#other than that its pretty soft ig

[sunshineyuyu]

princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ofc beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho. 

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out. 

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual. 

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door. 

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan. 

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch. 

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits. 

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap! 

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked. 

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it. 

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal���

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it. 

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back. 

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunho’s jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.” 

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TALES OF CANDOR (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!author!reader

summary: lando’s girlfriend has a secret identity. she’s not quite the girl next door everyone assumed, and he might just be the inspiration for more than just her instagram captions.

warnings: some hate comments

* faceclaim: mélanie, aka wailcester on ig (please imagine her as you see fit)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 508,651 others

landonorris some days @ home

👤 tagged yourusername

view all comments

user i hope ur enjoying ur time off!

user no hate but like what does his gf actually do?

user literally nothing she’s jobless💀

user it’s giving🏅👷‍♀️

user lando i love u but half naked pics of ur girl isn’t helping how much we dislike her…

user what’s she reading!!!

yourusername a thousand splendid suns by khaled hosseini!!

user ofc u are. i totally believe u acc read well written books. u probably just read gossip columns but want to seem interesting🙄

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,708,111 others

musingsofcandor biscuit approves of the final draft🤍

👤 tagged acatcalledbiscuit

view all comments

user HELLO??? CANDOR DOES THIS MEAN WE R GETTING A NEW BOOK

user i love that we know more abt candy’s cat than we do her…

user can’t wait to read it🥹🥹

rickriordan has to be my favorite thing you’ve written!

user RICK’S READ IT??? OH YOU KNOW ITS GOOD

user lando norris in the likes he’s just like all of us fr

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 32,410 others

yourusername ‘when she finally got the camera film developed, seeing his face made it all come rushing back’🦋🫧🧚🏻

view all comments

user im sorry i know we r meant to be supportive but she annoys me sm. is she just living off of lando’s money?

user omg the caption!!!

user i recognise it, where’s it from?

user it’s from ‘tales of peter rourke’ by candor!!!

user 🤢

user we get it… ur dating someone rich. now get a job!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mclaren interview

[captions:

interviewer: what have you been up to in your break?

lando: a lot of lounging around with my girlfriend. read a few books too!

interviewer: anything good?

lando: i’m really into magical reality at the moment! that kind of it’s all normal till it’s not stuff, you know?

interviewer: any good recommendations?

lando: if you like that same genre, i recommend ‘the right side of upside’ by candor! it’s pretty recent, i finished it last week.]

comments

user he likes candor??? he’s so real for that

user KNEW I COULD TRUST HIM

user bad taste in women good taste in books

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,708,111 others

musingsofcandor thank you for all the love lately on ‘the right side of upside’. insane seeing so many of you recommend it, biscuit and i are eternally grateful. love, candy🤍

view all comments

user QUEEN DID YOU SEE LANDO RECOMMENDED IT

user CANDY HAS A MAN???

user love u forever ur so talented

user CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU DO NEXT. CANT BELIEVE WE HAVE TO WAIT NOW

musingsofcandor it might be sooner than you think ;)

user UM. candor is this a soft launch?????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by musingsofcandor, yourusername and 761,298 others

landonorris got some super helpful race advice today

👤 tagged acatnamedbiscuit, musingsofcandor

view all comments

user OH MY GOD MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING

user LANDO WE NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING IS SHE CUTE I FEEL LIKE SHES CUTE

user break up w ur gf and date candor when

musingsofcandor biscuit says he can’t be held responsible for the outcome🐾

landonorris can i hold you responsible instead, candy?

user UHHHH WHATS GOING ON HERE

user i just know y/n is feeling THREATENED

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 31,209 others

yourusername all mine

view all comments

user LMAOOO U STARTED SWEATING HUH

user candor could steal ur man if she really wanted to

user GIRL YOU’RE SO OBVIOUS

landonorris yours🖤

user STOP LYINGGGG

ੈ✩‧₊˚ an exclusive interview with candor : entertainment weekly

interviewer: so candor! tell us how it really feels having the world at your feet!

candor: [laughing] honestly quite normal! it’s a blessing and a curse, really, not having my identity revealed. i get to live my life without those pressures, but i don’t get to see anyone and thank them for reading!

interviewer: do you ever get the urge to approach someone reading one of your books?

candor: all the time! whenever i go browsing in book stores and see someone looking at or buying mine, i have such a temptation to scream THANK YOU at them!

interviewer: do you see a future in which you reveal your identity?

candor: maybe! there are a few of my fans who know who i am, those who attend the secret events and signings, but i’m very lucky that they all respect my privacy and haven’t shared anything further. perhaps one day soon i’ll finally let everyone in on the secret.

interviewer: and we can’t talk to you and not bring up your cat — or rather, who your cat met the other day…?

candor: oh! i’m assuming you mean lando norris? yes! he’s a pretty good friend of mine, he’s been a big support over the last few years and we found some time in our schedules last week to meet up.

interviewer: so you’re a formula 1 fan?

candor: huge fan! i’m a big mclaren girl so lando and i met through their events!

interviewer: oh fantastic! see folks reading this, she really is just like us!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 33,009 others

yourusername cars going vroom vroom makes my heart go boom boom

view all comments

user lmao posting before and after candor’s interview. girl ur not subtle.

user im so sorry but ur clearly so threatened it’s hilarious

user i don’t get all the hate in here??? she’s just in love n happy?

user shes a gold digger

comments on this post have now been disabled

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,708,111 others

musingsofcandor told you it wouldn’t be long🫧 ‘thomasin jeffe, the cat, and the diplomat’ will be with you next friday. a lot of love poured into this one over the past few years, i just couldn’t wait any longer to give it to you🤍

already a member on my website? check your emails🦋

view all comments

user WHDHSJSJSJSJS

user OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING

user THE EMAILLLLL🥹

user candy omg where do you live that looks so pretty!!!!

musingsofcandor monaco !!

landonorris 🖤

user lando using the black heart and candor using the white… i’m sorry to his gf (not really) but they’re meant to be

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a photo

liked by musingsofcandor and 34,511 others

user the best day of my life!!! thank you so much candor for being the absolute sweetest human and taking time to talk to each and every one of us! i cannot wait to read thomasin jeffe, the cat, and the diplomat🥹🤍

view all comments

user YOU MET HERRRRE???

user WHO IS SHE TELL TELL TELL

user candor asks us not to share her identity so i’m gonna respect that but LET ME TELL YOU I WAS SHOCKED

user i recognise her from just that inch of her face but i can’t tell whERE FROM

musingsofcandor it was WONDERFUL to meet you! i hope you enjoy the story🤍

user wish people on twitter were as kind as this,,, there’s photos of her going around :/

ੈ✩‧₊˚ f1wags just posted a photo

liked by 57,916 people

f1wags the internet has been in PIECES after famous author candor’s recent book signing. photos have emerged of the popular anonymous author from the event, revealing her to be none other than LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND, Y/N! turns out, she has a job after all👀 (pictures taken from y/n’s instagram!)

view all comments

user i… cannot believe this

user see. when y’all were hating on her you were secretly worshipping her

user @ everyone who was an arse to y/n… KARMA IS A BITCH!

user WHAT????

user HOLY SHIT LANDO HAS BEEN DATING MY FAV AUTHOR THIS WHOLE TIME????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 506,711 others

yourusername well. the secrets out. it’s been a long few years, but it’s nice to not have to hold it in any more.

both my accounts will remain active for separate purposes, but i’m excited to be able to introduce you to candor as she is in her whole truth — just like her name suggests🤍

view all comments

user ironically this is exactly how i picture marian elsie from thomasine jeffe looking. full fairy

user i am. so sorry. so so so sorry. i know nothing can ever compare for the things we said but i really am

yourusername thank you. no hard feelings on my end🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 457,810 others

landonorris my candy. it may not have been how you intended, but i’m glad i get to show off how proud of you i am.

i’ve watched you as both candor and y/n for a while now, and i love both versions of you entirely. i cannot wait to see what you do now you have the freedom to be whoever you want to.

and hey, pretty cool to be able to say i’m the inspiration behind some of your characters, huh?🖤

ps. so glad i can finally share photos of mY CAT. even if he does hate me biscuit is MINE as well

view all comments

user love the clarification that the most important thing to lando is sharing photos of his cat😭😭

user MORE PICS OF BISCUIT PLEASE

user i’ve always been in love with her i can say that confidently

user oh so you’re a successful fanboy

yourusername biscuit told me to tell u ur smelly for using him for likes

landonorris you literally said to me omg i can post about biscuit now YOU FEEL THE SAME DONT LIE

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,309,298 others

musingsofcandor i’ve had a bit of inspiration for some time🤍

view all comments

user MOM AND DAD

user i can’t believe this. my worlds are colliding

user I KNEW CAPTAIN ROURKE FELT FAMILIAR IN THE TALES OF PETER ROURKE

user i can’t believe my fav ever love interest is based on lando….

landonorris i love you. thanks for immortalising me🖤

————

a/n: hello hello! another one whilst i recover!

so this was based on an anon request and i have had so much fUN writing it!!!! whilst i don’t normally do requests generally due to being overwhelmed easily, this one stood out to me as i Love books so i was inspired. to the anon who requested, i hope this is what you imagined🤍

in terms of further requests! whilst i can’t promise i’ll do them, if you have any pressing ideas you think would work with my style , do feel free to send them in ! i always love to hear your ideas (and any thoughts on my works!! please send feedback as well!!) and will try gradually to get through some🤍

fun fact: all the book titles are based on actual books i have written hehe

fun fact pt2: yes her pseudonym is chosen bc i watched divergent last night

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35

[im-yn-suckers]

ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ? ✧˖° bf!riki x gf!reader ✧˖° tw: kissies, cuddles, mention of stress, reader is said to be short but that could literally js mean shorter than him, and only sorta maybe perhaps a little kinda self indulgent bc i want a riki ^^ a little disclaimer: idk if riki listens to all of these, as they just come off of my playlist !

your desk is covered in pens, pencils, sticky notes and other supplies. ah yes, another paper, but this time you finished in time. previously you were worrying about getting in on time and if you did it right. will the professor think its good? will i get a good grade? i hope i didnt mess up

all of these thoughts crowded your mind for days maybe even weeks. it brought you tears and pride. the final paper you so horridly dreaded now turned in as you leave your desk, not bothering to clean it up. you walk over to your bf, who was busy playing league on the couch, that filled up, almost, the entire room.

you plop down next to him, leaning on his shoulder. his scent intoxicating you, god, how you missed it for the last 3 hours. "you done pretty girl?" he asks, though not looking down, too focused on his game. you only nod. minutes pass and youre still cuddled up to him. soon enough, he turns the tv off and turns toward you, fully sideways. he lets himself fall back onto the couch, allowing you to fall w him.

a giggle leaves his pretty lips, as you fall on top of him. the couch cant fit the both of you so he improvised. you lay your head on his shoulder, almost his clavicle. you lightly peck the skin-exposed by his black hoodie-covered by pretty moles. "youre squishing me!" "shhh this was all you" he sighs in defeat. "lets go to the bed then" you sigh, not wanting to move.

on the bed, you two lay on your backs, close together. something about his calm presence when you two are in bed, ready to fall asleep, is so comforting. maybe it was his scent, as mentioned, its intoxicating, almost dizzying. or maybe his giant figure next to yours, offering a sense of protection. maybe his soft breaths as he lays down, scrolling tiktok, not quite ready to sleep, yet.

"baby, baby!" he perks up, seeing a video "hm?" you respond, on the verge of falling asleep. your eyelids droopy. "lets make a playlist and take turns adding songs!" you giggle as you hear the idea, finding it quite endearing. you nod in agreement. he opens his laptop and pulls up spotify.

tapping the plus, he creates a new playlist. "what should we name it?" he asks, trying to complete the first step. "mmmm idk, something short but cute" he types in your name to tease you. "hey!" "what?? you said short and cute!" he deletes the name, trying to think of a new one.

"wait! ki! yk the song tell my momma by kard?" you have an idea, hoping its a good one. "uhm i know OF it, why?" "how bout we put 'ill do anything to make our love last long'?" you suggest a long but sweet lyric "baby, thats corny" "so is making a playlist tgt" silence. "ugh ig ure right" you giggle and he puts down the lyric.

"ok songs, you add one first" he pushes the laptop your way and you think for a moment you add the first song, every kind of way by h.e.r, he smiles seeing the song. he takes his turn "where is love" by 3house. your turn again, "wa-r-r" by colde. his turn again, "someone like u" by lullaboy "infranumi" by steve lacy, "pink+white" by frank ocean. "seasons" by wave to earth, "3:00 am" by finding hope it goes back and forth adding songs and laughing

once you two finish, he shuts the laptop, reaching over to set it down. he turns to his side to grab you and pull you close to him. his arms wrapping around you. he presses a little kiss to your lips saying goodnight.

[r3starttt]

A CHOICE

PAIRING: Act 2. Caitlyn x reader

SUMMARY: Combat scene with Ambessa but with caitlyn and more romantic cs ughh...

CW: soft sex ig. fingering. I think that's it, this is kinda boring

TAGLIST: @Kaimythically @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @kiki5gigi @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @femininologies @dinakisser @viajeros--sin--destino @GodessAgrona @patronagrona

The room reeked of sweat and frustration, a fitting backdrop to the shift between you and Caitlyn. Once the principled enforcer driven by justice, Caitlyn had become something you barely recognized, something that mirrored the things you had both mocked in others. War had done that—it twisted ideals, reshaped alliances, and blurred the lines between hero and villain.

You weren’t exempt from its grasp either.

You weren’t on anyone’s side anymore, and if that made you selfish, so be it. All sides had their vendettas cloaked in the guise of justice, and trust had long since dissolved into ash.

The only constant left in your life was Caitlyn, and even she seemed to slip further from your reach with each passing day. Still, she was all you had left, and you clung to that tether as tightly as you could.

Ambessa stood nearby, her towering frame casting a shadow over the training room. She had a presence that demanded obedience, her sharp eyes studying every move you and Caitlyn made. Her judgment hung heavy in the air, fueling Caitlyn’s relentless determination. The younger woman was eager to prove herself—desperate to show she was more than the pretty face people often dismissed her as.

“Again,” Ambessa’s voice boomed, authoritative and cold.

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. She lunged, and within seconds, you were on your back, her weight pressing down on you. An annoyed groan escaped your lips as you met her gaze. There was no triumph in her eyes, just an unspoken apology that felt like a slap in the face.

She had pinned you down four times already, and she didn’t seem to care that it was staged, that you were holding back to give her an edge.

“This is the fourth time you’ve lost,” she muttered, her tone quiet but cutting. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at her lips, a deliberate attempt to needle you. You were doing too much, and a lie like this was one Caitlyn would never be able to hold on for so long.

You shoved her off and rose to your feet, brushing the dust from your uniform. “Aren’t you exhausted?” you asked, frowning as you reached for the long training sticks.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. Her confidence was unyielding, but the subtle tremor in her stance betrayed her. She was tiring, but she’d never admit it. Not in front of Ambessa.

You rolled your shoulders, loosening the tension building in your muscles, and tossed her a stick.

She caught it effortlessly, though her brows furrowed as she examined the weapon.

“Isn’t this what we’re here for?” Ambessa stepped past, her hand brushing your shoulder. “Don’t disappoint me,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she left the room, leaving the two of you to your duel.

Caitlyn frowned, her fingers tightening around the stick as she moved into a defensive stance. Her eyes narrowed, scanning you for any sign of weakness.

She dodged your first strike with a fluid step to the side, her frown returning as she countered with a quick jab to your arm. The impact stung, yet, with the adrenaline of it all, you barely flinched.

You shifted your stance, testing her defenses. Her movements were agile but predictable, and you exploited that, pressing her with a flurry of strikes that forced her to retreat. She tried to parry, but your blows grew heavier, faster. The sound of wood colliding echoed in the room, each clash a reminder of how far you both had come— how far you had fallen.

You gritted your teeth and feigned an opening, luring her in. When she lunged, you sidestepped, your stick sweeping low to catch her behind the knee. Inmediatelly, you shot again, pivoting and landing a strike on her shoulder. She winced but didn’t yield, pressing forward with a renewed ferocity.

