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444venicebitch444 · 14 days ago

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a/n: ty guys so much for all the love on my last post, i absolutely wasn’t expecting it. probably gonna write something about joel miller in the next few days. if you have requests, send away, ly!

simon riley who gets a new neighbour that won’t keep her fucking blinds closed.

he'd seen the moving truck, a pretty bird thanking the movers and hadn’t thought much of it; he wasn’t one to make conversation with his neighbors, so he minded his own business.

or at least he tried, but it was real fucking difficult when he could see through your windows at any god given moment.

at the beginning it wasn’t even intentional, he actually found himself getting annoyed at how exposed you were. did you have no fucking self preservation sense, letting anyone and everyone look into your house? christ, people these days.

but then the fascination creeped in and he couldn’t help but let his eyes travel to you. watching as you sat on the couch on your phone, watching tv, reading, whatever.

he observed as you came home from work, talking on your phone way too loudly for his liking, or laughing like the girls he always found insufferable in school when your friends came over.

after only a few weeks he put a name, and every other thing there was to know, to the pretty face. not like it was hard: you had your name on your mailbox, public social media profiles, and readily available professional and academic information on the first page of his google search.

simon knew it was weird, that he should stop watching, maybe mention your lack of blinds to you, but he couldn’t. not when he saw you undressing in a way that felt like you knew he was watching, like you were doing this on purpose, teasing him.

he tried telling himself that this was a bloody mid-life crisis, that he was too bored after retiring and needed to pull his shit together, but it did little to quell his growing enchantment.

so when he saw you struggling with your ground floor window, a rusted old thing he’d noticed quite a while ago, he exited his home withe the excuse of collecting his mail despite his mailbox being empty and shot a casual, gruff “everything all right?”

you were polite, sweet, assured him it was nothing, just the old house acting up, but he insisted.

he pulled at the old wooden frame with big, calloused hands, your gaze inevitably slipping to his strong, ink covered bicep, the muscle flexing as the window finally budged.

he noticed your look, of course he did, and couldn’t suppress a tiny smirk as he stepped back, “there you go, love”.

you thanked him profusely, then introduced yourself, obtaining his name right back, and offered him a cup of tea, but simon wanted to take his time. he had to think with his head, not his cock, and make sure you were the right one before getting himself too invested.

so, despite every bone in his body wanting to do the opposite, he refused “maybe some other time”

“I’m holding you to that, simon” you smiled and the sound of his name dripping from your lips like the sweetest of honies almost made his knees buckle.

after your interaction simon got more diligent, looking for anything wrong with you, anything to turn him away, to put a stop to this; but he couldn’t.

every bit of information he attained made him fall deeper, fed his growing love for you, validated the idea he had created in his head. you were bloody perfect for him.

so he did take you up on your offer of tea and biscuits, and showed up at your doorstep.

the sight of you greeting him with a soft smile and wearing a pretty sundress almost had him throwing his self control out the window and just telling you how you were made to be his. but he resisted.

he was a little awkward, but in a strangely endearing way. he made you laugh (god, he would die a happy man if your laughter was the last thing he heard), and was respectful, polite.

and obviously you found him attractive, you weren’t being exactly subtle: simon knew he wasn’t that funny and that there was absolutely no need for you to grab his arm as you giggled.

simon held onto every touch, every laugh, every time his name left your mouth like a man starved, his chest warming at the realization that he might have a chance, that you might love him back if he made an effort.

and sure, he might’ve placed a tiny listening device under your coffee table while you made a second kettle of tea, but that was just because he wanted to understand you better. to know how to please you, how to make you happy.

the ego boost he go from it a few days later as he listened in on your phone call was just a bonus. he couldn’t help the smile that decorated his face as you ranted to you friend, “he’s, like, unbelievably hot, build like a fucking tank. and sweet too! i know fucking your neighbour isn’t a good idea but christ”.

so you could imagine his surprise when he saw you come out of a car that wasn’t yours, an arm that wasn’t his around your waist. when the wanker kissed you at your doorstep, practically eating your face off, his fists clenched, blunt nails leaving bloody crescent moons on his palm.

who the fuck was that bloke? what the fuck were you doing? didn’t you like him? hadn’t you said that-

simon took a deep breath. he needed to calm down.

this wasn’t your fault, of course it wasn’t. you didn’t know how he felt, he hadn’t told you yet, how were you supposed to know?

you were his sweet, little bird, you’d never do anything to purposely hurt him. you weren’t like that.

so any ounce of anger towards you disappeared as soon as it appeared. that man, though?

the entire night, simon seethed. he’d closed his curtains but the image of him around you was burned on the front of his brain and he fantasised. fantasised about being the one driving you home, kissing you, pulling you upstairs, tasting you, burying himself into you as you screamed out his name. fantasised about crushing that man’s skull, cutting him up limb by limb, making him eat his own tongue, teaching him to keep it in his mouth instead of letting it slip into yours.

but simon wasn’t one to just steep in his fury, he did something about it.

so in the morning, as soon as he saw you and the asshole go downstairs, he turned the volume up on the laptop hooked to the listening device as he got dressed.

the guy offered to make you breakfast, and simon’s eyes damn near fell from his skull at how fast they rolled.

“that’s…nice, but I have to go to work, micheal” your voice came out static-y from the old computer, but the annoyance in it was unmistakable. simon knew you didn’t work on saturdays and it made him grin: you didn’t even like the bloke, you just needed a shag. and while simon didn’t exactly approve the way about which you went about it (i mean, he was literally across the street, love), he could understand that.

had you thought of him while he fucked you? had you imagined his strong arms around you? his cleft lip against your plush ones?

simon realised something good had come out of your little hook up: it had given him a courage of sorts. you were his, not this man’s who he was sure hadn’t fucked you right, who certainly didn’t love you as much as he did, and who wasn’t even enjoyable enough to keep around for breakfast.

so that same afternoon, he knocked on your door, had another cuppa and finally asked you on a date, being met with the brightest smile you’d given him as of yet, and making you promptly forget about micheal.

which was good because simon really didn’t want you knowing about how micheal hadn’t shown up to work the next day and the police had found his car abandoned, specs of blood on the seat.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #simon riley #cod fic #cod fanfic #cod x reader

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inkandapex · 9 days ago

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you are so kindness

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary: Lando and his girlfriend, Y/N, spend time unboxing and reading heartfelt gifts and letters from his fans.

Words: 1.05k

Warnings: none

Lando sat in front of the camera, comfortably settled in what appeared to be his apartment. Beside him, several bags overflowed with letters and gifts—tokens of appreciation from fans collected throughout race weekends.

"Right, so—" He clapped his hands together, ruffling his curls absentmindedly as he figured out how to begin.

"A while back, I filmed a video reading a compilation of really sweet messages from young fans. My team and I saw how much it meant to them, so we wanted to do something similar. This time, as a way of showing appreciation for all the effort you guys put into making these gifts, we've gathered a bunch of them here, and we’ll be going through them together." He gestured at the bags surrounding him, a warm smile tugging at his lips.

As he took in the sheer amount of mail, Lando let out a small chuckle. "I doubt I’ll get through all of these by myself, so I’ve brought in some help—my lovely assistant for today." He grinned at someone off-camera before patting the spot beside him.

Y/N walked into frame, settling down next to him with an easy smile. She glanced at him before turning to the camera. "Hey guys, I’m Lando’s assistant for the day."

"My beautiful assistant here actually helped collect these gifts—whether from fans at the track or people we ran into on the streets."

Y/N nodded, looking around at the colourful packages. "I’m really excited. I’ve already seen some of these, and they’re really cool. You guys are so talented."

"Alright, let’s get started." Lando reached into the nearest bag, pulling out a handful of letters. As he read through them, he skipped over certain parts, but the way his face softened showed how much the words meant to him.

Meanwhile, Y/N unwrapped a small package, revealing a set of handmade beaded bracelets in papaya colors, complete with Lando’s initials and a tiny version of his race helmet.

"Lan, look!" She held them up, making him pause mid-sentence. Turning to the camera, she showed off the bracelets with a grin.

"Those are sick," Lando said, taking one and slipping it onto his wrist before grabbing the other and gently putting it on Y/N. "We actually love these—we’ve got a whole box of them somewhere in the apartment."

"I'm pretty sure I have one that says 'Smooth Operator,'" Y/N laughed. "Not sure if the fan meant to give it to me or if they wanted you to pass it on to Carlos, but either way, we kept it!"

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "Carlos is gonna love that."

And with that, they continued sifting through the gifts, their easy banter filling the room as they shared moments of appreciation for the fans who had taken the time to send them something special.

Lando picked up a letter, his smile widening as he began to read aloud.

"Dear Lando... My dad told me I could be just like you one day. I also want to drive really fast cars. P.S. I think your hair is really nice. P.P.S. Can Y/N and I be friends too?"

He let out a chuckle, glancing over at Y/N before handing her the letter.

Y/N skimmed through it, her expression softening. "Of course we can be friends!" she said brightly, looking into the camera with a warm smile.

They continued opening gifts, appreciating each thoughtful item. But when Y/N pulled out a beautifully crocheted tote bag—designed with Lando’s helmet pattern—she let out an audible gasp, holding it up for the camera.

Lando chuckled, immediately recognizing the look in her eyes. "You want it, huh?"

Y/N nodded eagerly, giving him a hopeful glance.

His features softened. "I don’t think they’ll mind if you have it, my love," he said with a fond smile before turning back to his own box.

Y/N peeked inside the bag, pulling out the accompanying letter. As she read it, a soft laugh escaped her lips, catching Lando’s attention.

"What?" he asked, pausing mid-unwrapping.

"It’s for me," she said, biting back a grin.

"The tote?"

"Yeah, they made it for me," she confirmed, handing him the letter as proof.

Lando scanned the note before shaking his head with a smirk. "Guess I should’ve known."

Y/N beamed, hugging the bag close. "I love it even more now."

"Look at this," Lando grinned, holding up a sheet of fan-made Sonny Angel stickers—tiny, cherubic versions of himself, Oscar, and Carlos.

"Ah!" Y/N gasped, immediately reaching for her phone. She flipped it over to show the camera her phone case, which had the same Lando Sonny Angel sticker stuck to the back. "The fan from Australia gave me some when I saw her!"

Lando’s expression softened as he looked at her. "Glad you’re repping the right person," he teased. "Bet you don’t have this, though." With a triumphant smirk, he pulled out a Miffy plushie—dressed in a tiny replica of his racing suit, complete with a mini helmet in its hands.

Y/N let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth. "That’s adorable!"

Lando turned to the camera knowingly. "She’s gonna ask me for it—"

"This one's mine too, actually," Y/N cut in before he could finish.

Lando blinked, looking over to see her holding a letter she had just fished out from the box. He leaned over to peek at it before shaking his head with a dramatic sigh.

"Why do I have a feeling half of these are actually meant for you now?" he pouted, reluctantly handing over the plushie.

Y/N took it eagerly, a wide smile spreading across her face as she admired it. "What can I say?" she grinned, squeezing the tiny Miffy. "They love me."

ando squinted dramatically at the camera. "And here I was thinking I was your favorite because of my kindness."

Y/N smirked, immediately catching onto the reference. "You are so kindness, Lando. We love your kindness," she teased, perfectly mimicking Oscar from their last video.

Lando burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Thank you, my love. I try," he said, voice laced with faux humility. Then, with a soft chuckle, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Y/N beamed, playfully nudging him. "You’re so humble too."

"Truly the full package," Lando sighed, before reaching for another gift, still grinning.

