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itzkingbo · 3 days ago

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butterflies and roses

chapter two.

Stray Kids ot8 x fem!reader

masterlist / prev chapter / next chapter

overview: you are one of their managers. you're tired, overworked, and sad. the last thing you want to do is worry your boys. but they notice everything. and they love and care for you, like you do for them.

word count: 2.1k

contains: cussing, mentions of pain, fluff, nicknames, use of y/n, mental illness, forcing to eat

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY FRIENDS!! mwauh mwauh!! id like to thank everyone who liked the first chapter and followed me ☺️ welcome to the family. expect great things! if you're new here, HAI im bo! this is chapter two! make sure to catch up!! MORE TO COME I SWEAR. remember! comment to be added to the taglist down below!

Once again, you got little to no sleep that night. You managed to throw yourself into a cold shower the next morning to try and wake up a little. It only did so much. Then you were on your way to the company building once again.

Today's schedule for was slightly more relaxed. You have a meeting with the higher ups to get flights and hotels arranged for the tour, then the boys have an interview. After that you figured you'd spend the rest of your time trying to finish off the paperwork.

The meeting was stressful. No one could seem to agree on anything and kept looking to you to solve their problems. That's how it always was. Everything was thrown onto your shoulders to deal with.

By the end, you had more paperwork to get done than you originally thought. You huffed and packed your bag, then made your way down to the lobby to meet with the other manager.

He was standing there on his phone, pocketing it when he saw you. "Good morning, Y/n-ssi." He greeted you with a small bow. "Morning Eunwoo-ssi." You said tiredly as you joined his side.

The man led you out the front doors and towards his car so the two of you could meet the boys for their interview. When you sat down and buckled into his passenger seat, he handed you his phone.

You raised a brow and took it cautiously. "It's a long drive. Put something on." He says as he starts the car and begins to drive.

Silently, you scroll through spotify to try and find something to put on. Recently a song has been stuck in your head, so you choose that then set his phone aside to look out your window.

As the song begins to play, Eunwoo stiffens up at the lyrics. He wasn't blind. He could tell how much more distant you had been with him and the boys lately. Something was clearly wrong, but you were too stubborn to talk to anyone.

He chose to stay silent, and kept his eyes on the road.

Soon the car came to a stop in the parking lot of a tall building. You and Eunwoo silently made your way towards the front entrance. "Y/n." He starts, and you simply hum in response.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

You look over at him and give him a faint smile. "Sure." You say. Before he can continue, the sound of the boys' loudness makes its way towards you.

Instantly, you look to Chris, who is already staring at you. You look away and begin to lead them down the halls to the room for the interview.

They take their places in front of the camera, and makeup artists move around them meticulously. Chris eyes you from his spot, worried. "Channie-hyung.. What's bothering you?" It's Jeongin's voice that breaks him from his thoughts.

He looks towards the youngest and sighs, leaning in. "Doesn't Y/n look sadder these days? Pale and thinner? She isn't taking care of herself." He whispers.

Jeongin's lips part slightly and he looks towards you, inspecting you from afar. A frown form on his face and he looks back to his elder brother. "You're right.. have you asked her what's wrong?"

Chris nods. "Last night. She's closing us off."

Jeongin hums in thought. "I have an idea."

With that, he leans over and whispers into Chris' ear his plan, right before cameras begin to roll.

After the interview finished up, you quickly told Eunwoo that you would just take a bus back to JYPE. He protested at first, but couldn't get you to change your mind. As you were leaving, you felt something tug at your wrist so you turned to see. It was Felix. "Y/n-ah. Come eat lunch with us." He says, giving you that bright smile he knew you couldn't resist.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked over his shoulder to see the others pouting at you in a pitiful manner. You looked back to the sunshine before you. "Felix.. I have paperwork to do."

Then he bats his eyelashes at you. Obviously you fold in seconds with a sigh. "Alright. Lunch it is." He smiles and tightens his grip on your wrist and pulls you towards the door.

The others follow behind you, and suddenly theres an arm around your shoulder. "We were thinking hot pot. Is that okay?" Jisung asks, making sure he's as close to you as humanly possible. You simply nod. Although you weren't very hungry, maybe you could eat a bit.

Felix looks back at you, then at Jisung with a knowing look. The boy removes his arm from you and falls back, now next to Minho.

By the time you all arrive at the restaurant, you've barely said anything to the boys. Not because you're ignoring them. You just don't feel like talking.

Felix makes it a point to squeeze you in between him and Minho, Jisung to the left of him. You set your bag on the ground by your feet and look at the menu. Nothing looks good or sounds good and you grimace at the thought of anything.

The server comes, and takes your orders. Soon, everything is brought out and the boys begin to cook the food. "Y/n. Look at this new phone game I got." Felix says, grabbing onto your wrist to get your attention. You look over dutifully, wanting to make sure he had your full attention. He showed you every little detail about it that he possibly could. It made a small smile fall onto your face.

What you hadn't noticed, was a certain menace next to you rummaging around in your bag whilst you were distracted.

The evening went on normally from there. You ate a few pieces of meat off Felix's plate, not wanting any for yourself. Then, you were off to the office. Work needed to be done.

You were incredibly exhausted still, barely running on caffeine. By 9:30pm, you were falling asleep at your desk. It was when your forehead smacked into your keyboard that you finally got the hint to go home. Usually you could force yourself to stay awake, but today it wasn't working.

But, you knew the moment you got home, you'd be wide awake again. Regardless, you stood from your desk and collected your things. Finally, you checked your phone for the first time in hours. That was when you realized you had a message from Chris. 'text me when you leave jype'

He always wanted to make sure you got home at a decent time, especially when he wasn't there to monitor your every move, so you thought nothing of it. You send him a quick next saying you're finally leaving before 10pm, then start leaving your office.

What you didn't know, was there was eight people waiting at your apartment for you.

"She's leaving now! We have like twenty minutes!" Chris called out from your bathroom. He heard several 'okay's and 'got it's from around the apartment and he quickened his pace. Currently, he was cleaning it up for you. Minho was hard at work in your kitchen making dinner, Felix baking your favorite sweets.