The tension between you was palpable, each movement charged with so much—frustration, pride, it was complicated. You weren’t just fighting for dominance; you were fighting to hold onto the fragile thread that bound you together. Caitlyn’s determination was admirable, but you could see the cracks forming beneath her resolve.

Caitlyn moved with a desperation that mirrored your own, though her strikes lacked the precision and control you'd honed over countless battles. It was frustrating—not her lack of skill but the raw determination she wielded like a weapon. She had something to prove, and even as she pushed herself past her limits, you could see beneath.

Ambessa stood like a sentinel on the sidelines, her sharp gaze dissecting every move. You felt her judgment weighing heavily on you both, a silent reminder of why you were here.

She’d orchestrated this fight, thrust you into Caitlyn’s orbit once again after convincing her to become a commander. It wasn’t loyalty or trust that kept you by Caitlyn’s side now—it was survival. War had made enemies of everyone, and holding onto her, flawed as she was, felt like the only tether to a life that wasn’t entirely consumed by violence.

Caitlyn lunged, her movements fueled by frustration more than strategy. You parried her blow with ease, countering with a sweep of your stick that forced her back. She stumbled but recovered quickly, her brow furrowing as she adjusted her stance.

You didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, you pressed forward, your strikes gaining momentum. She dodged the first few but couldn’t keep up with your relentless pace.

Finally, your stick connected with her side, and she yelped, her expression twisting into a mix of pain and anger.

Before she could recover, you closed the distance between you, slamming her back against the wall. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her, and her stick clattered to the ground.

For a moment, the fight was over. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling as she stared at you blankly.

And yet, despite it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to finish her. Even as you disarmed her, you hesitated.

Her breathing was ragged, her eyes locked on yours, but there was no surrender in her gaze. Only defiance.

You released her, letting your stick fall to the floor beside hers. She stayed against the wall for a moment, her gaze distant as she tried to regain her bearings.

Ambessa’s steps cut through the silence. “Is this enough?” you asked, turning to face her.

Ambessa gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable. “I hope so. Kiramman, do better next time. And you—one victory means nothing.” With that, she turned on her heel and left, the door closing with a decisive thud behind her.

Caitlyn slid down the wall, her movements slow and heavy, until she came to rest on the cold floor. She drew her knees close to her chest, one hand pressing firmly against her side. Her breath came uneven and shallow, each exhale barely audible. She didn’t speak. You crouched in front of her, setting the bundle of sticks aside. “Did I hurt you?” Your voice softened, words deliberate.

She shook her head, but her gaze never lifted. “I’m fine... just tired,” she murmured, her voice frayed and fragile, like it might disappear if she spoke any louder.

You frowned, unconvinced, studying the strain etched across her face. “You sure?”

Her nod came again, mechanical, unconvincing. The tension in her hand betrayed her, fingers digging into her side as if she could smother the pain through sheer will.

“Lay down,” you said, firm but gentle. “You need to rest.”

Her lips parted in protest, though the words carried no weight. “I can’t just... lay here,” she muttered, struggling to push herself upright. The attempt lasted only a heartbeat before a soft groan slipped from her lips, her body folding under the effort.

You scoffed lightly, standing and extending your hand. “No? Then come on.”

She shook her head, stubborn as ever. “I’m fine,” she repeated, but the hollowness of her tone betrayed her once again.

With a sigh, you knelt beside her. Your gaze softened, the sharp edges of impatience giving way to concern. “Come closer,” you said, quiet but insistent.

For a moment, she hesitated, then obeyed. Her movements were sluggish, every inch forward laced with reluctance. Her hands trembled as they left her side, her shoulders heavy with the weight of exhaustion. The moment your hands found her, warmth against her cool skin, she stilled. Her head dipped forward, her breath steadying as if surrendering to your care.

“This will hurt, but it’ll help,” you warned, brushing her uniform aside just enough to place your hand where hers had been. Her muscles were tense, coiled like steel beneath your fingers. You pressed gently but firmly, seeking the knot of pain she couldn’t hide.

Her sharp inhale cut through the silence, a quiet hiss of discomfort. Still, she nodded, letting you know you’d found it.

Your touch was careful, each motion slow and deliberate, coaxing the tension free. Her body softened under your hands, her breathing evening out with each pass. The furrow in her brow smoothed, and her grip on the pain began to wane.

“There,” you murmured after a time, pulling back.

Caitlyn sat straighter, her movements measured. She exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding, her eyes finally meeting yours. “Thank you,” she said, her voice subdued but sincere.

You stood, brushing your hands together as if to clear away the weight of her pain. “Mhm... I’ll need more than a thank you for all this, Kiramman,” you teased, extending your hand to help her up.

Her lips twitched, a faint smirk breaking through her weariness. “Kiramman?” she echoed, an edge of curiosity in her tone.

You nodded, tugging her to her feet before letting her hand fall away. She studied you for a beat, the faint crease of a frown touching her features. Her silence was telling, and so was yours. Her last name had rarely, if ever, passed your lips, and the air between you now seemed charged with the acknowledgment of it.

Her smirk returned, wider now, her gaze sharpening with mischief. “You have a choice,” she said, her voice low, her confidence cutting through the quiet.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I don’t.”

“You do,” she countered, stepping closer. Her hand brushed lightly against your waist, a deliberate gesture that sent the air around you rippling with unspoken meaning.

“You think so?” you asked, your tone flat but your gaze steady on hers.

“I know so,” Caitlyn whispered, her words a challenge as her face hovered close to yours. Her eyes flicked briefly to your lips, then back to your own.

Your smile tilted, equal parts playful and defiant. “I don’t,” you repeated, stepping back and breaking her grip. You reached for the water bottle, taking a deliberate sip, ignoring her lingering gaze.

“So, you’re just going to ignore me now?” Her arms slid around your waist from behind, her touch light but persistent. She rested her head against your back, her body swaying slightly as if to disarm you with her childlike ease. You glanced over your shoulder, raising a brow.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, your voice calm, though her closeness stirred something unspoken in the quiet between you.

Her breath caught for a moment, but then she let out a soft huff, her grip tightening briefly before she released you. She stepped back, her silence filled with the weight of a thousand words unspoken.

And yet, you knew better than to believe it was over.

Your hand reached for hers before she could retreat any further. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, wary yet undeniably drawn to you, as though your touch was the only thing grounding her.

You stepped closer, closing the space between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Her lips parted as though she was about to argue, but instead, she fell silent. Her fingers brushing your chest, tentative at first, before sliding up toward your neck.

Seconds after you felt her digits threading through your hair, pulling you closer with a subtle urgency that betrayed her earlier distance. And you followed, like you're used to.

The rhythm between your lips guided urgency, desperation. Her breaths mingling with whining and gasping. Even now there was a fight for dominance, trying to prove each other a worth none of you had to.

And so the kiss breaks, a mutual eyeing to prove this is real and is mutual. Caitlyn feels your lips hovering, the quiet gasps for air almost turning into moans hitting her skin fervently.

She diggs into your shoulders, taking the chance to slip her tongue through your lips. And as you're used by now, the action is reciprocated by your saliva mixing with hers.

Mingling breaths coming in shallow gasps as you deepened the kiss, your hands exploring the somehow familiar curve of her body, the softness of her skin.

Your hands roamed down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her pelvis against you before sliding your digits beneath the red fabric of her uniform, fighting to undo her pants.

The task was easy, a somehow known ritual between both. Your fingers slid with ease, cupping at her pussy before rubbing your digits up and down her wet folds. Your hand behind her lower back to savour on her skin, hold her in place like you're always doing for her.

Her arms came to wrap around your shoulders, tangling her fingers on your hair while her face came to hid at your neck. The sweat on your faces enveloping each other's warmth with each move.

Her quiet whimpers felt perfect against your skin, like it was meant to be this way. And for once you allowed yourself to hold onto her as well, enjoy the pleasure of having her like this.

Caitlyn let herself be vulnerable once more, no longer fighting or hesitating but simply letting you hold her.

"Shh... feels good?" Your fingers brushed over her clit before finally circling over it, gentle, slow. Caitlyn murmured a quiet acknowledgment, pressing herself closer to you- pressing your body closer to her.

You left your thumb circling over her clit, just sensing her wet, teasing at her hole before thrusting your middle finger inside her. An overlapped gasp at how she swallowed you, how her hips followed you to get more depth, more friction.

"Look at me." Her head suddenly tilted back. Nails digging at your chin as she forced you to obbey her command- another usual between you two.

Her eyebrows were slightly curved, teeth gap showing through her parted lips. Your thrust growing faster each second until you took the chance to use your ring finger too.

You could see it on her chest, sense on how tight she was, hear the squeal with each thrust- she needed this as much as you.

Her lips begged for yours. Blue eyes eating you until her nails digged too deep- enough to make you hiss. And so, her tongue met yours once again, teeth clashing in a sloppy kiss, giving each other the privilege of the quiet gasps, low whines and quite heavy pants every time your fingers pumped into her pussy with more force. The palm of your hand hitting on her clit every time.

It never stops, not even when her lips part and break the kiss. Her hand going down to your wrists while her head tilts back. "Stop..." you whisper in a weak command, needing her to cum on your fingers, still pumping into her pussy. "Cait... please." You would scream at her and return all the anger she's let on you. But how she looks, with the sweat still on her face, some small hair sticking to her forehead. The warmth of her hand around you while her legs can barely hold it. Your fingers trapped between her thighs and her wet, under her underwear- so trapped and growing harder to move them. She's letting herself enjoy the moment, no talking but just quiet touching and gasping between both to guide each other.

Because she knows no one could ever understand and touch and feel like you.

And for once, getting to enjoy that silent admission- it blinds you into just pleading her to not be an ass once more.

Which she obbeys, drenching your fingers before she's holding onto you once again. Ragid breathing and a stupid smile on her face.

[jayschaconne]

LOVESICK | Kim Sunoo

summary: While on summer vacation you find yourself falling for Sunoo in just a matter of seconds.

warnings: (minors dni), heavy smut, unprotected sex, size kink (?) (idk about y’all but I LOVE Sunoo’s shoulders), swearing (excessive use of the word ‘cunt’), both reader and Sunoo are down bad (ALSO VERY FREAKY) (not proofread)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

a/n: I’ve finally written about all of enha on here omg. also this isn’t what I wanted it to be so try and enjoy it ig. sorry for making it long.

…

There were green leaves scattered across the street. The sun hitting your eyes, blocking your vision.

You carried a tote bag with books you’d just checked out from the library nearby. Coming to visit your parents’ home country wasn’t your most favourite thing to do, but getting to take in the fresh summer breeze and stroll across streets you’d grown accustomed to had soothed you in its own ways.

It was pretty out. You loved the fresh green grass and the trees that sheltered you from the harsh sunlight. The serene, ocean-blue skies that were peppered with clouds shaped like hearts and different animals, making you laugh to yourself.

All the while you’d been preoccupied, you’d forgot to take notice of things around you. This caused you to so suddenly bump into someone and land flat on the ground. You were sure you’d hurt your elbow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a soft, calming voice had called from above you. “Here, let me help you.”

The man crouched down to pick up the fallen contents out of your bag. You had no time to tend to the wound that formed on your skin. Because in a split second, all your attention was on the boy in front of you.

He seemed to be out of this world.

Your eyes locked on his, staring deeply. You couldn’t seem to look anywhere other than his face. His plump lips, the curve of his brows. His adorable nose. The way his bangs were reaching his eyes. The plain beige shirt he was adorned in paired with blue denim that sat proudly on his shoulders.

He seemed to be at a loss of words for the first few seconds. You both took each other in, a sigh coming from him, your eyes refusing to even blink, fearing he’d disappear if you had.

A smile had reached his lips and his honey-brown eyes. A shy chuckle escaped. “Forgive me for being this direct but,” he sighed, “you’re incredibly stunning.”

Sunoo was in total awe at how you were speechless when face-to-face with him. Your lips slightly parted, almost as if you hadn’t expected to see him, though it was normal given that he was a stranger.

What could it have been that made those beautiful eyes seem to have a million questions behind them at the sight of him?

And how on earth could someone be this gorgeous? He felt his heart smile when he first saw you; it started beating at a much slower, more steady pace. Making him feel like he’d been enveloped into a world where only the pretty girl carrying books, who he just bumped into existed. Your curls that flailed with the wind, the coconut scent in your hair, those long lashes that fluttered as you lifted your eyes to peer up at him. Doll-like, they gleamed in the sunlight.

You finally broke away from your train of thought.

“I’m..sorry.” You said, unsure of what to feel towards this man or how he’d just called you beautiful.

“I mean thank you.” You added while a nervous laugh had escaped your lips. You could feel the heat rising up to your cheeks. “You’re gorgeous,” you said before being able to stop yourself.

Just then, you heard him laugh. It was the most beautiful sound of laughter you’d ever gotten to hear.

“Let me help you,” he said again, this time helping you back up on your feet. Your hands were in his, feeling the soft skin of his palms and the warmth radiating from them.

“Thank you.” You let out almost in a huff. You couldn’t understand this feeling. It was in the pit of your stomach, but also latched onto your heart. The sight of this strange, beautiful boy you’d just met made it slightly harder to breathe. It made your knees weak.

You both were very, very still for a moment. His hands had kept their hold on you, eyes locking deeper into yours. A sigh left him, and he let both your arms fall.

“Is it wrong to want to know your name?”

“Please tell me your name.”

You both had spoken at the same time. This caused you two to share a moment together, laughing at the coincidence.

“You first,” he softly said. His gaze on you was so warm and welcoming. It made you melt.

“Y/n,” you said, not being able to help how you brushed your hair behind your ear at how shy he made you feel.

“That’s pretty. But it doesn’t surprise me. Pretty things have pretty names.” Sunoo confessed.

He felt like an idiot that was just going and on and on about your looks. He so badly wanted to spend the rest of his day with you.

“You are?”

“Sunoo,” his eye smile was back.

Sunoo. You felt your heart flutter at his name being just as gorgeous.

The evening had rolled around quick, but ironically slow at the same time.

You two walked into the park nearby, feeling time slowly slip away, but still being enough to let you bask in each other’s presence.

You couldn’t believe how radiant a human being could be, to not have one flaw in them. Sunoo was absolutely perfect. He was the real definition of ‘too good to be true’.

He was open, easily understood. It made you wonder if it was just how direct he was that made him want to compliment you.

But his eyes spoke for themselves. You’d stop walking at certain points, which gave him more of a reason to keep his eyes on you.

His gaze was still, subtle, but there was so much more behind those eyes than even he could comprehend.

At a certain point, Sunoo had started to carry himself in a way where he wasn’t hiding his affection for you. Stories he heard, he wanted to hear more of. “Tell me more,” he’d nod. That smile tugging at the corner of his lips made your attachment grow.

Sunoo couldn’t grasp at where it rooted from, but there was this feeling of familiarity that was slowly growing between you two. Just within a few glances and words exchanged, Sunoo felt like he’d known you a lifetime.

“I’m staying here with my aunt for the time-being. I’ll be going back in a couple months,” he explained while you two sat on a bench far near the trees in the park.

And if it weren’t for the bitter taste forming in your mouth at the thought of keeping something from him, you wouldn’t have said it.

“I’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

A gap had suddenly opened up in that one corner of his heart that felt like it had been reserved just for you. It had to have been you it belonged to, he was certain. But it was slowly emptying itself now. Your words left a scar that he wasn’t sure could now be ceased.

At his silence, you grew nervous. “Sun-

Loose strands of hair had been in your eyes then, which he brushed away with a light touch of his fingers. “Let me get those for you,” he hushed in a whisper. You felt your eyes shut momentarily, your heart racing.

He didn’t acknowledge what you’d just told him.

He retracted his hand, looking at you with such tenderness. Such adoration.

“Sunoo.”

“Yes.”

There was so much you wanted to say but the words wouldn’t leave your mouth.

“Nothing.”

And there it was. He laughed again.

“Is it okay if I…” you spoke, unsure.

“Hm,” he patiently waited for you to say whatever it was you wanted to.

Your lips were parted, but again, no words came out. You could explain it so much better if you just touched him.

Your hands reached up to his hair, picking at the loose ends. You needed to feel him. Touch him. It was the only thing you knew with him.