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vxnuslogy · 7 months ago

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— pasalubong.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: kinich wasn't a sentimental person at heart, until you left to travel. neither was he easily upset, but here he was, undoubtedly upset that you didn't give him a gift with your recent package.

— warnings: ooc-kinich and ajaw (still havent done the new aq), he's a bit down bad, and misses you dearly.

— author's note: this is not angst despite the premise LMFAO. art credits to @.n429g on twt. | 1.6k words.

“delivery for kinich!” a mail man shouted, trying his best to not look down over the ledge the scions of the canopy is held. “delivery for ki—”

“i heard ya!” the small dragon yells, taking the sealed letter and small box from the man’s hands and throws a pouch of mora as thanks.

the man sweat drops at the comical sight of the tiny dragonlord floating up to where kinich was. said man was dangling his legs over the ledge, hair swaying with the wind and an indifferent look on his face as he swats away his small companion and roughly takes the letter in his hands. he could only assume that the two had started another argument once again.

with a sigh, he cups a hand to his mouth and shouts, “thank you for your patronage!”

kinich looked in his direction and gave him a small nod. there were few postal workers here in natlan, so he made sure to at least pay the man generously—especially with how his legs shake and hand clutch the side of the mountain for dear life.

ajaw continued to punch and tug at his head but his attention had zeroed in on the envelope. it felt heavier than the last and you had sent a small package with it. ‘for my dearest, kinich & almighty dragon lord, ajaw.’ the small note said with your signature right below it as well as a wax seal at the corner. your penmanship makes kinich smile and before ajaw can open his mouth, he takes the grapple on his waist and zips away to find a secluded place to open your gifts. they were sacred to him and therefore had to be treated with utmost care.

when he lands on teticpac peak, he sits down by one of the rocks and gently peels away the seal. kinich makes a mental note to stop by a market to get a new container for all your letters, after all, his bedside drawer can only hold so much of you over the years.

‘to my dearest, kinich,’

with just four words, you had him smiling like a fool. one hand propped behind his back to support his weight as he leisurely soaks in your stories like a sponge. ajaw sits by his shoulder, impatiently demanding him to open the box that came along with your letter. kinich was not even half way with reading before he relented—you always had a knack for making pages and pages of stories, but he didn’t mind. you have been away for nearly 7 years now and send only a letter or two every few years. kinich learned to appreciate the pages of your love every time they arrive.

“hurry up!” ajaw demanded, waiting with bated breath as kinich opened the box. “learn to be patient, ajaw.”

the dragon only huffed and turned around but it didn’t take long before he dove head first into the array of gifts. while his little companion drowned in material luxuries, kinich took out items in piles and made a mental note to give them to their respective owners.

kinich tucked the small pouch with xilonen’s name along with your letter for her at his side. he will deliver these to her first, he concludes. as he’s sifting through the items, kinich catches a glimpse of ajaw sitting on a toy fox’s head with a small note with kachina’s name. the final item that seemed important was a small box containing colorful seashells with mualani’s name on it.

his brows furrowed in confusion as he sets all the gifts down carefully and sifts through the package one more time. and again, and again, until his lower back felt sore. ajaw noticed his antsy behavior and decided to look at what all the fuss was about. kinich sat down, head lowered with his bangs covering his eyes—ajaw was beginning to worry (but he would rather die than verbally admit it).

“hey!” ajaw turned to kinich who had stiffly stood up. clutching at your letter as the sliver of expectancy in his eyes dimmed. “don't tell me they actually forgot about you?”

“let’s go back,” he says with a subtly sullen voice. “we have to deliver these to the others.”

ajaw makes no further comment and sits on his shoulder as they zip from one place to another. he doesn’t point out the way kinich’s eyes looked duller and the way a frown tugged at his lips—he was upset.

“hmph! i'll be sure to show them a piece of my mind when they get back!" the dragon complains to him as they arrive back home. kinich beelined his way back to his residence, a bit more aggressive than he normally would.

he doesn’t want to admit that he was upset—it was stupid. so what if you didn’t get him a gift after not hearing from you for almost a year? but how come everyone else had one? hell even citlani and mavuika received one, so why didn’t he?

with a click of his tongue he pushed past all the people in his way, muttering half hearted apologies here and there as ajaw kept calling his name. kinich was not upset nor was he disappointed—he wasn’t a child chasing after the trail of gold you left behind anymore. he was an adult now, someone people look up to and admire. kinich was no longer the shy kid that always wondered if he could ever chase after you.

“kinich!”

with the shout of his name, he was taken back to memory lane. how you would call to him from the ground, a pair of wheels at your feet as you glided through the rocky terrain as if it were made of ice. the smile you flash him as you point to your finish line makes his heart skip a few beats, rendering him only to reply in a nod because his mind has turned into a mushy puddle.

“kinich!”

you have always been golden in his eyes. smiles bright like the sun, kindness gentle like its morning rays, and hypnotizing in the starry trail you leave behind. kinich remembers the first time he tried his hands on rollerblades. he felt unwittingly afraid of standing on his own two feet, the possibility of his world turning upside down with one single step scared him. but you were always there to ward away his fears. it wasn’t long before he took them off and said with a dead expression that he will never try them again. the laugh that he managed to steal from your lungs made all his suffering worth it.

“kinich!”

he doesn’t like letting things go, not when you’ve taught him how to cherish every little thing. but he’d hate himself if he kept you from your dreams. so there he was, all those years ago, standing by natlan’s borders, unable to say goodbye as the rest bid theirs. you had to make him face you—gently cupping his jaw with both hands and flashing a small smile, giving him a tempting offer.

“let me stay,” you said. you were willing to give up your dreams if it meant making him happy. kinich didn’t want his happiness, he wanted yours.

“leave,” he said bluntly. it made you laugh because it sounded incredibly rude, but the way he held your hand in his shaking hold, lip bitten until it almost bled, everyone knew he was struggling the most.

“i’ll give you souvenirs,” you offered as consultation and it took every willpower he had to say he only wanted you.

“i’ll keep them safe.” he replied and you smiled.

“kinich!”

urging you to travel has been the best and worst decision in his life—you were enjoying your life but he was stuck missing you. his longing for the sun in his life greatly outweighed his happiness for you. how can he be happy when happiness is spelled with your name? the way you smile, and the way you leave a golden trail?

“kinich.”

“ajaw, enou—” his sentence was cut off when he turned to look at the smiling faces of his tribe. brows furrowed in confusion as he searched the crowd for a certain green dragon, but all his eyes could see was gold.

the wind in his lungs was stolen as the images of smiling faces turn to fade, his attention solely on you in the distance, ajaw by your side as you both waved him over. as fast as the winds could take him, kinich ran straight in your arms—his home. your laugh ringed like morning birds and your hands felt warm like the afternoon heat. you were home; you were his gift.

“pasalubong, for kinich,” you say with a teasing lilt to your voice.

“pasalubong?” he repeats, hands coming to cradle your smiling face. “what does that mean?”

you smile wider and hold his hands with your own. “it means gifts given by homecomers. but,” you tuck away a stray piece of his hair behind his ear as you tempt him in another embrace. “it can also mean ‘to meet again.’”

kinich laughed—airy and bright, like the setting sun. this was so you, he thought, burying his head in your neck. trying to make up for all the lost physical contact he had missed.

“thank you for the gift.” he said with a smile.

you pat him on the back and hummed in delight. “i came back just for you.”

“i’m honered,” he jests and takes a step back, not letting your hand go. “you should be! the trip back home is nothing short of tedious!”

he chuckles because kinich knows he’s a goner. no need for xilonen’s amused teasing, mualani’s persistence and kachina’s curiosity. everyone in his tribe and maybe even natlan knew, kinich would wait for you knowing you’ll eventually come home to him.

#—stellaronhvnters.#kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact kinich #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Text

Rub You the Right Way

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating

Summary: You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you wonder that maybe your sweet and quiet neighbor has wild side, one you’re curious to see for yourself.

Author’s Notes: First Choso fic! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Consider this my unofficial return from hiatus. Enjoy! Divider by the wonderful and super talented @/cafekitsune!

part 7 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

The trek home from the office is especially grueling today. Your backpack is heavy with a clunky work laptop that’s been due for an upgrade along with a pile of documents that need to be reviewed ASAP. One hand carries the dinner you bought at the station while the other hoists a heavy bag of groceries you picked up during lunch, thinking it would be productive to get as much of your errands done today before hunkering down for the weekend to do a job that doesn’t pay you enough to work overtime.

You eventually arrive to your apartment complex, making one more necessary pit stop to the mail room. Inside, you recognize the distinct pink-hair of the boy standing in front of the lockers. He’s your next-door neighbor’s younger brother who visits from time-to-time. “Hi Yuji!” you beam at him.

He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”

You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”

He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”

“Are you picking up your brother’s packages?” It’s a well-known fact by now that Choso isn’t fond of leaving his apartment or interacting with people in general. It doesn’t bother you though; he’s a great neighbor who barely makes a peep. Never has he ever rubbed you the wrong way, despite his reclusive nature. Sometimes, through his brother, he’ll give you an offering of cookies from the batch he baked that week. On the days you’re working overtime, he’ll send Yuji to check in on you, making sure you’re not too stressed or overexerted. And on the rare occasion that the two of you meet face-to-face, either entering or leaving the apartment at the same time, your heart skips just the tiniest beat at how his face softens when you greet him with a smile. From these tiny gestures alone, you’ve determined that Choso Kamo is a sweetheart. Quiet, but most importantly, a sweetheart.

Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”

You stare at the small package in your own locker, evaluating how you’re going to carry it to your room in one trip. There’s no space in any of the bags and you’re almost convinced that you can balance it on top of your head as if you actually possess the proper skills to do so (you don’t). “Need help?” Yuji chuckles. Before you answer, he grabs it, placing it on top of a box similar in size on his stack.

“Thank you so much!”

As the elevator rides to the third floor, you continue to chat casually with Yuji. The two of you walk to your neighboring rooms and when he reaches for his keys, the stack topples over, the boxes now strewn across on the hallway floor. He blushes, collecting them hastily back into a neat pile. “I’m sorry, I hope there isn’t anything fragile in there.” He quickly slides you a box, avoiding your gaze to hide his embarrassment.

It's new office supplies you ordered for your workstation at home, so you hardly care even if there is a bit of damage done. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good,” you assure him, using your foot to push it towards your front door. “Thank you for your help, Yuji. Tell your brother I say hi.”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

Finally home, you drop all your belongings, letting out a relieved sigh. One-by-one, you put everything away: the groceries in their appropriate places, your lukewarm dinner in the microwave, and all your work junk on the dining table, where you’ll be sat at for most of this weekend starting tomorrow. You save the package for later, planning to refill your supplies tonight so you don’t have to worry about it the next morning.

