!jungkook, intense longing, separation, heartbreak, emotional reunion, angst with a happy ending, apology and reconciliation, vulnerability, masturbation, rough sex, passionate lovemaking, lingerie, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, face sitting, squirting, tongue fucking, face riding, cum eating, breast play, nipple sucking, dry humping, mild cockwarming, light spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (m. receiving), cock sucking, body worship, making out, hickies/marking, hair pulling, multiple positions (doggy, riding, missionary), slow and lazy sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, aftercare

wc: 5.51k

a/n: ahhh this is my longest written oneshot and actually i have been thinking of this idea for a while soo i hope you guys love it ! <3

masterlist

۶ৎ

The apartment you shared with Jungkook was a sanctuary, a perfect blend of your personalities woven into every corner. The living room was a cozy haven with a sleek black leather couch—Jungkook’s choice—softened by pastel pink and lavender throw pillows you’d picked out. A large bookshelf stood against one wall, stuffed with your art books and his music theory texts, alongside trinkets from your travels: a tiny Eiffel Tower from Paris, a carved wooden elephant from Thailand, a snow globe from New York. The walls were adorned with framed photos—Jungkook’s arm around you at a beach sunset, your shy smile as he kissed your cheek at a festival, the two of you laughing in a photo booth with silly props. The air carried the faint scent of his cologne, a woody, musky fragrance that lingered on his clothes, mixed with the lavender candles you loved to light in the evenings.

It was early morning, the sun just beginning to peek through the sheer white curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the hardwood floors. You stood in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of Jungkook’s oversized black t-shirts that swallowed your petite frame, the hem brushing against your thighs. Your hair was loosely tied in a messy bun, strands falling around your face as you hummed softly, flipping pancakes in a skillet. The sizzle of batter and the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the space, but there was a heaviness in your chest, an ache you couldn’t shake.

Jungkook, your boyfriend of four years, leaned against the counter, his presence commanding even in the quiet morning. At 28, he was a vision of strength and charisma, his black hair slightly tousled from sleep, his dark eyes watching you with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. He wore a fitted gray t-shirt that hugged his muscular chest and black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the faint outline of his V-line. Jungkook was a music producer and songwriter, his career soaring with international collaborations, but to you, he was Kook—your dominant, protective boyfriend who made your world feel safe and whole.

You, at 25, were his opposite in so many ways. A shy, soft-spoken graphic designer, you worked from home, your days filled with sketching, color palettes, and the gentle hum of your laptop. You blushed easily, especially under Jungkook’s piercing gaze, and he adored that about you. He called you his “angel,” a nickname he’d given you early on because, as he’d said, “You’re too pure for this world, baby. My little angel.” Your relationship was a delicate dance of his dominance and your submission, a dynamic that felt natural and intoxicating. He led, you followed, and together, you created a love that was fierce and unshakable.

You’d met four years ago, when you were 21, in a small café where you’d clumsily spilled your iced coffee all over his pristine white shirt. Mortified, you’d stammered apologies, your face burning, but Jungkook had only laughed, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s just a shirt,” he’d said, his voice warm. “But you owe me a coffee.” He’d asked for your number that day, and from there, your love story unfolded like a fairy tale. Jungkook was relentless in his pursuit, taking you on midnight drives, writing songs inspired by your smile, and showering you with affection that made your heart soar. He was your first love, your first kiss, your first everything, and he handled your heart with a tenderness that made you feel cherished.

Now, you lived together in a spacious apartment in Seoul, a home filled with memories. Lazy mornings where he’d pull you back into bed, whispering, “Five more minutes, angel.” Passionate nights where he’d claim you with a hunger that left you breathless. Quiet evenings where you’d curl up in his lap, his fingers strumming a guitar as he hummed melodies only for you. Jungkook loved you fiercely, possessively, and he never let a day pass without showing it. He’d leave notes on the fridge—“You’re mine, always”—or surprise you with white roses, your favorite, when he came home from the studio. He spoiled you endlessly, insisting you use his credit card for anything you wanted, scolding you gently when you hesitated. “I work hard for you,” he’d say, his voice firm but warm. “Let me take care of my girl.”

But today, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. A week ago, Jungkook had received a call about a month-long project in Los Angeles, a collaboration with a global artist that could skyrocket his career. It was a dream opportunity, but it meant being away from you for an entire month—the longest you’d ever been apart. The thought made your chest tighten, but you hid your unease behind a brave smile, not wanting to burden him. Jungkook, however, saw through you. He always did.

As you slid a pancake onto a plate, you felt his arms slide around your waist from behind, his chest pressing against your back. His lips brushed the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re too quiet, angel,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, vibrating against your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You bit your lip, your hands trembling slightly as you set the spatula down. “Nothing,” you lied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thinking about you leaving.”

Jungkook’s grip tightened, and he turned you around to face him, his dark eyes searching yours. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, a telltale sign of his frustration. “I hate this,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I fucking hate leaving you. But I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?”

You nodded, your throat tight with unshed tears. “I know. It’s just… a month is so long.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, his touch grounding you. “It’s gonna suck for me too, baby,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re my home. Leaving you feels like I’m leaving half of myself behind.”

Your lip trembled, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ll be fine,” you whispered, more to convince yourself than him. “You need to do this. It’s important.”

Jungkook tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “You’re what’s important,” he said fiercely. “No job, no song, no fucking thing in this world matters more than you. You hear me?” His words were a vow, each syllable heavy with conviction. “I’m gonna call you every day, text you every chance I get. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

You managed a small smile, but the ache in your heart didn’t ease. Jungkook leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that made your knees weak. His kisses were always like this—commanding, consuming, leaving you breathless and craving more. His tongue teased yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I love you, angel,” he whispered. “So fucking much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion.

That night, the eve of his departure, Jungkook made love to you with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes. The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights you’d strung along the headboard, their warm light dancing across the walls. The air was thick with the scent of your shared intimacy—your lavender body wash, his cologne, and the musk of desire. Jungkook’s hands roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you before he left.

He started with kisses, soft and lingering, trailing from your lips to your jaw, down the delicate column of your neck. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with emotion. He peeled off your silk camisole, revealing the delicate white lace bra underneath, and his eyes darkened with hunger. “My perfect angel,” he said, his fingers tracing the straps before unhooking the clasp with practiced ease.

You whimpered as he took you in, his lips closing around one nipple, sucking gently until it hardened under his tongue. His other hand kneaded your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, and you arched into him, your breath hitching. “Jungkook,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice a low growl as he moved to the other breast, leaving a trail of kisses across your chest. He took his time, worshipping your body, his hands gripping your hips as he kissed down your stomach, his lips brushing against the waistband of your panties.

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip. “Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his voice commanding.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Always.”

He smirked, satisfied, and slid your panties down your legs, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs. When he entered you, it was slow, deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his love. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over you. “Jungkook,” you moaned, your voice breaking as he hit that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I’m never gonna stop loving you.”

When you both reached your peak, it was simultaneous, your cries mingling as you held each other tightly. You lay tangled in the sheets, your breaths heavy, your bodies slick with sweat. Jungkook held you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “I’m coming back to you,” he promised, his voice steady despite the crack of vulnerability beneath it. “No matter what. You’re my home, angel.”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest, but the ache in your heart grew as the reality of his absence loomed closer. “I’ll wait for you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I always will.”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride and love.

The day Jungkook left was a blur of pain and forced smiles. You drove him to the airport, your hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. Jungkook kept his hand on your thigh the entire ride, his thumb rubbing soothing circles, but the gesture only made you ache more. The radio played softly, a melancholic ballad that mirrored the heaviness in your chest. At the terminal, he pulled you into a crushing hug, his lips pressing against your forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Be good for me, okay?”

“I will,” you whispered, your eyes burning with tears you refused to let fall. You wanted to be strong for him, to show him you could handle this.

He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that escaped despite your efforts. “Don’t cry, angel,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your lip trembling. “I just… I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, his voice fierce. “More than anything.”