You weren’t big on communicating your feelings. It wasn’t anything you were used to. And while Sunoo had given you more than reason to be open with him, he was so overwhelming. Speaking was the last thing your feelings would allow you to do.

Touching him felt much more familiar. His skin underneath your palms allowed you to say things your lips couldn’t.

He watched, following only your eyes as you placed your hand around his neck, leaving traces of fingertips he saw as you engraving your mark on him.

He sat incredibly still, but relaxed underneath you. Your hand was now cupping his face. He moved suddenly, lips brushing your fingers.

“Sunoo…”

“Don’t drive me crazy like that,” he whispered, almost pleading.

The sleeve of your cardigan had rolled up, and Sunoo noticed the scrape on your elbow, brows immediately knitting together in worry. He saw how the open wound started to bleed.

“Oh no,” he wept. “That must hurt.” He took your arm into his hands, eyes searching yours to ask permission if this was okay.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t speak or budge. You just let him touch you, so used to it already. His fingertips grazed your skin, making the cut sting.

You hissed, causing him to retract his hand instantly.

“I’m so sorry,” he said worriedly.

“No, it’s not you. It just stings a little that’s all.”

“My aunt’s house is just a few blocks down. We should get you there quick before you lose too much blood.”

“I wouldn’t wanna cause any trouble, Sunoo.” You said, incapable of keeping his name out your mouth. Sunoo. It reminded you of sunshine. The way he’d suddenly walked into your life, raining his sun showers upon you with his bright and bubbly self. His name suit him perfectly.

“You expect me to listen after you say my name like that?” He was getting shy, but also very much see through in such little time. It was because you said it. You’d looked at him, and said his name in a way where it sounded like you’d said it a million times before.

“It’s just a small cut.”

It isn’t to me, he wanted to say.

“Do you have to go home right away?” He asked.

“No,” you lied.

“Then you’re coming with me.”

Sunoo managed to rummage through his pockets, finding a handkerchief. He tried his best to wrap it around somehow. But you ended up having to put pressure on it.

Despite all your protests against going to his aunt’s, deep down you were aching to be alone with him. It felt as if any moment you looked elsewhere, he’d slip away. And while your mind was boggled at the thought of that, your heart had understood. Without a second thought, you went with him. Not caring where he’d take you as long as he was still there.

The small blood stain on your cardigan made him take it from you, offering his own jacket. He carried your bag as well, looking over every two seconds to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Once you’d reached there, he paced around anxiously, looking through the drawers to try to find a first-aid kit.

You sat in his room, taking in the atmosphere of it. It was peaceful, clean, just the way you’d expected it to be.

He was so stressed over this stupid wound. It felt weird seeing this boy who had been a stranger just a few hours ago, rummaging through his drawers to find a bandaid for you.

You felt yourself unable to keep still anymore. You walked over to him, taking ahold of his arms.

Sunoo’s movements came to a halt, and he seemed more at ease.

“Why does this matter to you so much?”

He stood there, unable to speak. He blinked at you a few times, looking like he had an answer that just wasn’t reaching his lips.

“I…don’t know how to say it.”

“What could you possibly want to hide from me? You’re so obvious, Sunoo.”

His eyes had widened slightly, and he avoided looking at you in the face. “I’m not the only obvious one.”

“Sunoo, the bleeding has stopped.” You held up the handkerchief, revealing the dried stains of blood.

He looked down at your arm, examining it.

“Let me at least put a smaller bandaid on it.”

“Sunoo.” You started.

“Don’t keep saying my name like that.”

“Why?”

He pondered for a moment, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

“It makes me wanna kiss you.” He blurted out. There was defeat in his voice, like he’d admitted something he hadn’t meant to.

You felt relieved at that, feeling a little less crazy for how you were so deeply attracted to him already. “At least you admitted it.”

“You’d let me kiss you?”

“You’re too oblivious for your own good. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t want to spend every remaining second of my day with you.”

Sunoo let you go on, feeling slightly a bit more relaxed that he wasn’t crazy for having these feelings. That you were possibly implying that you liked him too.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He repeated his question.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I’d want you to.”

He was silent. His gaze remained intact. He so badly wanted to kiss you. Brush your hair away from your eyes again.

“I’ve known how you made me feel from the moment you first spoke to me. And just over a small wound you’ve been so worked up. But I get it. If I’d seen you hurt I’d go just as crazy.”

You moved closer to him, hands reaching up to touch the face you’d touched several minutes before.

Sunoo’s eyes closed shut, and he eased into the way your fingers grazed his skin. The warmth of your fingertips had kissed his skin so gently, he felt like his knees might’ve given up.

He opened his eyes to look over at you again, this time his eyes burned, speaking words you hadn’t seen in them before.

“Are you in love?” He sounded uncertain. There was something so strong that was inviting him to you, like some magnetic pull. He wasn’t sure what was next.

“That’s such a stupid question. Of course, I’m in love. It’s you, Sunoo.”

Sunoo had without blinking, pulled you closer, a delicate hand on your jaw, his lips slowly closing the gap between you two.

He’d been chasing this relief from the very first moment his eyes fell upon you. Your curls, your lips, those eyes, all crossing his mind as his lips engulfed yours in a deep, slow kiss.

You felt him guide you so your back hit his bed, feeling his smile grow against your lips, both your teeth almost clashing. “I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

This felt amazing. The way you’d felt so close to him, your heart having been so at home with his touch gliding over your skin, his kisses so impatient.

You felt unable to keep your hands off him. They traced up his arms, reaching his shoulders, making you almost gasp at how big they felt. You couldn’t help but drool at the sight.

“You like my shoulders baby?” He laughed, eyes sparkling as he towered over you.

Baby, the word rolled off his tongue like it was so used to being said to you.

You felt yourself shudder beneath him, hands remaining still, feeling him. “They’re just so…big.”

You loved the feeling of being so small compared to him. The need to feel him touch you grew more intense.

Sunoo smirked down at you. “You like touching them?”

You nodded, pulling him closer. He hovered above you, just inches away.

“Tell me how much.”

“I wanna sit…on them” you said shyly looking away, embarrassed to have admitted such a thing.

“Don’t be shy,” he laughed, taking your face into his hands. “I want you to,” he reassured you.

“Please, I need you.”

Sunoo reacted by pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his cream-coloured skin. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you again.

But this time, he nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp in his mouth. His tongue collided with yours, slurping and sucking, savouring as much as he could of you.

You were incredibly intolerant of how slow this was going. You managed to slide off your tank top by its straps, all the while making out, letting Sunoo get a good look at your bare chest.

He whimpered at the sight. “Can I suck?” He whispered, so unsure of what he’d do wrong.

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of his mouth around your sensitive nub in seconds.

Sunoo sucked on your tits like he’d been hungry for your skin, yearning to get a taste of it for a long while.

Both your heads had turned at the sound of the front door closing. You almost panicked until Sunoo grabbed his duvet cover and wrapped it around you.

He got up to lock his door.

“Sunoo, dear? Are you home?” A voice called from outside.

He looked back at you, seeing how you’d shrank inside the duvet cover, looking as beautiful as ever. He was still processing how you ended up sprawled out on his bed, waiting to get fucked by him.

He walked back to you, crawling over and placing his index finger on your lips. “Shh,” he hushed with a smile playing on his lips.

“Open for me,” he whispered as his fingers parted your lips. You obliged and felt two fingers slide inside your mouth.

“To keep you from being too loud,” he cooed at you.

He put his face in between your breasts, you taking ahold of his head, letting him lick up invisible patterns with his tongue.

“Sunoo,” you moaned around his fingers. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Let me ride you.”

He grasped at the long skirt you wore, watching it slide off your legs smoothly.

You tugged at Sunoo’s pants, unbuckling his belt yourself and sliding them down to his knees.

You pushed him flat on the bed, and crawled on top, letting his boner free from his briefs.

Sunoo grabbed a pillow to stifle the loud, deep moan that escaped his lips, causing you to get even more wet at the thought of getting to fuck him.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his precum gathering at the tip.

You straddled him, watching his eyes burn into you, his mouth hung agape. Your eyes stayed on his as you made slow, teasing strokes on him.

“Ahh, fuck,” a groan came from deep within his throat, loving the feeling of your hands on his dick.

His head rolled back into the sheets, eyes shut tight, such sweet moans being released from him.

His hands came in contact with your ass, squeezing and pulling on the soft skin; they felt huge as they worked on you. You were in love with how large every part of him was.

His dick was too tempting, too perfectly girthy for you to not put your mouth on it.

You lowered yourself down, spitting on his tip and stroking him again. You watched as Sunoo’s hand clasped on his mouth, with his back arching, stifling his moans that were getting too loud for you two not to get caught.

“Stop,” he breathed out. “Just fuck me already.”

You didn’t waste any more time, sitting on him and feeling him stretch you out in the most toe-curling ways.

He now rested on his elbows, lips connecting in a steamy kiss as your moans released into each other’s mouths at the contact.

You couldn’t help the way you impatiently bucked your hips on him, feeling him writhe underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. I could never imagine you feeling this good,” he exclaimed against your mouth. His hands kept your waist in place, guiding you through the rhythm he created.

Your skin stung with the way he smacked your ass with each thrust into your cunt. Sunoo felt heavenly buried deep inside you.

You motioned for him to lie down again, this time your heat way closer to his mouth, as you eased yourself onto his shoulder. You held the headboard for support, grinding on him gently.

You could feel how toned-up he was. Those hard muscles that you felt against your clit just making your cunt even more needy for him.

Sunoo’s lips attached to the skin of your thighs, one of his hands reaching up to your tits, wanting to feel whatever he could of you.

He loved the way you felt on him. The wet, squelching sounds your cunt made as you rode his shoulder made him want to taste you on his tongue.

Sunoo got ahold of your thighs, lifting up one of your legs to the side of his face, which gave him more access. He turned his head and lapped his tongue furiously against your clit.

You felt yourself start to lose balance as you shook with overstimulation.

“Sun,” you moaned into the back of your own hand. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet,” he said. But it was more of a plead than a demand.

He flipped you over, burying your face in his pillows. Your ass was facing him, and you felt him enter your needy, dripping walls.

You practically screamed into the pillows at the feeling. Sunoo started to wildly buck his hips into you, loving the way you felt wrapped around him.

“Sunoo, please,” you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You needed him to hear you scream for him.

“That’s right, love. You take me so well,” he panted with each hard thrust.

You felt the bed shake from its place as Sunoo fucked you senseless into the mattress.

You were sweaty, screaming until your lungs felt like giving up. You were filled to the brim with his dick, not being able to contain your high any longer.

“Sun-sunoo,” you croaked, only being able to focus on the way he sounded, every noise that filled the room as he was fucking you.

You were flipped over, facing him now. Sunoo was quick to enter you again, chasing this exhilarating feeling that you both were so close to experiencing together.

Your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his torso. Tears escaped your eyes at how overwhelming experiencing this was with him. He knew exactly how to fuck you until you couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Sunoo’s lips had found yours, groans being released into your mouth again, as you still marvelled at how he was real.

You dug your nails into his back, not knowing anything but how you were so close to coming undone.

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum,” he bit down on his hand, feeling his body go limp as both of you climaxed.

Sunoo’s lips had locked with yours in a deep kiss.

“Shit, fuck,” you cried out. “I love you,”

“I love you,” Sunoo wept as he rode out your high, nuzzling his face in your neck.

He released his load onto your stomach. He tried catching his breath, lying his head down on your chest.

Your hands came up to touch the back of his neck, his hair that was drenched in sweat. You played with his blond locks.

“Sunoo?”

“Yes, love,” he spoke tiredly.

“Nothing,” you said, laughing.

This made him laugh again. “I love you,” he whispered to you, curling further into your embrace.

…

The next few days went by fast. Sunoo had introduced you to his aunt, you’d introduced him to your parents, but that was mainly because you two had very loud, frequent sex.

It was his aunt who’d been the unfortunate one to have come home one night to the sound of bed creaking and moans and screams coming from Sunoo’s room.

You both didn’t care about including outsiders in your relationship. You had your own place, which was a 30-minute drive away, but some nights Sunoo was reluctant to leave his aunt since he was helping her run her business.

Even the customers were alarmed at a certain point when Sunoo had attended the door with a button down only thrown around his shoulders, post-make out hair and hickeys on his neck.

“How are you?” He breathed heavily.

A young couple who seemed to be around you guys’ age was at the door.

“Dude, we’re sorry…were you?” The guy asked.

“Yes, actually,” he smiled. “I’d appreciate it if you came back tomorrow.”

“But it’s only 8:30 pm?” The woman said.

“I know. Buh-bye now.”

Sunoo would risk anything to spend time with you. Whether that was helping you do your hair and makeup, taking you on library dates, taking you shopping. You name it.

You two had become inseparable, that it almost made you feel selfish at times. But time was ticking by. All you could do was spend all of it with one another before your flight would board in a week.

You sat playing a card game with Sunoo at the edge of your bed. You were losing horribly.

“Oh no, looks like you made a mistake there, love,” he teased.

You tried your best to smile, not being able to keep this sorrow inside any longer.

“Sun. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. You had never felt this helpless before. Sunoo, the boy who you’d fallen in love with so quickly, was about to be miles away from you in just a matter of days.

“Come here,” he motioned you over towards his lap.

His hands caught in your loose strands of hair. “You know, knowing how deeply I feel for you, I’m not afraid of the distance that’ll be put between us.”

“You’re not?” You pulled back to look at him.

“Nope, not one bit” he shook his head. “I fell in love with you the moment those eyes looked up at me,” his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“How can you not be scared? I’ll be so far away from you.”

“Because I know that this is very special. What we have is nothing ordinary. I fell for you first, everything else came after.”

“But I can’t leave you…”

“I know. I don’t want you to go either.”

You sat in his arms, trying to figure out how you’d deal with having to leave him behind.

The only thing that helped you two face the truth was spending as much time as you could with one another, most of which was spent with you spending the night at his.

You’d hoped it would put your feelings aside — that you’d start seeing it as nothing but a summer hookup — but it didn’t. You loved each other, and that was that. And connecting the way you did each time he made love to you, your feelings only deepened for one another.

He kissed your nose, your neck, your lips. “I love you,” he said. “You know that?”

“I love you too,” you held his jaw in a way you’d gotten used to, kissing his beautiful lips.

…

The day had come. You were extremely nauseous on the way to the airport. This was too much to take.

Your parents were originally supposed to drive you there, but you ended up going in separate cars; you were with Sunoo.

He made sure he booked a ride so he’d get to sit in the backseat with you, holding your hand, trying to soothe your nerves.

It was silent in the car. You could hear only the motor of the vehicle as it passed road after road, making you feel even more sick.

Every time his eyes looked over at you, a sudden ache formed in your heart. This couldn’t be happening. You weren’t actually leaving him, were you? It had to be a dream.

“Look at me,” he whispered. His eyes were laced with worry. His fingers played with yours, trying to distract you.

“You know those curtains in my room? The ones you hate?”

You nodded, trying to remember every single feature of his while your eyes trailed over his face.

“My aunt was planning to get new ones. I wanted to know which colour you liked.”

Sunoo seemed so oblivious to the pain you felt. But in reality, he just couldn’t let you go in a bad mood. He wanted to make your last few moments together were a good memory. Even though this day was incredibly burdening. He could feel the weight in his chest.

“Beige.” You remembered the colour of his shirt the day you’d met him.

“Beige.” He smiled.

You curled up into him, loving the feeling of his arms around you. The way he cradled you so gently, it made you want to keep him there forever.

“Thank you,” you said while tears formed in your eyes.

“For what?” He nuzzled his face against your cheek, giggling.

You would miss this.

“For being so full of love.”

Sunoo pulled away slightly, wiping the tears that were on your cheeks.

“I don’t think I was like this before,” his eyes lowered, a shy smile creeping on his lips. “So I should thank you.”

His fingers traced every detail on your face, a smile still formed on his lips as his eyes examined you.

“I don’t want to see you cry. There’s so much you have to do when you get back. You’ll see your friends again, start your new year in uni. It’s everything you’ve missed these past few months.”

What would you do when you missed him?

“Okay,” you agreed, not wanting to make it as hard for him. He still wiped your tears away, and now kissed your fingertips.

You’d reached the airport in just a few minutes. You were so close to throwing up. Your knees had started to give up on you, yet somehow you still got out the car, walking hand in hand with the one you loved. He carried your bag again, making you remember that day you’d first met.