Jisung and Jeongin had been tasked with cleaning your living room, setting it up for a movie night and games. Changbin and Hyunjin were picking up your room, even folding the clean laundry you had left in a basket a week ago. Seungmin had been sent to the store to get snacks, drinks, and a few things on your shopping list you had been lacking.

On the bus, you were starting to become more awake now. You regretted leaving early, but you were so worn out that you didn't care. You stepped off the bus and gripped your bag tight, beginning your walk down the dark streets of Seoul.

You popped in one airpod, and chose a song from your playlist to keep your mind from wondering.

It's usually pretty quiet at this time of night. Strangers passing by every so often. Convenience store bells dinging in the distance. Peaceful. It didn't take you long for you to make it to your apartment building, and you could already feel the longing for your mattress growing. How long had it been since you got a good night sleep anyway? Two weeks? You had lost count.

You walked up the steps, putting your airpod away and making your way down the hall to your door. You pulled your bag around to your front and rummaged around for your key.

Your key. That's odd. You could have sworn it was there this morning. Where could it have gone? Your brows furrowed and now you practically had your whole head in your bag searching for your key.

Then the sound of a door opening caught your attention. You looked up. It was your door. When you locked eyes with Chris, you became even more confused. "Chris?" He opened the door wider for you and you stepped in cautiously. It was dark. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

Right on cue, the lights turned on and you winced slightly before your eyes adjusted. You looked around. It was.. clean!? The boys were all sprawled out around your now clean living room, minus a few. You felt tears well up in your eyes and you covered your mouth. "You-"

"We figured we'd help you out a bit, Y/n. You've clearly been stressed." Chris says, causing you to turn to him. You quickly embrace him in a hug as tears stream down your face. "Thank you." You mumble.

"Is she home?" You hear a familiar deep voice call out. Then, the smell of baked goodies hits your nose and you look up from where you stood in Chris' arms. The moment your eyes land on the brownies in his hands, you shoot over to Felix like a rocket and snatch one up. "Oh. Lixie." You say, mouth full.

He chuckles happy to see a smile on your face. "Minho-hyung has dinner going." He says, moving over to hand brownies to the others.

For the next hour or so, you stay huddled up on the couch trapped in Felix's arms as you all play Uno. Soon, everyone gets up to go make a plate of food, but you stay on the couch. This doesn't go unnoticed, and the man himself takes a seat next to you and shoves a plate into your hands. "Eat." Minho says, leaving no room for argument.

"I'm not hungry." You say quickly, moving the plate to the coffee table. Minho glares at you. "Yes you are. Look at you, y/n. You're to thin I'm afraid you might snap if I poke you. Eat."

You frown and grab the plate again. It does smell delicious. And who were you to say no to his cooking anyway. You pick at it for a few minutes before a hand interrupts and grabs your chopsticks. "He said eat." Jisung growls, picking up some food and then grabbing your jaw with his free hand. "So eat." And you open, and he shoves the noodles into your mouth.

You look up at him with your eyes as the others laugh at his sudden burst of outrage. You chew, and then swallow. "Do I have to keep feeding you like a baby, or will you eat?"

With a scoff, you take your chopsticks back and begin to eat properly.

The night passes by, and soon it's midnight. Everyone is cuddled up on the couch, your head leaned against Hyunjin's shoulder. A movie played on the TV, but you weren't watching. You were passed out, and had been for a while. As the film came to an end, Chris looked over at you and smiled. "Finally.." He sighed. "Let's take her yo her bed."

Hyunjin nods and maneuvers carefully to scoop you up without waking you. Then, he caries you down the hall and into your room where he lays you down, and makes sure you're under the covers. You stir a little, and he places a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Good night, y/n-ah."

None of them left, in fear that you'd wake up and fall back into your habits quickly. So they slept on pallets on the floor and the couch. All eight of them would be spending the next day helping you heal, or the next week if they had to. You needed them.

---

taglist: @helialaufeyson28

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monster-noises · 1 month ago

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What a great and wonderful coincidence that the laundry room breaks the same time i run out of underweaaaaaar

#monster noises #it's been broken for ~four days~ cause it was ~the weekend~#so i Asked my building manager what the deal was and he was like #'ahh well two of them are working so it Is Technically open but the problems not fixed so use at your own discretion #and call me right away if it leaks'#and like #if i didn't Need clean pants and underwear now and can't wait until w e d n e s d a y #i would simply not risk it #but jeff #I'm so sorry buddy #I'm not inside-outing it for a whole week

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l4ndonorizz · 4 months ago

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stuck / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: the neighbourhood - stuck with me

summary: you're lando's pr manager and you're fuming because he made a mess again. but he solves the problem when you're stuck in an elevator.

wc: 1.3k

“How are you feeling about this?” you asked, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you both stepped into the elevator. You didn’t even look at Lando as you spoke, already feeling the headache building at the base of your skull. This wasn’t the first time you had to clean up after one of his slip-ups, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Lando sighed heavily beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’d rather be anywhere else,” he muttered, his tone casual, almost as if this was just another day at work.

You shot him a sharp look, your patience already wearing thin. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have to be here if you hadn’t caused a media circus in the first place, would you?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, smirking at your response. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” You could hardly believe what you were hearing. “You literally gave the media a goldmine, Lando! And now I have to deal with the fallout because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Again.”

Lando leaned back against the elevator wall, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying your frustration. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You glared at him. “Don’t start with me. This is serious.”

“I’m always serious,” he said, his tone completely at odds with the grin spreading across his face. “I just think maybe you’re overreacting a little. I mean, it’s my job to get attention, right?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to hold back the irritation bubbling up inside you. “There’s a difference between getting attention for winning a race and getting attention because you’ve said something stupid.”

Lando shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Yeah, but the media loves a good drama. You should be thanking me for giving you something to do.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that meant you were one second away from snapping. “Oh, right. I should be thanking you for making my life harder? Because now I have to smooth this over so you don’t look like a complete idiot?”

