#queue until you reach the light

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The movie marathon had stretched late into the night. You were sprawled on top of Xavier, your head resting on his chest as the TV cast flickering light across the darkened room. His steady heartbeat had almost lulled you to sleep when you felt his hand shift slightly beneath you.

Smack!

The unexpected slap to your ass made you jolt upright, nearly headbutting his chin in the process.

“Did you forget about earlier?” he asked.

You laughed, settling back against him. “I thought you might have fallen asleep and forgotten.”

“I didn’t,” he replied simply, his hand returning to your backside. This time, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingers kneading the spot he’d just slapped. The tender motion contrasted with the playful smack from moments before.

He pulled you closer, adjusting your position against him until you were both comfortable again. The credits rolled on the forgotten movie as his fingers continued their gentle massage, his calm breathing eventually synchronizing with yours as you both drifted toward sleep.

As the auto-play feature started the next film in the queue, his free hand reached for the remote, lowering the volume to a soft background murmur. His other hand never left your backside, alternating between gentle squeezes and soothing circular motions that made you melt further against him.

“Your heartbeat speeds up when I touch you like this,” he observed quietly, the subtle change in his tone betraying his satisfaction at the reaction.

You mumbled something incoherent against his chest, too comfortable to form proper words. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting your weight to better accommodate his frame, his hand continuing its ministrations with practiced ease.

“We should sleep,” he suggested, though his actions contradicted his words as his fingers traced the curve where your ass met your thigh. “Or would you prefer to continue this instead?”

��𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Midnight had come and gone, but sleep remained elusive. It’s another day of Zayne had just returned from his grueling shift at the hospital, his tie loosened and suit jacket discarded as he prepared for bed.

“I need at least six hours of sleep before my morning consultation,” he muttered, setting his alarm.

You poked his side, deliberately disrupting his bedtime routine. “But I’m not tired,” you whined playfully, stealing his pillow and hugging it to your chest.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Return my pillow.”

“Make me,” you challenged with a grin, scooting away.

In one swift motion, he reclaimed his pillow with one hand, while the other delivered a firm smack to your pajama-clad backside.

Smack!

“That’s for being bratty when you know I need rest.” The sting lingered pleasantly as he settled beside you, drawing you against his chest despite your earlier antics.

“Sleep,” he instructed, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’ll have time for your games tomorrow.”

His breathing soon steadied into the rhythm of sleep, while you remained awake just a little longer, savoring the unexpected gesture from him. Despite his stated exhaustion, his hand remained active, tracing absent patterns along your hip.

He murmured against your hair, seemingly not as close to sleep as you’d thought, “You just have to be difficult before going to sleep.”

You shifted to look at his face, finding his eyes still open. “Someone has to remind the great doctor he’s human,” you replied softly.

His fingers tightened slightly on your hip. “Tomorrow,” he promised, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I’ll show you exactly how human I can be. Now sleep before I administer more persuasive methods.”

The implied threat only made you smile as you finally closed your eyes, lulled by his steady heartbeat.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Turn around again,” Rafayel instructed, his eyes focused intently as you modeled the fifth dress he’d purchased for his upcoming exhibition. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as you obliged, turning slowly to give him the full view.

“Perfect,” he murmured, approaching to adjust the way the material draped across your shoulders. “This shade of green complements your skin tone exactly as I imagined.”

As you moved to reach for the next outfit, his hand descended without warning.

Smack!

The slap against your ass echoed in the spacious bedroom, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“Rafayel!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him.

He grinned. “I couldn’t resist, cutie. You look really good with the dress on.”

Your initial surprise melted as he pulled you close, his hands wandering dangerously near the spot he’d just slapped.

“The red dress next,” he whispered against your ear, releasing you with obvious reluctance. “Though I’m starting to think my favorite masterpiece isn’t hanging in any gallery.”

He retreated to his chaise lounge, watching appreciatively as you reached for the next dress, the memory of his touch still warming your skin.

“Wait,” he called suddenly. “Do that again—the way you just moved. Hold that position.”

You froze mid-reach, throwing a questioning glance over your shoulder.

“Perfect,” he breathed, grabbing the sketchbook that never seemed to be far from his reach. “The light catches your profile exactly right from this angle.”

You maintained the pose, feeling the spot where he’d slapped you still tingling pleasantly as he sketched, occasionally looking up to capture another detail.

“You know,” he said between strokes of his pencil, “I think I’ve just found the centerpiece for my exhibition.”

“A drawing of my ass?” you asked incredulously.

His laughter filled the room. “No, cutie—though that would certainly draw crowds. I’m thinking of something much more...personal. Now, try on the red dress, but move slowly. Every line of you deserves proper attention.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Rain pattered against the windows of Sylus’s room as you lay on your stomach, engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite show on your tablet. Completely absorbed in the climactic scene, you didn’t notice his approach until it was too late.

Smack!

The sudden, sharp slap to your ass sent your tablet flying from your hands. You yelped in surprise, rolling over to find Sylus standing over you, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips.

“You look focused, sweetie,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

You glared up at him. “I was watching the season finale!”

“And now you’re watching me instead,” he replied, retrieving your tablet from where it had landed on the carpet. He handed it back to you, his fingers lingering against yours. “A considerable upgrade, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond with the retort forming on your lips, he leaned down, his voice dropping to that low timbre that always made your pulse quicken. “Consider us even. For now.”

He then left you to return to your show—though your focus was thoroughly shattered.

You returned to your previous position. Just as the plot was reaching its climax again, the bed dipped beside you. He had returned, two glasses of wine in hand, offering one to you.

He settled next to you, positioning himself so he could see your tablet screen, his thigh pressing against yours as if nothing unusual had happened between you moments ago. His free hand casually draped across your lower back, dangerously close to where he’d landed the mischievous slap, his fingers casually tapping your ass.

“So,” he said, sipping his wine and gesturing toward your tablet with his glass, “who’s the traitor? The brother or the assistant?”

You blinked in surprise. “You’ve been watching this show?”

His half-smile returned as he made himself more comfortable beside you. “I have my reasons for staying informed about your interests. Now, shall we finish this finale together?”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Steam filled the kitchen as you stirred the pasta sauce, following Caleb’s recipe while he chopped vegetables nearby. The domesticity of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, comfortable and familiar.

“Can you pass the oregano?” you asked, gesturing toward the spice rack.

“Sure thing,” he replied, stepping behind you to reach for the herb.

As his hand extended past you toward the rack, his other hand made its move.

Smack!

The slap to your backside was anything but gentle, causing you to drop the wooden spoon into the sauce. Before you could react, he dissolved into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Your face!” he managed between chuckles, handing you the oregano as promised. “I’ve been waiting all day for the perfect moment.”

“Caleb! You—” You shook your head as you accepted the spice—and the fate of your ass. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before returning to his chopping board. “Dinner might be worth the wait, if you don’t let that sauce burn.”

You turned back to the stove as his laughter continued to fill the warm kitchen.

His laughter gradually subsided, but the atmosphere remained light as you both continued preparing dinner. Every time he passed behind you to reach for another ingredient or utensil, you tensed slightly in anticipation, unsure if another playful slap might be coming.

“Relax,” he teased, noticing your reaction. “I already got my revenge. Unless...” he paused dramatically, “you’re hoping for an encore?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress your smile. “Just focus on those vegetables before I decide it’s my turn for revenge.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with an exaggerated salute, his grin never faltering. He resumed his chopping, occasionally humming a cheerful tune that matched his buoyant mood.

Smack!

“Just for fun, Pipsqueak,” he grinned unapologetically.

Okay… so… I kinda accidentally deleted the whole page of my Google Docs when I reached Sylus’s part, and I was just sitting there, like—😀💔 So, I had to write everything all over again in a bad mood 😭 I hope you still enjoy reading! ಡ⁠͜⁠⁠ʖ⁠⁠ಡ

[truly-quirkless]

TAG DUMP 2 - Inbox n' Dash

[julymusings]

I'M WORKING LATE !

jason's too stressed, and too exhausted. luckily, you have a few ways of getting him to relax. rated 18+, mdni contains: jason todd x reader; grinding, handjob, blowjob, reader's hair is long enough 4 a ponytail

He hasn't looked up from his file in two hours.

Jason did this sometimes, got so engrossed in a case that everyone and everything else took a backseat. You learned early on that he doesn't like to be bothered when he gets in this headspace, getting used to tuning him out and going about your own tasks (aside from the occasional kiss atop his head or brush of your palm across his back, something he could never complain about), but you think if he stares at his papers any harder, he'll go cross-eyed.

He sat down to work two hours ago, around the same time you started making dinner. Not wanting to disturb him, the two of you worked around each other in a comfortable silence, him typing away at his laptop while sifting through papers, and you cutting vegetables and boiling noodles. In the one hour it took to prepare the meal and bring two steaming bowls of pasta to the table, he hadn't looked up once. You set his bowl in front of him, but you're not sure he even noticed.

In the hour following, you finished your meal, cleaned up the kitchen, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and packed up his untouched bowl of pasta for later, all before settling in on the couch to put on headphones and queue up your show on your computer.

Now, you watch him from your spot on the couch as he sits at the dining table, body tense and still as a statue, save for the occasional flick through the pages of his file, or a scribble of notes on his notepad. Seeing him ultra-focused was nothing new, but there's something about this night that has you concerned. The bags under his eyes are heavier than usual, his lips are chapped and raw from being chewed on, his reading glasses are askew on his face, and his hair is messy, odd ends sticking out from how often he drags his hand through it.

It's when his neck turns slightly to look at the notepad at his side and you hear the minute clicking noise followed by a quiet wince that you know you have to intervene.

From experience, you know this is something you have to go about subtly. At your harping, he's been getting better about prioritizing himself and his wellbeing over work, but he still shows some defensiveness when someone suggests he take a break. He won't admit it, but you know he feels guilty about taking time to relax when there are people who need his help.

You approach him slowly from behind, dragging your feet on the hardwood floor, a gentle alert to your nearing. Your fingers softly brush over his back, sliding up across his shoulder blades until your hands rest on his shoulders. He doesn't react.

You squeeze your hands lightly, feeling the tight knots in his muscles, and his shoulders relax a few centimeters. You repeat this motion, slowly massaging from his shoulders to his neck. He releases a heavy exhale when your thumbs press against the sides of his neck, making circular motions to ease the tension. You lean lower to brush light kisses over the spots you press into, and finally, his head lifts. He leans back, head falling over the neck of his chair to look up at you as his hands reach back to rest over your forearms. He wears a tired smile, and you drop your head to close the remaining space between you, brushing your lips over his. They feel rough from the consistent dragging against his teeth while he was deep in concentration, but nonetheless remain warm and inviting for you to press kisses to.

"Hi," Jason whispers against your lips, his voice scratchy from its hours unused.

"Hey," you breathe. Your lips travel up his face, kissing up his nose and to his forehead, each spot relaxing a little more as you kiss it.

Your fingers continue their pressure around his neck and he groans softly when you press into that perfect spot, finding the largest knot. You want to bottle the sound, save it to listen to on a loop for hours.

"Can you finish up for the night?" You whisper the words behind his ear, following up with another kiss brushed across the skin.

"I'm so close to the end, baby," he speaks softly, his breath warm on the side of your face. "I can feel it. I just need a little more time."

Your hands trail back down to his shoulders, pressing harder. "You've been stuck for forever. You need a break."

"Baby..." He sighs when your kisses move down his neck.

"Please?"

He leans forward, pushing away from your touch to look back at the work in front of him, but you persist, moving around to climb in his lap. Your legs straddle over his hips, arms circling around his neck. On instinct, his hands settle on your thighs, and squeeze.

"Please, Jay?" You whine, prodding your nose against his. "You're working so hard, honey." You drag your lips underneath his jaw. "You're so tense. Let me help you relax."

He sighs again, his hands sliding up to grip your waist, hips shifting forward to nudge against yours, and you know you've got him.

"I can't say no to you, can I?" Jason concedes, and you grin.

"No, you can't."

You kiss him eagerly, humming against his lips when he reciprocates. It starts off innocent, as slow and sweet kisses, before quickly devolving into something more harried, your heated breaths mingling through exchanged keens and moans. When Jason pulls back to remove his glasses and toss them on the table behind you, you mouth along his neck, sucking and biting and licking at the skin. At the same time, your hips rock against his, and his hold on your waist tightens. You muffle his moan when your mouth finds his again, hands sliding into his ruffled hair to grab ahold of the strands and pull. His mouth falls open slightly, and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips.

He's so lost in the feeling of your movement against him and your hands in his hair, Jason doesn't register the hand that slides down to his belt buckle until his jeans are unzipped and your hand has slipped inside to grip his half-hard cock through his boxers.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back as you palm him. With his throat on display, you latch onto the spot just below his Adam's apple. After a few moments, he pulls himself together enough to say, "Was this your plan?" He pushes his hips out to grind against your hand, his erection growing harder. "Seduce me into taking a break?"

Satisfied with the mark you've left on the column of his throat, you pull back to look at him. You tug at the band of his boxers, pulling them down marginally to slip your hand inside and pull his dick out. Your knuckles brush against his balls and his hips jump, releasing a small gasp from him. You tease him with slow, light strokes up and down his length. Your thumb brushes over the beads of precum on his tip, and a high-pitched moan falls from his open mouth. His gaze on you is something out of a renaissance painting, all rosy cheeks and devoted eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, though the tail-end of your statement is cut off by Jason taking your face in his hand and bringing your lips back to his.

His other hand tries to creep under the waistband of your sleep shorts, but you stop him with a grab on his wrist. It elicits a needy whine from the back of his throat, both at your depriving him of touching you, and the loss of your touch on him.

"Sorry, baby." You push yourself off him, your heart skipping a beat at the broken noises he makes in protest. "But I said I'd help you relax."

You can see the change in his eyes when you drop to your knees in front of him, his enlarged pupils encroaching further on the teal of his irises until they're just thin rings of blue and green around black.

"Can I?" Your voice is hushed and timid, almost self-conscious at the submission you're offering.

He whispers your name, quiet and hungry as he looks down on you. You run your hands over his thighs and he moves to sit on the edge of his seat, spreading his legs further apart so you can fit comfortably between them. His hands, which grip the sides of his chair, are taken in yours and guided to your hair. One holds your hair back, and the other cups your jaw, his thumb brushing soothing strokes on your cheek as you take his cock in your hand once more. You stroke at the base while dipping your head down to wrap your mouth around his tip.

Jason is big, and no matter how many times you take him, there's always a moment needed to adjust. Slowly, your mouth works past the tip, each bob of your head taking a little more of him while your hand jerks him off where your mouth can't reach. His breathing grows heavier the deeper you take him, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and contracting with the effort it takes to not immediately cum at the sight of you sucking him off.

"Fuck, that's— baby, oh my— fuck!" His low, baritone moaning mixes with the sloppy sounds your mouth makes. His whole body squirms as he fights the urge to just stand up and roughly fuck your throat until he comes. "You're so fucking good to me," he groans.

The hand on your jaw brushes away the tears that form as you gag from taking him as deep as you can. The hand holding your hair tightens its grip, softly yanking the strands and you moan; Jason feels the vibration in his cock and whimpers, his own tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Baby, I'm so—" He cuts himself off with a loud, animalistic moan when you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick, followed by a flick of your tongue against the tip before taking him in deep once again. Your tongue drags against the vein under his head and he comes in your mouth, the hot spurts gushing onto your tongue as he shallowly thrusts himself through his orgasm.

When he's done, hands fallen to his sides, slumped back in his seat and panting heavily, you slide your mouth off him and hold it open for him to see what he left.

"Swallow it." His voice is low and gravelly.

You listen.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

He helps you to your feet and wipes your wet cheeks with the back of his hand before pulling you in for a kiss.

"My girl," he whispers again. His eyes sweep over you with reverence, and it's your turn to cradle his cheeks in your palms and brush away the hints of moisture.

"Are you done working?" You ask quietly. Hopefully.

He leans his forehead against yours. "I still have to—"

You give him a long sigh, to which he playfully rolls his eyes.

"I guess I'll just go to bed! All alone!" You exclaim dramatically, stalking away from him with exaggerated steps.

"I'll be there in a minute," Jason laughs, calling after you.

"You better," you tease. When you know he's looking, you lift the hem of your shirt and pull it off, throwing it aside and turning away. It has barely left your hand when you hear his chair scraping against the floor and you break into a run towards your bedroom.

You don't get very far, however, before he catches you. You squeal when he grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, both of you full of giggles as he carries you to your room.

cause i'm a singer....

so this is my first time writing smut why am i highkey nervous abt it this was supposed to be under a thousand words but girl....i'm still classifying it a mini fic tho not a regular fic bc i FEEL LIKE IT & let it be known i am a jason crying during sex TRUTHER

and um why was i fighting for my life trying to describe their positions in the beginning when he was sitting in the chair and reader was standing behind him. i still fear it's not clear so i drew it. hope this helps

[rafecameronssl4t]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTYtnp5NE/

Could you make one based on this tiktok that came out on my fyp?? (i think the first clip is better) Rafe becomes super protective and always keeps her by his side because some guys want to interview her for their tiktok and stuff, knowing that she's attractive

Popular || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: yoo the hand placement is craaaazyyyyyyy #NEEDTHAT (I feel like this is so s1 Rafe coded 😆) here’s the tiktok btw

Warnings: Rafe being super touchy

Word count: 649

MASTERLIST

The line stretched endlessly down the block, and Rafe’s patience was wearing thin. “Fuck, this line is taking forever,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh. The arm he had slung casually around your shoulders tightened ever so slightly, drawing you closer as you chuckled softly.