“You’re not feeling so well, love, let me carry it.” He kissed the side of your face.

Even despite feeling how his hand was in yours, you looked over your shoulder anxiously each second, making sure he was still there.

“There are still a few minutes. I’m not leaving yet.” His hands rested on your waist, one of them coming up to brush your hair out of your eyes.

Your eyes shut once more, trying to relish as much as you could of his touch. You felt a tear slip out your eyes, and you looked away.

Sunoo was trying to avoid his own emotions from taking over, which is why he tried to get you to smile.

His hand came up to your jaw, making you look back at him. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you smiled despite the tears that escaped your eyes.

Sunoo felt himself sink deeper in his own sorrow. There was so much he wasn’t saying to prevent from making this harder for you.

“You look so pretty when you smile. That’s all I ever want you to do. How will I be able to wipe your tears when I’m this far away?”

This caused you to break down in his arms. Light sobs left you as he held you close to him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he felt his heart sink at the sight of you sobbing. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sunoo, I don’t wanna go,” you wept. “It hurts so much.”

“I know. I wish I could stop it.”

Your body went limp, you couldn’t form your words. This was suffocating you. You envied the people who had come here to take their loved ones home. It was so unfair.

Your parents had arrived shortly after. Sunoo kept you close, letting them know with a shake of his head that you still needed time. They gave him a nod, walking over to one of the benches.

He held onto you, not knowing how to fix any of this while you broke apart in his arms. All he could do was let you express your grief how you needed to, because it was something he — so badly — wanted to do as well. But Sunoo kept himself from doing so, preventing you from breaking even further.

After your eyes had felt too sore from crying, you heard him speaking to you.

“Baby, hey,” he spoke softly. You pulled away from his hold. “Your parents are here.” He pointed towards them.

As his hold had freed you from him, everything else that went on afterwards felt like a dream that seemed to never end.

You kissed his lips, repeatedly, trying to remember what he tasted like. Peck after slow peck, you could feel Sunoo start to quiver under your touch.

He was crying, and now you were saying sweet things to him to help him calm down.

“Your smile is so pretty,” you repeated his words. “It’s all I ever want you to do.” Your hands were cupping his face. Sobs ripped through him at that.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more, Sunoo.”

You gave him one last kiss, it was much longer this time, not enough to let go but still bidding goodbyes for the two of you.

Sunoo watched you walk inside, feeling like he’d been ripped into shreds. He was dreading going back home, knowing how memories of you already roamed around in his room.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you, Sunoo.” Were the last words you said while looking at him, before the two of you had disappeared in different crowds, completely out of sight.

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

can we get some sub toby moments? like he’s on top and all that but he’s just so whiny

thanks!!

Gotcha covered! I hope this is good enough! Again unedited because I’m lazyyyy

SUBBY DOM TOBY

Fandom: Creepypasta

Plot: Toby loves fucking you so much that he becomes a whole new person when he does

Warnings: Soft sex, unprotected sex, that’s about it?

You loved having Toby on top of you, honestly you liked having him wherever you could. Top, bottom, sideways, whatever ways, you didn’t mind. But what you loved more than that? When he actually starts fucking you.

That confident persona just melts away as soon as he bottoms out. Feeling your soft squishy walls around him just makes his mind fill with static. The good kind of course. You love watching the way he gets so damn pussy whipped for you. If you remember correctly he told you one time that “your pussy is magic”. And tonight you were working your magic.

Doing absolutely nothing.

You watched happily as Toby bottomed out, letting out a breathy moan. “S-shit babe- I’m not gonna last long at a-a-all…”

You could only chuckle as you stroked his hair softly, looking up at your pretty boy barely keeping it together and he hasn’t even moved yet.

He starts up a slow pace, rhythmic moans coming out ever so often when he hits that gummy spot in you. It’s almost as if your pleasure is his too. But as usual, it’s not long until he loses control of himself. Mind and body included. His pace has gone fast and heavy, hands planted on either side of your head as he fucks you relentlessly into the bed. His eyes flutter from the pleasure.

“Mm f-fuck, m’ gonna fill you s-so full… Buy y-you a bi-ig house… Fuuuuck- We’ll have b-babies together… Ahh, gonna ma-ake you s-so happy-“ He groaned out, watching through half lidded eyes as you nodded rapidly.

Oh how he loved it when you agreed so quickly.

“You’re so f-fuckin’ hot babe-“ Toby breathlessly moaned, leaning down to leave dark marks on your neck.

You found it so sweet how he saw you as the most beautiful thing in the world. And the best part was you didn’t have to even do anything. All you had to do was lay pretty underneath him and he did the rest. Just with some sweet praises.

He loved the way your back arched and your chest pressed against his. How warm you are and how your pretty nipples felt against his chest. Pulling one hand from its place beside your head, he tweaked your nipple softly, getting you to squirm just the way he likes.

“J-just like that babe- Sooo good for me. Come on, I know y-you’re close.” His thrusts continued to pick up pace, the wet sounds that came from between your legs only urging him on more.

You were seeing stars as you came. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as he followed suit, filling you up until he couldn’t anymore.

He gave you a sloppy kiss before pulling out, leaving you whining from the empty feeling.

“Awww don’t whine b-babe! We got tomorrow t-too!” Toby said with that stupid smile, giving you one more kiss before laying down next to you.

The rest of the night was filled with soft kisses shared between the two of you, marking each other all over, and mumbled praises against flushed skin.

[writingstoraes]

three words, eight letters 💌

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine

word count: 4.01k (got carried away)

notes: ok ik there are several of this prompt here but i wanted to give it a whirl :]] also in a slump with my ig imagines so i figured i should finish this since its been a draft for such a looong time lolol no warnings, this is just very fluff-coded!

about: the three times charles almost said "i love you," and the one time he finally did.

Charles wanted to tell you the three aching words he's stored in containment. All he wanted was the right time and the perfect moment, but for the love of his and his alone, he just cannot find it.

He had been racking his brain on how to tell you - because when he looks at you, it's like those three words are just going to explode out of his chest. Every time you smile, laugh, or even breathe in his direction, he realizes just how smitten he was for you. He thought about just saying it out of the blue, unplanned but also when the time felt right. But he also thought about going about it as if it were a proposal because you deserve nothing less than the best he can give.

There were times he thought it was too early to say.

You had just been dating a few months in, and though he felt strongly for you and he did love you, he didn't want to say it too fast or too early out of the fear that it might drive you away.

It's no secret Charles was no chef. He gets a good laugh when other drivers tease him about it but he doesn't pay it any mind. Some people are just good at other things, like how he sucks at cooking but can drive a car that goes as fast as lightning. It is also no secret that he wanted to impress you with skills other than driving - so he doesn't know what entered his mind when he realizes he's on his way to the supermarket as he decides to try and cook dinner.

He scoured the internet for an easy recipe, finally smiling to himself when he finds a simple pasta dish he thinks he can do. To an average person, the dish was really easy to make. So simple that an unsupervised child could follow it. Directions were clear and the website had pictures - he just needs to make a simple sauce, cook some pasta, and grate some cheese. He tells himself nothing could go wrong, what he was about to cook was absolutely just elementary. But he's not an average person, he was Charles, and he is a terrible cook through and through.

Having convinced himself he could cook something so simple, he had forgotten how he messed everything up. He's pretty sure he blacked out, because when he came to his senses, the pasta was overcooked, and the sauce mysteriously evaporated into the air so the pan was just red drops with charred pieces of cheese on the side. He tried to taste it, and he deems it inedible. He was so occupied with cooking it had slipped out of his mind that you were coming over, so the next thing he hears is the sound of your soft knock on his door.

The kitchen was an absolute mess and the apron he wore was extremely dirty — he almost thought about pretending he wasn't home and not answering the door. Of course, he doesn't do that, so he lets you in and the first thing you smell, is cheese.

"Were you cooking?" was the first thing you ask him.

He didn't answer, instead, he planted a chaste kiss on your lips and hurriedly walked back to the kitchen.

He had expected you to laugh once you saw the mess he made by trying to cook just to impress you, but surprisingly, no chuckle erupted out of you.

"Sorry," he says softly, taking off his apron and quickly cleaning up the pots and the bowls he used up.

"I wanted to cook you dinner. I found this recipe online and I thought it was easy," he sighs. "Cooking absolutely hates me. You're okay with getting takeout for now?"

He really did expect you to laugh.

But the second sentence that came out of your mouth: "I'll help you clean up."

It didn't take a lot of time to clean everything up. Thanks to Charles' inability to measure things, he had a ton of extra ingredients, and since he seemed to really like the dish he aspired to cook, you decide to make it for him.

Charles sat at the counter watching you calmly cook the recipe he'd intended to accomplish, your hair parted to the side while you wear the ridiculously messy apron he had worn earlier. He watches you cook the pasta and the sauce at the same time, able to keep your eye on both without neglecting the other. To your defense — the recipe really was easy. But Charles didn't seem to think so, which was why he was sitting on the counter with heart-shaped eyes.

"See, this is what it should look like when the pasta is done cooking," you hold up a piece, cutting it in the middle to show Charles it has cooked through.

"It helps if you check it from time to time if you're not sure. For the sauce, I think you just had your heat on a little too high, but that's okay — you can do it right next time." you smile softly at him, eyes squinting before you shift your attention back to the pan.

Charles had tried cooking before. But up to this day, you were the only one patient enough to actually teach him how. And it didn't help that you looked so beautiful while doing so; hair parted to the side, apron hanging a bit loose on your body, and a smile so captivating it blinds him a little. You weren't perfect, you did laugh at him eventually, but not before guiding him through the recipe he'd chosen. And quite surprisingly, he could cook this same exact dish properly for Arthur next week.

It was clear Charles was no help in the kitchen, so he resorts to hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He gets a whiff of your shampoo and your perfume he absolutely loved. Your hands soon make their way on top of his that rested on your stomach, thumb rubbing circles on his. Charles was pretty sure you could feel him smile widely behind you, a thought he chooses to ignore because he didn't care anyway, he was at his happiest.

"I lo—" he starts, catching himself off-guard. For a moment, time stops; and he's not sure what to say next. He thought it was too early, but he wanted to say it.

"I love pasta, you know that?" Charles continues, trying to save whatever he's left with. Thankfully, you didn't notice his desperate attempt to cover his supposed mistake.

He tells himself: maybe next time.

Charles' mother had been pestering him for a long time about meeting you. Every time he came home, he was greeted with, "When am I going to meet your girlfriend?"

Even his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, were all so ecstatic about meeting you properly for the first time. The two see you around the track for brief periods of time, but in their defense, you haven't introduced yourself properly to Charles' family. It didn't help that Charles himself talked about you like you hung the moon and stars, and made the universe using your own bare hands, because his whole family, mother and brothers aside, all wanted to meet you.

The two of you were finally headed to Charles' childhood home, finally about to meet his entire family. And the word entire was an understatement because everybody was there. From aunts, cousins, and his nieces and nephews, all of them were anticipating your arrival. A lump forms in your throat just by the thought, but you try to battle it with a deep breath as you fixate your eyes on the mirror.

"Do you think they're going to look at this dress and think it's too revealing? Or too short?" you shout from the closet, straightening out the creases of the crisp white dress you were wearing.

Charles enters the room and he swears he could have just died right then and there. How you manage to take his breath away with minimal effort remained a mystery to him.

"I think..." he drags the second word. "I think they are going to be completely in love with you."

"Hopefully not in the same way I am, because I don't plan on sharing you." he softly chuckles, giving you a reassuring smile.

Technically he had said the l word already but to him, it didn't count, only because he didn't say it to you directly.

An hour into meeting you, the entirety of Charles' family adored you wholeheartedly. He didn't want to give credit to himself but he knew they would find no reason to not love you, though he reminds himself to tell you he told you so when you get some time alone together later. He could listen to his family members praise you all day. You had managed to meet each and every one of his side of the family present at the dinner and Charles could not help but admire how carefree you were at interacting with people he held close to his heart. His mom could not stop raving about how great you were and kept asking why he did not introduce you earlier that it makes her slightly mad, which was followed by a hearty laugh and an assurance that she loved you to bits.

You just managed to dazzle and charm every person you talked to. His brothers adored you and you managed to get along so well with them even if your most apparent common denominator with them was racing. His aunts could not stop telling Charles how beautiful you were and how you seemed to be so kind and fit so well with him. They were already asking Charles when's the next time you visit and you haven't even left his home yet. For some odd reason, you got along well with his uncles, too.

But the cherry on top, the last straw, and the tipping point that tugged the heaviest on the strings of Charles' heart were seeing you with his nieces and nephews. He was fond of children, gleeful every time he sees one on the paddock, especially when they are clad in colors of red and yellow, his team's staple color scheme. However, he never knew how disastrous it would be for him to see you with children.

There you sat on the patio, his niece behind you as she messily tried to braid your hair. You had a big smile on your face, laughing at the somewhat theatrical act his other nephew was performing in front of you. In your hands was a glass cup with gelato and a small spoon, raising the spoon occasionally to feed the little girl tying your hair. His lips slowly form a smile and he feels his chest was bound to explode any time soon. He stood there and realized that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with all that you are. In other words, he was down bad, and he wouldn't even dare deny it.

After the festivities of getting to know each member of his family, you and Charles were finally given time alone in the kitchen. Everyone else was occupied setting the table and fixing everything up for dinner. You were part of it though, he just found you getting the pies in the oven after you volunteered to do so.

"I told you so," he says, slightly taking you by surprise, not enough you drop the pies though.

You turn to him with a sheepish smile, "Told me what?"

"That they would love you," he replies.

"Well, I am very loveable. Can't blame them."

"I know you are. That's why I lov-" he transitions into telling you what might be one of the most important things he's ever going to say in his life.

"Charles, dinner's ready!" Arthur calls out, cutting his train of thought. The two of you shift your gaze to the dining area, seeing Arthur and Lorenzo waiting for the two of you.

That's why I love you. That was what he wanted to say.

Charles sighs, telling himself that maybe getting cut off was a sign that this was not the right time. He'd repeat himself, but he thinks there are other times when he could tell you he loved you without interruptions.

"What were you saying?" you ask, not wanting to hang him out to dry.

"Oh. I said I know you're loveable. That's why I love seeing you charm every single member of my family."

Charles was not having the best day. His own team had botched his home race for him once again and on top of that, he had gotten a 3-place grid penalty in Monaco. Don't get him wrong, he was ecstatic to be home. The warm welcome of the fans was unbeatable. Banners, posters, and the Monaco flag waved around the streets of Monte Carlo.

This season has not been good to him so far. So just once, he wishes to catch a break.

The two of you were walking around the paddock as Charles was headed to the Ferrari motorhome to prepare for the race. His hand was on your waist as he guided you in the sea of people. The track was entirely at capacity - engineers, celebrities, VIPs, reporters, you name it. A few meters from the garage, a reporter from a well-known sports channel calls his attention.

It was routine, and Charles was used to it. You were standing not too close beside the cameraman, just watching Charles answer the questions he was asked. The reporter's inquiries were the usual, he had asked how Charles felt about the penalty, how he thinks the car will perform, what upgrades Ferrari is planning on implementing, and all the likes. You watch intently, giving Charles a small smile every time his gaze went your way.

Though the reporter fixated on Charles' "disappointing home race", his words, Charles knew how to handle the questions and answered them composed and professionally. After all, he has been doing this for quite some time. Deep down, it stirred you slightly as it seemed like the reporter was only recognizing the lapses on Charles' side and insinuating that it was entirely his fault.

You tried to pay it no mind until he makes a passing careless and offensive commentary that you could not just let pass.

"I guess some fans were right - monegasques today have nothing to look forward to. Wonder how they feel when their only driver is not only in a horrible car but is tussling with being nothing special."

Nothing special.

Nothing to look forward to.

Something in your ears rang and your vision went dark. You could see Charles' face drop from where you were standing and your heart absolutely broke for him. He proceeds to nod his head toward the cameraman and made haste and you did not hesitate to follow him right away. If you felt distraught and angered after that comment, you wonder just how he felt after hearing it, and at his home race, nonetheless.