He kissed you one last time, deep and desperate, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to let go. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “I’ll call you as soon as I land,” he promised. “And every day after that.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and watched as he disappeared into the crowd, his broad shoulders and confident stride unmistakable even as he faded from view. You stood there, rooted to the spot, until his plane took off, carrying a piece of your heart with it.

The first week without Jungkook was torture. The apartment felt cavernous, the silence deafening without his laughter, his music, his presence. You went through the motions—working on client projects, eating meals alone at the kitchen counter, sleeping in your shared bed that now felt too big. You’d wear his t-shirts to bed, the fabric soft and worn, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. You’d hug his pillow, burying your face in it, trying to hold onto the memory of his warmth. Some nights, you’d play his songs on your phone, the ones he’d written for you, his voice wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace.

Jungkook kept his promise to stay in touch. He texted you constantly, starting with a good morning message every day: “Morning, angel. Thinking of you. ❤” He’d send random updates about his day—photos of the LA skyline, a selfie in the studio with his hair messy, a picture of his coffee with “Not as good as yours” written in the caption. At night, you’d video call, though the time difference made it tricky. Seeing his face on the screen, his tired eyes and easy smile, only made you miss him more.

“Hey, baby,” he’d say, his voice warm despite the exhaustion etched into his features. He’d be in his hotel room, the city lights visible through the window behind him. “You look so cute in my hoodie. Is that the one I left on the chair?”

You’d blush, tugging at the oversized fabric. “Yeah,” you’d admit shyly. “It smells like you.”

He’d groan, running a hand through his hair. “You’re killing me, angel. I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

You’d smile, but your heart ached. “How’s work going?” you’d ask, trying to keep the conversation light.

“It’s good,” he’d say, but his tone was distracted. “Busy. Too many meetings, not enough time to think about you.” He’d pause, his eyes softening. “How’s my girl holding up?”

“I’m okay,” you’d lie, forcing a smile. “Just… missing you.”

“I miss you too,” he’d say, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fucking much. I can’t sleep without you next to me. The bed’s too cold.”

You’d laugh softly, but the sound was hollow. “You’ll be back soon,” you’d say, more to reassure yourself than him. “Right?”

“Counting the days,” he’d reply, his voice firm. “I’m coming home to you, angel. I promise.”

But no amount of texts or calls could fill the void of his absence. You’d find yourself crying sometimes, curled up on the couch with one of his hoodies, the sleeves damp with your tears. You never told him, though. You wanted to be strong for him, to show him you could handle this. But the loneliness was suffocating, and some nights, when it became too much, you’d touch yourself, your fingers slipping beneath your panties as you imagined Jungkook’s hands, his voice, his cock. You’d rub your clit, whimpering his name as you came, but the release left you feeling emptier than before, tears streaming down your face as you curled into a ball, clutching his pillow.

Jungkook wasn’t faring much better. In LA, he threw himself into work, but his focus was fractured. He’d sit in the studio, staring at his laptop, his mind drifting to you—your shy smile, your soft laugh, the way you’d moan his name when he fucked you. He missed everything: the way you’d curl up against him at night, your breath warm against his chest; the way you’d blush when he teased you; the way your body felt beneath his, so pliant and perfect. He missed kissing you, touching you, burying himself inside you until you were both breathless and spent.

Some nights, when the loneliness was unbearable, he’d lock himself in his hotel room, his hand wrapped around his cock as he thought of you. He’d picture your lips around him, your tight pussy clenching around his length, and he’d come with a groan, your name on his lips. But it was never enough. He needed you—your warmth, your scent, your love. He’d lie awake afterward, staring at the ceiling, his chest aching with the need to hold you.

One night, during a particularly long video call, he looked more tired than usual, dark circles under his eyes. “You okay, Kook?” you asked, your voice soft with concern.

He sighed, rubbing his face. “Not really,” he admitted. “I can’t focus. All I can think about is you. I’m trying to get this done, but it’s like… nothing matters without you here.”

Your heart clenched. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not a distraction,” he said quickly, his voice firm. “You’re my fucking world, angel. I’m doing this for us, but it’s killing me to be away from you.”

You bit your lip, tears welling up. “I miss you so much,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “It’s so hard without you.”

“I know, baby,” he said, his voice softening. “I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear. When I get home, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You smiled through your tears, clinging to his words. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, his eyes fierce with determination. “I’m yours, angel. Always.”

As the month dragged on, you both grew more desperate. You’d send him shy selfies, wearing his t-shirts or the lingerie he’d bought you, and he’d respond with voice messages that made your core throb. “Fuck, angel, you’re so beautiful,” he’d growl. “I’m losing my mind over here. Can’t wait to fuck you senseless.”

You’d blush, your fingers trembling as you typed a reply, but the ache between your thighs was undeniable. Some nights, you’d wear the lingerie to bed, imagining his reaction, your hands slipping beneath the lace as you touched yourself, his name a broken moan on your lips. You’d cry afterward, the loneliness crashing over you like a wave, but you never told him. You didn’t want him to worry.

The day before he was supposed to return, you were buzzing with excitement. You spent the morning cleaning the apartment, wanting everything to be perfect for his homecoming. You polished the countertops until they gleamed, fluffed the pillows on the couch, and changed the bedsheets to the soft white ones he loved. In the kitchen, you cooked his favorite meal—kimchi jjigae and bulgogi—the savory aromas filling the apartment. You set the table with care, placing a small vase of white roses in the center, a nod to the flowers he always brought you.

In the bathroom, you took a long, luxurious shower, using the lavender body wash Jungkook loved, the one that always drove him wild. You shaved carefully, your hands steady despite the anticipation thrumming through you. You wanted to be perfect for him, to give him everything he’d missed. After your shower, you slipped into a baby pink lingerie set you’d bought with his card, the lace delicate and sheer, hugging your curves in a way that made you feel both sexy and shy. The bra pushed your breasts up, the panties barely covering your core, and you blushed at your reflection, imagining his reaction.

You applied a light layer of body lotion, the scent mingling with the body wash, and spritzed on a hint of perfume—floral and soft, just the way he liked. Over the lingerie, you threw on one of his black t-shirts, the fabric swallowing your frame, the hem brushing your thighs. It was a tease, a way to keep the lingerie a surprise until the right moment.

As you stirred the jjigae, your phone rang, and Jungkook’s name flashed on the screen. You answered with a smile, expecting him to say he was boarding his flight. But his voice was tense, laced with frustration. “Angel, I… fuck, I’m so sorry. Something came up. They need me to stay a few more days.”

Your heart plummeted, tears instantly brimming in your eyes. “What?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know, I know,” he said, his tone angry but sad. “I hate this. I didn’t want to—"

The pain was too raw, too overwhelming. You ended the call, your hands shaking as you dropped the phone onto the counter. The tears you’d held back for weeks spilled over, and you ran to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. You buried your face in the pillow, sobbing, your heart aching with a pain you couldn’t name. You’d always been understanding, supportive, but this felt like a betrayal. Did his work matter more than you? Did he not love you anymore? The thoughts spiraled, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Jungkook called repeatedly, but you ignored him, too hurt to speak. In LA, he paced his hotel room, his chest tight with panic. He’d fucked up. He knew it the moment you hung up. Your silence was worse than any words, and the thought of you crying because of him made his stomach churn. Nothing—no deal, no money, no career—was worth this. He made a decision then and there, barking orders at his team, canceling meetings without a second thought. He didn’t care if it cost him millions. All he cared about was you.

He caught the next flight home, his heart racing as he tried calling you again and again, only to be met with silence. He assumed the worst—that you were hurt, that you thought he didn’t love you. The thought made him sick, his hands shaking as he boarded the plane, his mind consumed with images of your tear-streaked face.

When he finally reached the apartment, it was late, the city quiet outside. He opened the door and froze at the sight of the dining table, set with his favorite meal, now cold. The vase of white roses sat in the center, a silent testament to your love. His heart shattered. He slammed his fist against the table, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “How could I do this to her?”

He moved to the bedroom, his steps heavy, and stopped in the doorway. There you were, curled up in bed, your face tear-stained, your nose red from crying. You were wearing his t-shirt, clutching his pillow, and the sight broke him. He knelt beside the bed, his chest aching with guilt and love. “My angel,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open, and when you saw him, you broke into fresh sobs. “Jungkook?” you choked out, sitting up, your voice raw with pain.