Your fingers lightly traced his bicep, glancing down at your phone to check the time. Forty-five minutes. That’s how long you, Rafe, and Topper had been stuck in the queue for the club, surrounded by a crowd of impatient partygoers. “I gotta take a piss, you comin’?” Topper asked, slapping Rafe on the back.

“Yeah, give me a sec.” Rafe turned to you, leaning down to press a sloppy, possessive kiss to your lips. His warmth lingered as he pulled back, his voice low. “Be right back, babe.” You nodded, humming softly as he stepped away, already missing the weight of his arm around you. With nothing else to do, you leaned against the metal barrier, scrolling through TikTok to pass the time.

The occasional murmur of the crowd barely registered until a light tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your scrolling. “Excuse me, miss,” a guy said, and you turned to face him with a hint of confusion. He held a camera in his hand, another guy standing beside him. “Do you mind if we interview you for a minute? It’s for our YouTube channel.”

You raised an eyebrow. The accent wasn’t local, and you immediately knew they weren’t from Kildare—nobody around here would even think to call themselves a YouTuber. Still, curiosity got the better of you, and you offered a polite laugh. “Okay, sure.” You turned fully to face the camera, brushing your hair over your shoulder.

“What’s something you wouldn’t want your future husband to know about you?” the guy asked with a grin, holding the mic out toward you. You let out a soft giggle, contemplating your answer as a familiar figure caught your eye in your peripheral vision. Rafe and Topper were making their way back, and their expressions were far from amused.

By the time you opened your mouth to respond, Rafe was already at your side. A firm hand landed on your bare shoulder, the weight grounding you. Rafe’s presence was imposing, his tall frame towering over the YouTuber and his friend. Topper flanked the other side, his arms crossed as he sized up the duo.

“Absolutely nothing,” you finally said with a playful smirk, clicking your tongue. “Because I’m perfect, beautiful, and amazing.” You winked at the camera, your confident tone masking the tension simmering in the air. “Yo, what the fuck’s goin’ on here?” Rafe’s voice was low, his tone sharp as he furrowed his brows.

His hand slid from your shoulder, resting possessively on your right boob, his fingers lightly squeezing as if to stake his claim. “She’s just getting interviewed,” the guy stammered, his chuckle nervous as his gaze darted between Rafe and Topper. “I’m a YouTuber.” “A YouTuber? In Kildare?” Topper scoffed, shaking his head with a mocking laugh. “That’s rich.”

Rafe’s hand didn’t budge, instead, he gave it another squeeze and you reached up instinctively, resting your hand over his in an attempt to ease the tension. The YouTuber tried to continue, his voice faltering under the weight of the stares. “Yeah, nothing crazy, man—”

“Nah, I think we’re done here,” Rafe cut him off, his smile sharp and anything but friendly. He shot a glance at the camera, his jaw tight, before gripping your hand and pulling you firmly away. You couldn’t help but glance back, catching the shaken expressions of the YouTuber and his friend as Topper trailed behind.

When you finally looked up at Rafe, his gaze was hard, but there was an unmistakable flicker of pride in his eyes. You knew better than to say anything, though; this was Rafe’s way of making it clear you were his.

[cupofteatoyou]

Dreaming in Blaugrana pt3

The door clicked shut behind you with a dull thud.

Laughter still spilled through the walls of Mapi’s apartment—shouts, clinking glasses, a playlist someone had definitely stolen from Patri’s workout queue. It all felt too loud. Too bright. Like you were watching it from the wrong side of a window.

You tugged your hoodie tighter and stepped out into the night.

The street was quiet, washed in soft orange from the old streetlamps. The air smelled like leftover smoke from the barbecue and damp concrete. Your shoes scuffed lightly as you walked, slow and unhurried, like you didn’t want to be anywhere in particular—just away.

You didn’t hear her at first.

Not until the door swung open behind you and her voice, hesitant and unsure, cut through the quiet.

“Hey.”

You turned.

Alexia stood on the top step, her hand gripping the edge of the railing like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be there. Her jacket was half-zipped. Her curls were a little frizzy from the heat of the room, and her brows were drawn tight.

“I—” she started, then stopped. You waited.

She tried again. “You were just... leaving?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It is getting late.”

She stepped down onto the sidewalk but didn’t come closer. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

Your mouth twisted. “Didn’t think anyone would notice.”

Alexia flinched at that. Just slightly. But she didn’t deny it.

“I noticed,” she said. Quiet. Like it was hard to admit.

You didn’t know what to do with that. So you just nod your head and turned slightly, eyes back on the empty road ahead.

Behind you, she let out a breath. The kind you release after thinking too long. “I wasn’t sure if I should come after you.”

You kept your voice light, but didn’t faced her . “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

That made you pause.

Alexia shifted behind you, hands tucked into her sleeves like she didn’t know what to do with them. “I keep thinking about that day. About how I just… left.”

You looked down at the pavement. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” she said, and then added, softer, “But I still should’ve said something.”

The silence stretched again.

“You know,” she continued, “for a while, I really believed it was the mascot I liked.”

You glanced over, finally. Her face was in shadow, but you could hear the emotion threading through her voice.

“But the truth is,” she said, “you were the one who made me feel safe. Not the fur. Not the foam. Just... you. Underneath it all.”

You swallowed. Hard.

Alexia stepped closer—just enough for her shoulder to brush yours. Barely there. Like she was testing the air between you.

“I got so used to pretending I didn’t need anyone,” she said. “Then there you were. Sitting next to me after training. Not asking anything. Just... being there.”

She looked at you, really looked, and something unspoken passed between you—like she was seeing your face for the first time without the guilt or the weight or the distance.

“I miss that,” she said, her voice a whisper now. “I miss you.”

A gust of wind blew past. You crossed your arms instinctively, but you didn’t step away.

You didn’t want to.

Alexia reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out her car keys, then paused—offering them up like an olive branch.

“Can I drive you home?”

You hesitated. But , you didn’t say no. You nodded, and that was all it took.

She gave you a small smile. Careful. Almost shy.

And the two of you started walking—side by side, silent for a while. But it wasn’t the same kind of silence as before.

It wasn’t avoidance. Or guilt.

It was something softer.

Something new.

She clicked the car unlocked and opened the passenger door for you. Waited until you were in before getting behind the wheel..

Her hand rested lightly on the steering wheel. Her profile calm, but focused. Like she wasn’t rushing this. Like she wanted to get it right.

You weren’t sure where things would go after this.

But for the first time since everything started—

you weren’t afraid to find out.

Alexia had turned down the radio after the first few seconds, fingers adjusting the volume like it was more for comfort than for company. The quiet that settled between you wasn’t uncomfortable—but it wasn’t easy either. It was the kind that buzzed in your chest. The kind that made your hands feel too still in your lap.

Outside the window, the city passed in soft streaks of orange light and blurry storefronts. You could still hear faint echoes of Mapi’s party behind you—shouts, laughter, music—but they faded the farther you got.

Alexia cleared her throat softly. “So…”

You glanced over.

She looked straight ahead, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming absently against her thigh. “Where am I taking you?”

You hesitated.

Not because you didn’t know your own address. But because saying it out loud made this real. Made this moment real. Made her real again.

You gave it to her quietly, almost like you were telling a secret.

She repeated it under her breath, testing the shape of it in her mouth. “Yeah… I know that area.”

You nodded, eyes back on the road. “It’s not far.”

She glanced at you again, briefly. “Still glad you said yes.”

Your throat tightened. “To the ride?”

A beat. “To me.”

That caught you off guard.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how.

The only sound in the car was the steady rhythm of the tires beneath you and the soft sigh of the AC. It made everything feel more intimate. Like the two of you had slipped into some pocket of the world where things moved slower—safer.

You looked at her hands on the wheel. The same hands that once reached out for a mascot’s paw like it meant something. Like you meant something. Even when she didn’t know who you were.

Alexia spoke again, quieter this time. “I should’ve said something sooner.”

You stared ahead. “You didn’t have to.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how to be honest with you once I realized I hadn’t been.”

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. “Me either.”

She turned down your street a few minutes later, slowing in front of your building. She didn’t pull right away. Just let the car idle at the curb, headlights pooling against the sidewalk.

“Thanks for trusting me with it,” she said suddenly.

You blinked. “With what?”

“Your address.” Her voice was light, but not joking. “Letting me get close again.”

You looked at her, and this time, you didn’t look away.

Because yeah—maybe it was just an address.

But maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe it was the first thing you’d handed her without hiding.

And maybe she knew that.

It had been three days since the car ride.

Three days since she walked you to your door, since her jacket brushed yours on the sidewalk, since the quiet between you stopped feeling like a goodbye.

And then… nothing.

Not a text. Not a call.

And you weren’t exactly surprised. You knew Alexia—knew how she retreated when things got too real, how she lived inside her own head sometimes longer than was good for her. Still, every time the café door chimed, your heart gave a little tug. Just in case.

It was mid-afternoon, halfway through your shift, when the bell rang again.

You barely glanced up from restocking the napkin holders, already anticipating another regular or someone with too much foam in their order.

Then a voice said, loud and smug:

“Look who’s out here pretending she’s not a celebrity.”

You blinked. Looked up.

Mapi León was sauntering toward the counter like she owned the place, sunglasses on indoors, hair pulled into a loose bun. And behind her—quiet, hesitant, hands in the pockets of her jacket—was Alexia.

Your heart immediately stuttered.

Mapi leaned against the counter, squinting at the pastry display. “What’s the sweetest thing you have that won’t actually kill me?”

You blinked again. “I—I thought you were training this afternoon?”

Mapi shrugged. “Ingrid thinks I’m at the physio. I told her I had a hot date with my blood sugar.”

You laughed softly, then flicked your eyes toward Alexia.

She wasn’t saying anything. But she wasn’t looking away either.

“Hi,” she said, finally.

Your voice almost caught. “Hi.”

Mapi spun toward her with a gasp. “She said hi back. Are we witnessing a soft launch right now? Should I leave?”

Alexia sighed. “Mapi.”

“What? I’m just saying. Eye contact was made. Civil greetings were exchanged. History has been written.”

You shook your head, trying not to smile, and grabbed two cups. “Drinks on the house.”

Mapi leaned over the counter, stage whispering, “You hear that? She likes us.”

“She likes you,” Alexia deadpanned, then glanced at you, a little smile creeping in. “I’m not sure I’ve earned mine yet.”

Your stomach fluttered.

Mapi snorted and pointed at Alexia dramatically. “See? Self-aware. Growth.”

You busied yourself behind the counter—grateful for the distraction—but your hands were a little clumsy, your pulse a little too fast. You could feel Alexia’s eyes on you, even as she pretended to study the drink menu like it had changed since she walked in.

When you slid her coffee across the counter, her fingers brushed yours.

“I didn’t come here for the coffee,” she said quietly.

You met her eyes. “No?”

She shook her head. “I came to see if I still get to look at you like this.”

You blinked. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Before you could say anything, Mapi reappeared—now holding a cookie the size of her face. “Okay, wow, I leave you two alone for five seconds and suddenly it’s The Notebook. Should I leave you with mood lighting? Burn some incense?”

Alexia shot her a look, but there was a flicker of gratitude behind it. Like she needed Mapi’s chaos just to keep her grounded.

You laughed. And this time it wasn’t awkward. It was light. Easy.

“Why don’t you take your cookie and go be disruptive... over there?” you offered, nodding toward the corner table.

Mapi bowed. “As you wish. Lovebirds.”

“We’re not—” you and Alexia said at the same time, then froze.

Mapi cackled. “YET.”

She retreated to the corner with her cookie and her giant grin, and you and Alexia were left in the quiet again—only this time, it didn’t feel uncertain.

Alexia leaned forward on her elbows, her coffee cradled between her hands. “I mean it,” she said softly. “I want to show up. Keep showing up. If that’s something you’d let me do.”

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

She smiled.

And this time, it wasn’t shy.

It was real. Solid.

Something beginning again.

The day passed like most others did now—slow, quiet, ordinary.

You wiped down tables. Refilled sugar jars. Burned your tongue taste-testing a new syrup no one had asked for. The café stayed mostly calm, save for the usual afternoon rush and an espresso machine that made more noise than necessary.

By the time your shift ended, the sky outside had shifted into that soft golden haze, just shy of dusk. You walked home with your headphones in, hood up, hands in your pockets, letting the city blur around you. Nothing felt out of place. Nothing felt like it was building toward anything.

You got home. Kicked off your shoes. Let your bag drop somewhere by the couch. The place was still, the kind of quiet that settles over everything like a blanket. Comforting, but also heavy. Familiar.

You changed into your favorite oversized shirt. Lit a candle you didn’t really need. Pulled your hair up. Normal things.

Then your phone buzzed.

You didn’t rush to check it. You figured it was another promo text from the café manager or Mapi sending you a cursed meme.

But when you finally did glance at it—

your breath caught.

Unknown number.

No name. No photo. Just a single message.

I would love to see you there. –Alexia

You stared at it.

Attached beneath the message were two tickets.

Barça vs. Levante.

Home match. Front row.

Your thumb hovered above the screen, like touching it might make the whole thing vanish.

There was no pressure. No expectations. No apology wrapped in poetic words.

Just... seven words and her name. Quiet. Personal. Intentional.

She didn’t have to sign it.

But she did.

–Alexia

Your pulse thudded somewhere behind your ribs.

Because that message? That wasn’t for Cat Culer.

It wasn’t performative, it wasn’t an inside joke, and it wasn’t sent to a version of you she couldn’t face.

It was for you.

No mask. No foam. No pretending.

You didn’t respond—not yet.

You just sat down on the edge of your couch, holding your phone like it was something fragile, something real.

You read it again. And again.

And then you let yourself smile.

Because in eight words and two tickets, she said everything you’d been waiting to hear.

No drama. No disguise.

Just her.

And maybe—

a new beginning.

Then match day came.

And you woke up with that familiar buzz in your chest—the one that always used to come when you pulled on the Cat Culer suit. When you became someone who could be loud. Unafraid.

And somehow, you didn’t need the suit this time.

You just needed to show up.

So you did.

You kept it simple—black jeans, team hoodie, no makeup, hair down. You weren’t here to work. Not today.

The stadium felt bigger as a spectator.

The buzz in the air was electric—fans in jerseys shouting, flags waving, the hum of drums pulsing through your ribs. The energy of thousands, but your heart was focused on one person.

You found your seat.

Front row. Just like the ticket said.

It was loud. It was overwhelming. But you stayed.

You scanned the pitch, but she wasn’t out yet. The players were still trickling out from the tunnel, coaches barking last-minute things, photographers darting across the sidelines.

And then—

She appeared.

Hair braided back. Armband snug against her sleeve. Boots already scuffed. That signature walk—composed, grounded, sharp. She looked exactly how she always had on match day.

Except this time, she wasn’t looking at the bench.

She was scanning the crowd.

And when her eyes found you?

She stilled.

Just for a second. Just long enough for you to know she’d been searching.

She didn’t wave. Didn’t smile.

She just looked at you like she knew.

And that was enough.

She turned back to her team, barked something to Mapi, and fell into warmups like it was second nature. But her posture had changed.

And for the rest of that match—every time she drifted to your side of the pitch, every glance toward the stands—she never looked over the crowd.

She looked at you.

Not the mascot.

Not the intern in the background.

Just you.

And for the first time, you didn’t need anything else.

The final whistle had echoed, the stadium now more shadows than sound.

Most of the crowd had begun to thin, the high of the win slowly giving way to the usual post-match rush—families rounding up their kids, fans still shouting chants as they spilled out into the streets, stadium staff moving like clockwork to start the reset for next time.

But you stayed.

You didn’t even realize how tightly you were gripping the strap of your bag until the lights began to dim and the noise faded enough for your pulse to catch up.

You found yourself near the players’ tunnel—not out of place, but not exactly belonging either. Just close enough. Just waiting.

And then there she was.

Alexia stepped out of the tunnel, her jersey damp and clinging to her frame, hair messy and damp, socks slouched from the match. She looked powerful and real and tired in the most human way.

She was talking to one of the staffers. Laughing a little. But then her eyes swept the edge of the stands—and stopped.

She saw you.

And everything else about her seemed to pause.

You didn’t wave. Didn’t smile.

You didn’t have to.

She said something short to the staffer, gave a nod, then crossed the distance between you with long, purposeful strides. You could hear the gravel under her cleats. Feel the beat of your heart in your throat.

When she stopped in front of you, she didn’t look hesitant.

She just looked sure.

“You came,” she said, breath hitching just slightly.

You nodded. “You sent the tickets.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d use them.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” you admitted. “But then… I didn’t want to miss it.”

That softened her.

She glanced back toward the tunnel like she could still hear the team inside—Mapi shouting something about champagne and victory shots—but then turned back to you.

“I should be in the locker room,” she said. “Media, cooldown, all that. But…”

She trailed off, suddenly a little shy.

“But?” you asked, voice quiet.

Her fingers curled around the hem of her jersey. “I kind of want to take you home instead.”

Your breath caught.

She rushed to clarify, cheeks slightly flushed. “Not like—not that—I just meant… can I drive you home?”

You blinked. Then smiled. “You asking out of guilt? Or convenience?”

Alexia grinned. “Would it be awful if I said both?”

“Yes.”

She laughed, then added, gently this time: “I just want more time with you.”

And that? That was the truth underneath it all.