"Charles, wait," you jog slightly, seeing as his pace was a lot faster than you. You could tell he just wanted to get out of there. You reach for his hand, tightly grasping it and he stops walking.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says lowly, upset written on his face.

"Why are you sorry? It's his fault. He was offensive and careless. He humiliated you and worse, what he was saying was not true."

"C'est bon." It's okay. You two were finally at the garage, a little far from the reporter. Deep down, though Charles wanted to at least defend himself, he feels all the energy he has left had been sucked out of his body.

"No, it's not. He doesn't know what he's saying. I don't want to let him get away with that, he can't just go around telling people things like that. You may be too nice to tell him off but I'm not."

"You don't deserve this," you say with conviction, walking away from the garage and prepared to give the reporter a piece of your mind.

You don't plan to cause a scene, you knew better than that. You weren't going to shout or curse, but you wanted to get your point across. Soon after Charles follows you, clearly trying to stop you but was too late when he saw you already talking to the reporter. He had no choice but to walk closer to you, grasping on what you were saying.

Your voice wasn’t loud. From where he was standing, he could see how calm and composed you were while you gave the reporter the lecture he was probably not expecting. The track was fairly busy and noisy. You could hear engines starting, and conversations of people he doesn’t know, which caused his inability to understand and hear what you were saying. 

He just stood there - watching you defend him from the asshole of an interviewer, your hands making small gestures for emphasis. The reporter’s face slowly displayed guilt and resentment as if he was clearly affected by whatever it is you said. Soon, the noise around him subsided and the only thing he was able to hear was the last thing you told the reporter. 

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that about Charles ever again. If you’re only going to disrespect one of the most hard-working people I know, better to not approach him in the slightest.  He did not pour blood, sweat, and tears into this sport just for you to utter those words to him.” 

Your voice remained soft but it was steady. You turned your heel against the reporter and a cameraman who was clearly surprised by what he just witnessed. You walk back to him, giving him a small smile. 

He wanted to just stand there and stare at you. No one has ever done that for him before. He had his fair share of disrespectful interviewers and questions that downright offended every fiber of his being but he always chose to not pay it any mind. It did not help that you were the kindest person he knew — so seeing you decide right away to defend him like that just made him feel all sorts of things. 

The two of you proceed to walk back to the Ferrari garage, your hand tightly grasped by Charles. At the time, he desperately wanted to embrace you and whisper just how much he loved you. He wanted to drag you to a discreet corner and just hold your face while he tells you the three words he’d been keeping to himself. 

But he remained frozen in awe of you, and so he fails to tell you once again.

“Can I-” Charles starts, trying his best to get up from the couch. 

“I already told you. The answer is no,” you reply firmly, shifting your gaze to the man with the slightly swollen cheek. 

He huffs a little bit loudly, wanting to show his disappointment.

“Baby, the doctor said no strenuous activities. You just had your wisdom tooth extracted, so no, you can’t go skiing with Joris.” you say as you walk toward the couch, fluffing the pillow his head rested on and putting a soft blanket on top of him. 

“Please just rest. You lie down right where you are and I will be preparing dinner soon. I just have to finish something first.” 

“My favorite?” he asks, putting on the sweet tone you were always soft for.

“Anything for you, my patient.” you smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he sighs, adjusting himself on the couch to face sideways. “You take care of me so well.” 

Charles was under a lot of painkillers. His dentist appointment had been rescheduled hundreds of times as he claims to be too “busy” to get his wisdom tooth extracted. If it weren’t for your incessant nagging because he was already in pain, he probably wouldn’t have pushed through with it. He tried his best to look tough in front of you, but as someone who drove cars that are as fast as lightning, you could tell he was nervous. 

The doctor had to reassure him that there would be anesthesia plus painkillers to combat the pain he would be feeling after. After finding out he was medically allowed to eat a ton of ice cream after the procedure, he was more than happy to oblige.

However, the combination of Charles, anesthesia that’s wearing off, plus painkillers is not equal to a drowsy Charles. He had more energy than usual and was naughtier than normal. In other words, he was hyper. He was not muttering nonsense like the famous wisdom tooth aftermath videos on YouTube nor did he want to sleep all day. He wanted to do so many things he was about to get overstimulated. So no matter how weak in the knees Charles usually made you nor how you always give in when he asks you for something, skiing and going to the gym for a heavy workout after he just had his tooth extracted were just things you cannot say yes to. 

Not long after, the ever so fueled with energy of a boyfriend you had was deep in slumber on the couch. He probably tired himself out from listing a thousand reasons why you have to let him go with Joris and his friends today. He was ceaseless, after all. His lower body was covered with the blanket that you put on him earlier, chest slowly heaving up and down, mouth slightly apart, and lightly snoring. 

He looked so peaceful. For a while, you just sat beside him and went on to study the features of his face. The pointed nose, the tiny freckles that are most evident when the sun hits them, and the eyes that seem to contain galaxies and universes in it. 

“I know you’re staring, chérie,” he quietly says, eyes still closed. 

“No. I’m just checking to see if your face is still swollen.” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

“Not swollen. Just say you’re looking for an excuse to study my beautiful face.” he teases, shifting himself so he’s now in a seated position. 

“That’s the anesthesia talking, Charlie,” 

“Wore off already.”

“Fine, I was staring. You’re so pretty, how could I not?” you say, shrugging your shoulders before standing up to prepare dinner. 

“I love you.” Charles says before you could even move away far from the couch where he was seated. 

I love you. 

You stop in your tracks, your back still facing the Monegasque who was clearly waiting for a response yet slightly relieved he told you what he had been wanting to say for a while now. 

“I already know what’s going through your mind,” he says, lightly laughing. “This is not the painkillers nor the anesthesia talking. I’d spent so much time debating on when to tell you.”

“So many accidental “I love you’s” thrown away. Figured there’s never a right time. I love you every single day so why wait for a perfect moment?”

“I love you. So so much.” he repeats. 

You turn to him with a smile you can’t contain, walking over to him and engulfing him in what seemed to be the tightest hug you’d ever given anybody. 

“I hope you know I’m still saying no to the skiing.” you laugh. 

Charles chuckles, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter from his chest. His grip on you only tightens, sighing in relief. 

“That’s okay. I’d rather be with you anyway.” he says, squeezing you once more before breaking away from your embrace.

“Hmm, swaying me with pretty words, Leclerc?” you raise a brow. 

“Never!” Charles smiles sheepishly as he puts both his hands up in defense. 

“For what it’s worth — though you’re like a child hopped up on sugar earlier, I love you too.” 

-------------

tagging: @slytherheign <3

notes: i think this is my first time writing something this long! i also have a 3.5k word work in progress but i cant find the will to finish it lol very angsty though!

thank u sm for reading and lmk what u think hehe <3 also pls send requests for ig imagines for charles! will try to do it as soon as i can!

[natsarrownecklacx]

Your Love For Her

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count- 630 ish

Summary- You’ve never been good with words, so you find another way to tell Wanda how you feel about her.

Warnings- smut 18+ minors this is not a fic for you, thigh riding (r and w) soft smut ig.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

Walking Wanda backwards until her back is up against a wall. Your hands trail all over her body, memorizing each and every dip and curve.

She doesn’t talk at first, too enamored with the feeling of your hands on her, the look in your eyes as you take her in.

You ghost your hand up her bare thigh, teasing her by trailing it just a little higher than the hem of her skirt.

She says your name, coming out in a breathy whisper. “Y/n”

You snap your eyes to hers, her green orbs desperate and drowning in arousal.

“You’re so pretty.” You say in a whisper, watching as a smile makes its way onto her face. You lean in to kiss her, slow and intentional.

You need her to know she means something to you, that you feel for her more than words can say.

You slot your thigh between hers, your lips tugging up at the corners as she slides her arms over your shoulders, pulling you into her, your lips hovering over hers.

You straddle her thigh, your soaked panties coming in contact with her bare leg, wanting to feel even closer to her, needing her to feel just how affected you are by her.

She pulls away from your lips, her voice soft as she mummers. “Your so wet.”

You can only nod in response before leaning in to press your lips against hers again. Your thigh lifts, putting pressure between her legs and she gasps, giving you access to slide your tongue into her mouth.

Wanda starts moving her hips against your thigh, grinding back and forth, keeping her mouth on yours.

Her arms cross behind your neck, keeping you in place against her as you start to move back and forth on her thigh. Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, the idea of getting off on each other, together, causing the heat in your stomachs to burn brighter.

Wanda tenses the muscle between your legs, drawing a whine from your lips. She pulls back for a moment, long enough for her to get a glimpse of your pleading gaze.

“Wanda.” You say, your voice pleading for her to understand.

“Oh, baby.” She says, leaning in to place a loving kiss on your cheek. She understands now.

You love her. You need her. She's your safe place, your home. The thought alone sets a wave of arousal shooting through her.

The pleasure between her legs is too much, the drag of her core over your leg pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m going to cum.” She moans, the sound dragging you right up next to her at the edge.

“Oh god, me too.” You moan, resting your forehead on hers as you both grind against each other, reaching your highs at the same time, both of you shaking and moaning, holding onto each other as if your survival and sanity depended upon it.

It takes you both a minute to come down from the high, breathing heavy and your body’s still entangled, the shared heat lulling you both into a sense of calm.

She shifts her leg beneath you, pulling it away from your dripping core and making you whine, your arms coming up to wrap around her. You need her to stay.

“Wanda-”

“Shh, baby. I just want us to move somewhere more comfortable.” She says gently and you nod your head, a sigh of relief leaving you.

“I’m not going anywhere, y/n.” She says more confidently not, moving herself to ensure you're looking her in the eye. “Not without you.”

You smile and lean into her, filled with nothing but happiness knowing she finally understands how feeling and not only that but she feels the same way.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

A/n- enjoy this fic I banged out in 15 min cause I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.

[mymomhatesmyguts]

Budweiser (connor murphy x fem!reader)

Scenario: You're one of Connor's best friends- his only friend, in fact. You snuck through his window as you do every Friday, only to find him drunk and sobbing.

A/N: i wrote this in 2nd person but is 1st person preferred? idk, its my first time writing fanfics on tumblr :)

"Con..." You say, gently reaching out to touch his shoulder, to offer some sense of relief, even though you can tell he's far beyond hugging it out at this point.

"No, just-" He cuts himself off with a drunken hiccup as tears roll down his face. "Just leave me alone." He buries his head in his hands, his back shaking with sobs. You wish you could take him in your arms, kiss his pretty face until he stops crying, but you're just friends. Thats all. Thats all you'll ever be.

"Connor, please? Tell me what's wrong?" You coo, your voice soft enough to mirror the voice of a mother speaking to her child. He just shakes his head, flinching slightly as you rub his back gently. "Connor..." You coax, finally getting him to look up at you with his reddened, tear filled eyes.

"You don't love me." He says with a sniffle before bursting into sobs once more.

"I... what? Of course I love you." You say, almost incredulous. And it's true, of course it's true. You love him more than a dog loves his master, crave him more than a flower craves the sun, need him as much as a starving man needs a warm meal. But how can you tell your best friend that when he's drunk and sobbing on his creaky mattress at one in the morning?

"No!" He says, suddenly raising his voice as he stands up abruptly. "No, no, no, you don't love me the way I love you!" The tears roll of his cheeks like raindrops in a thunderstorm. He hiccups dryly, slurring his speech as he continues. "I... I want to kiss you and I want... I want you to be my girlfriend-"

"Connor, you're drunk." You cut him off, almost numb with shock.

"But that doesn't mean my feelings arent real!" He says, shouting now, without any regard for his sleeping sister and parents.

"Con..." Your voice is soft again, kind, the honey-sweet voice he's come to crave every night. "Believe me. If you were sober I would... I would kiss you right now, but you're drunk. I don't want this to be a drunken regret, and I don't want to take advantage of you." You say sternly, but not unkindly. Connor sinks to the bed, smiling goofily now.

"Yeah?" He says, grinning ear-to-ear like a fool. He giggles, then hiccups again, which makes you laugh and then you're both laughing and trying to shush each other at the same time, for fear of awaking Zoe, or worse- Cynthia and Larry.

"Yeah." You whisper, smiling at his dumb grin as you stand, dusting off your jeans. "Text me in the morning if you still feel the same when you're sober, yeah?"

"M'kay. G'night.." He slurs, falling backwards onto his bed.

"Sweet dreams," You whisper as you slide open the window, but as you turn back to check on him one last time, he's already snoring into his tear-stained pillow.

A/N: AAAHHHH i'm scared this is really bad but whatever ig?? i looooove connor sm i think we should actually get married. feedback in comments pls? 🥺🥺

[angelismmm]

omg can i req x-rated: the queen, blade with 7 and 10(?) its fine if u can only do one of those 👍👍 take as much time as u need to write huhu 🫶🫶

— i deleted my progress on this like 5 times, thne i went to sleep HELP

☆ warnings. nsfw, sex, all that stuff, fluff and smut at the same time, breeding kink (always n forever), bdsm, hickeys, choking

You look so adorable with my hands around your neck. You know we're more than just friends with benefits, you know that. — headcannons on blade being into bdsm ig idk

definitely likes to choke you during sex. the bruise it leaves when he lets go turns him on, like super on. it's not like he wants you to get hurt, but when he sees the bruises or marks he put on you and you can't help but just take it all in makes him feel so good.

probably you both got on the stellaron hunter business together, meeting either as kids and been with each other since or, well, meeting in early adulthood. I doubt that he went to college or what, but he probably just met you at work too. then you both worked it up from there

had an insanely hard amount of time trying to get to know you as a person honestly, and while on a mission, you both just got so tired of competing with each other in silence, why not work together?

basically you guys had hate sex for no reason, that's it, and no one else but you two know about it. the way he breeds your hole should only be to his knowing. and that's how he's done it. but slowly he's started to be more publicly affectionate, and almost barking at anyone that flirted with you.

he just.. wants people to know you are not up for dating of any kind. but it's not like you guys were the one dating.. right?

jealous asf when he sees someone else makes you laugh, and fucks his frutration out on you when you both are in private.

but he knows you don't like it either when he's acting up with someone else, only you should make him feel like that, and letting him work so easily in and out of your hole is a good way to say you're mine!

he loves choking, like seeing you in pain isn't really what he prefers, but when he's the reason to cause that pain, and hearing your little whimpers when they're touched or what? damn!! do you wanna see mini carbon copies of him or what???

likes to see when someone notices the bruises around your neck from last night, because you were just so adorable with his hands around your pretty neck!

you both actually liked each other, but treated each other like just another one night stand, like no ❌❌ dont say that ❌❌ like you bth are in denial till he gotta say somthimg ☹️‼️

during sex, probably after filling up your hole w his warm cum n stuff, he'll finally say; "we are more than just friends with benefits, you know that."

and indeed you do, you both start going officially out together, starting at a little coffee shop. somewhere far and away from everything else.

as he worked so sloppily and messily in and out of your hole, he couldn't help but utter the words "we're more than just friends with benefits, you know that." your eager nods were enough for him to finally finish, feeling all his warming cum shoot up inside you. slowly you felt his cock go soft inside you, looking back to his gaze, "gotta make sure it sticks, babe."

im mentally ill 😘😘😘‼️

⟢ ⁺ ﹒ ₊ TAGLiST ◌ !!

@edit-me-prettyplease @reveihehe @hyuga-nhi @red-kh @arseniiiarso @h4wkz @rinn31 @ablondehoe @chaik1 @pianopuppygirl @lupicalbestwolf @usagiagastopia @venniin @himeru-soulmate @whirlingfish @yanqingisim @expressodepressogetoffmyproperty @wasurerarerukara @yanfeimainsstuff @sayonara3939 @stygianoir

[absolutebl]

I've been out of the bl loop for a while (give or take a year tbh) and I am honestly overwhelmed at all the stuff coming up recently in bl... Is there top five you'd suggest from the past year among thai stuff (the rest bl-producing countries have a manageable lists of releases ig)

Thank you so much for your time and patience! :D

Top 5 Thai BLs from the past year? (2024)

Well it's a contentious field and there has been a lot, so I'll narrow it further and give you 2024 so far, from my personal favorites but specifically ones that I believe added to the zeitgeist in some significant way.

The Sign

YouTube

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired. Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN.