You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside.

~~~

Choso is sprawled on the couch, too lazy to cook dinner. He ordered delivery from Yuji’s favorite pizza joint a few blocks away, which should be arriving any minute now, according to his calculations. When he hears the door open, he sits up, watching his brother enter with a tower of boxes in his hands. “I don’t remember ordering that much stuff,” he grumbles, standing up to help him.

“Most of these are mine. I think only this one is yours.” Yuji passes him a small box, which Choso quickly grabs to toss into his room, hoping to avoiding any questions about it. Truth be told, the contents of that box is way too embarrassing to explain to his precious baby brother. Inside is the sex toy he recently purchased online. It’s essentially a silicone cock sleeve, open on both ends for simple clean-up, made entirely of pliable material for ease and comfort. To put it simply, it’s a fleshlight. A state-of-the-art, new and improved fleshlight, he would like to emphasize. He’s been looking forward to using it all week and once Yuji leaves tonight, he’s going to give it a proper test run until he’s a puddle in the sheets.

It’s been a while since Choso’s been intimate with someone other than himself. A few bad breakups and past betrayals have led him to distrust most people outside of his intimate circle. The unpredictable nature of people, strangers, is frightening to him, so it’s better to avoid them completely. He has the luxury of working a job that’s fully remote, and aside from his brothers and the few colleagues he is forced to converse with periodically, it’s easy for him to remain a recluse, and he’s perfectly content with that. As for his sexual needs, he’s managed to make it this far in this drought thanks to sex toys and pornography. And while he’s aware that it’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, it works for him.

“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”

Choso says your name in the form of a question to clarify, though he’s certain of the answer. The only other human contact he has outside his circle is with you, his next-door neighbor. He doesn’t leave the house much, but on the occasion he does, he always hopes it’s you he runs into. He often worries that one day, you’ll realize what a pathetic loner he is and stop showing him that gorgeous smile of yours. So far, that hasn’t happened yet, so he cherishes those tiny moments every chance he gets. Something about that smile, something about you, makes him feel good. Safe.

“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”

Before Choso can inquire any further, there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of their pizza. After thanking the delivery man, the two gather at the dining table, ready to dig into their dinner. Choso listens intently as Yuji laments on his weekly occurring university woes with a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. As much as he adores his younger brother, he’s eager for his departure so he can have alone time to break in his new toy.

At eleven, without a crumb left of the pizza and the recycling bin filled with flattened cardboard boxes, Yuji finally announces that he’s leaving. He stuffs his newly delivered items, which includes textbooks, notepads, and a bunch of miscellaneous items, in his bag. “I’ll see you next week, bro. Take care of yourself,” he says, squeezing his big brother into a warm embrace. There’s always the smallest hint of concern in his voice whenever he leaves like this. Does he worry about him? For living a life of seclusion, constantly in fear of the outside world? Sure, it may sound lonely. In fact, it is lonely. But it’s easier to stay safe in the comfort of his own home than risk being hurt from the unknown. It’s better this way…isn’t it?

Choso muses on his brother’s parting words in the silence of his apartment for much longer than he intends to. He decides that the best way to keep him from spiraling further is a distraction, and that means fucking himself silly into temporary bliss until he knocks out for the night. Hidden away in various drawers of his bedroom are a plethora of options to choose from: vibrators, masturbators, cock rings, even the sex doll tucked deep in his closet. Tonight, however, is all about his shiny new toy. Pristine and untouched for him to ruin as much as he wants. He picks it up from the floor, ripping the tape off quickly, too impatient to inspect the exterior for any potential damage. When a stapler drops, almost hitting his feet, he stares down at it, confused. Thinking it’s a weird bonus item the sex shop has sent him, he chuckles nervously, still searching. Each item he uncovers leaves him more and more baffled: a container of paper clips, a wad of sticky notes, bundles of red pens, another fucking stapler. Finally, he checks the shipping label ripped partially from his haste, whatever color remaining on his face draining completely.

This isn’t his. It’s yours.

Which means…

By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.

She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.

Oh fuck.

~~~

It’s near midnight when you’re ready to turn in for the night. You almost forget about the box sitting idly on the floor by your shoes, exactly where you left it a few hours ago. With your computer all set up for work tomorrow, you think it’s best to organize your new supplies before you actually do forget. At your desk, you open the package with a pair of scissors, excited for the new staplers you bought, a standard one and a heavy duty one. It’s surprising how neatly it’s wrapped, covered in tissue paper like some sort of gift. After removing all the extra layers, you finally get to the reveal, which renders you speechless.

Nestled neatly amongst more delicate tissue paper, the translucent material almost luminous against the dim glow from the lamplight, is a sex toy. Call it what you want: a penis stroker, a male masturbator, a pocket pussy. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind what is before you. A fucking fleshlight.

Besides the obvious appearance, the dead giveaway is the user manual included with it, displaying in big, bold print “The Cock Stroker 3000 – New and Improved!”. Lifting the box up to inspect the shipping label, you notice that it says Choso’s name, not yours. If you weren’t so stunned by this unexpected discovery, you’d be giggling at the absurdity of it all. Instead, you’re gawking at the lewd gadget, unsure what to do next.

“Fuck!”

An intense shout from the other side of the wall snaps you out of it. That’s the loudest you’ve ever heard your neighbor, and you can only assume that he has also just realized this unfortunate mix-up. There’s no way the two of you can pretend this isn’t happening. Besides, the last thing you want is for Choso to think you have a bad impression of him after this. Because you don’t, not one bit. It’s perfectly normal for people to have sex toys. In fact, it’s healthy. Even the thought of him using it on himself intrigues you. The hungry expression on his face, tongue lolling out of his mouth, those usually pale cheeks blushing a deep red. The obscene squelch of the wet silicone surrounding his engorged cock, leaking with precum. Closer and closer to the edge, ready to burst any second with your lips near the tip, ready to swallow his load…

You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.

Ultimately, you decide the best way to move forward from this is to nip it in the bud. With the opened package in your hands, you walk over to his front door, knocking three times. You hear a faint, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” from within, then hurried footsteps growing louder. Without removing the chain lock, he answers, peering at you through the narrow crack, not saying anything.

Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”

He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”

You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”

He shuts the door suddenly, startling you. There’s the distinct rattle of the chain being fiddled with and the door swings open fully, Choso towering over you, a serious expression on his face. He shows you a box, revealing all the office supplies you ordered earlier in the week. Without saying another word, you do the exchange, anticipating that this will be the end of it.

It surprises you when he apologizes quietly, focused on the small space separating you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He hides it behind his back, as if doing so will erase the image of it from your memory. “You must think I’m disgusting.”

You shake your head, ignoring the instinct to step closer and comfort him with a hug. The last thing you want to do is cross even more lines tonight. “I don’t, not even the slightest. It’s okay, Choso. This is totally normal and totally fine.”

“You don’t have to say that – ”

“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”

This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”

“I’m not lying!” you urge him.

He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”

With that, he shuts the door, leaving you with a lump in your throat, devastated. In your frenzied attempt to fix this, you return to your room, searching your bedside drawer for your favorite vibrator. If words aren’t enough to convince him, then maybe actual proof will. Without taking a moment to reconsider the hole you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into, you pound on his door, the sex toy clasped in your other hand.

When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”

He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”

You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”

“One button is all I need,” you argue, defensive about your favorite being criticized. “Sure, it’s small, but that’s what I like about it. It fits comfortably in my hand and with just a single push of the button, I can experience three different levels of intensity. What more do I need?!”

He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.” It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering.

You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”

“3000,” he corrects, grinning, causing your heart to race. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s the best on the market right now.” He hesitates, his next words coming out of his mouth slowly, testing the waters. “Maybe you can show me what your little toy can do. Prove me wrong.”