Not about the ride. Or the win. Or the message she sent three nights ago.

Just her, asking if this thing between you still had space to exist.

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

Her smile softened. “Come on. It’s parked in the back. I’ll even let you pick the playlist.”

“That’s suspiciously generous of you.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

You walked beside her through the quiet hallways of the stadium, the adrenaline still buzzing in the walls, the hum of something different alive between you now.

She opened the passenger door for you without thinking. Like it was instinct.

And when you both slid into the car—warm from the engine, seats a little too low, the smell of turf and sweat and something faintly citrus still clinging to her—you didn’t rush to speak.

Alexia turned the key in the ignition. The headlights lit up the road ahead.

And then she glanced at you.

“You okay?”

You looked over. She was watching you like the answer mattered.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

She shifted into drive, smiled to herself, and pulled away from the stadium.

And this time—

she wasn’t catching up.

She wasn’t chasing.

She was just beside you.

Finally.

The car ride had been soft with silence.

Not the kind that presses down on your chest—but the kind that settles in your bones. That quiet hum of something real, something shifting, something both of you were still figuring out how to hold.

When Alexia pulled up in front of your building, neither of you moved for a few seconds.

She didn’t need to ask if this was the place. She remembered the porch. The cracked brick step. The little light above the door that flickered every third blink. She’d seen it before—from the outside.

But tonight wasn’t about standing on the edge anymore.

Her fingers lightly tapped the steering wheel, like she was trying to ground herself. You looked at her. She looked at you.

And in that quiet, she asked without asking.

And you answered without speaking.

You opened the passenger door and stepped into the cold, your breath visible as you looked back at her.

She followed.

You didn’t talk as you climbed the stairs. But your hands brushed once—twice—until finally, hers settled beside yours. A light touch. Intentional. Just enough to make your heart stutter.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting the familiar warmth of your apartment spill into the hallway. She stood just behind you, still on the threshold.

You turned, met her eyes, and said, barely above a whisper, “You don’t have to come in.”

“I want to,” she replied, without missing a beat.

Her voice was low. Steady. Sure.

She stepped inside.

And stopped.

She looked around like she’d walked into something sacred. Not because your apartment was impressive—it wasn’t. The lighting was soft but a little too yellow. The throw pillows didn’t match. A stack of books leaned dangerously sideways on the coffee table.

But still, she looked like she’d been invited into something rare.

She didn’t speak right away. Just moved her eyes slowly across the space.

The half-melted candle on the windowsill. The chipped mug on the counter. The hoodie draped over the back of the couch. The framed photo by the door—one you thought no one would ever look too closely at.

“This is… you,” she finally said.

There was something reverent in her voice.

You felt suddenly, completely seen. And it was terrifying.

You rubbed your palms against your thighs. “Is that… weird?”

Alexia’s eyes found yours.

“No,” she said. “It’s kind of perfect.”

You smiled softly and took her jacket, hanging it by the door.

“Tea? Water? I have terrible apple juice.”

She laughed—really laughed—and shook her head.”I’m good,” she said, voice warm. “I’m not here for a drink.”

You nodded, heart fluttering.

You didn’t move at first. Neither did she.

You both just stood there, in the center of your living room, with the world quieting down around you and the air buzzing between your ribs.

Then, slowly, you stepped toward her.

And she didn’t wait.

Her hands found your waist as yours reached for her face, fingertips brushing over her cheek like you were still trying to believe this was real.

When your lips met, it wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t rushed.

It was soft.

Earnest.

A quiet thank you.

A quiet I see you.

A quiet finally.

She pulled back just an inch, just enough to speak. Her breath still tangled with yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the bench,” she whispered.

You smiled. “You were busy falling for a cat back then.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “I was falling for who was underneath.”

You kissed her again.

Longer this time. Deeper. Like the door had been unlocked, and you’d both finally stepped inside.

When she rested her forehead against yours, you didn’t move.

She stood in your apartment, in your space, and you let her. Fully. Completely.

Not the player. Not the suit. Just her.

And for the first time, you realized something quietly, beautifully terrifying:

She wasn’t leaving.

Not emotionally. Not this time.

She was in.

And you?

You weren’t just letting her stay.

You were letting her belong.

The end

[bettysupremacy]

hii! I was wondering if you could write a fic with reader and any marauder (they all fit) and maybe helping or becoming protective over the reader after a concert or party after a creep follows the reader? 😭

I went through a similar experience with a guy following me around after I went to the restroom after a concert, and it ruined my night if i'm being honest, I was scared 😞 I'm not the most shy of people and usually I can handle myself but it was pretty dark and idk the adrenaline from feeling happy to scared shifted pretty quickly. Luckily I found my friends and let them know and we quickly went back to our car (along with a few dirty looks from my friends god bless lol). I swore I could go to the restroom by myself- will not be doing that again :(

you can ignore this request if it makes you uncomfortable!

thank uu

i’m so sorry that happened to you! “(they all fit)”= poly marauders!

There’s something about post concert depression, especially when you’re with the band.

Your glitter eyeshadow is smudged, eyeliner untouched. You’d been shaken around in the pit of your boyfriends fans, and yet the paint hasn’t budged. God bless water-proof makeup. The world seems prettier like this, touched by alcohol and the feeling of soaring pride for your boyfriends. The glittery lights and signs of time square never fail to dazzle you, even now as you lean against Sirius morosely.

“M’hungry.” You frown, toes tipping up towards Sirius, though you fear the mumble may have been more for yourself.

His attention is diverted towards the boys as they discuss what to do now. Plans of how to get home and where to eat. His finger taps your cheek slowly, his focus paying you no mind. Words like Uber, hotel, room service echo throughout their very repetitive conversation.

“Sirius.”

He looks down, a little shocked and sorry at his own attention. “Yes, lovely?”

“M’hungry.”

“Hungry?” He asks, cringing. You’re about thirty minutes from the hotel, and even then, room service will take another thirty.

“So hungry.”

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

“There’s a hotdog stand over there.” You grab his tattooed bicep to balance yourself as you point to your right.

He thinks, peering down at you. “This won’t ruin your dinner?” It’s midnight, but still.

“No,” you sing, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I really want a hotdog.

He flushes, looking away from your wandering eyes. Normally he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. They would never let you out of their sight in a place like this. But the cart is in eye view of the boys, and he has faith in you not to stray, even in your inebriated manor. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just prefer to keep you safe themselves. Is that okay?

“Okay,” He murmurs, pulling out his wallet, handing you his card. “At least get the good toppings.”

“I always get the good toppings.” You pull away.

The walk is short and the cart is colorful. Red and white stripes, curvy calligraphy. It shines in your inebriated vision. Beautiful. The queues not long, just an older man waiting in front of you, but it feels like forever as the generous man (with the toppings as well) takes your order and wraps it in warm aluminum foil.

You take the hotdog eagerly. “Thank you.”

It’s heavy in your hands, warm too. You yell Sirius’ name excitedly, waving the hotdog above your head for him to see. He laughs, thumbs up until you bump into a man, smile fading, concern etching his brows.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he smiles. It’s uncomfortable, not the smile of a friendly civilian.

You laugh. It’s polite, anyone can see that, but he leans closer. He smells like liquor, a disgusting discovery that has you subconsciously leaning away.

“You new around here?”

An actual laugh stumbles out of your lips. “London? No.”

He takes this as an entrance. “You should show me around.”

“No, thank you.” You try to walk past him. Towards Sirius who’s already walking over. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, pulling you back. His fingers dig into your elbow painfully.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, pulling your arm away roughly. “don’t touch me.”

“C’mon,” The man slurs, fingers reaching for you again. “Don’t be-“

“Hello?” Sirius walks up, all stock. He grabs your forearm pulling you to him firmly, getting in between you and the man. He’s not much taller, but more intimidating in demeanor. “Do we have a problem?”

“No,” the man scoffs.

“Cause it looks like you put your hands on her.”

He scoffs again, clearly inebriated. “We were just talking.”

“Well, conversations over now.”

“She can make her own decisions.”

“Fuck off, bro.” Sirius waves his hand dismissively. Quickly, he walks you towards the boys who are peeking their eyes up from the Uber app.

“She was asking for it.”

Sirius reels back, dropping your forearm to shove the scary stranger in the chest. He pushes hard, the man losing his balance as he falls to the ground in a sickening thud. You gasp loudly, the unexpected conflict startling you. Vaguely you hear Sirius say something to him, but you’re too focused on the way the man looks up at you.

James and Remus are there in seconds, quick on Sirius’s heels. They pull at him, up and off the man. There were no real punches thrown, no real injuring blows, it wasn’t even enough to form a crowd. But still, you’re shaken. You shiver like a leaf under your James’ leather jacket, suddenly not feeling the warmth of the alcohol you’d consumed before the concert.

Slowly, you stumble back and way from your boys, to the bench next to the shitty bar you’d passed on your way home. That had been scary, but you’re safe; that had been scary, but Sirius dealt with it. You bring your hand up to your chest, setting the hotdog you had been eager to buy down next to you.

“Hi,” Remus pushes aside the hotdog to sit next to you. “Are you okay?”

You look up to the boy, blindingly beautiful in the streetlights and advertisements. “Yes.”

He pushes some stray hair from your face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think it was more startling.” James sits on the other side of you, kissing your temple firmly. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“She’s okay.” Sirius gruffs from where he walks over.

He sounds cooler than he thinks he looks. He’s not bruised, bloodied, or bandaged, if he were he thinks he’d look cool enough to breeze over. But then again you look mad, so maybe he doesn’t want that.

“Don’t be upset,” Sirius crouches to your level. You’re in the arms of a solid Remus. “he was a creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He laughs roguishly. “I thought I looked good tousled.”

He does, and you know he’ll look good on the tabloids tomorrow too. Sirius black gives black eye? You sigh at the thought.

“You do.” James feeds Sirius.

“At least someone in this relationship cares for my ego.”

“You look good.”

“Oh, now you tell me.”

You laugh, letting Sirius stare at you like you hung the moon.

“Kiss em?” He pushes his knuckles in front of your lips. His fingers throb lightly, you can feel it on your lips.

“That was stupid.”

“C’mon,” Sirius’ eyes roll as he pulls you up. “You’ve got a hotdog to eat.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[catiuskaa]

reggaeton & champagne.

PAIRING! lee minho x reader x bang chan

SUMMARY: you knew better than to go down to the club alone. and that guy should’ve known better than to mess with minho and chan’s property.

REQUESTED! by my pookie @sharonxdevi who requested this here! and it’s such a good idea, tysm for trusting me with it<3

CW: the boys may come off as a little possesive, there’s a touchy douche in the club, mentions of alcohol, it ain’t spicy but surely it’s nsfw.

WC: 2.3k

A/N: so i’ve never even thought of writing poly!skz relationships until now, but i think it came out nicely! (and if you kinda recognize the title— i just spend an unhealthy amount of time watching skz edits on instagram lololol)

[🔹☆💠☆🔹]

The sign of the club glowed with bluish neon lights at the entrance. There was also a man, notebook in hand, receiving IDs prior to welcoming the long queue of people. Although it was not the most expensive nightclub in the city, you could see the difference between it and the rest of the clubs in town, in the sense that the establishment was very tidy and clean, with security personnel scattered around the corners, watching that everything was going out smoothly.

It was unusual for you to want to go out clubbing, but considering the boys’ schedule, any chance to make plans together was welcomed with open arms.

Especially by Minho and Chan, who would never force you to go out, but their lingering stares and their arms that would sneakily clung to your waist or your shoulders —and in some cases, to lovingly slap your ass or thighs—, were meant as a way of encouragement when you dressed up and went for it.

And a way to say that, as always, you looked fine as hell.

You had chosen a short silver-coloured dress that reached your mid-thighs, accompanied by a pair of matching mesh thigh-highs with cute little clips that allowed them to stay in place, only because you knew how to entertain your public, and loved every single second their eyes stayed glued to you as you danced your heart out.

The music pounded against the walls and reverberated through the floor, but not as much as how the booze traveled through your veins, only giddy enough to celebrate how well their last tour had gone, and merely to have some well-deserved fun.

Minho’s hands grasped you by your waist, pulling you off Chan’s arms and smirking as he pushed your back flush against his body.

One of his hands remained in place, but the other one moved slowly, tempting fingers heading down to your thighs, as if walking, the motion almost ticklish. You could feel his cat-like grin from behind you as you looked at Chan, who wasn’t mad at all, rather cheekily enjoying the other man’s antics as you kept dancing against him, following the rhythm of the music.

Chris got closer to the both of you, taking your arms and settling them on his shoulders as he approached even further, now the two gentlemen dressed in fine clothes towering over you.

“Our princess is feeling good today, huh?” His hand cradled your face, holding your chin in a tender grasp, unlike Minho, who started to play with one of the clips on your high mesh stockings.

You were about to say something, but Minho tugged at one of the straps and chuckled next to your ear, slapping it back. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, feeling the blush rising to your cheeks, the light foundation you had applied not being able to cover it.

Chris snickered, and Minho lightly bit the shell of your ear, and they both laughed as you squirmed in between their arms.

“Ok, ok—!” You giggled, out of breath due to the tickling and else. You didn’t want to leave just yet, but didn’t want to stop teasing your boys either.

Tugging on Chan’s collar, you propelled him forward, his hands ending on Minho’s shoulders by reflex. You moved your body in between both of them, swaying your hips, playing with Chris’ hair as you turned your head to face the man behind you, and chuckled, biting his lip.

They both felt a rush of blood heading to their face—and downwards—, but you stopped Chan for pushing you against Minho even more, one of your soft hands nonchalantly moving from the back of his neck to his chest, cheekily stroking his toned upper body.

“I think we can use some more drinks, gentlemen.” Your tone was filled with an enticing mockery only powered by their presence, and you licked your lips, feeling Minho’s slender fingers playing with the rim of your dress, tapping your thigh gently.

“I think we should head to the VIP lounge.” He grunted against your ear, his breath tickling your there, but the gentle yet lust-filled kisses he left right below started driving you a bit crazy. “Whaddya think, Chan?” Minho smirked, swiftly lifting his head from your neck to stare at the older man.

With all the mix of bright coloured lights, you could notice slightly how Chris’ eyes grew darker. Almost so dark that they could fuck you themselves, and you squeezed your thighs at the thought.

“I think our little brat needs to learn that teasing won’t get her anywhere, hyung.” Minho’s slender fingers playfully traced mindless shapes on your thigh.

The older man swallowed hard, his breath deepening.

“Guess you’re on thin ice, princess.” He leaned in, and pecked Minho’s lips from above your shoulder. He then turned slightly, and spoke in your ear. “You have ten minutes to go get those drinks. Go up the VIP platform right after, like the good girl you are, mmh?”

His hum almost echoed through your body, falling into an endless pit of arousal that those two gorgeous men had created, now able to make you feel hot and bothered in just a cheeky wink or a deep look.

Making you oh so weak for them. Only them.

“Heard that, kitten?” Minho smirked, lovingly kissing your cheek, as close as he could to the corner of your lips. “Ten minutes. Tick-tock.”

You tried heading towards the bar without your knees giving out as they both moved away, and instantly missed their warmth and strong hold on your body. But before you could even try, Chris tsked, pulling you back to him and almost fiercely planting a deep kiss that lit fire on your body, and almost made you whine when he pulled away, biting your lip.

“Fuck.” He gasped, feeling breathless. “Make that five minutes for daddy, yeah?”

And with a tap on your hips and a teasing wink, he left, following where Minho had gone.

You were unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face, feeling your cheeks get hot, and you patted them, hoping that your slightly cooler hands would do something to low it down.

Shaking your head lightly, you waved at the bartender, a tall, blond and handsome young man, and he gave you a kind smile. You sat on the stool closest, and he approached you, leaning on the counter.

“Nice seeing you here for a change.” He said with a snicker.

“Wish I could say the same, Hyunjin.” You wiggled your eyebrows almost dramatically, making him laugh.

“Your three usuals, beautiful?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. “Comin’ right up.”

You watched as he gracefully started to show off his abilities, passing drinks and metal cups and bottles in flashes and zooms, controlling every move so swiftly.

But then, you felt a hand on your waist.

“Sorry, scooching up real quick…” said a low voice from behind you.

His hands brushed your back, making you shiver. But it was a bad shiver. One that swiped away the giddiness your boys had left, but not as quickly as your smile took off.

The bold man dizzily sat on a stool that could’ve easily been a foot or two away, and your body relaxed easily at the new-formed distance.

You stared at him in a mix of slight disgust and raw astonishment. Used to your boys and the rest of the group, or people like Hyunjin, one could easily forget that people weren’t always respectful, nice and kind.

He noticed your blank stare, and misinterpreted it as interest. With a wide smile, he bent down, grabbing one of the legs of the stool you were sitting on, and smoothly moved it closer to his.

Another shiver ran through your back, goosebumps showing on your skin.

He smiled, and you held back a frown.

“Besides looking that sexy, what else do you do for a living?”

…

yikes.

That line didn’t only give you the ick, but you also noticed Hyunjin physically flinched, which made you snort, quickly covering your mouth.

The man was so drunk. You could smell it on his breath, and the guy looked rather pathetic. You didn’t feel too sorry for him, but wanted him as far as possible, and you moved to the edge of your stool.

The man looked proud of your giggles, but grew restless when you didn’t reply, so he took a sip from the glass of whiskey in front of him, kind of as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.

You sat up straight, glaring at Hyunjin so he’d call security if things turned complicated, and he winked at you as a form of reassurance.