Cherry Magic (Thai remake)

Grey

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth that really worked for me. With no-fuss execution from a consummate team (at GMMTV) and an OG lead pair (proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up). Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right - not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it stands strong. I, personally, like the Thai BL slightly better than the Japanese live action yaoi, but I think that’s because I just really enjoy Thai BL's style and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better in this version. As it should be from Thailand.

Century of Love

Gaga

This is a very pretty drama about a young man who fell in love with a nice girl 100 years ago, and when she died in his arms, he was cursed to live until he could meet her reborn self. Only this time around, she’s reborn into the body of a man. Or is she? I love it when Thailand gets all up in its own historical business and reincarnation and shizz. I like this pair (it’s not DaouOffroad’s fault I didn’t enjoy their first series.) Daou’s wushu is snazzy and we got a unique meet cute. (Erm… Remeet cute? Meet cute 2.0?) Ultimately, this is I Feel You Linger in the Air + First Love Again, rather than (as one might expect) Until We Meet Again or The Director Who Buys Me Dinner. The leads turned in great performances, although Daou outclassed everybody else on that screen. It’s a good story and a great BL and I can’t find any major faults with it beyond a certain level of camp that is sadly endemic to lakorns. It was, to put it succinctly, a VERY ENJOYABLE show. 

Wandee Goodday

YouTube

This is the only "typical" BL I'll be recommending on this list and that's because this is such a FUN show. A charming quintessentially modern Thai BL about a doctor and a boxer who start as a one night stand and then fall in love. Great rep for everything from Muay Thai, to safe sex, to FUN sex, to ace, to bisexuality, to smiley kisses, to the first legal gay wedding in a Thai BL. It’s a delight and I enjoyed (almost) every single moment of it. With out question it's best traits are active positive representations of green flag boys, communication, and grown-up relationships but the chemistry is on point too. Highly recommended as one of 2024's best pick-me-ups. (We need it, been a bit of a downer year.)

We Are

iQIYI

If Wandee Goodday is your happy pill, We Are is the warmest hug on the planet. Of the ones on this list, this is the only one I've already rewatched. 2x (High praise!) I loved show. It was slow to find its stride (I didn’t get into it until ep 6) but I’m so glad I gave it a chance. It’s a soft ensemble piece with multiple couples and very little plot, but I didn’t care because it’s not trying to be anything more substantial. Essentially this was a series of vignettes covering one year of uni for a queer friendship group finding love, new friends, and laughter. It’s not being harsh with us or it’s characters the way some offerings of this ilk have been (side eyes Friend Zone and Only Friends) nor did it tumble into Gen Y chaos. In fact, this reminded me more than anything of a refined and elevated Love Sick - just with older characters and occurring within a genre that has matured too. In it's own quiet way, it was groundbreaking. It has that close queer friendship group meets earnest gentleness that made me adore Love Sick and Make It Right so much. In other words, this was Thai BL at its finest, finding it roots again 10 years on, but also stretching upwards and showing us what it could do with that original seed. So? I adored it. Did it blow my mind? No. But it left me smiling and made me belly laugh quite a bit.

I hope you give these 5 a chance.

[kashixxx47]

Tangled [ One Shot]✨🎀

↑the imagine is taken from pin [thanks to that]

The evening sunlight draped across Kakashi’s small living room, casting a warm glow on the worn cushions and the handful of books scattered around his low table. It wasn’t often he invited you over, but tonight felt different. The mission earlier had been grueling, and after making sure you were both safely back in Konoha, he surprised you with a soft, "Come by tonight?"

And here you were, curled up on his couch, sipping tea while he leaned back, his head resting on the armrest, eye lazily half-open as he watched you.

“So…” You set your cup down, giving him a long, appraising look. "What’s really going on with that hair of yours?”

Kakashi arched an eyebrow, one hand automatically going up to touch the silver spikes. “What’s wrong with my hair?” he asked, amusement barely hidden in his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just…” You laughed, reaching out before you could think twice. “Mind if I…?”

He shrugged, the easygoing gesture encouraging you. “If it means I don’t have to do it myself.”

You scooted closer, fingers hovering for a moment before finally diving in. His hair was softer than it looked, but tangled—a wild, silver mess with a will of its own. You gently started working your fingers through the strands, finding each little knot and smoothing it out, feeling him relax under your touch.

“Do you ever brush this?” you teased, gently untangling a particularly stubborn lock.

Kakashi huffed a laugh. “Does it look like I brush it?”

“Well…no.” You chuckled, but there was something quietly endearing about the messiness. You could feel him leaning into your touch, letting out a sigh that you were pretty sure he didn’t even realize he’d made. His shoulders softened, and he closed his eye, giving you a rare glimpse of his guard fully lowered.

As you continued, a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by his occasional hum of appreciation. After a while, his eye cracked open again, a spark of amusement there.

“Think I look better now?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

You smiled, tugging gently on a strand in retaliation. “Maybe. But I think we’ve only made it messier.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Guess that’s just how I am.”

There was a tenderness in his tone that made you pause, your fingers still in his hair. He was watching you now, eye softened, as if he wasn’t just talking about his hair at all.

“Well,” you whispered, “it suits you.”

Kakashi reached up, catching your hand and giving it a small, appreciative squeeze, his gaze warm as he held it for a moment longer than necessary.

"Thanks," he murmured, voice quiet but full of meaning.

And for that moment, you could almost feel his unspoken gratitude, a reminder of how rare it was for him to let anyone this close.

Umm ye.. About the 3 part of our other ff..😭

ig we messed up the plot so re-doin that..

But hope y'all like this One Shot fic.

(Oh ye about the Halloween post still working on it.)

Hehe until next time then...🧁

[sugurusladyknightt]

rustling bedsheets. 24:32. cold, dark, winter, sunday night. the home was quite, it hardly felt like your home. you're alone, and your restless, tossing and turning in the heap of blankets covering you head. and he's late to come home. you've brushed your teeth 5 times tonight and had to redo your skincare more than you'd care to admit from how many times you've splashed cold water on your face.

now, you turn in your bed again pulling the blankets closer to your body and curling into yourself. you feel like an oyster shit right in its shell. the blankets hug your body tightly like a second skin. fulfilling the same purpose as the thick fur coats of animals this time of year.

it's not even that late, you think as you check your phone, doing your best to not let the blankets fall off your body, only 24:33. why the fuck is the clock moving so slow.and if your being honest with yourself it was none of your business that he was running late. whether he'll come back home to you or not. if he's hurt. you don't care what is keeping him. who. what if he was with someone else.

images of him, your dearest friend, your dearest suguru, with another, flashing behind your eyes. his sharp violet eyes focused on someone else. their hands tangling the inky hair he takes such good care of. suguru wouldn't let anyone touch his hair. though he let you braid it once, that means something. ...right?

what if he's touching them. the way you wish he would you. ever so gently, the same way he handles nearly all things, the way his hands should be handling you. his perfect form sitting on someone else's couch, or floor, or bed, or standing against some stupid wall that you could only wish would topple over. soft lips that somehow never seem to dry, brushing and pressing with the lips of another. his laboured breathes and pretty smile and his perfect soft laughter after bumping teeth or foreheads or whatever and suddenly your sat straight up, back stiff, hair in a mess and eyes blown out. you see the imaginary scenes of your beloved and other playing behind your eyes like a horrible movie that only seems to become a clearer memory the more you wish to forget it.

now you're getting out of bed, and your pacing. anxiously. biting at your fingertips and nails. nervous habit you can't seem to shake. he's seen you do it, he's always gently pull your hand away and pull it closer to himself to assess the damage. scolding you softly with a furrow between his brows and the furry of a livid hamster. that's how it came off. you wonder if he can tell how badly you wanted to tuck the stray hair behind his ear.

continuing to pace the expanse of your room. back and forth. and back and forth. and back and forth. it has done little to help ease your nerves. being this worked up over this makes no sense, and yet here you are. there was no obligation for him yo tell you what was holding him up. and no obligation for you to feel this way. how stupid.

his room is across the hall, you would probably smell the faint smell of him if you walk passed it. it was neat, though you don't spend much time there. it's his scared space, you never wanna come off as an intruder.

(to him your presence is the most welcome if intrusions, one he's seek out himself if he hadn't had the same juvenile worries he didn't know you two share)

softly you open your door, as if there was some there who'll hear you. as if you were worried of being caught doing the wrong thing. you start off slow, pacing back and forth in hall with soft steps, you wanna tell yourself you pace doesn't slow when you walk past his room. not knowing whether it's alright to be hoping for him to magically appear and ease your worries. to smooth you to sleep

your doing your best to try manage the thoughts in your head, the softness of your steps, and listening for the door at the stairs trying to hear if he's there. and no you haven't run up to the window when you hear the smallest disruption from the silence (that is, ignoring the pounding of your heart) to see if that was his bike or just... a fucking bird???

worried is how you feel. worried and anxious and helpless and scared and insane. he's good. he's too good and you know that. he's so incredible good at helping with preventing these feelings from rousing, as if the presence and company of him alone was safety and comfort incarnate. if peace were a person.

like the sun had managed to disguise itself as the moon and been doomed to live the life of a human on earth, doing his very best to fit it in, though it remains incredibly clear he's too good for all of this. too good for all of you.

his presence felt like then sun on your skin. warm, gentle, comforting, at times you long for the touch to be searing hot. you know it would be comforting all the same. divinity and he went hand in hand in your eyes. being a human incarnation of the sun didn't seem like such a faraway concept if the one in question suguru.

your still at the window, now just paying less attention now to the initial goal of being on the look out for his bike, instead taking up overthinking his uncharacteristic tardiness and questions of his divinity (how fun is that!)

the overwhelming noise from your racing thoughts makes it feel like it's much less quite than it is. then you hear it. the click of your front door opening.

well shit.

you wait. only a moment. everything slows but your hearts racing. suguru? or someone else? you hear who ever it is take a step, then two. you confirm, it's him.

well shit again.

panic if a different sort rises up your throat. it's suguru. you know it is. but she shouldn't know you worried. or that you up at this hour. or that you think he's really the sun in disguise. you've spoken to him about how you would have to get up earlier than usual in the coming weeks because of an unfortunate shift in you schedule. he'd be upset your losing sleep waiting up for him (simultaneously elated that you'd wait up for him to return to you safely. he always will. but that isn't your business to know.)

walking as quickly and quietly as you can you make it to your room, gently closing the door behind you and slipping back under your sheets. exhale. trying to slow your strangely rapid breathes, and an odd sting in your left knee. your cheeks feel hot, but your finding yourself a little smug about how graceful your unplanned but incredibly executed escape had been. eyes closed. breath slows. pretending to be asleep.

heh, you are just wayy too good.

____

suguru steps into your shared home. deep breathe, it feels like the first time he's gotten to breathe all day. it's slow, he wants to savour it, coming home. coming in to you.

his usually sharp and concentrated violet eyes feel droopy and tired. he's thirsty, and frightfully, his lips are dry. the consequences of being dehydrated he guesses, making a conscious effort to make sure he doesn't lick them. that'll only make it worse in the long run. he makes a mental note: never forget your lip products, dry lips will make your day all that much worse. and adds it to the ever growing list of things he demands he remembers everyday

broad shoulders slumped, his body feels too heavy for him or carry right now. it's dark, the lights are all out. quite too. your probably asleep. he thinks back to what you had told him about a sudden shift in you schedule as he bends down to remove his shoes.

some of his hair falling out of its careful arrangement and draping over his shoulders. it's come loose at some point and he hadn't bothered him enough to be adjusting it.

he wants to rest. you said that you'd be doing a lot more far too early in the morning, and so you'd need to be in bed earlier than usual. that's what he thought, until rushed, heavy steps were heard?

a quizzical expression finds its way to his face, and a moment later, after successfully removing one shoe, he straightens his body. he can tell it's you. those are your steps. then a thud. you fell. the first instinct is to check that your alright, but before it really registered, you make a quick recovery and dash to your room slamming the door in a hurry.

now hold on now. feeling a mixture of what the fuck and amusement bubbles up his throat.

what the fuck because aren't you supposed to be asleep?? you'd have to be up in a few hours time. you'll be exhausted. on the other hand he wanted to burst out laughing because you must've been trying to be subtle, to run across the upper floor of the house you shared unnoticed. we're you waiting for him? the thought makes his cheeks warm, his heart skip a beat, and a weird butterfly sensation to erupt in his stomach.

it's dead quite now, so he removes his other shoe, and places them both down. one next to the other. suguru is then pulling out one of the shoes from the pair he knows your planning on wearing tomorrow. he looks for the matching pair, fishes it out, and places the pair of them together next to his. he'd do anything really if it meant convince you, fishing out the missing shoe from the unexplored and incredibly unorganized coat closet you share.

you won't have to worry about not finding one of them in your morning rush tomorrow. he'll be asleep then, but still, suguru wants to be a part of your day. to be helpful to you even though you don't know it. he hangs his jacket, next to yours again. that's where it's supposed to be.

making a beeline for the kitchen and quickly grabbing a glass of water, he makes his way up the stairs. he's making his way to you.

your tucked away in bed trying. back under your blankets body curled in on itself. trying to listen for what he's doing. you feel giddy. when you hear soft steps coming up the stairs.

okok!! show time.

you've hyped yourself for your life's best performance of... fake sleeping!!! deep breathe and bam, you're in character. eyes closed breathing slowed, hair adjusted, perfect. he knocks at the door, suppressing your wide giddy smile, he's got a smile on too, though you can't see it.

suguru opens the door ever so slightly and gently calls out to you. god his voice, low and ever so soft, pronouncing your name is what you'd go to war for. anything really would be too little of an ask in comparison to hearing him call out to you oh so sweetly again and again. you wanna hear that voice for the rest of your life.

when you don't respond, he takes a moment to contemplate his decision and weighing his options (a very gruelling task btw) and walks in to your scared space. suguru sits at the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb your very convincing performance.

it's not hard to keep your eyes closed. you can see him anyway. the way his dark hair is framing his face, providing the perfect contrast to make his violet eyes stand out more than they do, the way he's sitting, the soft and sharp lines that make up his face and neck. his steps sounded tired. you wish you would stop the charade and ask if he'd allow you to help him bathe, you'd wash his hair. dry it for him, remembering to put in all the products he loves to use (it's an arm workout i tell you) and braid it afterwards too.

he looks at you, you usually feel it when he does. and you wonder if it's common for people blush while sleeping. you wonder if he'll buy it. he doesn't. but he says nothing and so neither do you and continue on with your charade. he moves to sit on the ground next to your bed, and the absence of him is felt immediately. facing the wall you've decorated with paintings and posters, suguru wonders the inspiration behind them, the thoughtfully painted landscapes. he notices quite a few of them featuring the sun at various times of day, and the details carefully painted on what is usually simply done in a soild color. isn't the sun often only a supporting element in a painting? something in the background meant to accentuate the key elements?

i wanna ask about that sometime. why the sun?

shifting in you pretend sleep, you curl into the space he was just occupying. bringing yourself closer to him. now the back of his head only a breathe away from the kiss you desperately wish to blow him. he drinks from the glass he'd brought up with him and he starts speaking in that lovely voice of his.

he tells you all about his day and he doesn't spare any detail. he tells you about the dry lips he's had to deal with all day, satorus mischievous antics, the stray cat that reminded him of the white haired man, and one that reminded him of you. it's hard not to let out a chuckle at his awful misfortunes (the dry lip blues).

he speaks and speaks and it lulls you to sleep, you swear it works better than any lullaby could. for a moment you're thinking of him singing one to you, but before you get to finish the thought you're drifting off into a pleasant sleep.

feeling the weight of the day slowly leave his slumped shoulders. suguru is reluctant to leave your side. he doesn't wanna be without you, so he keeps your company and speaks until his words begin to slur together and the stories start to repeat. that night, suguru falls into a comfortable sleep, best he'd had in a while, on the floor next to your bed. feeling that he's home now.