Lando’s grin widened. “Maybe you’re just jealous, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing. “Maybe all this stress is because you’re a little jealous of the attention I’m getting. You know, from the fans, the press...the ladies.”

You felt your face heat up, a mix of anger and embarrassment rising to the surface. “Jealous? Of you? Absolutely not.”

“Sure,” he said, dragging out the word, clearly not buying it. “You definitely weren’t fuming when that journalist asked me out last week.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I was fuming because it was unprofessional, and we were in the middle of a press conference. Not because I’m jealous.”

Lando shrugged again, his smirk still firmly in place. “If you say so.”

Before you could respond, the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, the lights flickering for a moment before everything went still. You both froze, glancing around the small space.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pressing the button for the next floor. Nothing. You pressed it again, harder this time. Still nothing.

Lando looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Well, this is awkward.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Of course. Of course this would happen today.”

Lando, ever the optimist, leaned back against the wall again, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. “Guess we’re stuck.”

You shot him a look of pure exasperation. “We can’t be stuck. We have the press conference in less than an hour. I don’t have time for this.”

He patted the floor beside him, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Come on, sit down. Might as well get comfortable.”

You huffed but eventually gave in, sliding down the wall to sit beside him. You were both quiet for a moment, the weight of the situation settling in.

“This is just perfect,” you muttered. “Now we’ll miss the conference, and everyone will assume you’re dodging questions.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Hey, at least we’ll have a good excuse. ‘Sorry, we’re trapped in an elevator.’”

You glared at him. “This isn’t funny, Lando. You’ve put yourself in a bad spot, and now I have to be the one to clean it up. Again.”

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. “You’re really stressed about this, huh?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah, I am. It’s my job to make sure you come out of this looking good, and you keep making it harder.”

Lando was quiet for a beat before nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a pain sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes, though the edge in your voice had softened. “Sometimes?”

He grinned, clearly relieved that you weren’t completely mad at him anymore. “Okay, most of the time. But hey, you’re amazing at what you do. You always fix it.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I have to be, with you around.”

“See?” Lando said, his voice light again. “You should really be thanking me.”

You shot him a playful glare, nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t push it.”

The tension between you softened as the teasing subsided, replaced by something more subtle. Lando looked at you, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual, and suddenly the air in the elevator felt different. There was a shift, something unspoken but undeniably present. You were close, closer than you realized, and for the first time, you could feel a kind of weight behind his gaze.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you just how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You blinked, not expecting the sincerity in his tone. “Lando, it’s my job—”

“No,” he interrupted, leaning in just slightly, his expression serious. “It’s more than that. You put up with me, you deal with all my shit, and... I don’t know. You’re always there.

His words hung in the air, thick with meaning you didn’t quite know how to process. Your heart was pounding, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest as the silence stretched on. Before you could say anything, the elevator jolted, the lights flickered, and the soft hum of the machinery kicked back in. The doors didn’t open yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

But then, in that suspended moment, Lando moved closer, his eyes searching yours, and before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was a slow, deliberate kiss, as if he’d been thinking about doing this for a long time. His hand came up to cup your face, and for a second, you forgot about everything—the press conference, the mess he’d caused, the fact that you were his PR manager.

The kiss deepened, your hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, and for that brief moment, nothing else mattered. Just the two of you, in this small, confined space, finally letting the tension between you spill over.

The elevator doors dinged softly, snapping you both back to reality. You pulled away, your breath coming in short gasps, eyes wide as the situation hit you.

Lando let out a soft, breathless laugh, his forehead resting against yours. “Guess we’ll have to finish that later.”

You could only nod, still too stunned to form words.

With one final smile, Lando stepped out of the elevator, and you followed, your mind still reeling from the kiss that had just changed everything.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 one shot #formula 1 #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando x reader

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azen13 · 6 months ago

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CW: Yandere Themes, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Imagine Yandere!Zhongli in a Reverse!AU, where you're Liyue's Archon and you seal him away. Thousands of years ago, you and him were friends ruling over different sections of what would become Liyue. You hardly noticed the way his eyes lingered on you whenever he saw you, hardly knew how he would dream of having you all to himself.

One day, he makes an advance as you both sip on tea at Mount Aocang, pledging to move mountains and sink continents if you ask. The price of his eternal affection remains unsaid, but you can see it in the feral, draconic look in his eye. Every dragon has a hoard, even Zhongli. And he will stop at nothing until he can have you as his most valuable treasure.

Despite his efforts to prevent you from escaping, you manage to flee back to your territory. Weeks later, Zhongli attempts to catch you off guard with a surprise invasion, but in the heat of battle, you manage to seal him away beneath the earth.

Millenia pass, and you mourn the loss of a friend, but work to build the nation of Liyue up to the ground. The Fatui come, offering a deal for your Gnosis, and you refuse. It is a mistake you will regret every day for eternity.

One day, the earth shakes in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You feel his presence before you even catch a glimpse of his crystalline horns or golden eyes. Warm and earthy like petrichor. Running out into the city streets, you help an elderly couple around some piles of rubble, before continuing towards the source of the power.

The God of Contracts finds you first, though, easily snaring your feet in stone. His power is choking in a way, and when you try to fight back with your own magic, you feel the power in your body quickly draining from you. Zhongli notices the surprise in your face, and a small smirk plays on his lips. "I've had many years to learn some new...tricks, my treasure," he murmurs, striding towards you confidently. His fingers hook under your chin, pulling it up so your eyes gaze into his. "The people that freed me said they would let me keep you if I gave them your Gnosis."

In an instant, his hand is in your chest, grasping around for your Gnosis. You cry out in pain and try to struggle, but Zhongli grabs your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing you steady. It only takes a moment for him to pull out your Gnosis, gazing at it intently. "You cannot truly understand how long I have dreamt of this day. Of you, my dearest. And now, we will never have to be apart," he whispers, pressing his lips against yours greedily. He allows himself a few seconds to savor this scene, before pulling away.