You never expected this from him, but that’s what makes this exciting. All you can think of in this moment is showing him just how wet you can get. “Fine,” you agree, stepping towards him. “But only if you show me what your little toy can do, too.”

~~~

Never in a million years did Choso predict that this would be the outcome of your bizarre mix-up. You, his next-door neighbor, on his bed, naked from the waist down. Your t-shirt riding up your stomach with your legs split apart, the cute vibrator you love so much pressed to your clit. He kneels in front of you, too transfixed at the erotic sight before him to give attention to the erection strained in his sweatpants.

“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.

He nods, all the confidence he had just a few minutes ago when he initially proposed this idea thrown out the window. Now, he’s back to being his nervous self, afraid to be vulnerable with someone he barely knows.

You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”

He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything and –

“Hey.” It’s only now he realizes that the two of you are face-to-face, foreheads pressed, noses touching. Your voice is gentle, your palms soft on his cheeks. You smile at him, full of warmth and compassion. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone,” he admits. “I’m nervous.” A myriad of what-ifs play out in his head. What if he’s bad? What if you don’t like it? What if this ruins whatever sliver of hope the two of you have at being friends? At being anything more?

“We’ll go slow then,” you assure him, brushing your lips to his. That genuine smile of yours is enough to convince him that it’s worth the risk. That, and how fucking good it feels to have your mouth on his. He closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing the warmth of your breath. He finds himself gradually losing control of his inhibitions, his carnal instincts taking over, hungry for more of you. He slips his tongue inside, swirling around yours, kisses growing frantic and sloppy. You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. His heart pounds in his chest as he roams your body, fingers grazing your perked nipples from outside your top. You whisper his name, so luscious and sweet in your voice. He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined it before. How you’d sound whimpering from his touch. How you’d feel between his massive hands. How you’d look with his cock filling you up to the brim.

He can’t stand it anymore. He’s aching, begging for release from the confines of his pants. Quickly, he removes them, freeing his throbbing erection. You gasp, marveling at the size of it. “Oh fuck, Choso. You’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fumbling for the Cock Sucker 3000 beside him. He slathers a generous amount of lube on his shaft and inside the toy. Foreheads pressed together once more, you both focus on his lap, watching it sink smoothly down his dick. The coldness of the lube and rubbery flexibility of the silicone surrounding him is familiar, though having someone spectate makes this all the more titillating.

“Fuck,” you swear, amazed at how it covers his entire length. You ogle at him as he starts slowly, eventually increasing to a steady pace. Your pussy flutters, incredibly aroused to see this man pumping his cock in front of you. For you.

“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”

You spread your legs, displaying your cunt to him, already sopping wet with arousal. His eyes follow your every move as you tease the tip slowly up and down your pussy lips. Finding the right spot on your clit, you place your finger on the button of the toy, bracing yourself for what’s to come. As soon as you press it, the vibrations from level one alone are enough to send you wild. Knees shaking, feet flexing, moans pouring out of your open mouth. He continues to watch you, restraining his grunts as he strokes himself faster. Desperate for more, you click the button twice, increasing the vibrations to the max level. Within seconds, you’re coming, back arched and head thrown into the pillows behind you. Tossing the vibrator aside, you stare up at the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented from your ecstatic high, pussy shiny with your orgasm. Choso’s voice is so faint, you don’t understand him at first. You sit up to face him, waiting for him to repeat himself.

“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly.

More than willing to accept his request, you nod in response, grinning. His expression relaxes and when you lean nearer to him, palm pressed flat on his chest, he even cracks a smile as he’s lies down on the bed, eager to have you like this. You straddle him, facing away from the headboard while his head rests at the foot of the bed. Carefully, you lower yourself until his mouth is pressed to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit slowly and he releases his grip from his toy to hold onto your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. You don’t take your eyes off each other as you rub yourself across his face, his mouth open, swallowing every drop of you. When you reach your second orgasm, you’re practically bouncing on him as he smothers himself deeper, humming in satisfaction as he sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

You lift yourself off him, spent and completely wrecked. Still, you want to touch him, treat him as well as he treated you, make him come as hard as you did. You position yourself between his thighs, admiring the silicone sleeve hugging his dick. “Your turn.”

Sitting up on his elbows, he watches as you grab hold of the toy, stroking him with it. He moans, tongue hanging of his mouth, drool leaking from the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded. His moans turn into whimpers when you start cradling his balls with your other hand, his body twitching from the sensation. The tip peeks out from the other end, a thick wad of precum collecting at the slit, so enticing that you’re salivating for a taste.

“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.

“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer.

“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”

Excited, you remove the toy from him, in awe at the way his fat cock flops heavily against his abdomen. You take him in your fist, loving how hot and throbbing he is in your grip. He’s coated in lube and precum, so slippery with your fingers wrapped around his girth. Unable to resist any longer, you bow your head, licking the pearl off the tip, savoring the taste. He shudders, letting out a loud, “Fuck!”

It’s so much better than a toy. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him is better than any masturbator, fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever silly contraption he uses to get by. The swirl of your tongue gliding along the shaft, the vibrations of your moans as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, the view of your pretty head bobbing up and down his lap. Nothing in his collection compares to this. This is real. You are real.

He fucks your throat, unable to resist bucking his hips against you, timing his thrusts to meet yours. It doesn’t take much longer for him to be pushed over the edge. You pull off for a brief moment to smile at him, pumping him fast. “Come for me, Choso. Come in my mouth.”

At this, he completely loses himself, muffling his incessant moans into his forearm, too shy to watch you guzzle down his entire load until he’s milked of every last drop. You scatter delicate kisses along the entire length of him, even down to his balls. Too sensitive now, he pats you gently on the head, making you look up at him, a warm smile on your face. He smiles back, caressing your cheek, thumb grazing your soft skin. You lie beside him, nuzzling into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a steady, relaxed pace. He slides his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”

This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you.

#choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #choso jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x you

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landopoet · 2 months ago

Text

somewhere in between.

pairing lando x reader, university au

synopsis in which lando falls victim to an irresistible and mysterious girl, who knows nothing about love or how to keep it around. not until it’s too late, anyway.

warnings angsty fic, no use of y/n

author’s note wrote this fic in three days, new record! hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you to @clovermoters for being my little cheerleader and bestie 5eva <3 love u millions!

₊ ⊹

You first met Lando in a cramped lecture hall during the first semester of university.

The professor was talking about something that you paid no mind to, mindlessly transcribing as much of the information as you heard. You knew you could find the full lecture online later, anyway, as this professor made it convenient for students to slack off by sending all his PowerPoints and Word documents to them.

As your fingers flickered over the keyboard, your attention became divided between what the professor was saying and the curious personality that just bursted in through the door.

He was something of a mess— damp curls stuck to his forehead as a wide grin spread across his face, below his lips were speckled hairs that looked like a sad version of a goatee. His breathless and grinning self found you in the third row from the front, and he took a seat without asking for permission.

“I hate the rain,” he whispered as he unzipped his damp jacket.

You glanced briefly at him, noticing how much more vibrant he seemed up close. He seemed like the type of person that exudes warmth just by being, like you didn’t have to go outside to get warmed up by the sun and merely sitting next to him would grow even the smallest spark into a flame.

It made you nervous.

Without saying a word, and instead choosing to hold an uncomfortable amount of eye contact, you turned back to your laptop and realised you missed about half the lecture by now.

The stranger pulled out a notepad and a pen, and scribbled down a few words before pushing the paper towards you.

What did I miss? It read, in surprisingly neat handwriting.

You had half a mind to ignore him again, to simply pay attention to the class and pretend he didn’t exist. He hadn’t existed in your orbit before and there was no reason for him to join now, so there was no reason for why you would pick that pen up and write a response.

Despite your hesitation, you picked up his pen and wrote back: Nothing important. He’ll send you the whole lecture in an e-mail later anyway.

The man watched as your fingers pushed the notebook back towards him, a small smile playing on his lips once he realised he had put a tiny crack in your shell.

There was something about you that made him curious, intrigued, despite spending barely ten minutes in your presence.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man grin at your reply, and something in your stomach tightened.

—

Amidst the noise of the campus cafeteria, at a table in the farthest corner you could find, you found yourself nestled between a pile of books and electronics. Sure, it’d be more convenient to go to the library and study there, but you actually found the cacophonous sound of mixed conversations quite soothing to your mind.

It reminded you that you were alone in your space but not lonely, whereas a library would only discourage you from doing any work because everyone there is always quiet, there’s no distant chatter about the guys from the university football team or the professor who grades work based on handwriting.

And at the cafeteria, you could be in your own orbit, surrounded by glimmering stars that made you feel less alone. It was just you, your books and your uninterrupted study.

You continued to write down the main notes of a lecture you skipped last week due to a sick day. The flu was going around and you managed to catch a weak case of it, and today was your first day back from bedrotting in your dorm.

The discordant feeling of your studying was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Hey,” you raised your head to look at who exactly it was.

A small look of surprise flashed across your face when you realised it’s the stranger from the lecture a few weeks ago. He looked a lot less messy now and, instead of a damp jacket and dripping curls, he was dressed in a knit sweater over a button-up shirt and black dress pants with his curls in a neat bunch on his head. It’s only now you noticed that they cascaded down his neck into a mullet. You never really liked the look of them, but he seemed to suit it well.

You realise you hadn’t answered him and he was just standing there awkwardly, two paper cups in hand. When he noticed you glancing over at the items he held, he cleared his throat. “I got an extra by accident, want it?”

After a moment of hesitation you curtly nodded your head and he took that as an invitation to sit across from you as he slid the cup to your side of the table. “It’s green tea with honey and lemon. Heard it’s good for brain power or something, and I noticed you weren’t in lectures the past week so,” he explained.

“Thanks,” you brought the cup up to your lips and took a small sip, the warmth and flavour of green tea caressing your tongue. It clicks in your brain that he noticed your absence and a warmth spreads across your chest. You’re not sure if it’s from the tea anymore.

It was also then that you realised you didn’t know his name and glanced over at the cup across from yours— the one his slender fingers were holding for warmth— in hopes of catching a glimpse of who the stranger was.

It wasn’t cold enough outside for coats and scarves, but chilly enough to seek out heat in any possible place. Many couples on campus found themselves holding hands in each other’s pockets or sharing those two person gloves, but you, and the stranger across from you, found yourselves caressing paper cups full of warm liquids. You wondered what his drink of choice was and glanced at the cup for far too long, he noticed.

“Peppermint tea, it’s my favourite.” He gives you a soft smile before nudging his chin towards your stack of books. “What’re you reading?”

“Just something for class,” you explain in your usual calm and quiet voice. He found it endearing— the way you didn’t stand out or try to be known. You were quiet, focused and driven, and that was something he never knew he was attracted to until he met you.

You didn’t remember him from before the lecture he was late for, but he always observed you from across campus. The way your hair fell over your face in gentle waves and you stuck your tongue out, focused on scribbling down whatever you had in your mind.

Maybe it was the intelligence he was attracted to, or maybe it was just you.

He taunted. “You always read for class. Don’t you read books just for fun sometimes?”

“I do,” you shrug. You didn’t feel like explaining every detail of your life to him, and it maybe even bothered you a little that he expected you to be an open book that he could flip through and learn whatever he wanted to.

“Alright,” a challenging tone outlines his voice as it hits your ears. “What’s the best book you’ve read recently? Not including whatever’s in your stack right now.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and thought about it for a second. “The Bell Jar.”

“Pssh,” he huffed. “Bleak.”

Your eyebrows drew in closer, face riddled with confusion as you tilted your head to the side. “Some people like bleak things.”

The stranger nodded, taking a moment to glance around your set up— the laptop your fingers had so hastily typed lecture notes on was covered in various stickers; your hair was put up in a flower claw clip; your hoodie had a graphic and some words that he could figure came from a song of some sorts. He noticed you added a little blue eyeshadow to the inner corner of your eye and your eyeliner wasn’t sharp, but it was noticeable and suited you well.

He doesn’t know you well enough to draw solid conclusions, but his voice hums in your ears when he says, “yeah, but you don’t seem like the type to.”

—

You kept running into each other— at the library, in lectures, in the campus cafe. It wasn’t intentional, you two just happened to be there, but Lando— you finally learnt his name— took it as fate. He kept trying to convince you that the universe gifted him to you as a way to crack open your shell. You began to believe him.

Over time, you two became friends and you weren’t really sure how it happened. It’s just that Lando never stopped talking to you, never let you fully retreat back into yourself. He made you feel like being quiet wasn’t the same as being invisible.

“You like me,” Lando said one night, as you sat on the steps outside a party neither of you wanted to be at.

You told him that you’d most likely end up leaving early, and he teased you for it. But you went anyway, for no other reason than to spend more time with him. Lando thought it was endearing how you came to the party, despite scowling the whole time.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re tolerable.”

He laughed, nudging his shoulder against yours as his eyes looked over at you trying to hide your smile. “Admit it, you like me.”

You exhale through your nose and let your lips curl up into a little smile. “Fine. You’re not awful.’

Lando smiled at you like you had handed him something precious. He looked out at the street and watched how the night slowly creeped its shadows over the peaceful scenery ahead. There was a feeling in the air that felt awkward, scary and comforting all at once. “Well, for the record, I like you, too.”

You tucked your hands into the pockets of your coat to hide how anxiety had crawled down your spine and nestled in the tremoring taps of your fingers. Lando watched as you stood up and insisted on walking you back to your dorm. As the cold of autumn air creeped down your neck, you found yourselves outside the campus dorms, on the stairs, neither of you making a move to go inside.

Lando’s hands were anxiously balling into fists by his side, and then his fingers stretched out. You noticed his hands a lot. How they were always so present when he’s speaking and trying to explain topics that you didn’t understand or how he would casually touch the arm or back of someone he was speaking to. You noticed it because you noticed everything. He never did that to you.

The question left your mouth before you could stop it. “Why don’t you touch me like you do to everyone else?”

Lando blinked, genuine surprise flashing across his face as he thought of the answer. “I didn’t think you’d like that.”

“I wouldn’t,” you admitted, chin resting on your knees as your arms wrapped around your bent legs. “But still.”

Lando hesitated. He gently observed you— your scarf hid most of your face and your hands were so softly pressed against your calves. Eventually, you felt the soft caress of his knuckles against yours. It was light, barely there, but you felt it in your chest.

“Better?” His green eyes locked on yours as you turned to look at him.

You nodded and he didn’t pull away.

—

You kissed for the first time in his apartment, after an argument.

In the small kitchen of his apartment, as he leaned back against the electric stove and you leaned back on the counter across from him, Lando pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you even like me?”

You looked up at him with a glint of uncertainty in your eye that pierced him right in the chest. It was all so quick— the feather-soft touches on your waist as he walked past you; late-night study sessions at each other’s apartment or dorm, that usually ended up with the other person staying over for the night; the ‘accidental’ scooting closer to you whenever you sat next to each other during bonding events with your coursemates.

Somewhere in all of that— in the longing gaze at you from across the lecture hall, in the casual inclusion of you in the conversations with his mates, in the words spoken while drowsy with sleep— you started feeling it, too. And your first instinct wasn’t to embrace the feelings and allow your friendship to evolve into something more.

The most logical thing you could’ve thought to do was deny and pull away.

There’s no way Lando actually likes you. You spoke to your best friends, who lived on opposite sides of town, but could tell that Lando genuinely did like you. For some odd reason, you wouldn’t let yourself believe it. You had a habit of pulling away when things got too real, and Lando was a victim of it.

It was unexpected, but the flurry of unexpressed feelings and you pulling away as soon as everything got too real made Lando insecure, scared and lost.

A few weeks ago, he noticed you ignoring his texts, avoiding his eyes when you caught a glimpse of him entering the lecture hall, excusing yourself from activities he’d usually bring you to.

When he finally caught you alone in the halls of your university, he grabbed you by the elbow— gently, of course, but harsh enough to pull you away from the group of people next to you– and forced you to look at him. “You’re avoiding me,” he stated, a slight hint of anger and worry in his voice. “Why?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Lando.” You shook his hands off of your elbows. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with what? I know your daily routine like the back of my hand, and at some point, I was part of it.” He sounded hurt, like you pushing him away and distancing yourself actually meant something to him. You thought he wouldn’t notice and that he’d let you go, and things would go back to how they were— you’d be two strangers again.

“You are,” you bit your lip and tried to come up with something to say. “I’ve just been busy, Lando. I took up extra assignments from our professor, I need my grade up.”

“And that’s really it?” Lando crosses his arms over his chest.