“Do you, eh, come here often?” He blurbed out.

You looked at your hands, staring at your nails, and waited for a second before giving him a side-eye from above your shoulder, slender eyes looking uninterested.

Quickly going back to your nails, you shrugged. “Enough to know that you don’t.” You brushed off coldly.

If you did, you’d know that I’m happily taken.

He stammered, his breath hitched, and you could almost feel him start getting even more nervous, as well as slightly angry.

“Huh? Why’s that?” He scoffed, eyebrows raised at you, who again, didn’t bother to look at him, a bit wary of his moody attitude.

Hyunjin smiled at you, coldly glaring at the clueless man next to you as he swiftly left the three drinks in place, pressing the red button underneath the counter to call for help.

The man smirked, going back to a confidence you didn’t want to know where he had gotten.

Placing his arm sneakily on your waist.

Huh?

“All those for you?”

Before you could react and slap him for his unrequested bold actions, you heard a grunt behind you.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

At that moment, Chan wasn’t so sure if he was the pacific one in your relationship.

He trusted you and your ability to set your own boundaries, by any means necessary, even if it meant slapping someone across the face.

And he knew them by heart. He had watched how you grimaced, trying to take this drunkard’s hands away from you.

So he helped you by slapping them off your body.

As ‘gently’ as he could.

“Move aside.” He said in a low growl, failing to relax until you moved your hand and took his, squeezing it as a way of thanking him.

Instead of getting the hint, the man frowned.

“Hey, if you can’t tell, I was trying to—”

Minho scoffed, appearing behind the man.

“Keep babbling around our girl and I’ll give you a story to tell.” He said in a dark, low tone of voice, eyes and tongue so sharp that they could almost pierce right through the man. “Now shoo.”

Security came by a minute after and apologized for not taking care of him before, then fined him, following the nightclub’s rules and finally kicked the man out.

One of the security guys approached the three of you, and bowed swiftly, apologizing.

“I’m really sorry. This guy has already annoyed some other customers before. I’ll speak to the owner of the place and see if there is something we can do regarding his situation. As for you, miss…” He gave you his card, and you smiled at him, bowing your head gently.

“My name is Seo Changbin. If you ever need anything…” he sighed, a hand to his nape, the buff man slightly flustered. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I can’t think of another way to compensate you…”

Chan smiled, and shook hands with the security guard.

“No need to worry, mate. It’s fine now.” He stated calmly, his other hand still engulfing yours.

Minho bowed at him, his arm around your waist, as if trying to erase any marks or traces of the drunkard’s touch.

“Home, love?” He said in a gentle whisper, kissing your temple after you nodded. “S’okay.”

Minho opened the door to the car for you, and Chan’s hand never left your thigh the whole way back home.

As soon as you got back, you let out a tired sigh.

Chris hugged you from behind, and you melted under his touch. With a soft grin, Minho ushered Chan’s arms away from you, and swiftly took you in his arms.

“Sleepy?” The older one asked, but you shook your head. You didn’t want the night to end on this note. “Then I’ll go get something. You guys get going.” He smiled at you, eyes soft as he lovingly stroke your cheek, your face resting on Minho’s shoulder.

With a slight smirk, he patted Minho’s butt, and headed to his studio.

“Bang Chan!” He whisper-yelled, ears red, and you chuckled lowly.

“Cheeky little baby.” Minho cooed at you, heading to your shared room, and you giggled softly, hiding your head on the crook of his neck. “Let us take care of you, yeah?”

You moved your head from his neck and pecked his lips. Minho took you to bed, and tenderly took your heels off.

“Shower?” He asked softly, but you shook your head no, so he nodded, taking off your dress. With a cat-like grin, his fingers went back to your thighs.

“You have to wear these more often, you little tease.” He snickered, and you smiled, blushing softly. “You look so good in everything.” He said, stroking your cheek.

Chan quickly came back, fluffy blankets and laptop with him.

“Movie night!” He smiled, almost childishly, and both your and Minho’s heart tugged on your chests.

They took their fancy clothes off and put on sleeveless shirts and the matching pyjama pants you had gifted them for Christmas, who were at first meant as a joke, but remained being used just because how comfy they were.

There, snuggled between Chan and Minho, you smiled, taking both of their hands.

“I’m hungry.” You said, pouting unconciously.

“We can make popcorn if you want.” Christ suggested, pausing the movie.

You sat in your knees, looking at them with a smirk.

Minho smirked back, starting to guess where this was headed.

“What do you want to eat, kitten?”

You snickered.

“I want to have ramen.”

~kats, who hopes everyone understood that kdrama reference just now ;););););)

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (08)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 08 - Distance

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 09

PREV : Chapter 07

The dormitory buzzed with the sounds of light chatter and footsteps as players moved about, their voices mingling in an uneasy hum. You lay on your bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, eyes closed in a futile attempt to block it all out. Sleep was your goal, to escape the heavy thoughts weighing on your mind, even if just until tomorrow.

The faint voice of a guard announcing that dinner would soon be distributed echoed in the background, breaking through your quiet cocoon. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. You didn’t bother to open your eyes.

“[Your name], are you okay?” Dae-ho’s familiar voice called gently.

You kept your eyes shut. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho sighed as well, the sound carrying his frustration. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” another voice chimed in. You recognized it immediately as Young-il. It seemed Dae-ho wasn’t the only one who had come to check on you. Keeping your eyes closed, you listened as Young-il added, “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

“Yeah, in a way, I kind of understood him. Because I felt that way too by the counter,” Dae-ho agreed.

A softer voice joined the conversation.

“Big sis, are you okay?” Jun-hee asked.

You finally opened your eyes, taking in the sight of Dae-ho and Jun-hee standing on the right side of your bed while Young-il lingered quietly on the left.

Turning your gaze to Jun-hee, you offered her a faint but reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

“And we have a pregnant lady too,” Dae-ho continued, picking up where he left off. “She shouldn’t be here any longer.”

He leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, sighing heavily. “I understood him but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

The weight on your bed shifted slightly. You glanced down to see Young-il sitting on your bed at the far corner near your feet. His calm demeanor radiated reassurance as he addressed Dae-ho. “There’s no use thinking about it now. The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

The three of them glanced in the same direction, momentarily distracted. You were about to close your eyes again when Dae-ho straightened up, his usual energy returning as he turned to you.

“Everyone is lining up to get dinner. Come on,” he said.

You shifted onto your side, pulling the blanket closer. “You guys go on ahead. I’m too tired right now.”

Dae-ho frowned, his tone firm. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach. You need to eat. We did the hexathlon for who knows how long and didn’t even get breakfast. You must be starving, so come on.”

“But I’m so tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I just want to rest before the next game.”

“Don’t be like that,” he urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence fell before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho scoffed, waving off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up-”

“It’s okay,” Young-il’s calm voice interrupted unexpectedly. “You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

The sound of retreating footsteps followed as Dae-ho and Jun-hee headed off toward the dinner queues. The dormitory buzzed with chatter and movement, but your focus remained on the quiet presence sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You really should eat,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

You sighed, not turning to face him. “I’m just so done to even think about food. I wanted to go home really bad but we were outvoted.”

There was a pause before the bed shifted as Young-il stood up. His footsteps faded into the background, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the strange ache in your chest – a pang of something like abandonment. By him.

You immediately shook off the thought. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one adamant about not eating, and he had respected your decision. You had no right to feel upset, and you certainly couldn’t blame him for the fact that you had a crush on him.

Maybe he just saw you as a friend. Someone to look out for, like Jun-hee. Nothing more. It was your own fault for letting your feelings get in the way, for reading into his kind gestures as something more than they were.

You tried to tune out the chatter and bustle of the dormitory, sinking into the quiet within your mind. For a fleeting moment, you felt yourself drifting close to sleep.

Then his voice broke through the haze. “[Your name].”

Your eyes fluttered open, the sting of fatigue making them ache. You turned your head and saw Young-il standing by your bed. In his hands, he held the evening’s dinner: a round bun and a small carton of milk.

You frowned, confusion overtaking your grogginess. You had thought he left for good after respecting your persistence.

Resting your cheek against the pillow, you mumbled, “I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not mine,” he said, his tone even. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. He held two sets of the dinner: two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise overtook you as you sat up slowly, your blanket slipping down. “You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t.”

You blinked, completely perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, waiting patiently.

“I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how,” he said simply, leaving the specifics a mystery.

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant admiration, before reaching out to take the meal he had gone out of his way to bring you.

“Now, come,” Young-il said, gesturing toward the corner where you always hung out with Gi-hun and the others. “Let’s sit with the others.”

You glanced down at the bun and carton of milk in your hands before nodding. As you got up from the bed, you spoke to him, “But is this really all we’re getting for dinner? I thought it’d be as much as yesterday’s lunch.”

Walking side by side toward the corner, Young-il replied, “It’s a way to weaken the players and increase eliminations.”

You turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you saying the longer we stay here, the less food we’ll get?”

Young-il met your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “It looks that way. Yesterday, we had a bountiful lunch. Tonight, it’s just a bun. The pattern isn’t hard to see.”

You sighed in frustration, the weight of his words settling in. “That makes it even more important to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Reaching the corner, you were greeted enthusiastically by Dae-ho. “You two, come sit down!”

Gi-hun had sat at his usual spot at the far end, and you settled down beside him. Young-il took the place on your other side. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were already seated on the lower steps in front of you both, their postures relaxed.

You glanced around and noticed that your group was missing one member – Jung-bae. A small distance away, you spotted him tucked between the bunk beds as though he was deliberately hiding.

You assumed he felt guilty for voting O, isolating himself from the group out of shame.

You and Young-il began eating your buns in silence. Everyone in your group was eating, except for Gi-hun. His posture – legs wide, arms resting heavily on his knees – spoke volumes about his disappointment over the recent voting results.

A loud sigh from Dae-ho broke the quiet. He stared at Jung-bae’s back for a moment, chewing on his bun, before calling out to him with the familiar hyungnim honorific. “Jung-bae!”

Meanwhile, you sighed at the meager dinner, placing your left elbow on your knee and resting your forehead against your palm. Your right hand held the bun, and you murmured, “Just this bun alone won’t be enough.”

Dae-ho suddenly stood and strode over to Jung-bae. “Hey, just come back here.”

“No, no, I’m good here,” Jung-bae replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” Dae-ho said, grasping his arm firmly. He pulled Jung-bae to his feet and dragged him back to the group. “You should’ve gone farther away, then. It bugs me seeing you sitting there all pathetic.”

Jung-bae froze when they reached the group. His eyes darted between the three most visibly stressed members of the group – Gi-hun with his somber stance, you with your hand still resting on your face, and Young-il sitting with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, chewing silently. None of you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jung-bae said, fidgeting nervously with his milk carton. “Jun-hee, [Your name], Young-il, I’m sorry. Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”

When no one responded, he continued. “I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So-”

“Jung-bae,” Young-il interrupted, his tone calm. “You of all people shouldn’t have done it. It’s not twice as righteous.”

Young-il’s comment was a pointed reference to the meaning of Jung-bae’s name. You removed your hand from your face, took a bite of the bun, and stayed quiet.

Young-il sighed, glancing briefly at the others before adding, “But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right?” Jung-bae said quickly, leaning toward Young-il with a glimmer of relief. “It’s not entirely my fault.”

Dae-ho placed a hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Alright, to be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn’t enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game.”

Jung-bae’s face lit up with sudden relief, and before anyone could react, he lunged forward and hugged Dae-ho head-on. Startled, Dae-ho awkwardly tried to push him away.

“You did?” Jung-bae exclaimed.

“I said I get it,” Dae-ho replied, finally managing to pry himself free.

Jung-bae turned to Young-il, sighing deeply.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He settled on the lower staircase next to Young-il and continued, “But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn’t we? If we stick together one more time, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He turned toward Jun-hee, his voice brimming with confidence. “Jun-hee, I’ll make sure we survive the next game-”

“The next game?”

All of you froze and looked at Gi-hun. His tone was dark. “In the next game, we might have to kill each other.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, horrified. Could it really come to that? Could there be games where you’d have to compete against your friends? The thought made your stomach churn. You’d barely eaten, and now even the bun in your hand felt like a weight.

Young-il’s calm voice broke the silence. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. There’s nothing we can do now, so let’s try to stay positive.”

Despite his attempt to ease the tension, Jung-bae had gone pale as well. He swallowed nervously, his hands fidgeting with his milk carton.

Young-il continued, his voice steady, “We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again.”

But Gi-hun’s words lingered, casting a shadow over the group. Everyone, including you, sat in heavy silence, lost in their thoughts. The idea of being pitted against your teammates felt unbearable. Your appetite vanished completely, and the bun in your hand now seemed like an impossible task to finish.

Could Gi-hun have experienced such a game in his previous run? Had he been forced to turn on a friend here? The questions swirled in your mind, filling you with dread.

Then you felt it – a hand gently resting on your knee. Startled, you looked down and saw Young-il’s hand. When you glanced up at him, his expression was warm and reassuring. He gave you a small nod toward your unfinished bun and said softly, “Eat it whole. Let’s do our best again tomorrow.”

Young-il withdrew his hand from your knee and held out his milk carton to Jun-hee. “Here, Jun-hee. You can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game.”

Jun-hee hesitated. “No, it’s okay.”

“Take it,” Young-il insisted gently. “I don’t drink plain milk.”

After a moment, Jun-hee finally accepted the milk, though her reluctance was still evident. You couldn’t help but smile warmly at the gesture. The way Young-il looked after Jun-hee was heartwarming. He must’ve been a good husband, you thought.

“Thank you,” Jun-hee said softly.

Jung-bae suddenly held out his bun to her. “Have my bread too. I don’t deserve to eat.”

Dae-ho immediately pointed at Jung-bae’s milk. “I’ll take your milk then.”

Jung-bae shot him a pointed stare, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

You had just exited the women’s restrooms and stepped back into the dormitory when you saw them. Lingering near the door that connected the restroom to the dormitory stood Lee Min-jae and his two friends.

Min-jae noticed you immediately and waved. You hesitated for a moment before offering a small, uncertain wave in return. Hoping to avoid further interaction, you continued toward the corner where the rest of your group was seated.

However, your heart sank when Min-jae and his friends moved deliberately to block your path. The dormitory was vast, filled with hundreds of players, so you didn’t feel afraid. Still, you silently hoped they wouldn’t press you again.

Min-jae greeted you with a bright smile. “Hey there. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh,” you replied, feigning innocence. “Hi, Min-jae.”

He stepped slightly closer, his tone friendly. “So, are you free to hang out with us now? We’ve got a spot over there.”

He paused, gesturing vaguely toward a corner of the dormitory where his group had set up.

You hesitated, searching for a way out without offending him. “I… uh, I need to get back to my group first. They’re waiting for me.”

Min-jae’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. “It’ll just be for a little while. You can catch up with them later. Come on, I just want to get to know you better in a private spot.”

“I… I don’t know. I really should-”

Min-jae’s tone grew firmer, though he kept up his friendly demeanor. “Don’t be like that. Just for a bit. It’s just us hanging out. No harm, right?”

Min-jae’s friends were watching you intently, though their expressions remained neutral. You forced a polite smile, knowing that one wrong word or tone could create a vengeful enemy in this precarious game.

You said carefully. “Maybe later. I just need to check on my group first.”

But Min-jae’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew more hardened and insistent as he stepped closer to you. “Please? Just a quick chat with us. You’ve been hanging out with those uncles all day. Switch it up for a bit.”

Before you could respond, one of his friends – the tall man with number 277 – joined in. “Yeah, come on. We’re not asking for much. Just a little time to get to know you better.”

“Exactly,” chimed in the other friend, player 304. “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay forever. Just stop by. We’ve got a good spot over there.”

Their persistence made your chest tighten. You forced another smile, trying to remain composed. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I need to get back. Maybe another time.”

“Why not now?” Min-jae pressed, his tone still friendly.

As you searched for another polite excuse, a cold, steady voice cut through the conversation.

“She said no.”

You turned quickly, your eyes landing on Young-il. He was striding toward you. His gaze was fixed on Min-jae, sharp and unyielding. Although his expression seemed calm, a quiet intensity simmered beneath the surface. The restrained fury in his eyes made you speechless. It’s like he was ready to act the moment it became necessary.

Min-jae’s smile faltered slightly, though he tried to recover. “Oh, hey. We just want to have a chat with her. It's okay, right?”

Young-il moved deliberately, stepping between you and Min-jae with an air of quiet authority. His back faced you, shielding you from them. Though his expression remained calm, there was a palpable edge to his presence that made the air feel heavier.

“You’re pressuring her,” he said evenly, his voice carrying a subtle warning. “That’s not how conversations work.”

Silence settled over the group like a heavy weight. Min-jae’s friends exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier confidence clearly shaken.

You couldn’t help but stare at Young-il’s broad shoulders, struck by the way he carried himself. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show aggression; the calm intensity in his posture spoke volumes.

Min-jae hesitated, his expression flickering between defiance and calculation, before forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. With a mock gesture of surrender, he raised his hands and said, “Alright, alright. I get it. I apologize. I didn’t realize I was being forceful.”

His attempt to glance past Young-il toward you betrayed his unease, though. He called your name softly, adding, “Sorry about that.”

Young-il held his gaze, the silence stretching as he stared at Min-jae with deliberate calm. Then, with a slight turn of his head, his expression softened as he looked at you. He gestured subtly, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

You followed Young-il as he led the way back to the corner where your group had gathered. His stride was steady, and though he didn’t say anything, his presence alone made you feel a little more at ease. You glanced back briefly to check if Min-jae and his friends were following, but they were nowhere in sight, already lost in the dormitory’s usual buzz of activity.