"Now, my treasure. I wish to make a contract with you." With a wave of his hand, he manifests a piece of parchment filled with words on it out of thin air. "I will help repair all the damage I have done if you promise to be mine, in body and spirit, for better or for worse." You glare at him vehemently, spitting out your refusal. In return, Zhongli simply chuckles. "In that case, I will turn every building to dust," he threatens.

Turning to some already-damaged buildings, he raises a hand, ready to demolish them with a flick of the wrist. Your cries of acquiescence stop him before he can, however. When you finish signing, Zhongli gives you a predatory smile, brushing his fingers against the side of your face. "I knew you would surrender, my dearest," he purrs, possessiveness filling his eyes. "Now, allow me to fulfill my own contract, and then we can return home," he says.

You get the feeling that you will not be leaving home for a very long time.

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osarina · 9 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.

(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!

You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking.

Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.

“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side.

“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”

The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.

“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”

“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”

“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”

You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics.

“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction.

Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk.

“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately.

“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.

“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”

“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”

He’s telling the truth.

Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.

“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you.

“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”

“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”

A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk.

You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there.

“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”

Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is.

“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”

You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”

Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”

“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’

“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”

Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge.

Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt.

You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple.

He smiles.

Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route.

“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants.

As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.

You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.

It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.

Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.

He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.

Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is.

This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-

You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.

You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to.

God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.

“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest.

He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.

The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.

“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.”

He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him.

Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.

“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”

You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.

It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.

You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs.

He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent.

God, he’s gorgeous.

You hate him.

You’ve missed him.

You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.

“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.

You don’t deny him. You never can.

You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.

Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.

You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs.

Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips.

“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.”

You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago.

“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective.

“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?”

You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-

“None.”

“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”

“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.

“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”

This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.

“No?” he questions.

A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him.

“No.”

His smile sharpens.

“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”

True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.

“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”

“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.

He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace.

His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.

“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”

Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time.

“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying.

Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.

Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch.

“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”

You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”

He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist.

Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.

You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.

This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs.

It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.

You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did.

Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work.

What did you do?

You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk.

If anyone finds out about this-

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.

He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek.

You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes.

“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”

“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”

“Stop.”

“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for Christmas because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”

The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything.

Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.

“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”

“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”

“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”

“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t.

“I know,” he murmurs.

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.

Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly.

“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”

His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”

“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”

The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses.

“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 3 months ago

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PR disaster

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this one-shot. Franco is one of my favourite drivers so it was time that I wrote something for him :)

From the moment Y/N was hired as Williams' new PR manager, she knew the job wouldn’t be easy, especially with Logan's departure. Managing a driver's exit was never simple, and controlling the public narrative seemed like her biggest concern. However, she quickly realized that her true challenge came in the form of Franco, the young talent who had taken Logan’s place in the team.

Franco wasn’t just an exceptional driver; he was a whirlwind of energy and charisma. For the fans and the press, he was a breath of fresh air, full of charm and wit. But for Y/N, he was a constant source of headaches. Whether he was flirting with journalists, posting cheeky comments on social media, or creating unnecessary drama, it always ended with her cleaning up the mess.

"Y/N, did you see his latest post?" One of her assistants burst into her office, waving a tablet in the air. Another post. Another reckless comment from Franco.

Y/N groaned. Of course, he couldn’t help himself. She had spent the last week trying to reign him in, explaining time and time again that his social media presence needed to be professional, not a flirt-fest with every reporter and fan that interacted with him.

"This needs to stop," she muttered to herself, standing up from her desk. She stormed through the paddock, her frustration building with every step.

When she found Franco lounging near the team garage, chatting up a group of reporters—no surprise there—she called his name sharply.

"Franco. A word." Her tone left no room for argument.

He flashed his signature grin, excusing himself from the conversation and strolling over to her. "Hey, jefa," he said casually, as if nothing was wrong. "What’s up?"

(Hey, boss)

“What’s up?” she repeated, her voice laced with exasperation. “You’re what’s up. I just had to deal with your latest ‘incident’ on social media—again.”

Franco shrugged, leaning against the wall with an easy confidence that only made her more irritated. "Ah, it was just a little fun. People like it when I’m myself."

Y/N crossed her arms. “Flirting with journalists isn’t being yourself, it’s being reckless. You need to tone it down. This is a professional environment, not… whatever you think it is.”

He raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanour never faltering. "¿Estás diciendo que no te gusta que sea encantador? No puedo evitarlo si soy irresistible." (¿Are you saying that you don't like that I'm charming? I can't help it if I'm irresistible.)

Y/N frowned, her Spanish rusty but enough to pick up on something. "What?"

Franco grinned wider, sensing an opportunity. "Nada, nada," he said, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know, maybe you should try smiling more. You’re always so… serious." He tilted his head, looking her up and down in a way that made her feel like he was studying her every reaction. "Me gusta más cuando te ríes… tienes una sonrisa preciosa, ¿sabes?" (Nothing, nothing) (I like it better when you laugh … you have a beautiful smile ¿you know?)

Her brow furrowed. Okay, that part she definitely understood, and it only made her more determined to get her point across. “This isn’t about me, Franco. This is about you being impossible to manage.”

He leaned closer, his tone dropping just slightly, enough to make her feel the warmth of his presence. "¿Imposible? No, jefa. Imposible sería si intentaras resistirte a mis encantos. Aunque… lo estás haciendo muy bien." (¿Impossible? No, boss. Impossible would be if you tried to resist my charm. Even… if you are doing it well)

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “What did you just say?”

Franco simply smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You know, if you want me to be more ‘professional,’ we could… work out an agreement.”

“An agreement?” she asked, wary of where this was going.

He nodded, stepping just a little too close for comfort. “Sí. I’ll behave. No more trouble. But… on one condition.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that?”

Franco’s grin turned almost predatory, though still playful. “You go on a date with me.”

Her jaw dropped. "A date?"

"Sí, una cita. You know, dinner, maybe some wine… you can lecture me all you want. But I think you’ll find I’m much better behaved when you get to know me… fuera del trabajo." (Yes, a date) (… out of work)

Y/N could feel her face heating up, partly from the absurdity of the situation and partly because Franco’s intense gaze was starting to get to her. “You’re joking.”