You sighed and slumped your shoulders. “Can we please not do this here? People are watching.”

Lando scoffed and shook his head. “Fine. Come over for dinner and then we’ll talk.”

You watched him walk away, knowing you had hurt him more than anticipated. Obviously you pushing him away would’ve upset him, you just never thought that he’d actually care enough to try and pull you back in.

And, fortunately for him, it worked, because now you’re in his tiny kitchen that seems to get smaller every second you don’t speak.

You fiddled with your entwined fingers as you looked down, feeling Lando’s gaze burning into you. Finally, you look up at him. “I do.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” He begs, hands in the air as he steps closer to you. “Why don’t you show that you like me?”

Something inside you cracked, like a part of your soul has been revealed to him and you had no choice but to let him see it. “I… I don’t know how.”

Lando exhaled sharply before taking your face into his hands and pulling you in. His lips were gentle and softly moulded against yours, not moving until he was sure you wouldn’t pull away.

Meanwhile, you felt like the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. You kissed him back as if you were making up for the time you spent distancing yourself and pushing him away, and Lando smiled against your teeth before pulling you in closer.

—

A week later you found yourself at another party, this time accompanied not only by Lando but also your friend, Blair, who was a good friend of Lando’s as well.

You sat on the kitchen counter with Blair right next to you in her neat, maroon dress and mary janes on her feet. Lando had left you two half an hour ago to go find some of his other friends and catch up, so you weren’t worried about having to leave alone at the end of the night.

Alcohol tasted bitter on your tongue, but even more so when you finally caught a glimpse of the curly head of hair you had begun to miss. He sat snugly on the couch with a girl in his lap, Lando’s lips moving hungrily against hers— completely opposite to all the times he’s kissed you.

You watch them for a minute, then three, then five, and when your ogling reached half an hour, Blair nudged your shoulder. “You could say something, y’know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”

It’s true. You weren’t together, not really. You two never defined it, never talked about what it was. Lando kissed other people. You pretended it didn’t bother you.

Blair gave you a look. It did bother you. “But it is.”

That night, you went home early. Lando didn’t follow you.

—

You found yourself at his apartment the very next evening. He had asked you to come over and help him study for an upcoming exam, and you weren’t one to turn down someone in need, especially not Lando.

The study session was as normal as usual— Lando’s touch lingered on your arm when he finally understood what he needed to write down; he nudged your shoulder when he noticed you were spacing out; he kept saying sweet things and stealing kisses.

And, as per usual, you two lost track of time and it was too late for you to take a train back to your campus. You were sure the security guards would give you a hard time about coming back to your dorm at one in the morning.

You ended up in Lando’s bed again. Although you two were never intimate. The most that’s ever happened between you two was Lando’s hands up your shirt, before you stopped him. It got too real, you got scared and Lando let it go.

Lando was sleeping soundly beside you as you stared at the ceiling. Except he wasn’t— he watched the silhouette of your face, barely illuminated by the moon behind the curtains.

“Are you in love with me?” He asked, half-asleep beside you. Lando’s not sure what prompted the question, but something in him needed to know that your jealousy last night wasn’t just because.

You just stared at the ceiling. “No.”

It was a while before he responded. Then, in a barely-there whisper, “liar.”

You turned to face away from him, pressing your face into the pillow.

The two of you kept doing this— circling each other, never quite holding on, never quite letting go.

You mustered up the courage to turn around and face him again. He was already looking at you as if he expected it. “Why do you put up with me?”

“What do you mean?”

You exhale deeply. “I’m a difficult person to be friends with, let alone be… whatever we are. Why don’t you just let that go?”

“Because I love you, obviously.” He said it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your throat tightened. “You don’t have to.”

Under the dim moonlight, still shadowed by thin curtains, you could see Lando’s expression soften as his hand came up to caress your cheek. “I know. But I do.”

You fell asleep before saying it back. Lando didn’t need you to.

—

When it all became too real again— when Lando told you he loved you everyday and you felt the pressure of reciprocation weighing on your shoulders— you started to pull away again. This time, he let you.

Things ended slowly, like a candle burning out and you were the wax dripping into different squiggled shapes until neither of you merged together anymore.

You told yourself that it was for the best. That you were too difficult, too closed off for someone like him. That he deserved someone who could love him, without hesitation or fear.

It’s been a few weeks now, but some nights you lay awake thinking about him. The way he could make anyone feel like they belonged by simply talking to them. The way he had told you he loved you like it wasn’t the hardest thing for you to handle and like it was the simplest truth he could ever have told.

You continued to tell yourself that you did the right thing.

You told yourself this every time you sat in lectures and glanced over at the empty seat beside you, where Lando would slide in all breathless and charming. You told yourself this as you walked past the campus cafe, ignoring how the corner booth you two had claimed as your own was now taken by a couple— one much happier than you ever were.

You told yourself this as you lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that you felt free rather than lost.

And you were beginning to believe it. Until he called.

It was late—past midnight—and you were half asleep, blurry eyes watching as Lando’s contact lit up your screen.

Your finger hovered over the screen, hesitant, before pressing accept. For a moment, all you heard was shallow breathing. Then his voice, quiet, unsure. “Hey.”

You sat up, anxiously gripping your blanket. When your silence extended past his expectation, he let out a laugh. Breathy and sad. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Are you drunk?” Your eyebrows furrowed, a pang in your heart so strong that it made you nauseous.

After a while, he admitted. “Yeah, but that’s not why I called.”

You closed your eyes, rubbing your temple. “Lando-“

“No. Just… Just let me say this, okay?” His voice wavered, either with a cry or due to him being drunk. “I know you don’t want this. I know you don’t want me. But, fuck, I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

Lando heard your breath hitch.

“I keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt anymore,” Lando continued, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. “That I’ll wake up, get dressed, see you in class and it won’t sting anymore. But it does. It always does.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, eyes burning with unshed tears. “Lando.” Your plea goes unnoticed as he continues.

“I keep replaying it all.” He admitted, voice trembling, a little quieter. “All the times I could’ve said something different, something better. All the times we stayed up at my apartment talking, and you looked at me like I was something you couldn’t figure out.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as your back plopped down against your pillows, tears running down your cheeks and into the fabric beneath you.

“And I wonder if I had just held on a little tighter, would you have stayed? Because I would have stayed for you,” he whispered. “I would’ve chosen you every single time.”

A silence stretched out between the two of you— fragile, breaking, endless.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “That’s all from me.”

He expected you to say something. To ramble on and on about how he’s wrong, how you wouldn’t have stayed, or maybe how you would’ve but he just didn’t try hard enough.

Instead, you gripped your phone, knuckles white. There were so many things you could say— that you missed him, that you were sorry, that you had loved him, too— loved him so much that it terrified you.

And fear had always been the loudest in your mind. So you did what you always do, you stayed silent. Lando exhaled, a sound that broke something inside you. “Goodbye, then.”

You were left in the silence and dark of your room, only the ghost of his voice still ringing in your ear. You told yourself that this was the right thing.

—

The next time you saw him was completely unexpected. It was a week after the call.

You had avoided places where you might run into him. Your routine— the one that previously contained Lando— was now a careful and predictable thing. You had meticulously planned it out— arrive to class early, leave early, avoid people who reminded you of him. You thought that if you stayed out of his orbit— that if you were just a distant star— the space between you two could be filled with anything but regret. But that didn’t work.

It was a Tuesday, the sun starting to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the campus. You had just finished an afternoon seminar and were heading toward the library, your bag slung over your shoulder, mind focused on the reading you had to catch up on.

As you turned a corner, you almost collided with someone.

Lando.

His eyes widened as he stepped back, as if surprised to see you. There was an awkward beat, a brief second where you both just stood there, locked in a kind of frozen disbelief.

You didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t planned for this moment. You hadn’t expected to see him again—certainly not so soon, and certainly not with that look on his face, the kind of look that made you realize how much distance had formed between you.

“Hey,” Lando said, his voice flat, like he was unsure of what else to say.

“Hey,” you managed, heart racing.

There was a long silence. You tried to read his expression, but it was difficult—like he was hiding something. Or maybe it was just that he was different now.

“I…” Lando started, then stopped himself. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m not gonna be around much longer.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m leaving the university.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You’re what?”

“Leaving,” he repeated, quieter this time. He finally looked up at you, his eyes heavy with something—something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m transferring. Going somewhere else.”

Your stomach dropped. “When?”

“A few weeks.” He shrugged, like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t a big deal. But his voice wavered. He wasn’t as casual as he pretended to be.

You felt your chest tighten. “Why?”

Lando looked at you, then away again. “It’s just… not working here anymore. With everything. The classes, the people, the—” He exhaled, cutting himself off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need a change. I just… need something different.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You had so many questions, so many things you wanted to say. But the words felt stuck in your throat, like they couldn’t escape, like they’d been buried under the weight of too many unsaid things.

“I didn’t tell anyone yet,” Lando continued, glancing at you, then quickly looking away again. “But I thought you should know. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

You shook your head slowly, trying to process the weight of his words. “So… you’re just leaving?”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah. I think it’s for the best.”

For the best. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. There was no anger in his voice, no bitterness—only resignation, like he had already made peace with something you couldn’t understand.

A lump formed in your throat. “I didn’t know you were unhappy here.”

“I wasn’t. Not at first,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was confessing something. “But… things changed. I changed.”

Your heart twisted. You had been too caught up in your own fears, your own decisions, to see how much he had been struggling. You had let him go without realizing how far he had already drifted.

“I just thought you should know,” Lando repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Before I go.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts spinning. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t. You didn’t know how to make him understand. How could you explain that you never meant to push him away? That it had been your own fear, your own inability to deal with what was happening between you two that had caused all this?

But you couldn’t say any of that.

Instead, you said something simpler, something that felt inadequate but necessary.

“I’m sorry.”

Lando shook his head quickly, as if brushing off your words. “Don’t apologize.”

A silence stretched out, heavy and suffocating. You felt like you were losing him all over again, but this time, it was different. This time, it wasn’t just about distance. It was about the reality of him choosing to leave.

After a long pause, Lando sighed, his voice breaking through the quiet. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not even…” He stopped, as if he couldn’t finish the sentence. Then, with a small, sad smile, he added, “I just wish things had been different.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You couldn’t find the strength to say anything more.

Lando looked at you one last time, his gaze lingering for a moment, like he was waiting for something. Then, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading as he disappeared into the crowd.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, as the world continued to move around you.

And for the first time in a long while, you understood what it meant to truly lose someone.

#lando norris #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x y/n #lando angst #lando norris angst

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luveline · 7 months ago

Note

can we please have more coworker JAMES 💜

james calls you something he maybe shouldn’t | fem

You’re feeling at a James-given mark when Sirius appears.

You don’t know Sirius half as well as you know James nor Remus, but you’re ninety five percent sure he’s a good guy. He’s funny at lunch, whenever Remus has managed to convince you to go with them. He’s like James in terms of scandal. They like making bad jokes. Sirius really likes making Remus laugh, so he must be nice.

“Hey,” he says, “where are they?”

You nod toward the boss’ office. “Presenting the last of the Lang and Co.”

“Oh, right.” Sirius moves in to James’ desk. He knocks one of his figurines over purposefully, then moves one to have its face in the other’s backside.

“I’ll have to tell him that was you,” you say.

“Rat. Why?”

“He’ll think it was me otherwise, and then–” He won’t kiss me later, you’d been about to say. James has grown suddenly and enthusiastically fond of withholding affection whenever you mess with him. As a joke, of course, but you refuse to risk your lunchtime kiss. “You know what he’s like with me.”

Sirius smiles oddly. “I do.”

He sits at James’ desk. Ever since you and James… started whatever it is you’re doing, things have been raw for you. Maybe you’re stupid, it’s only kisses, but you’re sort of thinking it isn’t. Like, this is dating. You might not be boyfriend and girlfriend, but you’re exclusive.

James is too good, and some small part of you doesn’t like admitting it, but the bigger part (the part that wants to kiss him and be kissed by him) knows it surely. How could you have grown to fancy him otherwise?

“Doing anything fun this weekend?” you ask.

“Not likely,” Sirius says, tucking hair behind his ears. “We’re all helping Remus’ dad paint the house. It’s a tiny thing n’ it won’t take long, but he lives in Aberystwyth. S’gonna take hours to get there and he wants to stay up there ‘cos his dad gets lonely.” Sirius scratches his jaw. “His dad’s nice, mind. I don’t mind going up there. Just hate being stuck in the car when James is driving.”

You won’t see James this weekend, then. He hadn’t mentioned it. “It’s beautiful in Aberystwyth. Maybe you can go to the beach,” you say.

“That’s what I’m trying to convince them to do.” Sirius grins.

“Not the best weather.”

“It’s always nicer up there. We spent a lot of time up there, you know, in the summers. We ping-ponged between Remus’ house and James’ parents.”

“Do they live there too?” you ask.

“Nowhere near.” Sirius laughs, a deep, rich sound. “You think I’d be used to long drives.”

“Where’s James from?”

“My parents live deep in the West Country,” James says, his hands sudden on the back of your chair.

Fuck, you think. You had no idea he was coming, distracted by Sirius and the patter of rain against the window. “You creeper.”

“You’re the creeper. Grilling dear Siri for details on my personal life.” James dives for a biscuit from the plastic packaging laid out on your desk and then away from you. “If you want to know where to send your fan mail, just ask me, sweetheart.”

“How do you sneak up on me like that?” you ask.

The space between your chair and the wall isn’t super tight, but it’s still weird to think he’d approached from the right and you hadn’t noticed. Just, James isn’t generous with details about himself and you’re too timid in your standing with him to ask.

“Practice… Sirius, what have you don’t to my little women!”

“I thought they were boys?” Sirius says.

“That gives you no right to knock them over and make them do frankly obscene things to one another. This is a workplace.” James knocks Sirius out of the way, desk chair and all, to set each of his little green figurines onto their feet. The ones that are standing, that is. The sleeping one he puts back in pride of place underneath his computer’s monitor.

“She told me not to,” Sirius says, not looking at anyone now, peering backward toward the office. “But I didn’t listen, don’t blame our sweet Y/N.”

“I wasn’t going to.” James sends you a secret smile.

“She wouldn’t physically withheld me if I weren’t so devilishly fast.” Sirius’ voice warms. “Hello, darling.”

Remus huffs as he sets down a huge binder of paper. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

The tone he uses is so tender, so soft, you aren’t jealous of Remus but you’re not far from it, either. Remus’ frowning is quick to turn up at the sight of his meddling boyfriend. It must be nice to see someone and have them make a bad day good.

You look up, finding James paused with a hand on his desk. He’s looking at you, impassive.

“You okay?” you ask him.

He squints, wrinkles his nose. “Fine. Got shouted at a bit for the reports. Bet you’re glad you have a twisted ankle.” You’re confused at first, then caught. James’ wrinkled face darkens to glare at you. “You lied?”

“I really didn’t wanna see him today.” Your boss sucks.

“And we did? Remus, we’ve been betrayed.”

“James, I knew she was lying, I just don’t care.” Remus rubs his face. “Why shouldn’t one of us escape him?”

Sirius takes Remus’ empty hand hanging at his side, picture of a concerned lover.

James, on the other hand, steals another biscuit despite your laughing protesting and nimbly switches off your monitor.

“Had enough,” James says. Turned away from the boys, he smiles at you playfully, hand twitching at his side like he wants to give you a squeeze. Or a shove. “Your betrayal is noted.”

“Mm.” You take a third biscuit from your pack to offer him.

He takes it, letting his knuckles brush under your arm before pulling away. “And filed away for a later date.”

When Sirius has pulled Remus away for another early lunch, James retakes his chair and slides as close to you as he can be. He looks for your hand under the desk. You pretend it’s just casually there on your knee and not waiting for him to hold.

“My dad’s family is very well off,” he says, rubbing your index finger with his thumb, “so the estate is huge. They own a lot of land, but he’s not, like, a lord or anything. You’d love it down there though, it’s nice.”

“I bet I would.”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“No, I’m not, I know you’re rich.”

“Not that sort of surprise. It would be nice to go down there together.” He can tell he’s getting ahead of himself and backtracks. “Well, this weekend I’m going to gorgeous Aberystwyth and you’re…”

“Doing laundry.”

“Well,” he says quietly, “maybe you can make some time Sunday night after all of that and we can get a late dinner.”

“I thought I was in trouble over the twisted ankle.”

“Who could be in trouble for an injury?” James sandwiches your hand in his.

“Fake injury.”

“Oh, my girl,” he murmurs, almost inaudible, “so honest. No punishment on account of owning up to it.”

Great. My girl and he’s going away for the weekend. James Potter’s your personal nightmare.

—

james coworker au

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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nikkento-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Rub You the Right Way - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating

Author’s Notes: This is a repost from my old account! It's the first Choso fic I've ever written and I enjoyed it so much that I wrote a Part 2 and a Part 3 (coming soon)! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”

You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”

He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”

Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside.