____

when you awake the next morning, the alarms on your phone go off and your quick to shut it off. checking to see that you haven't woken him up. he slept there. you'd wished for it, but worried for his comfort. grabbing your blanket to cover him with, and trying to adjust him so he's more comfortable. he looks so pretty in his sleep. so at peace. a sight for sore eyes, first thing in the morning too. blessed is how it feels to know him.

taking a moment to admire him, you make a silent prayer he feels this way more often, and your off to be getting ready. making your way down the stairs, you check the time on your phone to see you're all good on time, you'd woken up quite tired, but felt the exhaustion leave your body at the sight of him sleeping soundly.

you make yourself breakfast, leaving a note for suguru on the counter with some fresh cut fruit and tea. he doesn't sleep in often, even in days he'd had a late night so your hoping his tea isn't cold when he gets to it, that it wraps him in a warm hug he'll feel from the inside out. you can only hope it gets him to think about you in all the ways you do him.

all you've got left to do is check to see that you have everything you need, keys, phone, your lip products (you've been warned of the grievances that come with dry lips), and all your other essentials before slipping on your shoes, grabbing your jacket from next to sugurus and making you way out the door. although, you don't quite remember that you've found your other shoe, or that you've put them there at all.

[sapphichotmess]

IBLBM

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x plus size!f!reader (Bonnie)

Semi-inspired by “Talk” by Hozier

18+ mdni

5k+ words

Warnings: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), dubious consent (both drink alcohol but are not drunk), oral (f! receiving), unprotected piv (pls be careful), unexpected feelings?? (i was feeling fluffy at the end ig, bc it wasn’t supposed to end happily). 

The sounds of mindless chatter and loud laughing ring in Soap’s ears as he sits on the bar stool that creaks as he fidgets, placed next to the wall in the far corner of the run-down bar he frequents after deployment. Soap sips his whiskey, trying to drown out the distracting thoughts that had invaded his mind, racing through his head as fast as the bullets that had been recently fired at him. His striking blue eyes seem sunken and his cheekbones more pronounced in the dim lighting; his rugged features turned more harsh. The memories of the recent mission weigh heavily on him, seeing as his usually upright posture is wilted and slouched. Still, the laughter around him seems to provide a temporary escape.

Leaning against the peeling wallpaper, he absentmindedly runs his fingers across the sticky bartop in swirling patterns. At the same time, he brings his glass of whiskey up to his pouty lips to take another sip of the burning liquor; his blue eyes focus on something other than the bartop: the bonnie lass with her head thrown back in laughter at something one of her friends said, chubby cheeks squished as she smiles widely causing her eyes to almost disappear. The vivid joy of her laughter contrasted with the dark thoughts that haunted Soap. His mind wanders, succumbing to desires and fantasies that watching the lass offers—a brief respite from the harsh realities of war that usually storm his thoughts.

Soap takes another mindless sip of the amber liquid in the glass in his hand; the burn of the whiskey provides a physical distraction, a reminder of something tangible amidst the war and chaos of his thoughts. His blue eyes, ordinarily sharp and focused, betray a hint of vulnerability, softening as they follow the curves of the young woman's body, fixated on how her ample body seems to spill out of her seat in the most tantalizing way. The contrast between his wandering mind's harshness and his yearnings' softness is lost as he gets lost in the pretty lass, pink tongue darting out to lick his dry lips hungrily. 

Steamin’ Jesus, how he wanted to bury his hands in the pillowy softness of her hips and ass, drag her malleable body against his firm, unforgiving muscles. 

Soap tried to shake off the intrusive fantasies, lifting his gaze from the enticing scene. With its peeling wallpaper, sticky bartop, and the influx of civilians and soldiers alike, the bar offers a refuge of anonymity, a place where he could momentarily forget the weight of his responsibilities. 

Yet, the pull of desire lingers, weaving an intricate web of softness around the hardened soldier in that dimly lit corner of the run-down bar. Shooting the rest of his liquor to the back of his throat, Soap stands, wincing at the loud creak of the stool. The Scot takes a second to breathe deeply, making sure his posture is straight, his brown mohawk is neat enough, and his rakish smirk is perfect before swaggering over to the lass he had his eyes on; he knows that he will have a distraction in the form of plush thighs and whimpering sighs tonight. 

Soap's army-regulated boots make a subtle, purposeful thudding sound against the scuffed floor as he approaches, stopping just behind the object of his affection. The hum of conversation around him seems to dull in his ears as the air charges with an unspoken tension. His piercing blue eyes focused on his objective. This is not unlike having to seduce a mark when he’s undercover. 

The bonnie lass, oblivious to his presence, continues chatting animatedly with her friends. However, the sudden pause in her friend’s response is palpable as Soap's tall, broad-shouldered presence commands their attention. Their curious gazes turn toward him, and a hushed silence settles over the immediate vicinity. Every eye is turned to Soap as you turn to see what had caused the interruption, the laughter lines around your mouth and eyes fading into wrinkles between brows as you meet Soap's eyes with a curious gaze. 

Looking into yout eyes for the first time is like an atom bomb exploding—something beautiful and dangerous lighting up his irises, blocking out anything else. Soap feels as though time herself has stopped for him to have this moment, looking deeply into the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. His rakish grin has fallen from his face, a drop-jawed, open-mouthed, and wide, starry-eyed look taking its place. 

“Lass” is the only thing he rasps out in a rough, accented voice, charming confidence washed away. 

Your friends giggle at the man’s loss of words, glancing at each other with smirks. 

One woman says, “If you keep your mouth open like that, you’ll catch flies.” 

This seems to break Soap from his haze, prompting him to snap his jaw shut with an audible clack of teeth. His cheeks burn like an inferno, red rising from under his shirt all the way up to the tops of his ears. The lass’ friends giggle more at his embarrassment. 

The bar, with its worn-out decor and the lingering scent of alcohol, resumed its normalcy. Sounds of creaking and conversation that had faded from Soap’s ears came ringing back. Soap, however, now stands on the precipice of a different kind of explosion—the unpredictable chemistry between two souls in a crowded, dimly lit bar, where a simple gaze has the power to alter the course of an ordinary evening. 

Shaking his head and sending his once-neat mohawk astray, Soap tries again, “Would ye dance with me, hen?” 

Your friends turn their attention back to you, who, by now, has lost the curious gaze and now adopts one similar to Soap’s from earlier—though you manage to keep your mouth shut. 

“I–umm…” is all you can stutter out in your confusion; what does a man like him want with a woman like you?

“I just…uhhh…I saw you from over there, hen,” Soap explains, pointing to ‘his’ corner of the bar, “and I just had to have a dance with ye. Yer body—steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie—ye could be a goddess just on looks alone. And yer laugh. It’s like faeries tinklin’ in my ears.”

Your face has heated to a nearly volcanic level because of the unexpected attention from such a specimen of a man; he wore a compression t-shirt that fit snugly around his arms and torso, bringing your attention to his hard, bulging muscles and black sweatpants that clung to his thighs like a second skin. Soap was pure sin, your mouth watering as you eyed him up and down. 

​​The vivid imagery of his words, combined with the genuine warmth in his eyes, sends an erupting flush of heat to your cheeks like a volcano boiling over. Soap's unexpected flattery, though eloquent, leaves you feeling both surprised and complimented.

Your friends exchange sly glances, perhaps recognizing the rarity of such a moment. Not only was a man asking you for a dance rare, but you reacting to a man with such awe was, too. 

Not above using his words—and his refined talk—to his advantage, Soap begins again, “Lass, ye ‘ave stolen my full attention. I’ve gotta ‘ave at least one dance with you. Please, Bonnie. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what ye want. Anything for just a taste of ye.” 

Glancing at your friends, who all give you looks telling you to go, you mutter, “Fine,” before getting out of your chair and standing before the behemoth of a man, “But I don’t even know your name.” 

Soap flushes darker at his misstep. “My name’s Johnny.”

“Well, Johnny boy, let's get dancing before you fall on your knees and beg.” 

Perking up like a dog whose just been given a bone, Soap squares his shoulders and runs a hand through his mussed mohawk, shuffling on his feet. He knows he has you in his grasp and will bring you home. He’s already got in mind all the things he wants to do to you, imagining the noises you will make as he wrings pleasure from you. 

Feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, you allow Soap to take your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. As he leads you through the crowded bar, the familiar sounds of mindless chatter and laughter become distant echoes. The atmosphere shifts as you approach the small, rarely used dancefloor, a space that seems to exist in its own pocket of the world.

Soap's grip on your hand is firm yet gentle, guiding you with a quiet—though dominant—confidence. The flickering lights overhead cast a soft glow on the worn wooden floor, and the notes of an old, familiar song begin to play.

The dancefloor, usually abandoned in a corner of the bar, becomes the stage for an unexpected lust between you and Soap. 

Without a word, Soap places his free hand on your waist, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. The distance between you dissipates as he pulls you gently into his body, your plush softness smooshing against his stiff muscles. The warmth of Soap's hand on your waist is comforting and electrifying. Now softened by the dim lighting, his blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. For a moment, the world's worries outside the bar seem distant, and you find yourself captivated by the unexpected charm of the rugged soldier.

As Soap leads you into a slight sway to the music, keeping his body solidly on yours, the silence becomes even more grating. 

​​Soap breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your intertwined bodies, causing a slight shiver to race up your spine. "Never thought I'd find myself dancing in a place like this," he admits, lips lifting in a slight smirk, his voice carrying a hint of gruff amusement.

You manage a small smile, feeling a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a twinge of vulnerability. "Me neither," you reply, the music providing a gentle backdrop to the exchange.

As the two of you continue to move in harmony, Soap's gaze remains fixed on yours. "Ye know," he begins, his tone sincere, "sometimes ye find something good in the least expected places." His words linger in the air, prompting a thoughtful pause. "And sometimes," he adds, a playful glint in his eyes, "ye find yourself dancing with someone who makes even the dimmest corners feel bright."

In a fluid motion, Johnny leans down, his movements both deliberate and yet surprisingly gentle. The scent of whiskey and gun oil hangs in the air as his battle-worn hand glides from your waist to your jaw, cupping it with a rough tenderness. He can feel the heat in your cheek as he brushes his thumb across it. 

Johnny’s touch is commanding and caring, the callouses on his fingers a testament to his countless battles. There's a quiet assurance in how he holds your face as if trying to convey a depth of understanding beyond the spoken word.

Simultaneously, his other hand grips your hip firmly, sending a thrill through your body.

You and Jonny share a few breaths, looking at each other through lowered lashes. The dim lights cast shadows on your faces. Then, Johnny grabs your face tighter and pulls you up to meet his lips with yours. The first touch is light, just a graze of his chapped, cracked lips on your lips. The next is all heat and passion. 

Johnny uses his grip on your jaw to force your mouth open so he can slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugary drink you had been sipping on and the essence of your flesh. His lips tasted of strong whiskey, potent and intoxicating, something you could get drunk on. 

Johnny's movements are deliberate, each touch calculated to evoke a response. He slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, large, thick, and calloused fingers fanning out over the back of your throat, possesively firm but gentle. Your gasp is swallowed into the greedy kiss. Johnny barely lets you breathe, pulling back to adjust his grip on your body before he’s diving back into your mouth. His tongue explores the contours of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, licking behind your teeth and coaxing you into tangling your tongue with his. Slick pools in your underwear. 

Suddenly, almost as if he knows your reaction, Johnny pulls away with a slick sound, a string of saliva binding you two together until he swipes his tongue across his lips, drinking in your taste. His eyes are pools of dark blue, a raging sea of blue covered almost entirely by black. He looks crazed, like a hungry wolf; his mouth is set in a barely perceptible snarl, brows pulled down as he focuses on his meal: you.

“Bonnie, I’m gonna be honest…I gotta have you. Taste you. Worship you for the goddess you are.”

“Johnny, I’m not sure…” you trail off nervously, “I mean, my friends are here, and I didn’t drive here.” 

“I ken ye are worried, but you don’t ‘ave ta be worried. Ye're aff yer heid if you think I’d do anything to a Bonnie lass like ye” Johnny looks into your eyes before purring into your ear, “Imagine being loved by me.” 

His rough, accented voice right in your ear sends tremors throughout your body, slick soaking through your underwear as your lust grows. 

“Okay” 

With that breathy word, Johnny has his mouth on yours again, subtly grinding his erection against your midsection. You let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his length. 

Johnny takes a deep breath and steps away from you, “I would take you right here if I could. But I cannae. So, we should grab a cab to your place before I fuck you in front of everyone.” 

Drunk on lust, you can only nod your head rapidly, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. You only remember to wave goodbye to your friends right as you open the door and step outside into the chill of night, letting the door slam behind you. 

Letting you drag him into the cold night air, Johnny chuckles at your enthusiasm, his Scottish mutterings carrying a sense of amusement. "Ye ken that I havnae gotten a cab yet, right, Bonnie?" he remarks, the humor evident in his voice.

Your response is a content hum as you huddle into his body, seeking shelter from the biting winds. The warmth of his embrace starkly contrasts the cool night, and you find comfort in the proximity.

Amused by your eagerness, Johnny pulls his phone from his back pocket, his other hand ensuring you're nestled close to him. The desire for closeness is palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the connection forged in the bar. The faint glow of his phone illuminates his features as he orders a cab after asking for your address, the anticipation of what lies ahead adding an electric charge to the air.

As you wait for the cab, the world around you becomes a blur of dimly lit streets and the distant sounds of the city. In this pocket of time, suspended between the closing door of the bar and the arrival of the cab, the connection between you and Johnny continues to simmer, a flame that refuses to be extinguished by the cold night air.

Soon enough, Johnny is protectively ushering you into the back of a cab, climbing in right after you so as to not be too far from you. The warmth of the vehicle envelopes you both, a stark contrast to the chill you left behind outside—though it doesn’t hold the same feeling as being held in Johhny’s arms.

As the cab weaves through the late-night streets, the cityscape passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. Johnny sits close, the space between you minimal, as if he wants to ensure you feel his presence beside you. His hand holds the meat of your thick thigh, kneading the flesh there and teasingly dragging his fingers closer and closer to your core before sliding back down, a smirk placed on his lips. 

The cab comes to a smooth stop in front of your house, the engine humming softly as it idles. The quiet neighborhood surrounds you; the journey from the bar to this quiet residential street feels like a transition from one world to another. 

The glow of streetlights casts a soft illumination on the surroundings, creating a gentle ambiance. As he steps out of the vehicle, Johnny glances at your house, eyes filled with curiosity. You get out of the car and into the crisp night air is crisp next. The cab door closes behind you, the vehicle pulling away and leaving you and Johnny standing in the cool night air. The world outside is hushed, as if holding its breath, and the energy between you two remains palpable. The moment is pregnant with possibilities. 

You drag Johnny to your house by the hand, unlocking the door with only the moonlight to guide you. Leading him into your house, you take your shoes off in the entryway, waiting for him to do the same. When Johnny is done taking off his boots, you lead him to your bedroom in the dark, heart beating faster and faster the closer you get to your destination. 

Without bumping into anything, you reach your room, quickly running to turn on your bedside lamps. The few times you had a chance like this, you opted for the softer lighting of lamps over the harsh luminescence of the overhead lights. 

The ambient glow accentuates your soft, round features, casting a gentle radiance upon you. The warmth and subtlety of the lighting create an ethereal ambiance, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Johnny, momentarily caught in the beauty of the moment, watches you with wide, twinkling blue eyes. 

As his brain catches up to the visual feast before him, his eyes sharpening with hunger for a taste of you, Johnny rushes to you, pulling you into a searing kiss. He commandeers you with unspoken authority and leading hands, their touch firm and possessive as they steer you wherever he wants. And where he wants you is on your back, on your knees, and on top; he doesn’t mind as long as he gets to have you. 

He will have you. 

Pulling away from his bruising kiss that lingers as you move, you take one of his hands—the one he had gripping your waist—in yours, walking backward toward your bed. When the back of your knees hit the bed, you plop down on your plush ass, giggling as you bounce a bit. 

Your laughter is a melody that makes Johnny smile, his white teeth showing as his lips curl. As you settle into the bed, Johnny positions himself between your legs, his wide stance forcing them further apart. He forces your head up as you lean back on your hands, bringing your lips together once again. Johnny cants his hips into yours, thick erection tenting his pants and pressing against your core. The breathy moan you let out in response to the stimulation allows Johnny to slip his tongue into your mouth for the second time tonight, eager to taste more of you. 

Johny continues dragging his dick against your core while he releases your lips from his, sliding them down to your jaw. He begins licking and nipping at the juncture where your jaw meets your skull, pulling breathy moans from you. 