Franco tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “¿Parezco que estoy bromeando, jefa?” (¿Does it look like I'm joking, boss?)

Y/N stared at him, her mind racing. There was no way he could be serious. This was just another one of his games, another flirtatious comment that she needed to brush off. But as Franco stood there, grinning like the cat that got the cream, she realized he wasn’t backing down. His eyes were locked on hers, waiting, full of that infuriating confidence.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped, turning on her heel to walk away. But as she took a step, Franco called after her.

"Well, I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing then… Maybe tweet a little something extra for the fans later."

She froze, clenching her fists at her sides. This man was impossible. She could already picture the chaos his next social media stunt would cause. The endless calls, the damage control, the headaches…

Y/N spun back around to face him. “Fine,” she blurted out, her voice filled with frustration. “You want a date? You’ll get your stupid date. But only if you promise—promise—to behave.”

Franco’s grin widened, looking almost triumphant. "¡Perfecto! I knew you couldn’t resist." (¡Perfect!)

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “This isn’t about ‘resisting,’ it’s about making sure you don’t ruin the team’s reputation. One dinner, and you tone it all down.”

Franco nodded, still smiling like she’d just handed him the world on a silver platter. "You won’t regret it, jefa. I’ll be a perfect gentleman." (boss)

Y/N scoffed, turning away once more. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

As she began walking back to her office, she could hear Franco’s voice calling after her, his tone teasing and undeniably smug. "No te preocupes, jefa. I’ll be on my best behaviour… unless you want me to misbehave a little." (Don't worry boss.)

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small, almost begrudging smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Franco was trouble, and she knew it. But for some reason, as infuriating as he was, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of something… interesting.

Grumpy or not, she’d agreed to the date. And she had a feeling this was only the beginning of whatever madness Franco had in store for her.

Here's part 2

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto fanfic

694 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 8 months ago

Note

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

taglist

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

Text

Push him

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR manager! Reader

Summary: When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: smut, bucky is obsessed with your short skirts, bucky is recovering, grumpy x sunshine, good friend natasha romanoff, office sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: ‼️so if you haven't seen my previous post, this is my new account. you may have seen this work on my old one (@inmyicyworld) but it was terminated and @support doesn't respond to me. please, follow and share this work. I'm going to reupload all of my old fanfics and hope to get your support ❤️

The work at the Avengers Tower wasn’t what you expected it to be. Tony Stark found you while you were working for another company a little bit more than a month ago. He was amazed by the way you were dealing with problems, by your charisma, and by your ability to find a common language with everyone. That’s how he knew that he had to have you as his partner and a part of the team.

The next day, you got a call directly from Tony, asking you to quit your job and accept his offer to work as Avenger’s PR manager. It would be an understatement to say that your jaw dropped to the floor when you heard your salary.

He said that you were totally worth it and that working with a group of such different people was not easy, but he was sure that you would be perfect at this. So on that exact day, you decided to take a risk and accept the challenge.

One thing that you hated about your previous job was the strict dress code. It was simply far from your style because you hated wearing the same basic and boring clothes every day. Tony said that it was the last thing that he cared about, and in that building, no one was obligated to wear certain clothes.

You knew that it was your lucky ticket.

He was actually really friendly and funny in person. You talked a lot during your first day while he was showing you all the necessary places in the tower: your office, his lab, common rooms and kitchens, avenger’s rooms, and even a beautiful garden on the roof. By the way, Tony allowed you to decorate your office however you wanted and gave you the number of the person who was responsible for this.

In short, it was perfect.

You were giddy with excitement on your first actual day of work. According to the plan, you had to meet with the Avengers and then arrange a few meetings for Tony.

It felt like you spent hours before your mirror deciding what to wear. Your whole room was a mess, and when you finally completed your look, which consisted of a short black skirt, beige long sleeve and a brown leather jacket on top, it was already time to go.

Everyone in the room heard you before they saw you because of the sound of your heels clicking on the wood floor.

“Don’t tell me that this is our PR manager, Stark.” Black Widow looked you up and down with a smirk on her face. “You look good, hun. Finally, someone with a taste in this boring group of losers, besides me and Wanda, of course.”

“Hi.” You nicely smiled, not ready to get a compliment as soon as you stepped into the room.

“Ohh, she’s also the sweet one.” Another red-headed woman, Wanda, said with a smile.

“You both, shut up.” Tony stood up from the armchair with a pack of chips in one hand and threw the other one over your shoulder. “Want some?” He asked you, showing the food, but you slightly shook your head. “Whatever… Now, you all listen here, this is Y/N; she’s our new PR manager. I stole her from someone because she’s incredibly smart and good at her job. Starting from this moment, she’s going to cover up your asses and organize all this stupid media stuff.” You blushed at his words but were still silent. “So, this is Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Th—wait, you already know them, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” You chuckled. “By the way, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope we can work together, and I will have a chance to be helpful.” You took a look at all the Avengers in the room, and everyone looked at you with a smile except one person, whose eyes sent shivers down your spine.

When you looked at Bucky, you saw that his eyes were scanning your body with an unreadable expression, and you suddenly felt really weird in your short skirt. Your eyes met, and his famous death stare was really quite scary. He didn’t like you? You two were staring at each other for a few seconds, and you believe that the rest of the team noticed it because Steve loudly cleared his throat to get your attention.

He asked you a few questions about you, and Clint and Sam made a few jokes. Everything was fine as you all chatted for a little bit until Tony said that everyone should get ready for tomorrow’s mission, and you too have a lot to do.

You went back to your office only with the thought that, during this whole time, Bucky was staring at you like he wanted to burn a hole in your head.

Later that day, Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of already-cold coffee while Steve was making himself dinner. It was quiet besides the sound of the cooking food, or at least Bucky didn’t listen to Steve’s words because he was too deep in his thoughts.