“I’m here,” he said, pulling you into his arms. His hug was tight, almost bruising, but you didn’t care. You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt, your hands fisting the fabric. “I’m so sorry, angel. I fucked up. I should’ve never let this happen.”

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I thought work was more important. I tried to be strong, but it hurt so much.”

“No,” he said fiercely, pulling back to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Nothing is more important than you. Nothing. I dropped everything, baby. Meetings, deals, all of it. I don’t care about the money, the job—none of it. You’re my world, angel. I can’t stand the thought of you crying because of me.”

You sniffled, your lip trembling. “I missed you so much,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I tried to be okay, but it was so hard without you. I’d sleep in your shirts, hold your pillow, but it wasn’t the same. I… I touched myself thinking of you, but it just made me feel lonelier.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, a mix of guilt and desire flashing across his face. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I did the same. Every night, I’d think of you, touch myself, but it was never enough. I needed you. I still need you.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable. “You’re really here?” you whispered, as if afraid he’d disappear.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice firm. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, angel. Always.”

He kissed you then, a rough, needy kiss that stole your breath. His lips were desperate, his tongue dominating yours, his hands roaming your body as if he couldn’t believe you were real. “I missed you,” he growled against your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Every fucking second. Your smile, your voice, your body. I was going crazy without you.”

You moaned as he deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. He tugged at the t-shirt, pulling it off to reveal the baby pink lingerie, and his eyes went feral, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You blushed, tears still glistening in your eyes, but he didn’t give you time to be shy. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving possessive marks on your skin—red and purple blooms that would linger for days. His hands groped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples through the lace, and you arched into him, whimpering. “Missed these,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he unhooked your bra, tossing it aside. He weighed your breasts in his hands, his lips closing around one nipple, sucking until it was swollen and sensitive, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak.

“Jungkook,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, your body trembling under his touch.

He moved to the other breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of marks across your chest. “So fucking perfect,” he growled, his lips brushing against yours. “My angel. All mine.”

He pushed you back onto the bed, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other roamed your body. His fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them aside, and he groaned at the sight of your glistening core. “So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. “You missed me this much, baby?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushed, your breath hitching. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I need you.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with hunger. “Ride my face,” he ordered, his voice commanding. You hesitated, shy, but he didn’t wait, lying back and pulling you over him. You held the panties to the side, your hands shaking, and he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue relentless as he licked and sucked your clit. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you rocked against his mouth, his tongue fucking you with a hunger that made you sob his name.

“Jungkook, oh God,” you moaned, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. His fingers joined in, three stretching you, and the slight burn only heightened your pleasure. “You can take it,” he mocked, his voice muffled against your core. “You’re gonna take my cock later, and it’s even bigger. Gotta get you ready, angel.”

You screamed as you squirted, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm, your vision blurring. Jungkook slurped every drop, his tongue lapping at you until you were trembling, oversensitive. He kissed you afterward, letting you taste yourself, and you didn’t care, too lost in him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with praise as he licked his lips. He stood, stripping off his clothes until he was left in his boxers, his cock straining against the fabric. You got on your knees, kissing the tip through the material before pulling them down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip glistening with precum. You licked him from base to tip, gripping his balls, and he growled, fisting your hair as you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, throwing his head back, his hips bucking slightly. “Your mouth, angel. So fucking good.”

He didn’t let you finish, pinning you down and sliding inside you in one swift motion. You cried out, your body tight from the month apart, the stretch almost painful. He paused, kissing you softly, giving you time to adjust. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle despite the hunger in his eyes.

You nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “Just… go slow at first.”

He did, his thrusts slow and deep, each one hitting that spot inside you that made you moan. But soon, the desperation took over, and he fucked you hard and fast, the bed creaking with the force of his movements. You screamed his name, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Missed this pussy. Missed you.”

You came together, your cries mingling as he filled you, his thrusts slowing but not stopping. He was hard again in seconds, flipping you over onto your stomach. “Ass up,” he ordered, his voice rough, and you complied, your body trembling with anticipation.

He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you, the angle hitting deeper, more intense. “Love watching this ass bounce,” he growled, his hand slapping your cheek just hard enough to make you whine. “So fucking perfect. My angel.”

You moaned, your face pressed into the pillow, your body shaking with each thrust. “Jungkook,” you sobbed, your voice muffled. “It’s so much.”

“You can take it,” he murmured, his voice softening for a moment. “You’re my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, your body trembling as another orgasm built. “I’m yours.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. You came again, your screams muffled by the pillow, and he followed, spilling inside you with a low growl. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft now, filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry, angel. I’ll never make you feel like that again.”

You nestled into his chest, your heart full. “I love you too,” you murmured. “Just… don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” he promised, his arms tightening around you.

Later that night, you stirred from a light sleep, the room dark except for the faint glow of the fairy lights. Jungkook was still awake, his cock hard against your thigh, his breath warm against your neck. “Can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, his voice husky. He shifted, sliding inside you slowly, and you gasped, your body still sore but welcoming him.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice sleepy but needy.

“Just stay still,” he murmured, his thrusts slow and lazy, his hands roaming your body. “Wanna feel you.”

You let him, your bodies connected as he moved inside you, the intimacy overwhelming. At one point, he stilled, cockwarming you, his lips brushing against your ear. “I missed this,” he whispered. “Missed being this close to you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling. “Me too,” you murmured, your voice soft.

He started moving again, his thrusts picking up speed, and you moaned, your body responding despite the exhaustion. “Ride me,” he ordered, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top.

You straddled him, your hands on his chest as you rolled your hips, his cock filling you perfectly. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you, his eyes locked on your bouncing breasts. “Fuck, look at you,” he growled, his hands moving to grope your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. “So fucking beautiful.”

You gasped, your head falling back as you rode him, the wet sounds of your pussy filling the room. “Jungkook,” you moaned, your voice trembling. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice rough. “Let me feel you.”

You did, your body shaking as you came, your cries loud and uncontrolled. He followed, his hips bucking as he filled you again, his growl vibrating through you. You collapsed onto his chest, your breaths heavy, and he held you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I’m home, angel,” he whispered, his voice filled with love. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

The next morning, you woke to the sound of Jungkook humming softly, his arms still wrapped around you. The apartment felt alive again, filled with his presence, and as you looked at him, his eyes soft with love, you knew you were whole. He was your home, and you were his, and no distance could ever change that.

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written-in-knife · 10 days ago

Text

Dressing for the Cloudcall

Leona Kingscholar x fem!Reader, pre-relationship

Word count: 4680 (dialogue heavy to start, stick with it, I find a rhythm in there somewhere)

Category: one-shot, fluff, angst if you squint really really hard

Leona's family is sneaky and knows him very well, and you get roped into some Cloudcalling dress up. And maybe Leona is into that.

I loved Cloudcalling on the Savanna but I was a little disappointed we didn’t get even a hinted outfit, and this idea has been bouncing around in my little walnut brain for MONTHS and it finally spilled out in the span of like two hours. Tried to keep Yuu ambiguous, female, hair long enough to braid and put into a bun, and she’s shorter than Falena’s wife. Your Yuu is six feet tall? Cool, Falena’s wife is taller 👏AS👏SHE👏SHOULD👏BE. Reading back, I think I have a crush on my own version of Falena’s wife, as I should. I just imagined the most beautiful woman I could.

Kifaji had to step away to take a phone call while everyone was checking out the food stalls and Leona almost looked grateful to see his back disappearing into the crowd as he handed you one of the baobab hibiscus teas. You thanked him quietly before sipping on the drink, as refreshing as promised. Grim was just about to pull everyone over to a meat vendor-- surprise surprise-- when Kifaji returned, a sly looking smile on his face.

"What's got you so happy, ya old bird?" Leona huffed as Grim drooled over the meat.

"My apologies, but I need to borrow Miss Yuu for awhile." Kifaji said simply, turning his ominous smile to you.