Johnny's lips trace a path from your neck to your earlobe, where he delivers a gentle nip. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and his warm breath against your ear makes your heart race.

"Keep making those noises, Bonnie," Johnny whispers, his voice a low, seductive murmur that resonates in the intimate space between you, "and ye won’t be gettin’ rid of me."

You let out a nervous giggle in response as your body rocks against his, following his easy movements. Your giggle gets cut off with a choked whine when his cock hits your clit just right. Johnny huffs hot air into your neck as he works to keep the angle just right so he can keep hitting your clit. After a minute of this, you shove Johnny back by his shoulders, sitting all the way up. 

As Johnny stumbles to keep his footing, you stabilize him by placing your hands on his hips. After he was steadied, you use your hands on his hips to your advantage by slipping them underneath his shirt to feel his scarred abdomen. 

The soft glow of the bedside lamps casts a warm hue over the room as you sit back, a smile playing on your lips. Johnny's muscles jump under your touch as you glide your hands up his torso, rucking his shirt up with them. Johnny allows you to slide his shirt off. His arms lift in cooperation, and the fabric is discarded, revealing his defined physique. The soft illumination accentuates the contours of his body, making his abs appear extra defined in the gentle light.

You glide your hands back over his stomach going down towards the low-sitting waist of his sweatpants. As you go to palm his erection through his pants, Johnny grabs your hands in one of his larger ones. 

“Not yet, Bonnie. I wanna taste you first.” 

After Johnny states this in his rumbling, accented voice, he releases your hands from his grasp and pushes you fully up onto the bed, your feet no longer dangling as your back hits the bed. Breathing heavier and your pussy pulsing with need, you watch with lidded eyes as he crawls towards you on the bed, a predator hunting his prey. He looks like a god as the lamplight illuminates the sharp features of his determined face, mouth shit in a tight line, and eyes focused solely on you. 

Johnny stops just before you, hands wandering up your covered legs. 

“Can I take these off, Bonnie?” he asks, fingers pulling at the waistband of your pants and underwear. When all you do is whimper in response, he tuts and shakes his head. 

“I asked you a question, lass. You best answer it.” 

You manage to breathe out a “Yes, please, Johnny” in response. 

Johnny nods his head in approval of your verbal queue, hastily fumbling with the button of your pants before tearing them—and your sopping panties—down your legs. He watches as your thighs spill from the fabric covering your lower half, the flesh jiggling slightly from the force used to rip the pants and underwear away from you. He is practically drooling and growling, desperate to get a taste of you, to get to see all of your soft body on display for him. 

Deciding he wanted you naked before he ate you out like a wolf starved, he crawls a bit farther up the bed to tug your top from your body with warm hands on flesh, matching your steps from earlier. When he’s got your top,  pants, and panties off, he leans back to leer at your uncovered body, laying so pliant in just your lacy underwear. 

All for him. 

Matching his thoughts, Johnny cups your breasts through your bra and thumbs your peaked nipples, purring, “Is this all for me, Bonnie?”

You nod your head with a shuddered breath before remembering his command. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” 

Johnny continues his assault on your nipples, tugging and tweaking them to total hardness through your bra while kneading the fat of your breasts in his large, warm hands. He doesn’t forget his objective, though—he never fails the task he is given; he stops the assault on your top half to slide under you, forcing your back to arch prettily, thrusting your covered breasts towards him. Johnny uses the space to unhook your bra with one hand, helping you remove it from your arms before diving head-first into your chest, nuzzling his nose into the crevice between your tits, and inhaling through his nose noisily. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie, you smell so good.” 

His words cause your body to heat up, squirming in his hold. He opens his mouth and laps at your skin like a dog, groaning throatily at the salty taste of your skin. 

“Johnny!” you squeak. 

Johnny pulls back with a smirk, mockingly saying, “Bonnie!” in a high-pitched voice. Then, looking straight into your eyes with his stormy blues, he orders, “Be a good girl and open yer legs for me.”

You’re useless against his accented voice, following his order without thought. Your thick thighs part, making a slight sticking noise from the wetness left from your weeping cunt. The glistening sight and moist sound of your wet heat causes Johnny to groan deep in his chest, his dick throbbing in his sweatpants. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up fucking you sooner than he wanted. So, instead of waiting any more, Johnny scoots down the bed, his feet hanging off the side, and lays down flat. His broad shoulders force your legs wider until he has your chub squished in his hand, dented with the force he’s exerting, dragging your legs over his shoulders, hovering by his ears. 

“Don’t be shy, Bonnie. I like it rough,” he says with a wink before diving into his meal. 

The first hot, slick swipe of his tongue over you has you keening, hips bucking into the feeling. However, you can’t move far because Johnny’s got his hands fastened across your hips like a seatbelt, holding you to his starving mouth. He continues licking from the bottom of your pussy all the way to your clit, flicking his tongue once he gets there. His scruff burns against your thighs, but it only makes you hotter. Your head is pushed back into your bed, neck bared, back arched sensually, and one of your hands grips Johnny’s brown mohawk with trembling fingers, the other gripping your sheets tightly. 

Your breathy noises and tangy taste drive Johnny crazy, right along with the way you feel: soft, pliable, squishy in his hands, so malleable and willing. You submit to his every word, every touch, every breath, and he can’t get enough. Gripping you harder at the hips—probably leaving bruises, though he’s a little satisfied by the thought of staking his claim—he drags you impossibly closer, burying himself in the smell and taste of you, muffling his groans in your skin. 

Moving on from lapping at the whole of you, Johnny instead focuses on your dripping entrance. He drags his tongue over it several times before dipping into you, hips bucking into the bed at being able to taste you from the source. Johnny continues dipping the tip of his tongue into you until you’re whining loudly, pleading for more. 

He sticks his whole tongue into your pussy, swirling it around and scooping more slick into his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head; Johnny could die here, and he wouldn’t be mad. Shaking his head back and forth, he rubs his nose on your clit, making you cry out. 

“Fuck, Johnny, please!” 

Following your pleading cries, Johnny eases his tongue out of you, instead latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking hard. Your eyes close in ecstasy, completely missing the sly smile that graces Johnny’s lips as he—reluctantly—removes one of his giant hands from your waist.

Suddenly, your eyes are flying open, and you’re nearly screaming as you’re filled with two thick fingers. 

“Mmmm, Bonnie, yer squeezing me so tight, and yer so wet. I can’t wait to break you on my cock.” he mumbles against your skin. 

With the thought of you stretching around his cock, Johnny ups the ante, pumping while crooking his fingers to hit the spongey spot at the front of your tight passage just right and sucking on your clit like it was his favorite candy. He has you screaming in minutes. 

Johnny’s fingers slow down to a gentle coaxing, and the suction of his mouth becomes gentle licks, helping you ride your orgasm down. He has wrung every drop of pleasure from you, leaving you relaxed and breathing heavily on the bed, thighs twitching with his gentle caresses. But he isn’t done with you yet. 

Popping his wet fingers into his mouth and sitting up, Johnny moans at the taste of you. 

Slapping your red, beard-chaffed thighs lightly with wet fingers, watching them jiggle, Johnny says, “Damn, lass, you taste so good. I could lay between your legs until I die.” 

Not waiting for a response, Johnny slides out of his sweatpants and releases his erection. Your eyes widen, and a dull throbbing begins at the bottom of your stomach as you watch him slap against his taught stomach. He is huge—huger than you’re used to—not the longest, but certainly the widest; Johnny’d had to have the fattest cock you’ve ever seen, brownish in color with an angry red, drooling tip. 

Noticing your look, Johnny says, “I ken, Bonnie, I ken. I’m a lot ta take, but we’ll make it fit.” 

At this, Johnny shuffles back between your thighs, lifting your legs so they fit over his hips. Taking a hold of his dick, Johnny pumps himself a few times, smearing his pre-come around his cock. Then, he slides it through your wetness, teasingly bumping your clit as he does, just to see your pretty lashes flutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

And then he���s telling you to “Kepp those pretty eyes on me, lass,” using one hand to stroke your overheated cheek.

Your eyes snap open at his gentle command; the air of confidence and authority lacing his gravelly voice catches your attention through your haze. You would do anything he said—jump off a bridge, go running into a house fire, or set your home ablaze—if he used that tone. 

Now that he has your attention, he can finally get to splitting you open. Looking down at where you two meet, Johnny places his dick at your weepy entrance with barely-there pressure, causing him to groan slightly. He shakes his head to clear it before looking back at your eyes. 

“Can I, Bonnie? I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

A weak “mhm” is all you get out before the pressure builds, and he’s slipping his thick cock inside your tight pussy. Your eyes slam shut at the burning sensation, hands latching onto his muscular thighs and leaving crescent moon-shaped indents. One of his hands comes up to tap your cheek, reminding you to keep your eyes open. Then he’s bottoming out, curving just so that his head hits a spot you didn’t think existed. 

Johny sits, fully embedded into your fluttering cunt, breathing through his nose so as to not cum already. He leans down, pelvis hitting your clit, and catches you in a searing kiss, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him stretching your gummy walls. When you start bucking your hips against him slightly, he pulls back from the kiss while pulling his hips back slightly before he’s sharply thrusting back into your wet heat. Your sharp exhale spurs him on, eyes lighting up in victory and a smirk curling at his lips. 

You can barely hold on as he rapidly picks up a punishing pace. Johnny angles his hips just right to consistently slam into the spot that makes you see stars, his hips slamming into yours with loud slapping sounds. Your whole body jiggles with his movements, entrancing Johny with the subtle movements. He knows he won’t last long, being as pent up as he is. But you’re close, too; he can tell with how tight you’re squeezing him. 

“I can feel how hard yer squeezing me, Bonnie,” he rasps, “I ken yer close…cum for me.” 

Johnny’s words, along with his authoritative tone and the hand he snuck between your sweating bodies to rub at your clit have your back arching and eyes snapping shut. A primal scream of his name leaves your throat while you’re cumming so hard that all you can see is white, and you lose your hearing. 

You’re squeezing Johnny so tight he’s almost pushed out of your wet heat, walls spasming so hard and so frequently. Your almost unintelligible moans of his name are what send him over the edge, folding him in half so he’s growling his release in your ear. His eyes are shut tight, blue eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his hips twitch sloppily as he rides out his orgasm, painting your innermost walls white.  

The world returns to focus as your hearing returns, and you flutter your eyes open blearily. The room, once a blur of shadows and soft glow, slowly sharpens into view. The sounds of heavy breathing and the rhythmic beat of your heart fill the air. 

Johnny, now pulling out and watching hiss cum dribble out of your fluttering cunt, is a silhouette against the ambient light, his features softened in the aftermath. A gentle calm settles over the space as the echoes of passion subside. The soft illumination bears witness to the aftermath of an unexpected encounter that unfolded in the shadows and soft glow of the night.

The night's warmth, both in the embrace of Johnny and the aftermath of shared intimacy, provides a comforting cocoon. As you lie cuddled up with him, the realization of how utterly fucked you are dawns upon you — you've grown attached in just one night. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny’s having the same thoughts as he cradles your soft body closer. 

As the night deepens, you and Johnny find yourselves entangled in each other's arms, sharing the same thoughts of attachment and connection. The soft glow of the room envelops you, casting a gentle light on the intertwined figures lost in the quietude of slumber.

The echoes of the night linger in each of your dreams. As you fall asleep in the embrace of shared warmth, visions of a life together dance through your subconscious. The dreams weave a tapestry of shared moments and whispered promises.

The room, once a witness to the intensity of passion, now cradles you both in the tranquility of sleep, the words once muttered by the Scot, “Imagine being loved by me,” ringing in your ears.

taglist: @tinygarbage @pamasaur @cool-iguana

[slut4msby]

Happy New Year? Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

+ tags & warnings; suggestive content, heavily implied smut, atsumu and reader did the deed :0??, borderline fuckboy!atsumu [i have a soft spot for fuckboy!atsumu], not proofread, implied ex bf but no one is specified other than being a vb player so use ur imagination qts :3

+ a/n; hey guys! i'm lea :3. this is my first fic on tumblr in YEARS i used to have an account long long long ago that like NO ONE would know so this is my welcome back ig ;p have some fuckboy!atsumu tehheeheh [i want fuckboy!atsumu so bad or maybe i just have issues teheheh]. also its dec 31 when i post this so HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! stay safe and take care x

Waking up on your own has become a tradition on New Year's Day. For the past three years, a very lonely past three years. Ever since your partner had broken up with you. 

This year was no different, waking up in an empty bed - but not your bed? The realisation left you in confusion. Your eyes darted around the room, cologne, dirty clothes, sports trophies and empty water bottles filled the room. How classy. You sat up against the headboard, head pounding from the alcohol that had consumed your body the night before. Despite its uncleanliness it was a nice room at its core. The problem is, you don't know when you got here or how you got here. Matter of fact if you were even still in the country.

“Hey Doll.” A shirtless figure called from the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his V-line on full display. He was fit, no one could deny that. His blonde hair messy from his shower, his body littered with hickies and scratches - your hickies and scratches. “You really did a number on me huh?” He let out a soft chuckle.

You tried to respond but your body was still in a state of shock from the man you had managed to catch.

“You alright princess? You seemed to be a lot louder and confident last night.” He teased, walking towards you taking a seat on his bed. “You know, you look good in my shirt.” He adds on in reference to the oversized t-shirt which accompanied your body. He shuffled closer to you, he planted another kiss on your neck over one of the many purple marks he had given you last night, “could get used to having you around.”

“Me?” You question, he only nods in response. 

He grabs your face in his hand. You couldn’t deny his hands were nice, they were big and he obviously knew how to use them. He moved you to look at him, forcing tension. You couldn’t lie from what you could remember is that he was good. He pulled you closer and closer, looking at your lips and then your eyes. “Can I?” He asks.

“Can you?” You respond giving him your infamous ‘fuck-me eyes’.

“Oh doll, we both know we can.” He mutters against your lips, before pulling you in for a kiss which you very happily accept. 

That’s when the memories come back, you could never forget a kiss like that. You remember Kuroo forcing you to a party and meeting him, Atsumu Miya.

“C’moonnnnnnnn n/n-chan it will be fun.” Kuroo begged.

“Tetsu, I don’t know I am happy alone.”

“You’re so boring now n/n-chan.” He pouts. He knows that sentence will rile you up. “You used to be the life of the party y/n.”

“Used to? Oh baby I still am.”

“Then come to the party n/n.”

“Fine.”

You remember walking in and being greeted by Bokuto who you hadn't seen in years. Completely ditching the volleyball scene after your ex-boyfriend. Bokuto was still as huge and friendly as always. You greeted all the familiar faces and were even introduced to some new ones. It was nice. As the hours went on the alcohol overtook your body. 

You had found yourself on a couch on top of him - Atsumu Miya. 

“Woahh pretty girl slow down.” He pulls away from the kiss a string of saliva breaking you apart as he does so. “What's yer name, pretty girl?” He asks before leaving light kisses on your neck forcing a gasp out of you.

“L/n.” You say quickly, “y/n l/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says continuing kissing down your neck. He would have gone further right then and there however your rendezvous was cut short by Bokuto and Kuroo calling your name. And you thought that was gonna be the last encounter with the mystery man.

“Ohhhh~ n/n-chan getting it on with tsum-tsum.” Bokuto teases.

“N/n is lonelyyyyyy.” Kuroo slurs.

The teasing continued all night, however at 11:58pm everyone started gathering around for the countdown, you were convinced this is the fourth year you would be lonely. Before you felt an arm snag your waist.

“Hey pretty girl.” He purrs into your ear.

“Oh it’s you.”

“I have a name y’know princess?”

Silence.

“Do yer seriously not know who I am.”

“Egotistical by the sound of it, pretty boy.” You respond.

“Atsumu Miya. Y’know? MSBY’s setter?”

“Right. I like pretty boy more.” You giggle.

5

“Yer won't be moaning that tonight trust me doll.”

4

3

2

1

Atsumu pulls you in for a kiss, “So you wanna take me up on that offer princess?”

You can’t help but nod eagerly.

Happy New year to you indeed.

©slut4msby.

[ikkosu]

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chaptered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig. lovely headers by @cafekitsune

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

PHARMA doesn’t know what to say.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

YOU scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

PHARMA doesn’t want to open the door.

"Will do, doc bot."

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

THE tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.