Well, he was mostly thinking about you and his mixed feelings about this interaction. As soon as you walked into the room, you had his whole attention. He couldn’t help but stare at your body, at your open legs, and at your smiley face. He knew that he sounded like a total creep and that it was inappropriate to look at other people this way, but he had never seen women dress this way. Was it normal right now? Was it new fashion trends or something? The only women that he had been interacting with for the past few years were women from Wakanda, and in the tower it was mostly Nat and Wanda, and he had never seen them dress like that. Or, at least, he just didn’t care enough to notice it.

When he saw you today, he felt something in him, and he didn’t like that feeling. It was something new, something that he had never experienced before, but his body became tense and his stomach tightened. It was weird.

“What, you're still trying to process her?” He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam, who came to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Bucky looked at him and furrowed his brows when he saw a shitty smirk.

“What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you smiling like an idiot?” Bucky growled.

“Because you’re thinking about Y/N.” His words caught Steve’s attention, and he came closer.

“That’s why you two were staring at each other like that?” Steve said this while drying his hands with a towel. “Do you like her? I think she seems cute.”

“No, I don’t. She just looks... different.”

“Oh, the old man got excited by the beautiful woman and her short skirt.” Sam’s smile got even wider as he started teasing Bucky. “You know, I wanted to ask her out, but I can take a step back if you like her.” He leaned on the table so he could get under Bucky’s skin even more.

“I do not like her.”

“So you’re okay if I ask her out? Maybe I should go to her office right now.” Sam pretended like he was really thinking about this.

“Sam...” Steve said.

“You both are just getting on my fucking nerves.” Bucky’s chair almost fell to the floor when he angrily stood up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care about you or her.” With these words, he stormed out of the room, and Sam started to laugh out loud.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother whose kids always fight.

“That was fun, and maybe it’ll push him to ask her out. She’s hot, but not my type; I’m just trying to help this idiot.”

You have been working with the Avengers for over a month now. This work was literally a dream from any angle. You were making a lot of money, doing the job that you really liked, and found a lot of close friends.

Almost everyone on the team was very close to you. Natasha and Wanda were particularly your best friends. Sam was the funniest person you’ve ever met, and he always found time to tease you or to make a compliment. Bruce and Clint were like your uncles—a little bit old and annoying, but always with a piece of advice for you. A few times, you and Steve met at the gym when you came to work too early, so he was happy to train with you. Who would’ve thought that Captain America himself would teach you how to throw a punch?

The only pain in your ass was Bucky Barnes. Well, to be fair, he didn’t do anything. You’re not even sure that you heard his voice. He was always just staring. Any time that you came to the room and he was there, you either saw him from the corner of your eyes or felt his burning gaze on your back.

To this day, you had no problems with your job. You organized a few interviews for Tony and Steve, talked to the newspapers and magazines, and held some meetings, but right now, sitting on your white chair, you felt weirdly nervous.

Bucky had to come here any minute to talk about a recent accident. Apparently, he almost knocked out someone on the street. All the press and news sources were taking advantage of the situation and using loud headlines to cast a shadow on Bucky and get more views. “The Winter Soldier is back?”. “The Winter Soldier almost killed an innocent man on the street.”

It has been the biggest topic on the internet for the past few hours. Most of the people were furious and wrote too many inappropriate and rude things. So you asked FRIDAY to call Bucky so you could know the whole situation and give comments to the press as soon as possible.

You started thinking about what you should do, or, to be more honest, how to behave around Bucky, because a few days ago two red-headed women that you now considered your best friends assured you that he is in love with you and just doesn't know what to do with it.

You told them everything about his weird actions—that he always looked at you, checked your clothes, and stayed silent. Natasha and Wanda just looked at each other with smirks on their faces.

“Why are you looking at each other like that?” You arched an eyebrow and crossed your hands across your chest.

“Please, don't tell me that you don't understand his behavior.” Natasha looked at you and sipped her coffee.

Well, I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew the reason.”

“Honey, he lust likes you and thinks that you’re hot. You remember that he’s actually an old man, right? Women from his time didn’t dress like that, and you look really sexy.” Wanda’s words made Nat nod her head as you looked weirdly at both of them.

“That’s bullshit, Wanda. This can’t be true. I'm sure that he just doesn’t like me and thinks that I look too revealing. Or he just hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”

“Some time ago, I came to the kitchen at like 2 a.m. just in my lingerie because I thought everyone was asleep. Barnes was sitting there with a book, and you know what? He just said “Hi” and didn’t even look at me again while I was making a sandwich. And when he sees you, he just can’t take his eyes away and stares like an idiot.”

You stayed silent, thinking about the girls' words, because everything seemed pretty reasonable.

“And what should I do?”

“I don’t know, seduce him or something.” Natasha just casually said it, and your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Wait, do you like him?” Wanda asked you, and Natasha huffed like it was obvious.

“I mean… he’s beautiful. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but Steve and Sam love him, and I trust their opinion.” You stopped trying to put together your thoughts. “To be honest, sometimes I think about the fact that he’s probably one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen. When we studied history at school, all the girls fell in love with America's Boy, and I with his best friend.”

“Then don’t wait. Just give him some hints, because I swear, for the ladies’ man, he’s too slow.” Natasha’s words made you smile. “Try to get closer to him; I don’t know, flash him with your boobs and look at the reaction. Push him a little bit. He’ll break.”

The loud knock on the door almost made you jump out of your chair.

“Come in.” You said this as you stood up and fixed your white dress and cardigan.

Bucky came probably to the lightest and most cozy room in the whole tower. A lot of white and pastel colors, comfy sofa and armchairs, and paintings on the wall. And in the middle of this was you—always perfectly looking, in heels, in a too-short dress, and with a smile on your face. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the smooth skin of your legs. It’s probably so soft...

“Em– Hi.” You awkwardly stood while his eyes were scanning your body. He didn’t answer; he just nodded. “So I think that we can sit there, it’s more comfortable.” You wave your hand at the sofa with a fluffy cover on it. “Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, soda?” Bucky just shook his head while he was trying to comfortably sit with a frown on his face.