"What for?" Leona practically growled, putting a hand on your shoulder before you could even think to step away from the group.

"On such short notice, we could not procure an outfit for her." Kifaji explained, folding his hands behind his back. "I, however, did not want her to feel left out, so I made arrangements which are now ready. I will return her at your next destination."

"It's fine, Leona." You tried to assure him, patting his hand gently. "I do feel a little left out of the fun."

Leona clicked his tongue in annoyance before releasing your shoulder and crossing his arms.

"We're headed to Ivory Springs after this. Do not be late." He directed the command at Kifaji rather than you.

"B-But, Yuu look at this! And these!" Grim was actually drooling over the meat in the stall, turning back to you with tears in his eyes that practically begged you to let him stay.

You sighed heavily and shook your head. "Vil, can you keep Grim out of trouble for me? I won't be long."

"Of course." Vil nodded, glancing down at the direbeast as he cheered and danced around in a little circle. "I'll try my best to not let him eat through Leona's entire fortune."

"Good enough for me." You chuckled before turning to Kifaji, who smiled again and held an arm out for you to lead the way out of the markets.

You walked side by side with Kifaji to the entrance of the market, only for him to place a hand on your upper back to direct you towards a waiting black car just up the street. As you approached, a beastwoman in full guard regalia opened the back door for you to enter. You thanked her quietly before stepping into the blissfully air conditioned car, Kifaji getting in on the other side.

"It's not that far to the hotel," you chuckled as the driver reentered the car, "and I'm not as prone to heatstroke as Jack is."

"Oh, we aren't going to the hotel." Kifaji said, as if just remembering he "forgot" to tell you about it.

"Oh?"

There was a minute of silence as he didn't answer your unspoken question. A few turns through the city, he broke it, turning to you with a pleasant smile.

"Tell me, Yuu, what is the nature of your relationship with Prince Leona?"

You were shocked for a moment at the bluntness of the question. "Is this because I'm the only girl? Because I can assure you, we're all friends--"

"My apologies, that isn't what I meant." He cut you off with a small chuckle and a lift of his hand. "If you'd humor me?"

"I mean... we're friends? Friendly, at least." You explained, wringing your hands in your lap. "He's helped me out of a few tough spots, I've helped him. We hang out on occasion. He's nice, I dunno." You wouldn't dare say it out loud, especially to the chamberlain, but you sometimes secretly wished there was more there.

He gave you a warm smile, much like a father would give to a daughter talking about her crush. "I see. As you well know, I've seen to Leona since the day he was born, and I haven't seen him so... protective of someone since... well, ever. That boy has never exactly been friendly, let alone "nice" to just about anyone since his mother passed. It's refreshing to see."

You could feel your face getting hotter with each word the chamberlain said. You desperately wanted the subject to change. "S-So, if we aren't going to the hotel, where are we going?"

"The Royal Palace." Kifaji said casually, as if you were on your way to some unnamed park.

"What?! Why?"

"As I said, I made arrangements for your outfit. You need to look the part to represent your team!" He said, another sly smile on his face as he pumped his fist in front of him in an imitation cheer. "And, I regret to say, you stick out like a sore thumb among those boys."

"But-- I-I thought-- we--"

"And here we are. A short drive, is it not? The walk would have been significantly longer."

You looked out the window at the palace, a grand stone building at the top of the hill. It almost looked as if it were carved out of the rock itself. You were startled out of your thoughts as the driver opened your door for you again, the chamberlain outside waiting to give you a hand out. You thanked them both as you took the offered hand and stepped out, following Kifaji closely as he walked.

"So, uh... just pop in, change clothes, and head back down to the market, yeah?" You asked nervously as you glanced at the guards you passed by, feeling eyes on your back.

"Just so." Kifaji assured you, another sly smile as he stopped at a large set of doors already opened, swinging a hand out for you to go first.

You weren't sure what was about to happen. Maybe you'd be thrown in a dungeon for fraternizing with their prince, or maybe they meant to keep you here until Leona himself came to find you, or--

"There she is!" A booming and excited voice came from across the room as you entered, startling you to turn and look.

A mound of long ginger hair twisted into braids was running up to greet you, perched atop a muscle-bound mountain of a man. He was dressed similarly to Leona, but wearing white instead of black, still adorned in gold, an enormous smile on his face. The guards at the door stood at attention as he got to your side of the room, clasping your hand quickly in a firm and enthusiastic handshake.

"You must be the girl Kifaji told me so much about!" He beamed at you, reminding you so much of Kalim in this moment. Wait.

"So much?" You parroted, looking at Kifaji, who simply shrugged.

"Oh, you must tell me how you got Leona to be so... docile? That isn't the right word. He listens to you?! Insane!" The man rambled, still holding onto your hand. "You must tell me everything!"

"Falena, you'll scare the poor girl." Another voice rang out from the other side of the room.

The man, Falena, finally released your hand and turned to see the woman walking towards you. She was elegant and gorgeous and so poised, dressed in similar colors and patterns to her husband, also adorned in gold. You suddenly felt very intimidated as you finally realized just where you were standing.

"Oh, but my love," Falena sighed, still smiling, "think of everything we could learn! What's Leona like at school, anyhow?"

"H-He, uh..." you hesitated as the woman joined her husband’s side. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell them exactly how he was, and it wasn't a good idea to lie. Rock and a hard place. "He's certainly there."

Falena let out a booming laugh at this, his wife joining in with a laugh that sounded like bells in the large chamber.

"We know of Leona's troubles at school." She assured you, holding out a hand to shake. "I am Shani, and I'm sure my husband, Falena, did not introduce himself before launching into his questioning."

"I'm Yuu," you said, gently grabbing her hand and shaking it, "a pleasure."

"Likewise." She smiled warmly at you as you both retracted your hands. "Kifaji has asked me to dress you for the occasion."

"The festival?"

"Leona brought a girl home!" Falena cut in, the smile surely cemented on his face at this point. "A sign things are turning around for my little brother, to be sure!"

"O-Oh! No, wait, I'm--" You practically choked on your words trying to get them out fast enough, feeling your face burning again, "Leona and I aren't a couple!"

"I know! But everything Kifaji told us over the phone just makes it all the more interesting!" He gushed grabbing your shoulders. "Forgive me for being forward, but you smell like him! You must be together often!"

"I-I just keep watch while he naps, it's not like we--"

"Falena. You are making her nervous." Shani said sharply, trying to hide her amused smile as she swatted his hands off you and looped her arm into yours. "Come, we should get you into something else before Leona comes looking for you."

She didn't wait for a response before pulling you off towards the door she came through. You glanced back to Kifaji and Falena, seeing them both smiling at you, though Kifaji's looked nefarious. You faced forward again, looking up at the glamorous woman holding your arm, still amazed that you'd just met the crown prince and princess. Shani led you down the hall and into a large bedroom, turning quickly into a nearly equally large closet. Gorgeous outfits-- if you were to judge just based on the fabric-- lined the walls on either side, the far wall was large, open windows looking over the expanse of the savanna, and the wall behind was adorned with large mirrors. You couldn't help but be impressed as Shani practically floated across the room and picked up a dress that was already waiting on a chair and held it up for you.

"I hope you don't mind, I already picked something out for you." She explained as she approached. "Don't worry about the length, we can work with it however we need. This is going home with you."

"What? No, I couldn't." You said quickly as she deposited the dress in your hands.

"Do you see where we are right now? You absolutely can." She laughed, gesturing to the lines of clothes. "Go ahead and get changed, I'll be right outside, just let me know when you're ready."

Her nose scrunched up adorably in her excitement as she smiled even wider at your for a moment, her hands clapping under her chin once before she exited the room, closing the door behind her. Alone, you sighed at the absolute whirlwind you'd just gone through. You turned to the large mirrors on the closest wall and held the dress up to your body. It would definitely be long, but Shani was a tall woman who seemed to like wearing heels, so you weren't terribly surprised. Resigned to your fate, you began to change out of your current outfit. The dress had very thin straps, so your sports bra would have to go. Once actually in the dress, it fit remarkably well, other than the length. The thin straps spread down into a V neck and stretched to the skirt in the back, the skirt itself starting a little below the bust, similar to a halter top. You couldn't help but notice the patterns on the fabric coordinated to Leona's cloak, bright orange and black not helping the case. You folded your clothes into a neat pile in front of the mirror, honestly a little relieved how well the dress held up to movement, no risk of spilling out the sides or front when lifting your arms or bending over.