~~~

“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”

“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”

This isn’t his. It’s yours.

Which means…

By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.

She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.

Oh fuck.

~~~

“Fuck!”

You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.

Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”

He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”

You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to say that – ”

“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”

This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”

“I’m not lying!” you urge him.

He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”

When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”

He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”

You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”

He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.” It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering.

You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”

~~~

“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.

You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”

He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything and –

“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”

“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly.

“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.

“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer.

“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”

This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you.

#choso kamo #choso x reader #choso x you #choso smut #choso fluff #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #jjk smut

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tinyalechardy · 7 months ago

Note

Can I give Tiny Hardy a Scottish egg? He seems to have eaten too little.

Yeah go for it.

Although an entire Scotch egg might be too much for him.

Hes just a little lad.

Hes not very tall

6 inches

#honestly i dont even thinm hed take a bite #hed just stare at it #and then stare at me #and qurstuon why someone sent him a scotch egg #in the mail #heres the real question #are you sending the egg via box #or envelope #tiny alec hardy #alec hardy #broadchurch #tiny hardy shenanigans #tiny hardy asks

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dcxdpdabbles · 9 days ago

Note

What are some plotlines you scrapped from your AUs?

Well, if I plan that far ahead (since most of my AUs are tiny one-shots) and I don't use some of the ideas, I usually turn them into an entirely different AU, which is why so many are similar.

But!

There are some ideas that I end up not using and storing in my notes for the future. I wind up making bullet points under the Au title and cross them out when I don't want to include them anymore (I write in journals and pens cause I love how the pen feels when brainstorming)

Here are some removed ideas in Alley Boyfriends:

Tim moves into Danny's crappy apartment. He does this to get easier access to the coffee that Danny makes out of repurposed items like the Fenton he is. It sort of looks like a meth lab. (Removed because I thought the comments about Tim being confused for Danny's sugar daddy were so funny I made him buy a penthouse. Those comments redirected the whole plot, honestly)

Danny thinks Tim is in the Mafia and believes that if he rejects Tim's feelings for him, he'll be killed, so he seeks out the Bats for protection. He winds up running head-first into Black Mask's men instead. (Removed because I realized it wouldn't make sense for Danny to agree to a fake date only to freak out if he realized Tim actually has feelings for him. He already thinks Tim's involved with something shady anyway)

Dick and Bruce sit Tim down to talk about Danny. They think they are the only ones in the Bats to know Tim isn't straight and want to reassure him that they still love him. Tim takes it as a threat. (Removed because this wouldn't fit the dialogue initially starting this AU. If they confronted Tim about their misunderstanding, the planned antics that Tim and Danny are going to do in the future wouldn't make sense)

Tim gives Danny a new job at WE. He creates a position titled "Personal B" for Personal Barista but doesn't tell anyone what the B stands for. Speculation runs wild through the company until people eventually think it's some kind of kink thing since Danny is around Tim and only Tim. ( Removed because while it would not help the Sugar Daddy accusations, I felt it was a little objectifying of Danny to just be considered "Mr. Drake -Wayne's office toy" and idiotic that Tim wouldn't notice how they were talking about Danny. Plus, this would just be putting their whole fake dating at risk unnecessarily)

Danny's family meets Tim by popping up at his new home unannounced. They didn't know Danny had a roommate because Danny had texted them a new address to send mail without explaining anything. By the time Danny gets home from work, the Fentons are convinced Tim and Danny are married and hurt they weren't invited when Danny eloped. ( Removed because as much as I love the Fentons, they are four states away and wouldn't be able to pop up randomly. Also, I felt like just tricking the Waynes was enough for the fake dating trope.)

#dcxdpdabbles #mun speaks #Alley Boyfriends #Scrapped plot points #I may use this plot points in different AUs some time in the furutre or they will likely just rot

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mtcloudsworld · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, I asked you a few days ago if you take requests I was too scared to bother you by sending an actual request. But would you do a Valentine’s Day smut/fluff for Jason x fem reader. Jason actually being super Sweet and romantic and spoiling her on Valentine’s Day, I know it’s late you don’t have to if you don’t want and thank you for responding to my question a few days ago 🤎🤎🤎

Awe please bother me!! 🥺

I really don't mind if you guys inbox me. If you have a request, wanna say hi or have a question, please don't be afraid to message me! I'm all ears 😁👍🏾

Sorry it took me so long to respond. It took me some time to muster up your request. I hope you didn't think I was ignoring you or anything. I did have something in my drafts and was having a hard time articulating the way I wanted it to go. Luckily your request came in clutch, I appreciate that very much.

I feel like my brain was going into a hundred different directions with this one 😂 please forgive me if it's not exactly what you wanted but believe me when I say I really tried.

I feel with Jason Valentine's Day is an every single day thing with him, I got nothing but love for that man.

Don't be afraid to comment your thoughts, also like and reblog if you want. Ty!! Enjoy lovebugs :) 🩷🦠

(p.s.) do y'all like regular fonts or tiny fonts? Please lmk your preference when it comes to reading. Hopefully everyone is on the same page, I know that'll kind of be hard because everyone reads differently but I'm curious either way.

- ☁️

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘; 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡⏜

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, fem!reader, vigilante/bf! JasonTodd, good ol' missionary, love making, oral (f receiving), lovey dovey, a little bit of masturbation, submissive, pet names: babe, baby, mamas, doll, love, sweetheart. This is a pretty long one, longer than I expected so please forgive me for that. Edited, but in case of any errors, ignore :) ty <3<3<3

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄, hits his nose upon entering your apartment. The sight of your spacious living room made him freeze as it was pristine and polished...not at all clustered with clutter or seen as untidy like it usually does.

Junk mail shredded and thrown to the trash. The floor in every room vacuumed and mopped.

Rose petals along the floor.

Books and vinyls were placed on the bookshelf in alphabetical order. The numerous polyester blankets you loved collecting were placed in the wicker basket near the brown entertainment center.