Just as the two of you were about to reach your group, Young-il gently grasped your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you, his tone shifting slightly as he asked, “How does he know your name?”

There was an edge to his words, though it didn’t feel like it was directed at you.

“He asked during the voting earlier,” you explained simply. “We were in the crowd, and he came over and introduced himself.”

Young-il’s eyes studied yours, moving from your left eye to your right, then briefly to your lips. You froze under the intensity of his gaze, unsure of what to make of it. After a few seconds that felt much longer, his focus shifted back to your left eye.

He finally lowered his gaze and said firmly, “If those boys bother you again, tell me.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. His gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach. He is really worried about you.

But even as you stood there, you couldn’t forget the fact that he was married. As close as you two had become, he’d never once mentioned it to you.

You averted your gaze, creating a small but deliberate space between you and Young-il.

“Thanks, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The pause lingered, and though you didn’t look his way, you could feel his confusion, as if he was trying to make sense of your sudden distance. Without waiting for a reply, you joined the group, sliding into the spot next to Jun-hee. Behind you, Young-il remained standing, silent and likely still perplexed.

As the group fell into casual conversation, you focused on Jun-hee, Jung-bae and Dae-ho, purposefully keeping your interactions away from Young-il. Whenever he made a comment directed at you or tried to reassure you about something, you responded with a polite smile but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you turned your attention to someone else, engaging them in light talk to avoid any further connection.

This is for the best. For you, for him, and for his wife.

“Lights out in ten minutes,” the announcer informed, the voice echoing through the dormitory. “Please prepare for bedtime.”

Your group was in the middle of executing Gi-hun’s plan. The idea was to claim four beds in one spot to create a secure sleeping area underneath the beds and on the floor between them. Everyone had agreed to the plan, though not without a few questions.

The men were handling the heavier tasks, carrying and arranging the mattresses and securing the area, while you and Jun-hee carried pillows and blankets, standing off to the side as they worked.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there,” Jung-bae said, his tone doubtful.

Gi-hun explained, “Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.”

Dae-ho, crouching beside Jun-hee, looked over with wide eyes. “What? Who?”

Meanwhile, Young-il approached you and gestured for the pillows and blankets in your arms. You handed them to him one by one, watching as he placed them on the mattresses.

“The prize money still goes up if we kill each other,” Gi-hun continued. “It’s part of the game they designed.”

Young-il, now standing after arranging a mattress on the floor under one of the beds, spoke up, “Gi-hun, I think you’re overreacting. Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Young-il. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here.”

He stepped closer to Young-il, his tone firm. “You have no idea how people can change in this place.”

You stared at them, noticing the tension in Gi-hun’s face and posture. Young-il paused before nodding apologetically. “Alright. I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun gave Young-il one last look before turning back to address the group. “We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you should decide the order.”

You exchanged glances with the others. Dae-ho was the first to speak up. “Other than that, we have to figure out who’s sleeping where.”

Jung-bae pointed to the floor between the beds. “Jun-hee should sleep here, near the wall, surrounded by beds. It’ll be safer.”

“Then I’ll take the spot under the bed beside her,” Dae-ho said, glancing at Jun-hee for confirmation. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jun-hee nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll take the spot under the bed on the other side of Jun-hee,” Jung-bae added. “It’s best to have two ex-Marines covering your sides.”

Jun-hee smiled in response.

Young-il turned to you, his voice soft. “Which spot do you want to take?”

You paused, glancing at the arrangement before pointing to the space directly under Jun-hee. “I’ll take the middle floor.”

That left the beds on either side of you empty until Young-il spoke up. “I’ll sleep under the bed on your left. That means Gi-hun will take the one on your right.”

“Now we just have to decide the order for keeping watch,” Dae-ho said, looking around the group.

“I’ll take the second watch, after Gi-hun,” Jung-bae said quickly.

Dae-ho raised his hand. “Third watch here.”

You spoke up just as Young-il reached to grab the leftover pillows and blanket from your arms. “Can I keep watch too?”

All eyes turned to you, surprise clear on their faces.

“How about the last watch?” you added. “I can wake up early.”

Dae-ho was the first to respond. “Ladies don’t have to. You and Jun-hee should take a full rest.”

“Yeah, no need for you to worry about keeping watch,” Jung-bae chimed in. “We’ve got this.”

You hesitated, feeling their protective tone press against your resolve.

“But it’s fine if I take the last watch,” you said, lowering your gaze briefly. “I want to freshen up before the next game anyway.”

Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged glances, clearly about to argue, when Young-il’s calm voice cut through. “Okay, you take the last watch.”

Everyone turned to him in confusion, while you blinked at him in surprise. Young-il glanced at the others briefly before settling his gaze on you.

“I’ll take the fourth watch, after Dae-ho,” he said evenly. “Then it’s your turn. But I’ll keep watch with you. It’s not safe for you to do it alone.”

The group nodded in agreement and that was the end of discussion. You, however, stayed quiet, your thoughts swirling. Young-il’s calm decision left you unsettled. The idea of him accompanying you brought a flutter of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress. You’d been trying to create some distance, to remind yourself of his marriage. Yet here he was, volunteering to accompany you.

It left you torn. A part of you appreciated his thoughtfulness. But another part of you couldn’t shake the complicated feelings his actions stirred, leaving you wondering how you’d handle the quiet hours of your shared watch.

A few minutes passed as the six of you settled into your designated spots. The announcer’s voice broke through the murmurs in the dormitory to announce bedtime. Moments later, the lights switched off, leaving the soft golden glow of the half-filled piggy bank overhead to dimly illuminate the vast room.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae were already lying under the beds, while Jun-hee rested on the mattress positioned on the open floor between them.

“This sucks,” Jung-bae muttered from his spot. “Feels like I’m hiding under my old desk at school.”

Dae-ho chuckled softly. “Pretend it’s a fun sleepover. We’re just missing the snacks and ghost stories.”

As their quiet exchange continued, you glanced over and noticed Gi-hun was sitting at the front, keeping watch.

Then, you felt a presence close beside you. Turning your head, you saw Young-il crouched beside you on your mattress on the open floor. He paused, glancing at you apologetically as he moved to sit down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, referring to him intruding your space.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

Young-il shifted onto the edge of your mattress before sliding onto his own spot under the bed beside you. You watched as he settled in before you finally lay down and pulled the blanket over yourself.

The space felt smaller now, the awareness of his presence lingering. You never thought you’d be this close to him, sharing such confined quarters. But as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away quickly. He’s married. You shouldn’t let yourself think about him like this.

You closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to come quickly and pull you away from your restless thoughts.

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones!

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[fictoculus]

Hiiiiii! Can i request some genshin guys reacting to reader refering to them as "my husband" they're not married yet/just dating? As for characters, I'd prefer Tighnari, Albedo, and Cyno (I definitely have a type lol) please 🙏

౨ৎ "my husband..."

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT… alhaitham, tighnari, albedo

SYNOPSIS... calling your boyfriend your husband just to get a rise out of him (or you)

A/N... hey anon! thanks for the requesttt i love getting them literally puts a smile on my face ^^ so sorry for taking so long tho, nd also sorry for not writing anything for cyno i js had zero ideas for him, have alhaithtam instead!! anywayyy i was actually planning on writing something like this so great timing!!! hope you enjoyyy ♡

✧ alhaitham.

it's been a long, tiring day, so you and alhaitham decide it's the perfect chance to unwind and finally visit the small café you often pass on your way home.

it's quaint but welcoming, with warm white fairy lights and oak wood accents to highlight the faded walls and exposed brick. however, due to it's size, there is quite a long queue. usually you'd be a little on edge, but with the quiet chatter and soft music, you're able to relax.

just as you begin to scan the menu, a quiet gasp causes you to jolt slightly as your boyfriend taps you on the shoulder.

"[name], i'm so sorry but i have to go back."

"is everything ok?"

"it seems i've forgotten something important. will you be alright by yourself?"

you reassure him with a nod, smiling up at him and urging him to go; the sooner he leaves, the sooner he'll be back.

"i'll be just fine, take your time, love"

"i won't be long"

he places a hurried kiss on your forehead and rushes back to the akademiya, breaking into a run as soon as he's out of your sight.

the queue edges closer and closer to the counter, and you start to give up your space for people behind you in the hopes that alhaitham will return, but eventually you're the only person left in the queue and have no choice but to place an order.

"good evening, um, could i please have..."

you carefully pick out a couple of baked goods you think your boyfriend would enjoy, and take your time selecting the right tea.

"ah, well... my husband has just gone to run an errand but i think he'd like... an oolong tea, please"

as if you somehow summoned him, alhaitham appears beside you with an arm wrapped around your waist.

"yes, that'd be just fine. thank you"

you can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest against your shoulder, but you say nothing of it until you're sat down with your drinks and snacks.

"are you alright? i didn't mean to hurry you, 'haitham, i know you're tired"

the scholar, however, couldn't care less about having to rush, and completely dismisses your question.

"your husband, hm? i haven't heard that one before"

a sly smirk is plastered on his face, though you know he has no malicious intent, he simply enjoys teasing you, that's all.

"well- i didn't think you'd be back in time and i- it just-"

"don't worry about it, love, i'm only teasing."

he reaches across the table with a smile, holding your hand in his and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"in fact, i quite like the idea of being your husband"

you're completely stumped. alhaitham? your husband?

yes, the two of you have been together for quite some time, but never in a million years did you think you deserved to marry him.

"y-you do?!"

"of course i do, love, don't you?"

"yes absolutely! i- it'd be a dream come true"

you blurt out, feeling a heat rushing to your cheeks as they glow a bright pink. usually, you'd be embarrassed, but in this moment, it doesn't matter. it feels as if time has come to a halt, and it's just you and him. alone. together.

at least now he knows you'll say yes...

✧ tighnari.

it's yours and tighnari's 1 year anniversary (hooray!), so of course, the two of you have gone out for a meal at a fancy restaurant, recommended to you by cyno surprisingly.

you absentmindedly read out the menu, whispering any dishes which intrigue you under your breath. it's one of the little habits you have that tighnari finds oh so charming, and he can't help but gaze at you lovingly as he completely disregards the menu and pins all his attention on you.

"are you ready to order?"

a stern voice snaps him back into reality as a waitress approaches the table, taking the pen out of her breast pocket and clicking it against her notepad.

you glance over to your boyfriend, and chuckle to yourself as he panics and skims over the menu hurriedly.

"my husband is having some trouble deciding, so i'll go first if that's alright"

you shoot your boyfriend an 'innocent' smile before placing your order.

"of course, and for you, sir?"

tighnari is completely out of it, your words echoing in his mind as he seems to just float away. "my husband", "my husband", "my husband". he sits there a flustered, blushing mess. how couldn't he be? the love of his life just called him their husband. if it weren't for the waitress stood before you, he'd be burying himself in your chest from the sheer embarrassment. not that he'd be ashamed to be your husband, he'll just never get used to that tugging feeling he gets in his chest when you tease him like this.

"sir? your order?"

"r-right, excuse me..."

you watch intently as he orders, stumbling over his words and fidgeting furiously with the loose fabric of his cape. how cute.

only when you've paid the bill and started heading home does he (nervously) confront you about your teasing, squeezing your hand tightly as he, once again, stumbles over his words.

"so... husband? is- is that something you really want or is it just some little scheme of yours beca-"

"i want nothing more, 'nari"

✧ albedo.

your boyfriend, albedo, is perched on a stool in front of you, painting fervently. painting what, you ask? why, you of course!

a feeling of pure euphoria washes over him every time his eyes outline your figure; you're beautiful. every curve, every dip, every mark, everything about you is a work of art in itself.

it feels like you've been sat there forever, holding your hand to your face and staring out the window, trying your best to be the perfect muse.

after hours of daydreaming, he finally calls you over.

"i'm finished, love. you did so well"

you walk over to him, back slightly sore, rolling your shoulders with a sigh. albedo's warm arm snakes around your waist and gently pulls you down onto his lap, bringing both hands to your shoulders to give you a well deserved massage.

"do you like it?"

he nods towards the canvas, now covered in the most wonderful shades of every colour you can imagine. the way he manipulated the light and shadows is commendable, and the fabric of your carefully styled outfit seems to flow around your body perfectly.

"do i like it?! archons... it's beautiful, 'bedo"

"you're beautiful, [name]"

it looks just like you, and now, finally, you get to see a glimpse of how albedo sees you.

"my husband is just so talented, what in teyvat am i going to do, hm?"

that was all it took for him to loose him composure, looking away from your gaze yet you kept your eyes locked on his. a pink tint dusts over his cheeks, and he seems to grow slightly distant as he processes it all; it's as if you can see the gears turning behind those pretty eyes of his.

"y-your husband?"

he stammers out, hands stilling to rest on your shoulders.

"mm, you don't like it?"

his eyes widen; of course he likes it. the idea of being your husband is something that gets him so giddy he can't sleep at night. just the thought of sliding a ring onto your fingers sends shivers down his spine, and he can feel himself burning up as he stutters:

"o-oh, no, no... i do, i just- i wasn't expecting it, that's all"

best believe he'll be attached to you for the rest of the day, leaning onto your back when you go to get a glass of water, and tugging on your arm as he leads you to bed.

"one day, [name]. one day i really will be your husband, if you'll let me..."

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST…@maopll . @nyxmainex . @avensuersa . @moondrop-gummies apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[lecsainz]

monegasque charm

pairings: arthur leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: arthur making stupid pick-up lines, jokes between the leclerc brothers.

authors note: i strongly believe that arthur should make this kind of joke with his girlfriend and the leclerc brothers teasing each other, omg i love this family!

word count: 1K

Y/N and her friends had been looking forward to the Monaco Grand Prix for months. They had saved up their money, booked their tickets, and packed their bags with excitement and anticipation. But as they approached the circuit, their excitement turned to frustration as they found themselves stuck in a long queue of cars, barely moving at all.

"Can you believe this?" Y/N groaned, leaning her head against the car window. "We're going to miss the whole race at this rate."

Her friends nodded in agreement, muttering under their breath about the terrible traffic and the incompetence of the organizers. But Y/N couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. This was supposed to be the highlight of their trip, and now it seemed like they might not even make it to the circuit in time.

As they sat there, bored and frustrated, Y/N noticed a group of guys in the car behind them. They were laughing and joking, seemingly undisturbed by the traffic. And then she noticed one of them in particular - a boy with light hair and bright blue eyes, who winked and smiled at her when he realized she was watching him.

"Who are they?" Y/N asked her friends, nodding towards the car behind them.

"I don't know," one of her friends shrugged. "But they're cute."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny that the boy with the blue eyes was kind of adorable. And as the traffic continued to crawl along, she found herself stealing glances at him, wondering who he was and why he seemed so familiar.

It wasn't until they finally reached the circuit that Y/N realized who the boy was - Arthur, the younger brother of Charles Leclerc, her favorite F1 driver. Suddenly everything made sense - the blue eyes, the mischievous smile, the effortless charm.

As they were making their way through the crowds, Y/N felt someone bump into her from behind. She turned around to see Arthur standing there, a look of surprise on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, flashing her a smile. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that."

Y/N smiled back, feeling her heart rate pick up at the sight of him. "It's okay," she replied. "We're all a little crowded here."

As they moved forward, Y/N couldn't help but notice that Arthur was wearing a shirt with the logo of his brother's F1 team. And when he caught sight of the number on her own shirt - Charles' racing number - his eyes widened in recognition.

"Hey, I like your shirt," he said, gesturing to the number. “16 is a great number, isn't it?”

Y/N felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she realized that she had been wearing Charles' number all day without even knowing that his brothers were nearby. "Oh, wow," she said. "I'm a huge fan of his."

Arthur grinned. "Yeah, me too. He's pretty amazing, isn't he?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a sudden wave of shyness wash over her. But as they chatted more, she found herself warming up to Arthur's easy charm and infectious enthusiasm.

"So, are you into racing too?" she asked, curious about the young Leclerc's own ambitions.

Arthur's face lit up. "Yeah, actually. I'm a driver myself - I compete in F2."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That's amazing. You must be really talented."

Arthur shrugged modestly. "I like to think so. But it's tough out there, you know? It takes a lot of hard work and dedication to make it in this sport."

Y/N nodded sympathetically, feeling a sudden kinship with the young driver.

As they walked towards the grandstands, Arthur couldn't resist making a few cheesy jokes and silly pick-up lines, trying to make Y/N laugh.

"Are you a parking ticket?" he asked with a grin. "Because you've got 'fine' written all over you."

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at the corny line, but she found herself giggling anyway.

Before they knew it, was time for Arthur to go and find his brothers before the race started. As they said their goodbyes, Arthur pulled out his phone and asked for Y/N's number.

"I'll text you later, Y/N. Maybe we can grab a drink or something?" he said with a smile.

Y/N nodded eagerly, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

Arthur hurried to find his brothers, Lorenzo and Charles. As soon as he saw them, he excitedly recounted his encounter with Y/N and how they had hit it off in the queue.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "You're telling us about a girl you just met in line? I hope you're not neglecting your training for F2."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course not, but a little distraction never hurt anyone. And besides, Y/N is really cool.”

Charles chimed in, a smile on his face."Well, well, well, look who's got a crush,”nudging Arthur in the ribs.

"You should ask her out," Lorenzo suggested.