"Shani? I'm ready." You called to the door, hiking the skirt up to walk over.

She entered the room again with an excited smile, looking you up and down as you stood there.

"You are definitely shorter than me." She laughed as you let the skirt go, a few inches of fabric bundling up at your feet. "But we can fix that, easy. Ten minutes. First!" She walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling off a length of fabric she'd set on top. "Do you know how to wrap your hair? Keep it off your neck and out of your eyes."

"I do not." You shook your head prompting her to wave you off.

"I can teach you, it's very easy." She smiled, joining you at the mirror again.

She turned you to face the mirror, standing behind you and draping the fabric over your shoulders. She undid the braid your hair was always in, gently combing the knots out of your hair with her fingers.

"I always used to do this with my little sisters." She explained softly as she styled your hair to the top of your head in a large bun. "I love Cheka with all my heart and soul, but I do so hope we have a little girl some day, I miss having girls around to dress up with and do hair and everything."

"What, Cheka doesn't let you do his hair?" You smiled at her in the mirror as she began wrapping the scarf, making sure you were carefully watching her steps.

She laughed brightly. "He does! But as he gets older he may not. Plus, there isn’t exactly a ton of hair to work with, he prefers to keep it short."

"No, I get what you mean though." You said fondly. "I used to have my mom do my hair all the time, but she was always there to fix it when I eventually took it out and complained about it being in my face."

"Where are you from, by the way?"

Your face fell at the question. "It doesn't really matter. Crowley doesn't seem like he's able to send me back anyhow."

Shani looked like she was about to press further, but stopped herself. "There, all done." She said with another warm smile as she smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the turban style she'd done. "Not half bad, if I do say so myself."

"It looks great, thank you." You were smiling again, not pointing out the, again, same fabric Leona had on his scarf. Maybe it was a common pattern? You somehow doubted it.

"Now, I have a few accessories for you to tie it all together." She explained, walking over to a shelf opposite the chest of drawers. "I will have you put these on to see how they look, then you give me the dress and I will hem the bottom up for you."

"Thank you for this, Shani." You said sincerely, turning to look at her with a warm smile. "You really didn't have to go to these lengths."

"Nonsense, a friend of Leona's is a friend of ours." She assured you. "We want to make sure you enjoy your first time to the Sunset Savanna to the fullest."

Leona and the others had arrived at the palace, Leona planning to swipe a car to avoid having to take Kifaji with them. However, to his surprise, Kifaji was already outside speaking with one of the guards at the door.

"Oh for fucks sake..." Leona growled as he connected the dots.

"What?" Kalim asked, glancing over to the chamberlain. "Oh, it's Kifaji! Hey Kifaji!"

The chamberlain looked up in surprise at the call of his name, locking eyes with a furious Leona and giving him another sly smile.

"Wait here." Leona snapped at the group, not giving them a chance to protest before marching over to the door. "What the hell?!"

"Ah, Prince Leona." Kifaji said coolly as the guard stood at attention for the prince's approach. "I was under the impression you were not coming home during your visit."

"That why you brought Yuu here?" He spat. "Thought you were goin' to the hotel."

"I don't recall ever saying my arrangements were at the hotel." Kifaji said, though the infuriating smile and raise of his eyebrows suggested he knew exactly what he was up to.

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering expletives under his breath before looking back up. "Where is Yuu? We're goin'."

"She is changing, currently. You and your friends are more than welcome to wait inside, if you'd prefer."

"Yeah, ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya. Did Falena put you up to thi--"

"UNCA!"

Leona nearly instinctively side stepped the little ball of fiery orange that flung itself into his arms, grunting as the fuzzball impacted into his abdomen. Kifaji, while now safe from the verbal lashing Leona wanted to deal out, was not safe from the deadly glare that was shot his way.

“Quit clingin’ to me like that! Knock it off!” Leona snapped halfheartedly at his nephew who, undeterred by the tone, continued to beam up at him.

“I got so excited when I heard you were coming home!” The boy chirped quickly, grabbing his uncle’s hand and swinging it back and forth. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

Leona ignored the amused muttering of his schoolmates behind him as he rolled his eyes at the child’s antics.

Cheka continued, still swinging Leona’s arm around. “Mama said to be on the lookout for you! Do you wanna come play with me? We could play tag, or hide-and-seek, or--”

“Cheka.” Leona snarled, finally making the boy stop. “What was that about your mother?”

“Oh… I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“Oh for fff…” Leona let the curse fizzle out into a loud grumble, trying to rub away the headache blooming in his temple. Of course it was Shani’s idea.

“I should go tell Mama you’re here!” Cheka said excitedly, darting off before Leona could stop him.

You slipped into the newly hemmed dress, a new length of fabric now flaring out the bottom that, once again, highly suspiciously matched the fabric of Leona's pants. Three times makes a pattern, damn if it didn't look good though. You were about to call out to Shani when you heard giggling through the door, and a boy's voice talking. You waited a moment before Shani knocked, sounding amused.

"All ready in there?" She called out.

"Yeah, ready." You called back, prompting her to enter the room.

Her smile grew ever wider as she looked at your outfit. "I've one more thing, and we need to be quick. Seems we've been found out."

There was a small gasp as Shani walked into the room, a tiny mess of ginger hair standing in the bedroom.

"I remember you!" Cheka said excitedly. "You're Unca's friend! From school!"

"I am! It's nice to see you again, Cheka!" You replied just as enthusiastically as Shani pulled one more thing off the shelf.

"It's nice to see you too! You match Unca!"

"I knew I wasn't crazy!" You nearly shouted, turning to Shani as your face burned again. She at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"Yuu, you are a beautiful girl in an unfamiliar place." She explained, walking forward and wrapping something around your waist. "These are recognizable patterns of the leader of the Sunset Warriors, of the second prince, no one would dare do anything to you while you are wearing these."

"Do anything?" You echoed as she fastened the belt, which matched the rest of the boys'.

"Swindle you, pickpocket, worse." She listed grimly as she adjusted your necklace. "Sunrise City is as safe a city as any during a heavy tourist season. We want you to enjoy your time here, not wonder where your wallet may have gone."

"I..." you sighed heavily. "I get that. Thank you, really. This is all very generous."

"You can pay me back by marrying my brother in law." Shani teased as she exited the closet, making your face burn tenfold.

"Hey!"

"YOU AND UNCA ARE GETTING MARRIED?!"

"Oops…"

Cheka insisted you carry him through the halls, Shani nearly telling him to return to his studies before you assured her that it was fine. You spent the entire walk trying to explain to the boy that, no, you were not marrying his uncle. Cheka, however, kept talking about the imaginary wedding and all the things you needed to have there. You resigned yourself to not stopping him. He was talking about the cake when you entered the large room you'd first met Falena and Shani.

"Aha! There she is! A much more appropriate look for your guest, don't you agree, brother?" Falena said, prompting you to turn your gaze from Cheka to him, looking just in time to watch him clap Leona on the back.

Leona said nothing, just staring for a moment before clicking his tongue and looking away. You took this as annoyance for a moment before Cheka spoke up.

"Unca, unca!" Cheka said excitedly from your arms. "When you two get married you need to have a BIG cake, okay? And there needs to be chocolate, and 'biscus, and--"

"Married?" He asked incredulously, turning back to look at the boy, not able to hide the red on his cheeks now, before looking to Shani. "What did you do?"

"Children have impressive imaginations, don't they?" She asked pleasantly, taking Cheka from your arms to hers. "Thank you for letting me dress you, Yuu."

"Thank you for dressing me," you smiled at her, ignoring the burning on your own cheeks, "it was fun."

She smiled before taking your hand and leaning in to whisper to you. "If you cannot go home for school holidays, our home is open to you, just say the word."