You deeply inhaled while trying to be a professional. You didn’t know what was wrong with this man, but his behavior started to get on your nerves.

“Bucky, we can’t work together if you keep ignoring me. You can say if you don’t like something, because I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” You sat across from him and crossed your legs.

“I don’t know what I should say.” His deep voice filled the room. Bucky took a pillow that was lying near him and started playing with the fringe. “I feel weird when I’m around you, and I don’t like it. I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have.” His eyes scanned your body once again, and you wondered if he was talking about what you thought.

“Can I do something to change it?”

“No.” He deeply inhaled. “It’s my own problem, and it’s not your job to try to fix it. Anyway, why am I here?”

“I think you know why. I need to ask you about the recent incident because I have a meeting with the press in less than an hour, and I have to give them a good reason why you did that. People didn’t take all that information too well.” You saw that Bucky sadly smiled and looked you directly in the eyes, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “So, tell me what’s happened.”

“You know that whatever you say won’t change people’s opinions about me, right? No one forgave me, and they’re still looking for a chance to call me a murderer.” He tried to hide behind a smile, but you saw everything written in his eyes. Bucky hurt himself with his own words.

“I understand how you feel about this whole situation, but we should address all those rumors because things might get worse.” You leaned on your knees with your hands, and Bucky’s eyes immediately fell on your boobs.

Push him a little bit. He’ll break.

You tried to hold back a smirk.

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “ I– um– I was walking from the coffee shop to the tower. It was another busy street with hundreds of people, but I still didn’t expect someone to touch me. That man jumped on my back or something, and my instincts just worked. I threw him over myself on the ground and put a hand on his throat. Turned out he wanted to take a picture. But I panicked because there are many people who want to take revenge and who might want to do it literally any second. I’m always ready for this.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but you could hear the pain in his voice.

You felt deeply sorry for the man before you. Even if he was cold and acted weird around you, you knew that it was his way to protect himself. After everything he came through, you couldn’t blame him.

“Do you still go to the therapist?” You gently asked.

“Yes, two times a week.” Bucky nervously ran his right hand through his hair while still holding your pillow in the metal one.

“Okay, that’s good; I can work with this information.” You nodded and reached for your journal on the coffee table. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to convince people that it was not your fault, okay?”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stood up, carefully putting your pillow in its place, and left your office without another word, while you were sitting there with a smile.

Maybe the girls were right.

After that day, everything between you and Bucky became even weirder. Yes, he wasn’t totally silent now, and you’ve got a few “Hi”, but his stares felt different.

It was like you two were playing some kind of game. Since you knew that he didn’t actually hate you, you tried to do as Natasha and Wanda said—get his attention and push more. And God, you loved that game.

Almost every day you found an opportunity or excuse to see him in common rooms or in the corridors of the Tower, and you made sure that Bucky noticed you. You wore tighter clothes, walked right past him, and looked at him with a smile. You knew that it was working because a few times Bucky just suddenly left the room while he was mumbling something.

It was almost 8 p.m., but you were still working on schedule for the next week. There was some kind of charity event, and Tony required you to convince everyone to go there because more Avengers can attract more sponsors and money. As always, Bucky was the one who refused to go there. He simply sees no reason for him to be there, and he doesn’t want to be there alone because he knows that Captain America will be the biggest star, and such a social butterfly as Sam will leave him in a second.

You decided that it would be better to talk to Bucky in person, but you didn’t want to lose a chance to get his attention, so you went by yourself instead of asking FRIDAY.

You looked in the small mirror to check your makeup and hair and went straight to where you knew Bucky was spending his evening. As you walked in a dark room filled with only light from the TV, you saw Sam and Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky on the armchair near them. You quietly walk to him and just casually sit on the armrest. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and you heard that the chewing from the boys stopped. Bucky had no choice but to put his metal arm on your lower back.

“I need you in my office. You have to talk about the next charity event. Could you please give me some of your time?” You quietly asked and lowered yourself closer to him. Bucky was just staring at you for a few seconds, but then slightly nodded.

Bucky followed you to your office, not without getting smirks from the boys,and then stood near your table with his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t you want to sit?” You said and stepped closer to him.

“No.”

“Um– okay.” You took the papers from your table and stood in front of Bucky. “So, you know that there is going to be a charity event, and I’m responsible for getting all the Avengers there, and you are one of them.”

“I’m not going, I already told Tony.” He just shrugged.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not needed there. I’m not an actual hero, people have no interest in me, especially when there will be Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, you know? Plus, I have no interest in sitting alone the whole night.” You saw that Bucky tried to be casual about it, but he just put salt on his own wound.

“Don’t say that, Bucky. There are people who want to see you there, you have a lot of fans. You know, I’m going there too, so if you don't mind, we can–”

“What game are you playing with me?” He interrupted you. Bucky straightened his shoulders, which made him look even bigger, and started moving closer to you, putting you in a trap between him and your desk.

“W– what do you mean?” You couldn't control your body as you started to tremble a little bit from the power that this man had. As soon as you bumped into the table, his hands landed on both sides of you, and his face was right in front of yours.

“Don’t act clueless, Y/N. I see what you’re doing.” He stopped for a second, studying your face. “You know, I tried to convince myself that you do all of this by accident, but now I’m sure that you’re just playing your little game. Am I right, doll?” You two were staring at each other, and you felt almost nauseous from different emotions.

He was so fucking beautiful up close. Piercing blue eyes, pink lips, and light stubble You know why many women thought that James Barnes was charming. If he had more confidence, he would’ve been unstoppable.

Your eyes slowly shifted lower to his arms and chest as you remained silent. He was big, with well-trained muscles that were seen through the tight black t-shirt. Both arms were stretched near you, so you had a really good opportunity to look at the smooth tanned skin and beautiful dark vibranium. You felt how your lower stomach tightened just from the thought of getting those pretty hands on your body…

You were pulled out of your head by a sudden movement of Bucky’s hand, which gripped your face and pushed your lips together. He was obviously dominating in the kiss, as if he were desperate to taste you. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lips, asking for entrance, which you happily gave him. The moan came out of you when Bucky moved away and looked you in the eyes, still holding your face.