Arthur's eyes widened. "What? No way. I barely know her."

Charles snorted. "That's never stopped you before."

Arthur blushed, but nodded in agreement. "I already got her number. And I'm planning on taking her out to dinner next week."

Lorenzo smirked. "Look at you, little brother, all grown up and making moves. Just don't let it affect your racing, okay?"

Arthur laughed, feeling grateful for his brothers' support.

Later that night, as Y/N and her friends were out at a bar celebrating the end of the race, her phone buzzed with a message from Arthur.

"Hey, it's Arthur 😉 I had a great time hanging out with you today. Want to meet up tomorrow?"

Y/N's heart raced as she replied, "Sure! How about we grab lunch at that cute café we saw earlier?"

As the week in Monaco came to an end, Y/N felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving Arthur behind. But as they hugged goodbye, Arthur promised to stay in touch and even invited her to come watch him race in the F2 later that year.

And as Y/N made her way back home, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the handsome Monegasque boy who had swept her off her feet.

[jxtina-86]

The Chase - Part 1

Okay, please go easy on me - first Lando fic and having spent way too much time consuming every fic about him on here, I am so nervous to post this. I also haven't written anything in over a year.

I like a slow burn. And this will be one hell of a slow burn.

Hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Lando x Fem!OC

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing, innuendo/suggestions, kinda fluffy

Her whole body vibrates from the steady pound of music, even as she queues up outside the club. The warm night air is starting to cool, as is her buzz. She stands on the edge of the group, half-listening to the chatter, half-watching the cars cruising down the street beside them. As the group shuffles forward, she takes a slow step to follow.

Maybe she should just leave, she thinks. She doubts anyone will miss her. Her friends are way too preoccupied with the guys they met earlier at the beach club, the ones who promised them the best night out ever. She’d been sceptical from the start, but didn’t want to be the party-pooper. And now she can’t be the one to say “I told you so.”

The group moves forward again and she feels a hand slide over her arm. “Mia, we’re in!” her friend, Lydia, grins and she forces a smile back. But just as she is about to step over the threshold, the friend’s hand slips from her arm and the bouncer’s arm stops her progressing.

He grunts something she doesn’t quite hear at first, his attention elsewhere. She glances around and sees a group of five guys a few metres away. “Step aside, mademoiselle” The bouncer grunts again in broken English, shuffling her against the wall to let the new group pass. The first three guys walk past, barely noticing what’s happening, but still offering thanks to the bouncer who nods in return.

As the last two in the group approach, she happens to meet the gaze of the one closer to her. He smiles and then his brow furrows. “Hey man, ladies first.”

She recognises the face, but she can’t quite place him…

The bouncer glances at him and then back at her. “She’s okay.”

“She can’t speak for herself?”

“You take priority.”

“At the expense of manhandling a girl up against the wall?” he looks incredulous for a second and then his demeanour shifts ever so slightly. “Let her go in.”

The bouncer scowls. “I just do my job.”

“Let her go in,” he repeats. And then he holds out his hand. “C’mon.”

She stares at him for a second, watching his eyes widen as he looks down at his hand and then pointedly back up at her. She reaches out, feeling his fingers wrap around hers and she slips out from between the wall and the bouncer.

“You okay?” he asks as they move through the doors.

She nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” His hand slips from hers for a second, ghosting over her back instead as he guides her through the crowded entrance lobby. “So are you here with friends?”

“Yeah…” she glances around. “We got separated. At the door.”

He winces apologetically. “I’m sorry. I don’t ask for that kinda shit. I don’t expect it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She still can’t place his face. But it is so, so familiar.

“Look, do you wanna hang with us until you see your friends?”

“You sure?”

“I feel bad leaving you stranded,” he smiles, his teeth winking at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Okay then…” His hand finds hers again and he tugs it gently, pulling her along as they follow the rest of his group through the club. His head bounces to the beat, glancing over his shoulder every so often to check back on her. She looks around half-heartedly to see if she can spot her own group, but no luck. The club is heaving and the darkness and flashing lights make it impossible to make out any faces.

As they reach a set of stairs, he guides her back in front of him again. This time she feels his hand on the small of her back and when they pause for a second, she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge as she feels his chest press against her back. At the top of the stairs, his hand remains on her back as he ushers her towards a large table and booth, a wide array of bottles and glasses already there for consumption.

“Can I get you a drink?” He has to lean close to her ear for her to hear and she feels her heart pound. She nods. “What’s your poison? And what’s your name?”

“Mia,” she tells him, but he doesn’t catch it at first. He leans closer and she instinctively presses her hand to his shoulder as she repeats it closer to his ear.

“I’m Lando,” he replies and she feels it hit her like a ton of bricks. Of course, that’s why she recognised him but she couldn’t recall his name. Fuck…

She feels her face flush and he shoots her a sheepish but charming smile. “Drink?”

She nods and he gestures to the table before them for her to choose. He pours them both the same and hands her the glass. Now that she knows his name, now that she’s placed his face, she knows the reputation she has. A party boy. A charmer, with a wink and a smile at the ready. And she’s fallen for it already.

She clocks that the rest of his group haven’t even batted an eyelid that he’s pulled her into their booth. Perhaps this is a regular occurrence. She’s not sure if that makes it more or less awkward. She takes a long sip for her drink before she fumbles for her phone.

There’s a text from one of her friends.

Where did you go, M?? Followed by a photo of the group with fake sad faces.

“Where are they?” Lando’s voice makes her jump. She shrugs.

“No idea. We weren’t even supposed to come here tonight. They met some guys at the beach who wanted us to come along.”

“Sounds like it’s worked out in the end,” he winks at her.

She suppresses a giggle - don’t fall for it, Mia. It’s just a line.

“Perhaps,” she replies cooly. “I should let them know…” she starts to type out a reply but his fingers pluck the phone from her grasp. “Hey!”

“You should return the favour,” he chuckles, flipping the phone onto camera mode and holding it aloft. He tips his head towards hers, grinning up at the camera. “Smile!”

She can’t help the grin on her face as he snaps the photo. Before he passes the phone back to her, he taps out a suggested message and she laughs when she sees it.

Found a better offer x

“Oh really?” she glances over at him. He grins, raising his glass to take a long swig, his free arm sliding over the back of the booth, his fingers casually brushing over her shoulder.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “They clearly didn’t wait for you. Bad manners if you ask me.”

She’s inclined to agree. “There were five of us. Four of them,” she mutters.

He leans closer, his mouth inches from her ear. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“And you do?” She turns and almost jumps back as she realises how close his face is to hers.

He at least has the decency to blush himself. “Fittest girl in here by a mile,” he recovers.

She laughs. “God, you think you’re so smooth.”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s amazing how far this smile will get you,” he points to his mouth, his grin widening as she rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay… but I don’t see you making any move to leave.”

That is true, she thinks. But what are the other options? Leave to find her friends? Go back to the house alone? Neither feel great right now, not when she’s got a drink to finish and he is giving her his undivided attention.

She swipes at her phone again, titling her hand so he can see her hit send on the photo and his original message. He laughs, edging closer again to her. “You definitely did.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I don’t back down from a promise.”

“Is that so?”

Why does it feel so easy? She doesn’t know him and she’s briefly reminded that he could get any girl he wanted. So why her?

“So,” He shuffles closer again so she can hear him over the chaos of the music. “Are you here on holiday?”

She nods. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“One of my friends, her family have a place here. They’re here on holiday, but I travel around so they said I could stay for longer depending.”

“Depending on what? What do you do?”

“I work online, so I don’t need to be anywhere in particular.”

“Digital nomad, huh?”

“I guess.”

“That’s cool.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Where’s next on your list?”

“Not sure. I’m here for another two weeks so it’s on the list to figure out.” She wracks her brain trying to think of the least obvious question to ask him when her phone starts to buzz incessantly. She glances down to see message after message coming through.

Mia!

What the fuck?

How. When. WHERE.

Is that…?

Lando fuckin Norris??

MIA. WHERE ARE YOU??

She smirks into her drink, feeling his warm breath ghost over her shoulder as he reads the texts for himself.

“You caused a stir,” she tells him and as he shakes his head with a wry smile, she feels her breath catch in her throat when she sees him bite his lip briefly.

“It’s how I roll.”

She elbows him gently. “Do you genuinely have a one liner for every situation?”

“Yup. It's my special talent.”

“Oh, so your day job is just..,”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he meets her gaze and winks.

“Of course,” she nods, sagely. “I bet there’s nothing you can’t turn your hand to.”

“What can I say, I’m good with my hands.”

Her heart skips a beat and she fights to keep her composure as he shoots her a knowing smirk before raising his glass again. 

Her phone is still buzzing dully in her hands. She glances down and notices it’s a video call from one of the girls. She’s about to ignore it, when he reaches over and swipes to accept the call. She swats at him playfully, making him chuckle and she earns a barely audible shriek from the phone.

Taking a call in a club is hard at the best of times, but a video call is impossible. She can barely hear whatever it is Lydia and the others are saying but it’s pretty clear it’s along the same lines of the barrage of messages in the group chat.

And he doesn’t help. His arm is fully around her shoulders now, pulling her close into his side as she blushes. He waves casually at the screen, grinning as he sees the faces of shock and incredulity. Even him ruffling his hair causes them to turn practically feral.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mia laughs, waving herself and then hitting end call. “Look, I should probably go and find them.”

“Don’t go.”

“I’m crashing your night.”

“I can see this lot any day of the week,” he nods at his friends who are barely paying them any attention anyway. “Rather spend my night with a pretty girl like you.”

“And what if I don’t feel the same?” she shoots back, but there’s no malice in her voice.

He clutches at his chest in mock pain. “Your words. They hurt.”

“You’re too much,” she laughs, but she doesn’t move. She finds she can’t. Her limbs are stuck firm to the seat, despite how much her brain is willing her to get up and move. This won’t end well. It really, really won’t.

“Is it possible to have too much of a good thing?”

She shakes her head. “You are something else.”

“You need me to dial it down?”

“Just, just a little bit,” she glances over at him. “Is this how this works then?”

He gives her a confused look. “How what works?”

“You rescue the damsel in distress, get her a drink, give your undivided attention, roll out all the lines, charm her…” she trails off.

He tilts his head to one side. “You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“I mean, it feels pretty textbook…” she shrugs.

“Because a guy like me must have a playbook?”

“Because a guy like you, 100% is not going after girls like me.”

“Nope. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Put yourself down like that.”

“I’m pretty sure you could have your pick.”

“And? Girls throwing themselves at me, not really my thing.”

“Ah,” she chuckles. “So you like the chase.”

“I mean… You’re really setting me up with that,” he flashes her a cheeky grin. “But yeah.”

“And when you get your prize, then what?”

“I hold onto it for as long as possible.”

“Or until you crave the chase again?”

He shakes his head. “You got me all wrong, Mia. It isn’t the chase that gets in the way. Not that one anyway.”

He looks genuine enough, so she gives him the slightest benefit of the doubt, but she’s also clinging to the scepticism. “Your job, right.”

He nods, staring down at his almost empty glass.

She feels a bit bad. More than bad. She realises she misses the banter, the easy back and forth and now she feels like an idiot for questioning it when the answer was probably pretty obvious.

“Sorry. I… I always do that. I’m annoyingly sceptical about everything.”

He tosses her a smile. “Hey, a random guy pulls you into a club, starts chatting shit to you, you’re right to be sceptical.”

“You’re being kind now. I was kinda mean.”

He chuckles. “I probably deserved it.”

“See if this was a textbook play, this would be that turning point.”

“Oh yeah?” he grins at her. “Make you feel so bad for me that you take pity on the poor lonely racing driver?”

“That’s the one.”

He leans forward, staring at her in earnest. “Is it working?”

She pushes his shoulder and he backs up with a grin. “No.”

“Damn, you really do play hard to get.”

“You said you liked the chase…”

He chuckles and drains his drink, shaking his finger at her. “See, you’re just making me worse.”

“Worse?! It gets worse than this?” she winks at him. “Go on then, hit me with your worst.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t handle my worst.”

“That bad, huh?”

He leans back against the booth, giving her a sly side eye. “Okay. You asked for it.”

“I did. C’mon then.”

He chews his lip for a second and then he reaches for the chain around his neck, his fingers fumbling to find the pendant. “You see this?” he gestures, beckoning her forward to him.

She leans forward and only a split second too late does she realise what he’s doing. His fingers slide under her chin, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss. He holds her there for a second, two, three. Before he pulls back, a cocky grin on his face.

She blinks at him for a moment and then laughs. “Okay, I give in. You got me.”

He pouts, his eyes sparkling. “You gave in so easily. Where’s the fun in that?”

She smirks. “Fine. How about that’s all you’re getting tonight?”

He grins. “That’s more like it.”

“And I really should go…”

“To find your friends?”

She shakes her head. “No. Home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“I’ll get a cab.”

“I’ll get it with you.”

She sighs. “You really do like the chase.”

“Nope, I am just being the perfect English gent.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” She watches as he crosses his chest, his eyes pleading with her.

“Fine.”

He leans over to his friends, gesturing back at her. They nod, smile almost knowingly and she shakes her head - do even his friends believe this act?

Just like when they entered the club barely an hour ago, she lets him guide her back out. Outside, the air has cooled dramatically and she shivers in the breeze, wishing she’d opted for a jacket when they’d left the house earlier that night.

Lando is looking around for a cab, but he spies her sudden tremble and reaches out to her, pulling her into his arms. She almost stops breathing as his hands run up and down her bare arms, their warmth spreading over her skin. She looks up at him, but he’s looking over her head still, his eyes lighting up, one arm rising to wave at a passing cab. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he pulls her over to the waiting vehicle, opens the door and lets her clamber in before him.

She goes to settle into the seat on the far side, but as he shuts the door behind him, he tugs her back to lean against him.

“Where’s home?” he asks her and she reels off the address in the next town over.

His fingers tap absentmindedly on her shoulder. “So what are your plans for the next two weeks?”

She shrugs. “Sun. Swim. Eat. Work.”

“Well if you fancy some different company…” he lets the words hang in the air.

“Don’t you have some far flung race to get to?” She tilts her head up to look at him. 

“Summer break,” he grins down at her. 

“For how long?”

“Two more weeks.”

“So what are your plans?”

“Sun. Swim. Eat. Sleep.”

She chews her lip. “Well, if you want company for some of that…”

“Which parts?”

“Sun… Swim… Eat…”

“You don’t sleep then?”

“I do…” she pauses. “Alone.”

He flashes her a grin. “I see.” He fumbles with his pocket, flicking his phone over in his hand and pressing his thumb to the screen. “Here, put your number in.”

“Why?”

“So I can call you? Maybe take you out for lunch? For you know… more of this?”

“And only this?”

“I can’t promise I won’t try.”

She takes the phone from him and taps in her number. In the name part, she types in Mia and then adds a little something extra.

He rolls his eyes when she hands it back to him. “You didn’t need to add that. I’ll remember who you are.”

“You can never be too careful…” She watches as he deletes ‘the girl you rescued at the club’ from the surname section. He hits dial next and her phone buzzes.

“What, no witty name for me?” He pouts and then grins as she adds ‘The Chaser’ after his name. “That’s more like it. So… are you free tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Wow, you are keen.”

He ignores her and presses on. “Lunch? I can pick you up.”

“I need to check… Shit.” She picks up her phone again, pulling up the group chat.

Gone home, she taps out. See you all later.

She hits send and then squeals as yet again, he plucks the phone from her hands. “No, no, Lando…”

He laughs, flipping to camera mode. “Don’t worry girls, I’ll get her home safe and sound.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” she berates but she’s laughing too. “Not like that!” She says to the camera before he stops recording.

He tosses the phone back at her, still grinning. “It didn’t send.”

“It didn’t have to.”

Her phone is already lighting up.

WITH HIM?

MIA. DID YOU LEAVE WITH HIM?

Do we need to stay out longer?

How long, Mia?? 👀

It's fine, I can share with someone else…😉

GET THAT 🏎️ 🍆 MIA!

She can feel Lando shaking with laughter beside her.

“Feral,” she mutters. “Honestly.”

“Ah you can't shame them for being invested in your love life.”

“And this,” she waves her phone. “This is why you can't be picking me up for lunch.”

“And miss out on the fun?”

“Oh I can picture it now. You'd be flashing that grin left right and centre, throwing out your one liners and whipping them all up into a frenzy.”

“Only fair to reward them.”

“Reward them? For what?”

“The way I see it, if they hadn't agreed to go to the club with the beach guys, if you hadn’t been left at the back of the group then we wouldn't be here now would we?”

She gives him a sideways look. “You really do manage to spin any situation in your favour.”

“So tomorrow. What time?”

“11.30? Out the front. Just text me and I'll come out.”

“Okay, okay,” he agrees.

The cab slows, pulling up outside the villa. Lando tells the driver to wait before he opens the door, steps out and turns to offer his hand which she takes.

He walks her to the gate, waiting as she slides the key in.

“So…” she breaks the silence, refusing to open the gate completely whilst he is still close. She doesn't trust herself not to let him in despite what she's said out loud.

He gets the hint. “Nice to meet you Mia. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“When you're outside?”

He nods. “11.30 sharp.”

She lowers her gaze for a second, just wondering if-

His hand brushes over her shoulder, pushing her hair back and then he cups her neck, pulling her mouth to his. This time though, she's there with him - kissing him back, her free hand running over his arm, fingers spreading over the thick bicep she can feel under his shirt.

He pulls back reluctantly and she feels her face flush as she lets out a small whimper of disappointment.