You nearly teared up at this, simply nodding and squeezing her hand. "Thanks for everything, Shani."

Falena laughed as you walked over to join him and Leona, who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I'd give you some words of warning, but you seem to know how to handle my brother better than I do at this point!"

"He's not so bad." You chuckled as he pointedly refused to look at you. "It was nice to meet you, Falena."

"You too! Come back anytime!" He beamed down at you before Leona grabbed your arm and started dragging you out of the room.

You waved back to the crown prince and princess as you were hauled out of the room and into the hall. Leona dragged you towards the entrance before making a sharp left a few doors down into another hallway.

"Leona--?"

"Shut up."

Your mouth closed with a clack of your teeth at his words, and you suddenly felt ashamed of your actions. Were you supposed to text him an SOS as soon as you realized where you were? When you realized what was happening? Before you could think about it further, he dragged you into a room at the end of the hall and shut the door, quickly caging you with his arms against it.

"What did they tell you?" He growled low, a dangerous tone you'd only heard a few times since you first stepped on his tail in the garden.

"N-Nothing--"

"Don't play dumb with me right now, herbivore, what did they say?"

"Kifaji and Falena kept saying that you're nice to me, and Shani said if I wore your patterns I'm less likely to get robbed." You said quickly, omitting her comment about marriage. "I was mostly with Shani, we talked about her sisters and my mom and the outfit, that's it."

His green eyes stared into your soul for a moment before he grumbled something under his breath, leaning forward to press his forehead against the wall next to your head.

"Leona?"

"Shani thinks she's funny." He said quietly, you could feel his breath against your ear as he spoke. "Makin' you match me, in public no less..."

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it--"

"Are you?" He asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes again, closer this time. "She's making fun of me."

"She's not."

"You don't know her."

"She's not making fun of you." You whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"You don't know what I say in those phone calls home." He muttered back. "Lemme guess, Shani already had that dress picked out for you, as if she plucked it from her own closet."

"...Yes?"

"You think the crown princess would ever wear the second-born's pattern?" He leaned in again, his jaw bumping your cheek as he moved to whisper in your ear. "She had that made for you, on purpose, for the day you eventually showed up."

"W-What do you say... in the calls home...?" You asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to reach your arms around him.

"Too much, apparently." He chuckled softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You felt like you would combust into flames any second. "Looks good on you though... suits you."

"L-Leona?"

He pulled back again, close enough to bump noses. "We have to get to the springs, otherwise our resident pretty princess won't play tomorrow." He whispered, still making no move to pull away.

"What..." your wet your suddenly very dry lips, not missing how Leona's eyes flicked down for just a second to catch the motion, "what did you mean by "when I eventually showed up...?""

"I said, don't play dumb, Yuu. You think I let just anyone braid my hair? You think I didn't notice that you do that while I'm tryin' to sleep?" He chuckled again, his grin almost looking like he was just flashing his teeth at you. "I pretend to not notice a lot of things."

"I'm not just anyone...?"

"You haven't been "just anyone" for awhile now." He muttered leaning in just a little closer, his nose brushing against yours gently before he stopped. "We need to go."

He let the moment hang in the minuscule amount of air between you for a second longer before finally pulling away, glancing over your outfit again as he did, making a triumphant little noise.

"Looks good on you." He muttered again before grabbing you by the arm to pull you away from the door.

Once you were out of the way, he opened the door again and walked out into the hallway, leaving you feeling like your knees were about to give out. With a moment to look around the room, you realized he'd pulled you into a bedroom that looked a little too similar to his back at the college.

"Herbivore." He barked from down the hall, kick starting you again.

"Y-Yeah!" You called back before hiking your skirt and jogging to catch up to him again.

If your friends, namely Vil, noticed the similarities between your outfit and Leona's, they were gracious enough not to say anything about it. You were, however, highly complimented on it, Kalim making a point to spin you around to see the dress twirl. Kifaji had a very self satisfied look on his face off to the side, which was quickly wiped away when Leona finally announced his plan to leave him in the dust.

Back at Night Raven College, you and Leona went back to your normal routine as if nothing had ever happened. You almost wondered if it had been a very sweet dream until you saw the dress in your closet again. You grabbed the skirt, rubbing the fabric between your thumb and index finger, as if to remind yourself that it was real. It had happened.

"What? You longin' for the Sunset Savanna again?" Grim asked from your bed, you'd nearly forgotten he was there. "I am. You really missed out on that meat, hench-human. I wouldn't mind goin' back."

"Yeah... me neither." You sighed, releasing the dress. You stared at it longingly for another moment before shutting the closet door to continue getting ready for bed. A very sweet dream indeed.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland fic #fem!reader #cloudcalling on the savanna #mine #the beginning is a little rough but i've been up for over 20 hours it gets better pls i dont know how to start a fic naturally #listen this is the first time i've felt comfortable posting a fic in SUCH a long time pls be nice

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norristrii · 13 hours ago

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MCLAREN SWEETHEARTS.

Your and Lando's relationship has everything everyone wants; Moments of you two in the new Drive To Survive season.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader.

warnings. est. relationship, slightly suggestive? Again, this is made up and doesn’t relate to the actual season!

[episode one]

Lando sprinted through the paddock, his race suit slipping dangerously low on his hips as he rushed to the garage, clearly running late. Meanwhile, you strolled leisurely behind, holding all his forgotten essentials—his phone, watch, and whatever else he’d managed to leave behind. There was no point in trying to keep up with his frantic pace.

The cameras caught the moment he stopped abruptly, patting his pockets in a panic. “Fuck, where is my phone?” he muttered, spinning around in confusion.

From a distance, you raised your voice, a hint of amusement in your tone. “I have it!” you called out, holding it up for him to see. His sheepish grin when he spotted you said it all.

“Thank god I have you,” Lando murmured, his voice warm with gratitude. Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a fleeting yet heartfelt gesture that said more than words ever could.

The Netflix editors cut to Carlos as he passed by, saying, “You would lose your own head if you didn't have her.”

[episode two]

Sitting in the McLaren hospitality with Lando's mum, the two of you chatted, stealing occasional glances out the window where Lando was busy giving an interview. He couldn’t help but look over at you both, flashing smiles and waving, his affection clearly shining through.

“Lando, please focus,” the interviewer gently reminded him, attempting to reel him back into the conversation.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lando apologized, shaking his head with a sheepish smile. Then, his expression softened as he gestured toward the window. “The most important women in my life,” he said warmly, pointing at you and his mum, leaving everyone charmed by his sincerity.

The interview clip went viral, fans saying, “Relationship goals.”

[episode three]

It was a relaxed afternoon in McLaren’s motorhome when you managed to—let’s say convince—Lando to try out a TikTok trend with you. The room was filled with laughter as he fumbled through the moves, his determination evident but not exactly successful.

“Lando! Can you do it finally right?!” you called out between bursts of laughter, tears of amusement almost streaming down your face.

“I’m trying, babe! I’m trying!” he replied, his voice desperate yet playful, only making the moment even more hilarious. The lighthearted chaos perfectly captured your bond and the fun you shared, no matter how ridiculous the task at hand.

“You dance like a maniac at parties but can’t handle this?” you teased, your laughter bubbling up again.

“I only dance when I’m drunk!” he shot back, his tone defensive but playful, making the whole situation even funnier.

The editors cut to Oscar laughing at Lando and Zak shaking his head in disbelief.

[episode four]

“Why is under every video an edit of you?!” you asked with a playful smile as you rolled your eyes, holding up your phone to show him the edit of him on your For You page.

Lando glanced at the video, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “You didn’t mind having me under you last night,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing.

Your eyes widened instantly, darting between the nearby cameras and him, caught completely off guard by his boldness. The amused look on his face only made it harder to keep your composure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were part of some bizarre social experiment, but reality was far simpler—and far more ridiculous. Lando stood there, grinning like an absolute idiot, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d just caused.

Let’s just say, his PR manager worked overtime after this part dropped.