The lamp beside the couch was dimmed low. A few candles lit around the space. Gentle, slow music played lightly through the record player.

On the coffee table was a box of assortments, chocolate covered fruit with a drizzle of white chocolate on top, two glasses of wine and a red heart shaped gift bag on the side.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy. Intimate and sacred meant for two. Undoubtedly, there was something so perfect and elegant about this space that it had his heart fluttering.

It was subtle and simple, it made him grow impatient wanting nothing more than to see you and hold you. After a day of patrolling, dealing with Bruce and so on, he couldn't wait to get home.

This morning, he gave you breakfast in bed, surprised you with six different banquets of flowers, a diamond necklace with matching studs and ring that had the words "my one and only," engraved around it. He went as far as to give you his debt card.

Now, you never liked to spend his money on anything. You didn't even like the fact that he was spoiling it on you, but because he was as stubborn as a mule, he had cleared out your schedule anyways. He scheduled an appointment at the spa to get your nails done and an appointment at the hair salon. Although you pouted out of appreciation and told him he didn't have to do that, he rebuttal with a kiss on your lips and said, "I would do anything just for you."

After a day of getting pampered, you figured since your schedule was cleared, it was the perfect opportunity to tidy up the place, make it all presentable with rose petals on the floor, some vanilla scented candles, dim lighting-- make it look intimate and homey. Setting a few gifts in line, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and red wine on the table. You wanted it to look perfect before Jason came home.

It had only taken two and a half hours to shower, drench yourself in vanilla scented soap, moisturize your soft skin with Shea butter and spray on some perfume. You applied on some mascara and blood red lip gloss before slipping on a little something something.

And while you got yourself ready and the night began to set, you hear the apartment door shut.

"Baby, I'm home!" Jason feels his body relax when he hears the sound of your soft hums coming from down the hall, "Be right there!" Presumably believing you were in the bathroom since your bedroom light was off.

While he occupied himself with placing his weapons in a nearby safe box and leaned down to untie his boot laces, he hears you emerge from out of the bathroom, down the short hall towards the living room. You find him hunched over by the door placing his shoes to the side.

"How was it tonight?" You ask.

He hears your steps grow slow, pacing around.

"Slow as fuck. Don't know why Bruce called me in when he could've been back home with Selina. There was barely anyone out tonight." He states with slight irritation in his voice.

You nearly giggle as he continues to grumble underneath his breathe. When he stands up straighter, he's taken back by the sight of your appearance.

Suddenly breathless and speechless, his eyes scaled over your gorgeous anatomy moving around the coffee table to grab yourself a chocolate covered strawberry.

Jaw clenched and body slightly tense, a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He watches you approach the end of the sofa and perch yourself up on the armrest of the couch. Your soft, glowing legs crossed one over the other as you take small bites at the sweet fruit.

Flushed and piqued, his eyes grew wide from beneath the helmet. In all your glory, you looked so plushy and soft as your body was snugged in a sexy cherry red two piece lingerie.

It's material hugged around the bust of your tits, giving them an extra lift from the band underneath. Your nipples were hard from the lukewarm air seeping through the vents, causing them to surface through the thin fabric. The delicious sight of the thong hugging around the curves of your hips and richness of your thighs made you look all so yummy.

More yummy than that damn chocolate covered strawberry in your mouth right about now. He thought.

You nodded towards his direction, smiling a little when you noticed he hadn't moved an inch since you made eye contact, but, was just standing there, staring at you. "Need some help taking that off, handsome?" You say teasingly, impressed and aroused by the newly improved suit branded in all black hugged and defined every muscle and thick part of his anatomy. The symbolic red bat emblem placed in the middle of his chest, some pieces of his suit were still kevlar and others were leather.

He chuckles, finding himself stunned by you entirely. He thinks he might go insane just by the way you were looking at him. Ruin you and devour you. He had to take a moment to register your words, finding it hard to focus on anything but you.

"Uh, well....that's if you're up for the challenge, babygirl." He reckons, the modulator within the helmet making his voice ten times deeper than usual. "Otherwise, I'll gladly strip this off for you."

"Mmm, a strip tease? I believe you got me there, baby." You purred, tilting your head to the side curiously. The sound of clicking is heard, hissing from underneath causing pressure to be released. His hands reach up for the red helmet, slipping it off carefully to reveal his head.

"Personally I think that option would be more... sexier." You thought out loud allowing your shiny red lips to wrap seductively around the berry and deliberately suck on the chocolate.

He releases a deep chuckle as he sets the helmet to the side. His short black and white streak hair sexily tousled and curly from the humidity of the helmet.

The sight of his handsome face and those piercing sapphire eyes made you feel a storm brew from within, butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach, your nerves tingling. You felt a wave of excitement circulate through your system as he glances between you and the living room.

"I love what you did with the place."

He stood tall, glaring over your gorgeous profound frame. He doesnt take his eyes off you as he begins to slip the gloves off, setting them on a nearby shelf. Carefully unzipping the leather jacket, he slips it off and lays it to the side.

"I wanted it to look extra special for tonight."

Your words were sweet, too sweet, to the point, his own teeth were about to rot. Effortlessly, you had him in a chokehold, you lived rent free in his mind. With all your cuteness, your down right innocence and flaws, you had a way of tugging at his heart strings.

Like any other time, you always found yourself swooned at the sight of him. Whether he's in armour, shirtless with grey sweatpants, roaming around here in only boxers or just outright naked, his fine ass could never fail to amaze you.

You fell hard for Gotham's most favorite vigilante.

The way he treats you, cares for you, makes you feel like a queen, practically worshiping the ground you walk on and then some, he would do just about anything to see you smile again and again and again-- he had your heart, and you had his.

"Hm, and this?" He points to the lingerie you were currently settled in, walking up to you with his hands buried in his pockets.

"Oh this? I bought it after I got my hair and nails done. Which thank you by the way, it was very much needed." You stated twinkling your fingers his face. "I figured I'd give it a shot," you shrugged intentionally running your hands over your body, "I wanted to see how it looked on me and honestly I think I made the best decision in my life, don't you agree?"

Purposely wanting his eyes to stay on you at all times, you stood up from your seat to give a little spin. It was slow and cruel as your hands roamed down along your sides to the band of your thong, fingers curling underneath the band to then hear them smack against your skin from the tight restriction. His eyes examined closely with a low hum in satisfaction at the sweet roundness of your ass cheeks.

"So, what do you think?~ You like it?" You chimed in a sing-song tone.

"Hm, I do," He draws you closer, your hands resting at the tops of his shoulders to feel his own squeeze at your sides and slowly draw lower, pressing you possessively against his hard torso. The tip of his nose brushes against your cheek, delicately planting kisses to your skin feeling how your flesh begins to heat up. He whispers into your ear "In fact, I love it on you so much, I just might fuck you in it."

You'd be lying if you said that wasn't your plan from the beginning. However, somewhere in your goofy mind, you didn't think it was gonna be this soon.

He kissing along your cheek and adventuring to ghost over your lips. He feels you lean into his embrace, reaching up on the tops of your tippy toes to place your delicate hands along his face, he engulfed every ounce of you.

With half lidded eyes, Jason watches how your lashes kiss at your cheeks, brows scrunched at the savoring taste of mint and chocolate on each other's tongues made you moan softly. With each peck, the kiss grew deeper and deeper. With needy intent, his fingers began to dig into your flesh, groping at the fat of your sides.

"God, you smell so good." He murmurs between kisses. Burning with desire, your heavenly intoxicated touch made it so hard for him to detach from you. It left him breathless, forgetful and completely immersed in the presence of you.

It was the kind of intoxicated that made things feverish and desperate, lips feeling more like petals as they move in sync with his. Intoxicating to the point you had him grunting lowly, growling a little as he starts to become greedy.

Everything moved so swiftly as he laid you on the couch. His massive body proceeding to loom over you. You giggle as he tries to follow in pursuit, smiling a little while he leaves a trail of kisses up the navel of your torso.

Laid beneath him in a vulnerable state, your hands were above your head feeling breathless and overwhelmed. You couldn't process everything at once as you felt like the predator had caught its prey in one go.

You observe how his large palms effortlessly veiled around the bust of your breasts. Squeezing them with a gentle yet firm grasp, his thumbs graced ever so gently over your nipples in circular motion. Attentive to the shaky exhale, he notices how your buds become swollen and hard. Taking one in his mouth, he sucks on it gracefully while he teases and pinches the other.

Although you were growing anxious, impatient and needy, you found yourself staring at the boxes of fruit.

"Mmph, jason?"

"Mm'yes baby?"

Your nipple pops from out of his mouth, going in to give the other a lick, he proceeds to leave more kisses down your navel. Mentally thanking God for every imperfect perfect flaw he had placed along your body.

"Shouldn't we...ah, shit...put the fruit away before they melt?"

Jason was too enthralled, in his own little world, to worry about that damn fruit. The way you were worrying your pretty little head over the littlest things had him chuckling wholeheartedly.

He was too bothered to say a word as he was preoccupying himself with your cunt. It looked like a beautiful sloppy mess after he pulled the thong to the side. To see your pretty little pussy glisten under the dim lighting, had his dick twitching in his pants.

"I don't want them to melt...if we...don't put them... Oh my god..." You gasp out of surprise when you feel something soaking wet and warm lapping at your cunt. Gripping onto the cushions, your body tenses as you grew a frown on your face. "Ooh Jason" He spots the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing altered and had grown rapidly.

He moans at the taste of you, closing his eyes to concentrate on the way you lingered on his buds. As large as his hands were, you felt comfortable in the warm callous of his palms. Holding your thighs wide open in place, Jason caresses your skin lovingly while he coaxes you in a deep trance, completely wiping your mind clean as you focused on the way his mouth maneuvered.

It left you speechless, surprised, mind blown, mouth gaped open at the wet muscle gliding between your folds and over your clit. You felt frozen in place, gripping at the cushions as you moaned his name in bliss.

"Fuck, you taste so good, baby."

Relentless and quenching for thirst, the more he inhaled your scent and continued to wallow in it, he found himself growing careless while he devours you.

Your arousal messily drips from around your thighs onto the sofa. You nearly clench your legs closed to the weird sensation of smacking, slurping, squelching and gushing from your pretty little hole.

As he latches his mouth around your lower lips, he dips two fingers into your heat. The vibrations of his grunts sends a tickling sensation to your clit. His other hand gripped your thigh steadily in place, feeling a surge of shivers go down your spine when you feel him pull away.

"Mhm, there you go, baby, that's it, just relax for me." He instructs, watching as your head lulls back in the armrest, shoulders slumped as you tug at the cushions.

"Focus on me. Focus on the way I make you feel, feels good now doesn't it?" You nod, humming in response. "Good...you always got your mind wondering about the littlest things, sweetheart." he chuckles observing how your body responds to him, hips bucking for more. "As much as I love you catering to me, tonight I just want it to be all about you. You deserve to relax, to feel good, you deserve to shut your brain off and let me take care of you. Let me treat you to something more soft and sweet. I wanna make sure you're at peace. You deserve to enjoy yourself, mama. You think you can you do that for me?"

You nod but he grunts in disapproval, "use your words, y/n, I wanna hear you say it."

"G-God yes, I can do that." You moaned.

Jason's fingers enter inside your leaking cunt, long and intruding, he thrusts them into your gummy walls. Feeling your sticky walls contract around his digits, he hums pleasing to her sucking him further in, each time getting deeper and deeper. Receiving a glossy shine from your arousal, he smirks moving forward between your thighs.

He takes charge effortlessly controlling and molding your body the way he wants. Massaging at your calves, up around your knees to your thighs where he skims his fingers down and over the inner parts of your thighs and around your hips.