“Not too late…” he murmurs.

God it's tempting. But no.

She shakes her head. “See you tomorrow.”

He grins, his hand finding hers, bringing it to his mouth to press a final kiss to her cool skin.

He walks backwards to the cab, gesturing for her to go in, waiting until she opens the gate and closes it before he gets in the cab himself.

Mia leans against the gate and listens to the car departing.

Her phone buzzes and she flips it over expecting to see another message from the group.

But her stomach flips when she sees his name.

Sweet dreams x

And she practically floats up the path to the house.

****

Part 2 coming soon...

[flrlgreen]

lights, camera, action (kento nanami x reader) + twt prn links

a/n: been thinking about porn star nanami heavily. (again, i'm tired sorry for any errors.)

cw: fem reader, DADDY KINK, filming, size kink, vaginal sex, use of the names good girl, pretty girl, fingering, reader has a vagina, breeding, unprotected sex, HEAVY dom sub dynamics.

link link link

Kento Nanami was popular, and for good reason. He was damn good at what he did. When you found out you two would be working together your heart fluttered a bit. In this business, you’ve worked with a lot of different people, but Nanami was different. He was one of the most popular, if not THE most popular male adult movie star on the scene right now. 

You felt nervous as you sat in the makeup chair. The soft bristles touched your skin for what seemed like the millionth time until you heard a ‘you’re all done!’ from the makeup artist. “What do you think?”  She asks as you run a hand through your styled hair and look in the mirror in front of you. “I love it. Thank you.” You say and admire your reflection in the mirror.  “I’m glad!” She says and as if on queue the director enters. You spin the chair around to look at him. “Great, you’re done. Nanami is here. Filming starts in 45 minutes.” He says and as quickly as he entered he left. 

You let out a sigh say your thanks to the makeup artist one last time and walk onto the cold sterile set. There was some light chatter before you entered, but when the director and Nanami saw you it all came to a halt. 

Nanami catches your attention immediately. God, this man was TALL. Much bigger than you in every single way, and the fact he was drop-dead gorgeous didn’t help calm your nerves. “Just the girl we were talking about.” The director says. “O-oh! Hi.” You say meekly and walk over to the two men. Nanami smiles when he sees how nervous you are. “Hello, I’m Nanami.” He says and his big hand reaches out to shake yours. 

It was like you had short circuited. Your smaller hand wrapped around his. Fuck, he’s so big. How’s his dick going to fit? You didn’t realize you were shaking his hand without saying anything until you snapped out of your perverted haze. “H-hi! I’m sorry.” You apologize, he doesn’t seem to mind your nervousness. If anything, he thinks it’s cute.

Despite a very awkward start, before you know it you get lost in conversation with your scene partner, and when filming started the acting and fluff before the actual sex scenes didn’t feel as robotic and awkward as they always do with the other men you shoot with. 

But now, it’s time for the actual thing. 

The blonde man was greedily kissing your soft lips while his strong hands roamed your small frame. You were straddling him and grinding on his rock-hard bulge. He let out some moans into the kiss. He kissed you with so much want, and it was unlike anything you had ever experienced on a porn set before. His teeth grazed and tugged on your bottom lip while his hands began to unclasp your bra. 

When your bra hits the bed Nanami pulls away from the intense kiss to admire your plump breasts. “Pretty girl, has such pretty little tits.” He groans before immediately latching onto your hardened bud. 

He sucks on your right nipple while his big hand massages the other one. “D-daddy, fuck. Feels good~” You moan. Making sure to be louder than you usually would be to play it up for the camera. The sounds of light sucking and soft whiny moans fill the room while he works on your tits. “My pretty girl.” He gives each one of your tits one last kiss before turning you on your stomach and getting behind you for the next scene. 

He massages the fat of your ass before his hand starts to dip into your wet panties. “Sweet little Baby is already so wet for me. So fucking cute.” He says as his index finger begins to push your wet panties to the side and prods at your wetness. “I’m so wet for Daddy.” You reply. Your words go straight to his impossibly hard cock. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” He says and shoves a digit in your cunt. He can’t hold himself back anymore.  

“F-fuck!” You yelp while his thick digit goes in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. “Mhm, so fucking tight and wet for Daddy, Baby.” He says while slowly speeding up the movement of his finger before adding another. “Feels so good Daddy. F-fuck.” You look straight into the camera while he works his magic on your pussy with his fingers. The bright lights are shining down on you two illuminating the glistening wetness on his fingers. 

Nanami is very gifted when it comes to pleasuring women. You can tell why he was so popular with other adult actresses. 

He climbs on you while his pointer and middle finger are knuckles deep in you while he bites and licks the shell of your ear while you cry and moan like a whore for the camera. “R-right there!” You cry out when he hits the spot that makes you see stars. “Right here, Baby?” He teases and hits your g spot with his thick fingers. “Yes, Daddy! I can’t!” You cry when he hits your sweet spot over and over. 

He smiles against the shell of your ear and pulls his fingers out of your wetness suddenly. You whine and clench around nothing and before you could even retort, the blonde man turns you on your back and you watch as he brings his two slicked fingers to his mouth. His tongue darts out and licks up the sweet fluid all over his fingers. “You taste good Sweetheart.” He says and licks every last drop of your arousal off of his fingers. 

“Stop,” You cover your face with your hands and try not to look at the man in front of you. “It’s embarrassing Daddy.” You say behind your hands. Nanami smiles and moves your hands away from your face. “Come here, Baby. Taste yourself on my tongue.” He leans in and shoves his strong tongue into your desperate and needy mouth.

The taste of him and your sweet arousal was mind-numbingly good. You suck on his tongue and you can hear him moan into the kiss. You suck every last drop of your arousal out of your scene partner's mouth. When the kiss eventually breaks there’s a long trail of spit connecting you two. “So good, take off that slutty little skirt and panties now.” He demands, his eyes filled with lust. Pupils dilated. 

You obey Nanami and take off your soaked panties along with your short skirt that didn’t really cover much. His gaze stays on your glistening pussy the whole time, even while he takes off his own pants and boxers. When your panties were completely off you admire his pretty cock, but his gaze never left you. 

He was big. No surprise there. The tip leaked  pre cum. It dripped all the way down to his trimmed pubes. “Do you like what you see?” He teases and strokes his cock a couple of times. “Yeah, it’s so big Daddy.” You reply. He laughs. “You sure you can take it?” He says while pushing you flat on your back while nestling between your now spread legs. 

“Mhm~” You say. “Daddy’s girl has such a pretty little cunt.” He says when he gets completely situated between your legs. “So cute,” He hisses before rubbing the tip of his leaking cock head on your wet folds. “Mn- I could cum just from this.” He says continuing to rub the tip up and down occasionally catching your clit and circling it. 

“Daddy put it in. Please. No teasing.” You cry when you feel his warm pre cum smear on your aching clit. “But it’s gonna hurt,” He says, voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Don’t care, need it no- FUCK!” 

The stretch is something you’ve never felt before. All the cocks you’ve taken don't even compare to his. The stretch is so delicious. His cock fills you to the brim and you swear you’ve never felt so full. “So big, oh my fucking god.” You cry while he bottoms out inside your pussy.

“You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.” He hisses and grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder to go deeper. You’re in heaven, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You feel like you could melt. 

The camera man gets up from his chair. The focus of the camera shifts over to where you two are connected. The way your pussy glistened with wetness under the harsh bright lights made Nanami’s cock twitch inside of you. “Good girl. You’re taking me so well.” He moans while speeding up his thrusts. The camera pans over to your fucked out face. 

You know for a fact you look like a hot mess. Makeup smudged and hair ruined. “I’m so full!” Right when those words escape your mouth Nanami hits your cervix. “I can’t!” You feel like you’re going to pass out in this very bed. 

Nanami pulls his cock out before slamming it back in so many times you can’t count. You weren’t even keeping track of the amount of times he hit that spot inside you. The camera goes back and forth between capturing your face and zooming in on your abused pussy. 

Nanami’s grunts fill the room which tells you he is reaching his peak soon. “Best pussy I’ve ever had. I need to fill you up and breed you.” He grips your thigh and drills you harder than before. From this angle, he was only going deeper with each thrust. “Do you feel good Sweetie?” He asks while sweat drips down his forehead. You can only nod. “I can’t fuck. I’m gonna.” You can feel his whole body tense up while he gets the last of his sloppy thrusts in. 

The camera is on him now. The focus is on his last couple of thrusts. He’s almost whining while he spills his seed inside of you. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to cum that fast.” He huffs and apologizes. “It’s okay Daddy.” You reply as he pulls out. You watch as his thick cock slides out along with his warm cum. “Okay cut!” The director yells. 

(To be continued??? Maybe.)

[outsideratheart]

A Return Worth Celebrating (Fridolina Rolfo x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little something to celebrate Frido’s return to team training!

Monday’s had the reputation of being terrible but not this Monday. No, today was a good day. Today was the day that Fridolina Rolfö, your girlfriend, returned to team training. 

“You ready?” You ask as you walk out onto the field together. 

“As I’ll ever be” the blonde wore a smile on her face but you knew deep down that she was nervous. The two of you had spent the night previous cuddled in bed discussing what the blonde was feeling and why she was feeling it. 

Before you reach the group you wrap your arm around her waist, pulling her close as you place a gentle kiss on her hairline. 

“You’ve got this. You are strong and you are powerful” 

“What? I’m not beautiful today?” Fridolina knows the mantra well, you had made her say it to herself whenever she was having a bad day. 

“You, Miss Rolfö, will always be beautiful in my eyes. Now let’s get going. I’ve haven’t been late once this season and I won’t have you tarnishing my impeccable record” you jog off towards your team mates. 

“Right because I’m the bad influence out the two of us” the swede says sarcastically. Everyone knew it was you who corrupted her. 

The session goes better than Frido expected. Her passes were accurate, her movement fluid and much to her surprise her fitness wasn’t far off from where it was before. It did come as a shock to find your cubby empty as she entered the locker room. She assumed you had gone for a shower until she saw a note sitting in her locker. 

I had to go. See you at home. 

I love you, always. 

Y/N. 

“What no celebrations for your return?” Ingrid asks. 

“Looks like she had a meeting or something. We discussed our schedules on Friday and she didn’t mention anything. It must be something last minute” Frido defended your actions even if they had hurt her. 

She had been so excited to be back on the pitch for numerous reasons but being able to play with you again was top of that list. You seemed so happy for her this morning and she automatically assumed you would do something together to celebrate. 

Little did she know you did have plans to celebrate. Your celebrations were a little bit more intimate than what was planned with the team. 

As on queue, Frido walks into your shared apartment just as you finish setting the table. 

When the blonde walked through the hallway she smelt home, more specifically a home cooked meal. Then, as she turned the corner, she saw you standing next to the candle light table. 

“Baby, i’m so proud of you” 

She was rendered speechless. 

“Say something, please” you ask politely. 

She says nothing. She lets her actions do the talking and you don’t complain at all. You loved moments like this when it was just the two of you. When you could express your love with kisses and other displays of affection. 

“Is that my —“

“Kött” you pull away from her hold to read the name of the meal of your hand “Köttbullar” 

Frido pulled your hand towards her to see if you had really written down the name of the meal. Lo and behold, you had. 

“I think I did it right. I was this close” you pinch your thumb and index thumb very close together “to going to Ikea and buying some” 

You follow to the take and pull the chair out for her. 

“For you, m’lady” 

“Why thank you” she kisses your cheek as a show of appreciation. 

You watch nervously as she takes a bite of the meatball. It mimicked the nervous energy you feel as you watch a team mate take a penalty. She takes her time and it feels like she chews it 100 times before giving any indication of whether it’s good or not. 

“5 stars” Frido does a little happy dance in her seat “who knew this is what you were preparing for when you ate my Mamma’s Köttbullar by the bucket full” 

“It was all apart of my master plan” you raise your eyebrows playfully. 

“Is that right? What else does this master plan entail?” Frido asks curiously. 

“Stick around and you’ll find out” 

You had a lot planned for you and Fridolina. Some things had been ticked off, some were in motion and others were due in the future. 

[boba-beom]

ೃ⁀➷ airport crush pt 2 | CHOI YEONJUN NSFW

pairing: brother's best friend!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, kinda angsty

wc: 3.4k

warning: angstier than I thought oops, smut with plot, arguing, yeonjun pining for reader, jealousy, possessive yj at some point, but also lowkey sub!yeonjun ngl, reader confesses about the past but yj does for the present, heavy petting, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, just the tip tease, piv but yj doesn't cum— mile high club ;) , toilet sex again, pet names (baby, good girl, good boy), praises (both), yj calls reader mommy ONCE, light marking, let me know if I've missed anything!

summary: after spending some time with your airport crush, yeonjun's pissed you were spending your time 'efficiently' with someone who isn't him. but you agreed to do anything so he wouldn't snitch to your brother about the marks on your neck.

a/n: the long-awaited next part is here, there is one more main part after this. I hope you enjoy this part just as much as yeonjun did hehe what better way to save this than for @majestyjun's 24 days with yeonjun for our jjunie's birthday! ♥

airport crush part 1 (beomgyu)

boarding the plane was no problem, beomgyu had made you laugh in the queue–maybe even flirted–despite the slight delay, but it didn't go unnoticed by the people around you. you heard yeonjun subtly bickering with your brother, but soobin wasn't having any of it—he was too jet-lagged to even give two shits at this point. you knew this was going to be a long flight ahead of you and yet all you could think about was beomgyu and his fingers, and how bad you want him to—

you heard a ping and looked down at your phone to see beomgyu had airdropped you a note as your way of messaging each other before the plane had set off. he sent you a few memes and your scoffs would turn into chuckles until you both decided to rest and talk when you reach the airport.

it was a given that yeonjun isn't keen on whatever is going on between you and your newfound fuck buddy. yeonjun may be two years older than you, but there's something about him that you weren't aware of.

"yn? are you even listening to me?" yeonjun fakes a heartache with his palm flat on his chest while you give him a deadpan glare. "and what's happened to your 'stranger danger' policy?"

"yeonjun, I can't lie, I've developed this talent to block you out. now you're like white noise to me." you force a smile until it immediately dropped. "also, YJ, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm literally in my early twenties, chill out."

he scoffs, an annoyed smile crawling on his lips. "and I'm literally just looking out for you, how do you not see that?"

"I don't need you to look after me, m'kay? I have soobin for that. even still, just let me make my own choices." turning your body slightly, facing the window.

you couldn't care less with what he had to say. you were just pissed that it was him, and not beomgyu, sitting next to you. beomgyu was sitting a few rows down from you on the opposite site of the plane, you could just about spot the plum tinge of his hair. soobin, on the other hand, was sitting between random people in the middle section of the plane, a couple of rows in front of you and yeonjun. you weren't in their line of sight, and vice versa.

that's going to be a problem.

"you know what annoys me actually? the fact that you're so smug about this whole thing. you meet a stranger and now you feel like you've met the love of your life." you roll your eyes and take a deep breath before exhaling your frustration.

"oh boo you, is it because I managed to find someone to hook up and have fun with before this holiday even started?" you retort, refusing to look at him, bearing in mind that there are a few people sleeping around you.

"oh for fucks sake, yn, grow up." you hear him exhale.

you scoff. "me? no, yeonjun. you, grow the fuck up. I'm sick and tired of whatever problem it is you have with me."

raking his hands through his hair, he looks up before placing a hand on your knee, “listen here, little miss princess, stop being a fucking brat, you’re so annoying like that.” but what you don’t know is that it's slightly turning him on, knowing how hot-headed you can be, he secretly loves how argumentative you two are and he sort of thrives off of that. he had no intention for it to take a turn like this though.

you stare at him, eyes steady, narrowing and not wavering even a little bit. “and you’re starting to piss me off, choi.” you unbuckle the seatbelt over your hips, your hand pushing off his from your thigh before passing his legs to scoot yourself to the aisle, catching soobin's sleeping form and making your way to the toilet at the end of the plane.

from beomgyu’s peripheral vision, he turns his body to look back, watching you make your way to the toilet and noting the dull look on your face. his eyes trailed behind you to find yeonjun who looked like he was chasing after you. he sits back comfortably, sighing and rolling his eyes from the thought of what yeonjun must have done to piss you off this time.

yeonjun knocks on the door and calls your name softly a couple of times, “let me in. come on, talk to me.”

you sigh, not wanting people to continue watching him knocking on the door, and for all they know you two look like you’re in some sort of lovers quarrel. he quickly enters as soon as you open the door, and you scoot aside as an attempt to make space for his six foot figure.

“and you couldn’t just leave me alone? how embarrassing.” you huff, crossing your arms against your chest, but due to the close proximity, you can feel his breath fanning by your neck.

“you want to talk about embarrassing? how about hooking up with a stranger at the airport? hmm?” he retorts, slightly raising his voice at you.

you cover his mouth to remind him to keep his voice down.

“what the fuck is this obsession about me hooking up with beomgyu. just say you’re jealous and go, oh my god, yeonjun." you aggressively whisper.

your chest heaves from the anger gradually coming out, and if you weren't in a plane right this moment then yeonjun would definitely get a taste of your wrath. it was silent for a moment with the both of you holding this intense eye contact with a hint of something unspoken. yeonjun breaks away first, turning around as much as he can with his hand back to running through his teal strands.

"I am." is all he mutters.

"you are what?" you exasperatedly rub at your temples with your eyes shut in the hopes that he'd just be straight with you.