[episode five]

Lando stood before the mirror, his curls rebelliously framing his face no matter how much he tried to tame them. Frustrated, he let out a growl. “Fuck this shit. They do what they want,” he sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Come here,” you said with a knowing smile, pulling out powder and spray from your bag. With gentle hands, you worked on his hair, smoothing the chaos into something effortlessly charming.

When you were done, he looked at you with a grateful smile. “Thank you, babe,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “You’re my savior.”

The camera captured the moment, his eyes sparkling with quiet admiration as he watched you carefully fix his unruly curls.

[episode six]

Lando crossed the finish line first, securing his first Grand Prix victory. His happiness was uncontainable as he celebrated in the car, his voice alive with joy. Through the radio, he eagerly asked his engineer, “Is Y/n there? I need to talk to her.”

Moments later, your voice came through the earpods under his helmet, full of pride and emotion. “Lan, it’s Y/n here—you did it!!” you exclaimed.

A wide grin spread beneath his helmet as he shouted back, “Y/n, love, we did it!! I love you so much!” His words carried all the excitement and love he felt, making the victory even more unforgettable as he shared it with you.

The radio went viral, all the comments pointing out, “The way she’s the one he needs talk to. God, I want what they have.”

[episode seven]

McLaren had finally done it—the Constructors' Championship was theirs after an incredible 26-year wait. The entire team was overjoyed, the atmosphere electric with celebration.

You were casually chatting with Alex when Lando, buzzing with excitement, ran straight up to you. Without a word, he met your eyes, grinning mischievously, before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder.

"Lan—what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, utterly baffled as he carried you through the paddock at full speed.

Before you knew it, you were in front of the jubilant McLaren team. Lando gently put you down, but before you could even process what was happening, the champagne started flying. Laughter and cheers surrounded you as everyone sprayed one another, Lando making it a point to douse you especially. You tried to shield yourself, but there was no escape, and soon you were drenched and sticky, unable to stop laughing at the chaos around you. It was pure, unfiltered joy.

Later on, McLaren and F1 posted the photos of you celebrating together with the team.

[episode eight; bonus]

During an interview for Netflix, Zak was asked, “Y/n is really often at the garage or motorhome since she started dating Lando. What do you think of their relationship?”—a slightly odd question, but Zak handled it with ease.

“Y/n is just a great person,” Zak said, smiling warmly. “I think she’s exactly the one Lando really needs by his side. Everyone loves them; they’re our sweethearts.”

The interviewer followed up, “Would you say Y/n is part of the team?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Zak replied confidently. “She’s part of our papaya family.” His words carried a genuine affection, showing just how much you had become a cherished part of the McLaren circle.

You saw that clip all over social media. It was nice to know they take you like part of the family. By dating McLaren’s golden boy, you became McLaren’s golden girl.

I HIGHLY recommend to check out @haniette <3 Her works are just perfection 🤌🏻

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unsteddie · 9 months ago

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University AU

Bi-Sexual weirdo Eddie Munson approaches Robin in a gay bar. It's her first time and she's so excited. She's looking around all excited with hair she definitely cut herself, wearing a cool blazer that's she's decorated with chains and pins and stuff. And she just looks cool and fun. And listen he knows he's probably not her target demographic, but he sees her blush as he approaches.

The second she hears his voice, realizes he's not a woman, she loudly complains about being hit on by a man in a GAY bar. Prompting her friend who has been leaning against the bar getting them drinks to turn. Eddie's mid apology, because that's fair, when he sees him and just shyits right the fuck up.

Cool girl, sure whatever, this man is an angel. So he immediately switches to hitting on Steve, asks him to dance and Robin says "oh, Steves not-"

But Steve cuts her off with a quick "sure." And shoves the drinks in her hands. He leaves Robin with her mouth hanging open as he follows what is probably the prettiest person he's seen in real life to the dance floor.

(Robins fine, she uses Steve's drink to charm a very pretty girl who she dances with and has a great time that night.)

Steve doesn't even speed run his sexuality crisis, he sees it coming for him and is like 'nah, I'm fine actually. I just like pretty people and curly hair.' and the crisis pouts and moves on.

I'm thinking there's probably drama. Like Steve's all in, because he's a sweet romantic idiot. But Eddie panics and is like "you don't even know what you like in men, you can't just decide I'm it."

Which Steve totally can, but Eddie scares easy, he is the opposite of Tom Petty in this regard.

So they split up with the understanding Steves gonna date around a while and keep Eddies number. And like three months go by and Steve doesn't know if he's allowed to call yet because he hasn't managed to get past the date part to the sleeping with other people part because he doesn't like anyone as much as Eddie, but Eddie said he should try some stuff before commiting to the first man that asked him to dance.

Eddie is beating himself up because it's for sure too soon, like crazy too soon, but maybe he loves Steve? And he literally yelled at him to go sleep with other people?? Why did he do that??

I have a little scene in my head where Gareth see Steve in a club and calls Eddie like "dude, he's here, with a date. Like a really really hot date." And sitcom style shenanigans ensue with Eddie running interference on Steve's date long distance via Gareth.

Like they've been apart probably twice as long as they were kinda together and they're being so dumb about it.

#i woke up from a nap to write this out #i remember sleepy me being like 'lera read over this when we're a person again '#and i saved it as a draft #jokes on sleepy me i didnt change anything #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #modern au i guess

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angelltheninth · 1 month ago

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Hey you know that trope where (usually) friends have to hide from a suspecting enemy but there is nowhere to really hide so the next best thing as to not draw attention to themselves is “quick we have to kiss because they are onto us!” One example is that one kiss scene with Steve rogers and Natasha.

Can you please write Clark, Bruce, Dick and Jason being in that similar scenario with reader? Whoever initiated it is up to you :)

I've written multiple fics with that exact premise, I know the trope very well.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, undercover mission, kissing, catching feelings, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would do this with Clark more than anyone tbh. He's so cute!

BRUCE WAYNE

Takes his mission very seriously, a lot serious than you actually. Not to say that you don't but as long as you're at a fancy party you might as well have fun with Bruce. He however wants to get in, get out and get the mission over with without the two of you getting discovered, which proves harder when people keep whispering about what a cute couple you are and looking at you all the time. When he tilts your chin and captures your lips in a kiss he notes the surprised sound that leaves your lips after which he tells you he's sorry for the quick decision, but he needed to sell the idea of the two of you actually being a couple now that that is the most popular narrative and the one that will help the two of you the most.

DICK GRAYSON

Is more than happy to go on a mission with you and be your pretend boyfriend for the evening, now if only he could gather up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend for real. Maybe he will if this mission goes well, it would make him a lot less awkward around you at the very least. Dick keeps glancing at you and at the people around you, hearing them getting more and more suspicious of the two of you right before you pull him by the tie and take him to the dance floor, smirking the whole time. As he's blushing his body falls into a rhythm with yours, the movements natural, the music and the atmosphere getting to his head so much that he kisses you at the very end of the dance, eliciting cheers and claps from the crowd, no more doubt.

RED HOOD

Loved the fact that the two of you got picked for this mission because it gives him even more chance to tease you and make you blush. Jason knows he can be a bit of an ass sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, but that doesn't diminish the fact that he still enjoys your company a lot more than the company of others. The people around the two of you are constantly looking over, at you specifically and he hates that, he was supposed to look at you like that, not anyone else so he leans in close and asks you for a kiss, otherwise he fears someone might ask you instead and he will blow your cover. Blushing at his request you smash your lips against his to shut down any smug words he might say to you next.

CLARK KENT

Was flustered when you asked him to be your partner on this mission, but he did say yes, he wanted to go, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He was a little fidgety around you, nervously glancing at you, at your lips, at your pretty dress, then quickly back at the crowd when he'd get caught. You loves teasing Clark when he got like this, you knew he had a crush on you but didn't want to call him out on it, he should tell you that himself, which is what you hoped would happen on this mission. Instead he kisses you out of panic when someone asks if he was your boyfriend and then apologizes profusely afterwards, saying how he couldn't think of any other way to make the lie convincing, which is funny coming from a man like him.