The tips of his fingers reaches towards the curve of your breast, fondling and playing with your hardened nipples, he feels you start to move against him. His tongue thrusting in and out of you, you begin to moan loudly as you swivel your hips to match his pace.

"How does that feel baby? Feels good? Am I doing okay?" His voice grew an octave lower, deeper and raspier than before.

He was near the brink of wanting to ravenously eat you out the more he inhaled your essences. He felt your hands begin to tug at his hair and whine and whimper to the nibbling of teeth at your neck, tasting your perfume along his buds.

"S-So good, you're treating me so well." You stutter.

Groans and moans grew intense, finally giving in and throwing in the towel. Your body submits to the need of yearning, allowing him to stubbornly tend to your aching need.

He took his time appreciating, glorifying, worshiping your body and you as whole. He knew the right words to say, ones that made you feel bubbly inside. He knew how to make a girl feel special.

You always found yourself worrying about something or someone. You could never catch a break. You could never just take a breather for once. But that's what he wanted from you, for you to catch a break. To let someone else take the reins for once and just let you lay back and relax.

At some point you felt so weak and helpless emitting these pathetic whimpers as he slowly took his time to cherish you. But you couldn't help it, that's just how you felt, you were vulnerable underneath his care.

"M'gonna cum, Jay..." You stifled, arching into him.

"Mm, go on baby, cum for me." He instructs benevolently.

Once you release your final shakey exhale, your eyes fluttered close. Your lower abdomen churns and twists as if a knot had become undone, the rushing feeling of liquid exiting from out of your entrance spurts all over his fingers, a creamy substance coating them prettily.

"Mhm, there you go, baby. Such a good girl." He praises, licking your cum from off his fingers and down from your center. "Damn, you taste sweeter and sweeter every time." He murmurs, cleaning the rest of the mess you made before planting a kiss.

"Mm, off...please," you demand eagerly.

"Heh, needy baby?" He puzzles, pecking your lips repeatedly with an amused yet teasing tone to his voice.

"Very." You say trying to search for an opening any where in his suit.

"Okayokayokay! Hold on, love. Patience." He laughs prying your hands away from his body.

You watched as he strips of his suit, when he feels your gaze on him, he turns to you with a mischievous smirk, eyes filled with lust. "How you want it, baby?" He asks voice sultry as he kisses between your jaw and neck.

"Like this," you respond, pouting. "I wanna see your face."

"As if you don't see this face enough, every single day." Brushing his hair from out of his face, he groans to the feeling of his hand wrapped around his dick. Thick and long, precum protruding from his pink mushroom tip, you glimpse at the way his thumb begins to smear it around the tip and along his shaft, collecting salvia halfway, he slowly strokes himself off.

"When we have sex it's different. It's more intimate and sweet, gratifying even." You say seductively, biting on your lip.

Pussy beginning to ache and throb at the sight of him. Your delicate fingers draw south of your body like a magnet, gliding them between your folds, up and down and around your clit, you start to apply more pressure.

He notices you start to work yourself through, twitching in the palm of his hand, he glares over the way you handle yourself with such elegance.

Silky and sultry, he's vigilant to the way you moan his name, persuading him to come closer with just one single look.

Gradually with close and careful precision, the tip of his dick asserts itself inside you. Inch by inch, the girth of him painfully yet pleasing stretches you out.

Immediately groaning at the tightness, you praise him for the way he completes you, fulfilling every inch till he was half way in.

He fitted right on in like a missing puzzle piece clearing the void perfectly with the roll of his hips.

With a blissful sigh, your head goes back.

Welcoming the agonizing warmth through your body, your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. As you focus on the way he thrusts in and out of you steadily, slowly you try to adjust to his size, cursing underneath your breath, "F-fuck it's been too long. You're so big, baby." You whimper.

"I know, baby, I i know, just relax for me, m'kay?" he coos burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Danity hands running past his shoulders, the rippling effect of his muscles beneath your fingertips to then wrap your arms around him completely, drawing him closer.

Eyes fluttering shut the scent of his heavy cologne and gunpowder overwhelms you, traces of your kisses left on his shoulder and neck, your right hand moves towards the roots of his hair, curling around his silky strands.

Veiny hands brushing between the ends of your thighs to the roundness of your ass, your knees bend and legs open a little bit more for him to bottom out. His cock domineering into the dark enclosed space, he feels you pucker around the base of his dick, sucking him in deeper and deeper till he reached your pillowy cervix.

Your beautiful raunchy melodies grew louder and louder with every passing minute.

"Shit, Jay yes, right there."

Moaning his name repeatedly, his pace accelerates, hips starting to rut in rhythmic motion. Breaths bated, heavy grunts and cursing underneath his breath, he listens to you begin to wail as your nails dig into his skin. Skin slapping skin from the result of his hips pounding into yours, the continuous squelching of your arousal coaxes around your thighs with a fervor.

Nose ghosting over your pulse, he hums at the increase of your heart beat, lips placing a delicate kiss to the inimate space, he hears you start to speak gibberish.

"Fuck... I love you, I love you so much."

Without second thought, your words overflow like a fountain.

Joyously overcame with the idea of being adorned and desired from someone worth loving. You chose him out of all people, you chose him to be the love of your life.

And hearing those three little words slip from out of your mouth, made his movements go slow.

Eyes shot open and wide, he swears his heart just skipped a beat.

Flushed out of shock, his head stayed at the base of your neck. You, however, continued to hold him. Knowing that your words were gonna come off as unexpected and sudden, you didn't want to let him go, you weren't going to allow him to run away from the fact that the moments you've shared together wasn't all for nothing. That feeling that scared the living shit out of both of you was there.

Jason was terrified to say it. Maybe because he didn't ever want to run into the possibility of his lover being taken away from him? How his lifestyle is, he never had the problem of losing anything but when he met you, it was different. There was a chance, a possibility, that you could be gone in a blink of an eye. It was hard to fathom how someone, like you, could be so precious and yet so sweet, live in a world that was all dark and gloomy, his world, specifically. It didn't add up and didn't make any sense why you stayed with him after knowing what he does, after knowing about his messed up past and who his family truly was and what he was all about. How could you have stayed all this time?

There was silence.

You feel his head lift to give you a studied gaze, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Your thumbs stroke at his scarred face.

He leans into your embrace, his forehead meeting yours, nose brushing against yours, his breath bated just as much as yours. This unfamiliar emotion growing deep within his chest made him suddenly shy, eyes flickering between yours with swollen gaped lips.

"It's okay, Jay, you can say it." You coerce in a hush tone, glancing between his orbs.

He completely melts into you, his gaze softening with grace and adoration.

"I love you, y/n," He utters, feeling his chest tighten. "I love you so much. I love you with fiber in my body. I love you to the point of living...to the point of death." His jaw clenched, swallowing hard. "Fuck... you make me feel so alive...I couldn't lose you to anything, baby, I can't...you'd be the death of me."

All you could do was smile and reach in to give him a sloppy kiss.

Like countless times before he proves himself right.

Without even telling you, you knew from the way he cared for you time after time again that he's always loved you and vise versa of course. You knew deep down inside he loved you from the start. It was evident in the way he kept engaging with you, there was consistency, constantly making effortless eye contact with you and attentive to you mentally, physically and emotionally. He loved you past your flaws. Equally, you both loved how you two just connected with a snap of a finger.

Even after this moment you were so sure of his promise-- his oath, that you were his one and only.

And after a few rounds of endless love making, intensive fucking and tainting each other's skin, Jason and you were tangled up on the floor with your backs against the couch. While opening the last bit of gifts, a polyester blanket covers your lower halves as you feed each other chocolate covered fruit and sip on some wine.

Aside from the necklace you'd gotten this morning, you received a pair of your favorite shoes. You've been keeping your eyes on them for awhile now. They were expensive as hell and you were just waiting for them to get on sale.

Jason, however, went ahead and bought them without hesitation. He also bought a couple of outfits to even complete the look. You'd receive a goody basket of all your favorite snacks, a big stuffed teddy bear and another vinyl to add to your collection.

For Jason, he was gifted another book from a vintage store, a brand new pair of shoes since the last ones were starting to get a little raggedy, two matching hoodies and sweatpants, and a recipe book that he had been meaning to get but completely forgotten about it.

When the boxes were all empty and red wrapping paper was all over the place, he noticed one more sitting on the coffee table by the half empty bottle of wine.

"I'm assuming this one's for me?" He points, cocking a brow at you.

You frown following his gaze.

"Oh shit, yeah, that's yours alright." You confirm stuffing your mouth with a gummy bear, propping your arm up on the couch and resting your head in your hand.

He chuckles with a shake of his head, reaching for the red heart shape bag and settling back down beside you.

You study carefully as he starts to pull the paper from out of the bag. Expecting to see the present right then and there, he scoffs when he lifts the box in his hand.

"What did you get me, woman?" He grumbles playfully, putting the bag and paper to the side.

"Open it and you shall find out." You state smartly drawing closer to him with anticipation.

The last gift you'd gotten him was a military dog tag, a locket with a picture of you and him inside it. It captured the moment when he had asked you to be his girlfriend in midwinter. Around the falling snow at a nearby park. There was a wide smile on your face when you had said yes. Jason was so nervous that day, he thought he was going to shit his pants.

Beside it was a silver sterling ring with gold edges around it and along the inside of it were the words "forever mine" engraved on it.

Although he wasn't the kind of person to lavish in jewelry, this was something worth showing off... aside from you of course.

He looks to you with gratitude, leaning in to give you a passionate kiss, you move half way. Your noses brush before your lips collide.

The lingering taste of pineapple kiwi from the candy along your tongue evolves in his mouth as he deepens the kiss.

Sucking the sweetness off your lips, his hand wraps around your neck, engulfing every sense of you as your mouths moved leisurely.

"I love you." He whispers once more, after parting from you.

Observing the sparkle in your eyes under the candle lighting, he notices the smile across your face grew wider, nudging your nose against his sweetly.

"I love you too, Jason. Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

Masterlist | 𝕾𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

Note

OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even?

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end.

Plainly put, it had been a while.

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way.

Personal demons including Cazador.

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew.

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light.

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again.

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter.

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!”

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-”

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.”

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet.

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time.

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin.

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?”

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.”

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?”

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen.

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really.

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?”

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction.

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.”

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition.

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?”

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.”

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances.

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?”

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones.

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you.

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.”

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours.

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two.

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach.

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment.

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?”

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions.

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret.

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again.

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.”

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready.

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.”

“Excuse me?”

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic.

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.”

If he has to beg, he will.

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate.

It was a novel moment.

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge.

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.”

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue.

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you.

Something snaps.

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly.

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly.

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it?

It was Astarion’s own damn fault.

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control.

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?”

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain.

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you.

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole.

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?”

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.”

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do.

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib.

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.”

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip.

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.”

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him.

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head.

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.”

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has.

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy.

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough.

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment.

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe.

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you.

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice.

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier.

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone.

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so.

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness.

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort.

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you.

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

#ghost's stories #smutty party #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x you #my writing #there's a line in here that my best friend watched me write in real time IN PERSON that we both cackled about #i went 'i really shouldn't include it' and she went 'but it's HIM'#it's giving 'i'd rather be the only dark power inside you'#idk if this is good but it is what it is ya know #if the ending feels rushed it's because i felt terrible for how long it was getting lol #i just wanna love on the boy #i just wanna love him and he love me is that too much to ask #so many pet names i considered editing but the voices won

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