"I am jealous." he starts. "god, all this time I tried to avoid the littlest thoughts about you, and now that you've grown up to be such a confident, intelligent and beautiful woman it's kind of hard not to be around you."

your head shoots up, almost breaking your neck at his confession. a million things were going on in your head but not a single thought was stable enough to comprehend that your crush throughout your childhood and teenage years had liked you all this time.

it took you so long to get over him, and after being completely over him for two long years, he's thrown away all your efforts.

"I... hate you." your voice breaks, tears threatening to run down your cheek, tired of his stupid games.

the warmth of his body starts radiating even more, feeling him lean closer than you already were. your eye contact lasts for less than a second until he crashes his lips on yours with his hands desperately fumbling with your arms and throwing it over his shoulders before finding purchase on your waist.

the kiss was messy. nothing but teeth clashing and heavy breaths until yeonjun swiftly swaps places with you and hits your back against the door, hard enough for it to just rattle gently.

"you don't hate me." yeonjun whispers before diving in to capture your lips again.

the pace of the kiss was starting to pick up; his hands gradually lifting your shirt until his hands were massaging and roaming over the mounds of your breasts through your bra, whining from the contact, and your fingers tangling themselves in his dishevelled hair.

you let out soft whimpers as soon as his plush lips peppers along the column of your neck, a heated trail over the hickeys that beomgyu had left before.

"I hate you so much," you whine.

"you look so hot marked up, too bad this area's been marked by someone else." he growls in your ear, while his hands busy themselves by tugging down your sweatpants.

the material of your sweatpants fell just above your knees and that was enough for yeonjun to slide his fingers into your panties, roughly circling your clit with his middle finger, making your core twitch with every circle he drew.

"oh fuck, jjun—" a moan got stuck in your throat while yeonjun went back to attacking your lips with soft nibbles on your bottom lip.

his lips descended down your body, from your neck, littering kisses over your breasts, down your navel and straight to your plush thighs. his finger stopped working on you and instead, grabbing ahold of one of your thighs to prop over his shoulder so he could kiss and suck on your inner thighs.

"you should be marked more often, only where I can see them." after leaving a mark on your skin, he sensually flicks his tongue on the surface, giving you a preview on what his tongue could be used for.

"shut up and eat me out already." you lace your fingers in his hair, tugging on them to inflict minor pain.

yeonjun's dick throbbed from the way you explicitly said that aloud, never thinking he'd hear you say that.

his hands steadied your hips, holding on tightly and kitten licking at your clit. the wet muscle twirling around your bundle of nerves had you holding in your moans, letting out airy grunts as an attempt.

"so sweet." yeonjun draws back before diving his face straight into your core, sticking his tongue out and lapping up at your entrance. you could feel the vibrations from his moans as soon as he sticks his tongue into your slick cunny. it was difficult to not get so wet when yeonjun's lips felt like heaven on yours, and you felt like your soul was ascending when they were all over your body.

"YJ— fuck, did you know I— mmh, liked you back then?" you struggle getting your sentence out when yeonjun's basically tongue fucking your pussy.

he ignores your question and groans against your core, his tongue reaching as far as it can inside you, but every time his nose bumped your clit you'd curl in a little. annoyed, you tug his hair back so he's looking up at you, the dim light in the toilet reflecting the sheen layer of spit and your arousal on his lips and dripping down his chin.

"I asked you a question."

he grabs your wrist, shaking off your hold on his roots and brought the back of your fingers to his lips. "I knew." and then he inserted your index and middle fingers past his lips, feeling his tongue dancing between and around your digits.

you could moan at the sight, knowing that he probably knows those are the two fingers you used to fuck yourself to the thought of him.

"then why didn't you say anything? do you know how hard I wanted you to notice me?" you almost whine.

"oh trust me, I always noticed you." he guides your fingers at your dripping entrance. "I didn't want to make a move because you're my best friend's little sister. Soobin would fucking kill me if I thought about you like that, hell, he'd kill me if he finds out I'm eating you out several rows away from him."

you wince at his choice of words, but more so when he flat tongues your clit while controlling your fingers pumping in and out of you. but it wasn't enough.

"jjun, I need more." you quietly cry behind the palm of your hand, trying to keep your cries at bay.

he sucks at your bead until a quick yelp slipped past your lips, grabbing him by the collar of his quarter-zip and pulling him up to kiss you. the taste of your arousal lingered on your tongue as he plays around with yours.

this was something you had wet dreams about. something that you desperately wanted every time you saw him come over. the things you would think about when he'd bring his then-girlfriends around when he was hanging out with soobin.

"please, I want to feel a little more." you hate to beg, but you were thinking, you're already in this situation, why not go the extra mile?

"of course, baby. anything for you." he switches up so easily now that he's confessed to you, wondering that all this time he could have been bearable if he had just told you, even if you were to keep it between yourselves, he would have been so much easier to deal with.

yeonjun spreads his wet kisses along your jaw and behind your ear, imitating your quiet moans as you continue to unzip his loose jeans, pulling them down just below his balls.

as he strokes his length, you lean your head against his shoulder, looking down and observing how pretty his dick is; the pink tip that's a similar tone to his lips with a clear bead of pre-cum dribbling out slowly. not to mention his girth was perfect to the point you could feel yourself aching to have him inside you.

"should I just put the tip in?" yeonjun mumbles by your temples.

he aligns the head of his cock at your entrance, feeling the faint stretch as it dips inside. you sigh, wanting more but he purposely slides it against your folds an swiping over your clit. the motion had you exhaling your breath that you had been subconsciously holding in ever since he was stroking himself.

"yeonjun, please. I want you inside of me." you beg so prettily that yeonjun could feel his dick twitch in his hand, his eyes tightly shut briefly.

"want you to feel good." his sentences have now reduced to wanting to please you, he didn't care about himself, though you're about to wet his dick, he was still doing whatever you wanted.

you hold onto his shoulders, one leg wrapped around his hip as he pushes in, feeling the delicious stretch against your walls. "gonna. fuck. you. so. good." he grunts in between shallow thrusts.

his hands are glued to your hips and under your thigh, holding you in place for him to fuck in this small compartment. but that doesn't stop him from eagerly reaching as deep as he can inside you. his thrusts get deeper after every other kiss you leave on his neck and collar bone, loving the way your lips makes his skin tingle.

the speed of yeonjun's thrusts get faster, and the hold your pussy has on his cock gets tighter. he has his eyes trained on your face, watching your brows knit and your mouth parting.

"mmhh yeah, that's it baby, right there." you moan by his ear and his pace picks up gradually. he loves the way you want more of his dick, not beomgyu's, but his.

the corners of his lips quirked up at the thought of you forgetting about beomgyu and wanting him at that moment. yeonjun wanted to take this chance to show you he could fuck you better than whatever beomgyu did.

"like that?" he whispers, pulling up your shirt and bra so your boobs were on full display.

he gawked at the sight of your bare chest in front of him, his hips not faltering a single bit; still aiming to make you cum on his dick. it took him no second thoughts to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, sucking and releasing with 'pop' sounds and repeating as he hears more of your mixture of moans and whimpers.

you loved the sensation of yeonjun's tongue and pillowy lips on your boobs, but his dick was starting to drill into you, feeling your mind going hazy with every stroke against your gummy walls.

"I'm close." you whimper above him, his lips still suckling at your aroused nipple and the other massaging it in the palm of his hand.

"wan' you to cum around me mommy." his words were muffled from his occupied mouth, but the slight rasp in the way he said it was ticking your orgasm closer by the millisecond.

yeonjun lets go of your boob and starts playing with your clit again, his thrusts doesn't falter even when you clench around him like a vice, your walls convulsing around him. your moans were becoming dangerously loud, and if it wasn't for yeonjun swallowing your moans by helplessly kissing you, then you were sure you would have a flight attendant knocking at the door.

your thighs start shaking under his hold as you leak down your legs but yeonjun pulls out, his cock still standing strong as reaches for the tissues to clean up your mess.

"feel better?" he wipes down the remaining droplets by your knees, before throwing the tissue away and tucking his hard dick into his baggy jeans.

you cock your head to the side, "you didn't cum?"

"it's okay, just wanted to make you feel good, remember? you were about to transform into a dragon out there with all your huffing and puffing. and even though I got my dick wet, at least it was by you." you slap his shoulder light-heartedly, scoffing at his comment before you both bursted into a shared laugh.

"you were irritating me that's why." you reply. "and you really are just that obsessed with me huh? that why your temper went down too?"

you watch him check up on himself through the mirror, relaying a slow nod to you. noting the faint couple of hickeys you left just under his collar, it's as if he knew what you were thinking and he zipped up his quarter-zip a little higher than before. he seemed more peaceful now, and you found it cute that the tip of his ears were blushing pink.

"I am obsessed with you. literally can't stop thinking about you." his hand reaches for your waist and brings you closer until your chests collide.

"okay, lover boy. take it easy on the simp talk." he scoffs, but the smile he has on his face seems like he's satisfied even when you haven't said how you currently feel towards him.

"can I have another kiss? literally miss your lips already." he kisses your shoulder slowly, maybe leaving two or three. something about that gesture made your heart drop.

you were selfish. you just met beomgyu who you have a good feeling about. but that isn't enough for you apparently. you have yeonjun wrapped around your finger and the fact that he's obsessed with you just as much as you were for him just feeds that emptiness you'd been feeling for so long.

"yn? you know you can say no." you snapped out of your thoughts and didn't realise there was a gap, as much as there can be, between you and yeonjun.

"kiss me." your hands are splayed flat on his chest, caressing the area with your thumb as he cups your cheek with one hand and pulls you in by the hip with the other.

your lips have only kissed three people in your lifetime. your first kiss in freshman year college, beomgyu and now yeonjun. but you seem just as in need of his lips as he is with yours. they were perfect and pouty. soft but also dangerously addictive. and the way he lets you lightly trap his bottom lip between your teeth just makes you want him even more.

you both pull away, a short string of saliva fallen from your lips which has yeonjun's eyes filled with lust for you.

"I- I think we should head out. we're lucky it isn't a full plane." you stutter from the gaze he had on you just a second before.

"it's fine. we'll never see these people again." yeonjun chuckles at you for your attempt at discretion. "and I don't think they cared enough to stop us."

you shrugg at his response, adjusting your shirt even though it still wasn't going to miraculously cover the hickeys beomgyu left.

as soon as you open the door, you step out first and yeonjun stepping out after with him faking a cover up conversation for the people you would walk past to hear, "are you feeling better now?"

you find your row and take your seat, nudging him, "oh shut up." and he laughs at your response.

you genuinely did feel better after the released tension, but now you just don't know how you're going about this sticky situation you were in. you see beomgyu slowly turn his head and you keep an eye on his purple hair until he looks at you, shooting you a smile.

and you still felt your heart skip a beat for him.

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[delopsia]

Erm, I would actually would like you to elaborate on milking Rhett if you feel like it.

Hell yeah, I'll elaborate 👁️👁️ now that I think about it, I have a slight memory of where I was going with that thought 💃

Notes for prostate stimulation, milking, and, of course, cum play. Minors and folks who have an agenda against playing with Rhett Abbott's ass, this is your queue to exit.

It's a little something that first kicks off when you and Rhett go out for lunch and find yourselves (unwillingly) eavesdropping on the conversation happening at the table across from yours. A little group of rodeo guys rambling on and on about their wild escapades and the craziest things they've done in bed. You and Rhett tried to ignore it; you really did, but you wound up listening when the guy in the red flannel mentioned a threesome in a Jurassic park themed hotel room.

You and Rhett are quietly giggling and whispering to each other until red flannel starts rambling on about how a girl convinced him to try milking a few weeks back. When Rhett's smile first falls, you honestly don't think much about it, but then red flannel starts going into detail, and Rhett's ears are turning redder by the second. It's like watching a cartoon, the longer the conversation goes, the redder your boyfriend becomes.

Your foot darts out to smack against the side of Rhett's boot, audibly jostling the spur that he forgot to take off. "You're awful red all of a sudden," spoken innocent as can be, like you can't possibly fathom what has him so flustered.

"Nothin," he shakes his head, eyes darting back down to his cold fries. He knows it's a lie. You know it's a lie. He knows that you know it's a lie.

Alas, it's one of those things that you giggle about on the drive home but forget about by the time the day is over.

It comes up again a few months later when you're both lying in bed, unable to sleep, and chatting about anything that happens to come to mind.

"Do y' remember them rodeo hands from the diner in town?" Rhett croaks, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"The ones who wouldn't quit talking about drunk hookups? And something about..." Hell. What's the word you're looking for? "Milking?"

His silence betrays him. You can hear how hard he swallows at that.

It's too dark to see, but you already know that his ears have flushed a bright, ruby red. Flustered? Too shy or embarrassed to say it out loud? Maybe it's all of the above.

"What?" You can only do so much to suppress the teasing lilt that colors your voice. "Is that something you may be into?"

Radio silence.

The cricket lurking outside the bedroom window chirps. Once. Twice.

"I don't know."

And, well, there's only one way to find out.

Rhett's hard before you even get those tiny black boxers past his thighs, cock slapping against his belly with a wet little 'smack' that bounces around the room. Even without light, it's impossible to miss the thick sheen of precum that spills out of his tip, dripping like a faucet, running down your fingers when you take him into your hand.

He's already so worked up that you hardly need to worry about going slow, only giving him a few seconds to adjust before you start working your hand over him in earnest. Oh, and the way he jumps when you do, those pretty hips rising up off the bed, chasing your touch as if he hasn't felt it in years.

And you're just so quick about it. It's hardly been a few minutes, and he's already babbling about being close, whining low in his throat as you drag that first orgasm out of him.

"Wait, wait, wait, shit—hah!" Shaky hands reach down to paw at you, half-heartedly trying to push you away, but there's no real effort behind it. His thighs flutter, a stray knee knocking into your side as you keep working over his softening length, his own cum slickening the glide.

"Too much?" You ask, fighting back a smile; he's wiggling against the mattress, slowly scooting himself up toward the headboard, but he isn't getting away from you.

Rhett's head shakes, the faintest 'nuh-uh' falling out of him as he blindly reaches over to the bedside table, all but tossing the half-empty bottle of lube at you. He hardly has to tell you what he wants, his half-assed attempt at spreading his legs is enough.

"You already want my fingers?" Feigning shock, as if you're somehow scandalized that he could already want such a thing.

"Mhm," Rhett isn't paying attention, unfocused baby blues glued to the sight of you pouring the lube onto three of your fingers. Three. Always three.

Wordless, you reach down, dipping between those plush, pale thighs to brush your wet fingertips against his entrance. Such a simple touch, and yet you can feel him clench around nothing.

But there's still something you're looking for. "Talk to me, Rhett."

"Yes," blurting out of him in an instant. Hopelessly impatient. "I...I do."

A little shiver races through him the moment that first finger breaches him, mouth falling open to form a soft 'o' shape. There's really no need for distraction, but your unoccupied hand begins to lazily work his half-hard cock anyway.

Fuck he's wet. Precum beading at his tip, spilling over the moment you press a second finger inside. He's tight. Rhythmically fluttering around you, and there's no pleasure that you could possibly get from it, but heat sparks between your thighs anyway.

You're not looking for his prostate yet, but you know you've bumped into it when his legs flutter around you, trying and failing to close. That third finger can't join quickly enough, crooking upward to rub against what feels like a little ball of nerves that have him squealing.

"Fuck!" Rhett's cock jolts in your hand, his body suddenly a live wire beneath you. Squirming against the sheets. "I—oh shit, oh my god, right there, ah!"

Silence falls. His mouth hangs open, but nothing ever escapes. Those eyes roll, and then...

He's cumming again. A strangled gasp bolts out of him just as a short rope of cum spurts out of him, painting his belly before you can catch it. His hips are bucking now, just as strong as those bulls he rides, but he can't shake you loose. The tips of your fingers still spiral into his prostate, a target you can't let yourself lose, albeit moving slower the more he huffs and puffs.

"No, no, no, keep—" he doesn't have to finish that thought. You hardly need any encouragement, working your hand in tandem with the fingers shallowly thrusting into his ass.

But your thumb swipes over his tip.

And he jumps once more. Cock weakly spasming in your gasp, a short rope of cum covering your hand. You're not sure what set him off so fast, but you're keen to find out, hardly even trying to slow down this time.

"Rodeo." It's there, and it's gone in a second, hardly even a whisper, but you catch it.

One last second tap against his prostate is all it takes to draw one more orgasm out of him. Watery eyes roll back into his skull, body jolting as the smallest bit of watery cum all but drools out of him, hardly even enough to amount to anything.

"Shit," sucking in a breath, "shit, you just," gasp, "you just made me cum again." Shocked. Like he didn't even see that one coming. But that awestruck gaze melts into a giggle as quickly as it arrives, lazily reaching for you with shaky arms.

"What was that, three? Four?" You chirp as you climb up the side of the bed, winded despite hardly doing much work at all.

"Felt like..." the thought visibly evaporates from his head, thin lips floundering for a word that isn't there. He gives up, dropping his head onto the pillow. "I dunno. A lot more than that."

Rhett Abbott may have just been replaced with a giggling ball of putty because that's all he is now. Incapable of doing anything but lay against you and laugh every time he remembers what just happened.

You would think that wearing him out like this would have him hesitant to jump to the concepts of a second time, but he's babbling about it before you've even gotten him up and into a bath. Something about wanting to try it with restraints and that new stroking sleeve that you bought six months ago and have yet to take out of its packaging.

You're gonna have to buy more lube.