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cemetary-shifts · 11 months ago

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things i love about the new doctor who episode -the doctor commenting on rogue's brooding technique -the doctor finding out that rogue got his name from dnd ->rogue saying "roll for insight" when the doctor asks about it -the doctor calling ruby his best friend -rogue not knowing about homophobia -libertango by astor piazzolla playing while rogue and the doctor dance -the doctor telling rogue to "say anything" when they're making a scene and rogue GETS DOWN ON ONE KNEE AND PROPOSES -the doctor not realizing that ruby's telling the truth at first when she says that she's ACTUALLY ruby and her apologizing for acting -the doctor shaking his head when rogue asks if he could sacrifice the world for ruby -rogue saying "find me" to the doctor right before he gets transferred off -the doctor instantly trying to ignore his loss but ruby says he doesnt have to do that and they hug -the doctor keeping the ring rogue gave to him and putting it on his pinky

#rogue #dr who #dr who spoilers #dr who fandom #new who #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #doctor who fandom #15th doctor #the 15th doctor #the fifteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor #ruby sunday #dw s14 #dw spoilers

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lavenderspence · 10 months ago

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Cute, Outraged Genius | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, Spencer being a bit of a technophobe

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Spencer comes home only to find you using a kindle…instant outrage

A/N: This is just a cute little story about Spencer being our little technophobe genius. I actually don’t own a kindle, so don’t know how those work or anything, but physical books are in fact superior, so.

The quote at the end is from “Book Lovers” by Emily Henry

masterlist

You loved his apartment, sometimes more than you loved yours. Being in his space, surrounded by his things - his books, his clothes, the silly art he indulged in. Being drowned by his scent, meters upon meters of space he’d touched, it soothed you like nothing else could.

The peace you felt whenever you were in his space was unparalleled.

You loved his bedroom, the plushness of his bed, his closed, where you found yourself stealing his shirts and cardigans, never giving them back.

Your favorite place in apartment 23 was his couch, where he found you often enough, when he returned from a case, curled up with a book. You loved the blanket thrown on the back and the windows that allowed for the whole apartment to light up with the sunlight.

And then there were his bookshelves, in clear view from said couch. Filled with his favorite books, special editions he held close to his heart, or some that brought him knowledge. The shelves, that now also held some of your favorite books too.

Reading, books, was the thing that had brought you together in the first place, so when he’d made space for your clothes in his closet and your toiletries in the bathroom, he’d also made space for your books to sit beside his own.

He’d insisted it made the place feel less like it was his own, and more like it was shared, even though you weren’t living together. It warmed your heart to know, that he saw his apartment as a home for both of you.

Seeing your books among his own, made you fall even more in love with him because he knew what they meant to you. So much so, he tumbed through a few, leaving sticky notes with his little thoughts between the pages.

As for your first meeting, it was funny.

You’d met a year ago, at a cafe close to his apartment. Stuck in a long queue, waiting for your turn, your nose had been buried into a book, completely oblivious to your surroundings. Spencer had been standing behind you, and like the nosy dork he is, had been reading along with you, over your shoulder.

When he’d pointed out an inaccuracy in the plot, compared to real life, you’d screamed, slamming the book shut, and successfully making a fool of yourself in front of the whole cafe.

He’d apologized bashfully, and asked to buy your drink for you, and then lingered for a short conversation before he’d been called away on a case.

In his hurry to get to the FBI on time, he’d forgotten to take your number. Two weeks later, and after a lot of blaming himself for being a dumbass, he’d seen you again, nose buried into another book, sipping a beverage next to the window of the cafe.

You hadn’t attached puzzling looks this time, and he’d gotten your number. A year later, you couldn’t be more happy for the fact that your boyfriend sometimes didn’t really get social cues.

You smiled, thinking back on that day.

You focused on your book again, eyes dancing around the page, following with rapt attention.

Reading was one of the few things that brought you peace, quieted your brain, and improved your mood.

Sometimes you envied Spencer’s genius, being able to go through War & Peace at breakfast, without batting an eye. Reading, and reading, and still having the time for other things. If, in your lifetime, you could read as many books as Spencer had read thus far in life, you’d be happy.

You were giggling, kicking your feet, and enjoying your book, when you heard the telltale sign of Spencer arriving home - his key being inserted into the lock.

You didn’t move your eyes away from the book, having reached a great part of the book.

The door opened, and in walked your boyfriend, a peep in his step, happy he’d get to see you and spend time with you after 6 days of being away.

He left his keys in the bowl next to the door, freed himself of his shoes, and set his messenger bag down.

He walked further in, noticing the vanilla and chocolate scent in the air - you’d followed tradition, baking a small tray of chocolate chip cookies as a welcome for him.

He stood behind you, draping his hands around your neck, and leaned over to kiss the side of your head gently, finally diverting your attention away from the book.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, warm breath tickling your neck next, as he kissed around your ear and pulse point.

“Hi there, babe.” you were whispering too, finally happy to be in your own bubble. “How are you? How was the case?” you asked, just like you did every time, just like you did every day. You always wanted to know how he was, you wanted to know about his day, and he’d gotten so used to it and had done it so many times for you too, it had become routine, a way to show each other you cared and loved each other.

“I’m good, a little tired maybe,” he nuzzled your neck, eyes shut in contentment, “The case was tough, but successfully closed at the end,” he rarely elaborated, only if someone was hurt, or the case had taken a toll on his mental health. Other than that, he didn’t like bringing the gory details of the cases home with him.

Home was his space with you, where you laughed, and sometimes cried. Where you cuddled and made love, read together, or to each other, where you cooked, where you relaxed. It was no place for the realities of a BAU profiler.

“What are you doing?” it was a simple question.

“I’m reading,” and there was an even simpler answer, except if you were Spencer Reid, a doctor with three PhDs, three bachelor’s degrees, an FBI agent, and a complete, and utter technophobe.

You felt him lift his head before he choked out a high-pitched “You’re what?” and you turned around to see him, shock and betrayal written on his face, his eyes as big as saucers.

You looked at him like he’d grown two heads, but you knew you should have expected this.

You’d made the decision to get a kindle last week, and you’d used the time he hadn’t been home to set it up and try it out.

“What are you even reading on that thing? That’s not a book!” he was outraged, but at the same time, he looked so cute, that you started laughing. You brought a hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound a little because you were losing it, laughing with everything you had.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny. I’m serious.” you just laughed harder, even though you tried to reign it in and stop.

Around a minute later, your laughter started dying down, and you looked up, only to see him with his arms crossed against his chest, an expression between bewilderment, and those deep brown puppy eyes staring straight into your soul.

“It’s a kindle, Spence, it’s all digital,” you told him

“No, I know that, but you can’t be serious,” your brows furrowed, a bit butt hurt, until he continued, “You know, readers prefer physical books. A recent study found that only 21% prefer e-books, as little as 14% audiobooks, and 65% are physical book readers. Another study found that your brain absorbs less when you read on a kindle than on paper.” You laughed again, loving his brain, and then patted the space next to you, waiting for him to sit down.

“I thought you were pro saving the planet Mr. Three PHD’s.” you joked, waiting for him to sass you back. After all, one of your favorite characteristics of his was how sassy he was.

“Well, yes I am, but statistically, physical copies are superior. A book needs to be physical, not whatever bullshit that is. Come on, let’s just return this, and I’ll buy you all the books you want,” he went to stand up, and you pulled him back down by the back of his shirt.

“Aww babe, I know you will!” Spencer loved buying some of your books for you, he loved seeing the smile on your face when he bought a book you’ve wanted for a while. You buried your face into his neck, hugging him to you.

“Come on, let’s cuddle before dinner, get a cookie, and I’ll read to you for a bit, I just reached a good part,” you whisper into his neck, and he exhales, reaching towards the coffee table to get a cookie before you relax into each other, and you pick up the kindle, reading where you left off.

“We really are two opposing magnets, incapable of being in the same room without drawing together. I want to scrape my fingers through his hair and kiss him until he forgets where we are, and everything and everyone that ever made him feel like he was a disappointment. And he’s looking at me like I could, like there’s an ache in him only I could soothe.” you read, hand running through his hair, happy to have him back.

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