“This whole fucking time I thought that I was a creep for looking at you, but now I know that you did everything on purpose, doll.” His eyes moved between your eyes and mouth. “All these short skirts and dresses that almost showed me everything underneath it, all these innocent smiles and looks... You did it to tease me?”

“Not at first...” You mumbled. “But you were acting so weird, and girls said that you liked me and just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find out whether it was true or not.”

“Fuck, if I knew earlier that this was your plan, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, baby.” Bucky moved a little closer, brushing his lips over yours. “Do you know how fucking hot and gorgeous you are? I haven’t felt that way in many, many years. Just wanna kiss you and make you mine.”

“And what’s stopping you from this, Sargent?” You asked with a smile and moved your hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the baby hairs.

“You’re gonna be my death, doll face.” He mumbled before leaning closer and kissing you again.

This time, you started to touch each other's bodies. Bucky’s warm and cold hands landed on your thighs, playing with the hem of the skirt and rubbing your soft skin after he lifted you up a little bit and helped you sit on the table, staying in between your legs. Your own hands were moving up and down his broad chest, discovering all of his muscles.

“Bucky…” You whined into the kiss when his finger brushed against the edge of your already wet panties.

“Tell me.” Bucky moved away from your swollen lips and left a path of kisses down your neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He sucked a sensitive spot under your ear, which made you moan.

“I don’t know. Just do anything, please.” You both breathed heavily. You felt like you were too hot; your lower stomach ached, and your underwear was soaking wet. Bucky was looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you wanted him to destroy you.

“Lay back.” He ordered you as one of his hands went higher under your skirt and slid your black lace panties down your legs. You didn’t miss how Bucky shoved him into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk on his face.

You quickly followed his instructions and just threw all the papers from our table on the floor. You’ll regret it later, but now you don't care. The sudden move of Bucky's metal arm grabbed and pulled your shirt, and all the buttons scattered on the floor, making you gasp in disbelief.

“Bucky! It was expensive.”

“Sorry, I’ll buy you whatever you want, I promise. But now I need to see you all.” He growled and fell to his knees before you. “Fuck, doll, such a pretty pussy. I’m gonna make a mess with her.”

Bucky’s hands grabbed both of your legs and threw them over his shoulders. He dragged your skirt higher, not wanting to take it off of you. His head fell on your right legs as he left a few kisses on your sensitive skin.

“Bucky please! Don’t tease me!” You desperately whined.

“I need a moment to appreciate both of you. I haven’t done it since the 40's, you know that?”

You wanted to say something, but his mouth on your most delicate part of your body left you speechless and made you grab his hair. Bucky’s tongue was gentle at first, just to get a taste of you and tease you a little bit. His tongue started to play with your clit, circling it and applying different pressures to find out what made your body twitch. It looked like he was enjoying it too; you felt deep grunts escaping his mouth as he was trying to catch every drop that came out of you.

Your loud moans filled the room as Bucky found the perfect place and made motions that made you see stars. A hand in his hair tightened even more when you felt one of his fingers at your entrance.

“M-hm, so wet and tight for me.” He pulled away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers came in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were firmly glued to your pussy, which was trying to get more, and his mouth opened a little bit at the sight. “Taking my fingers like a good girl.” Bucky attacked you with his mouth again. This time he was licking your folds, mixing his saliva with your juices. When the feeling of his nose touching your bundle of nerves came through your whole body, you gripped Bucky’s dark locks even harder, particularly trying to ride his face, and he had to put his metal hand on your hips so you wouldn’t move.

Your body tensed when he curled his fingers right on your g-spot, sucking your clit like a hungry man.

“Bucky—fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” You whined with tears running down your face.

A few more movements of his magical mouth, and you fell over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head, tingles went all over your body, and the loudest moan mixed with Bucky’s name came out of you as you were riding on the wave of your orgasm.

Bucky didn’t stop, though.

He made sure to lick every drop that came out of you, to the point that you had to beg him to stop because you were too sensitive.

“That was—“ You were trying to catch a breath. “That was the best orgasm I've ever had, oh my god. If you did it for the first time in like seventy years, I can’t imagine what you can do with practice.”

Bucky dragged you up by your neck, so you would be at the same level with him. His hand moved your hips closer to the edge of the table, and you felt how hard he was through those jeans.

“I can practice whenever you’ll allow me, doll.” He put his warm hand on your face to kiss you. The taste of your own release on his tongue made you moan.

“Need you inside of me, please.” Your hands automatically started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped you.

“We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”

You were silent for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t I want to take your shirt off?”

“You know, my arm and scars...”

“Do you really think that I care about it?” You left a few kisses on his cheek. “I think that your arm is hot, by the way, and I want to feel your skin on mine, Sarge.” It was enough for Bucky to pull off his shirt and stay before you half-naked.

Your hands moved to trace every muscle, every birthmark, and every scar on his chest, and you felt that this moment was so intimate, especially because of Bucky’s stare. He looked at you with such adoration and softness that you wanted to melt.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He mumbled and kissed you with even more passion.

Bucky ripped off the rest of your shirt and quickly took off your matching black bra, gripping your breasts with both hands and taking your left nipple in his hot mouth.

You dug nails into Bucky’s back as he was sucking and licking your nipples, leaving them wet in the cold air. It felt good. So fucking good—his mouth was truly amazing. But the emptiness inside of you was almost painful, and you were clenching around nothing.

“Bucky! Sarge, please, I need you.” You almost cried and dragged his head by the hair back to your mouth.

“Baby, baby, wait– “ His hot breath was touching your lips, but he stopped your hands, which were unbuckling his belt. “Baby, I don’t have a condom. Fuck, do you have one?”

“We don’t have to use it... I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Your legs wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist and put him closer to your naked core. He swore that he could feel your heat through his jeans and boxers.

“Fuck, I love twenty-first century... I’m clean too, can’t even catch a disease with this serum shit.”

His words were like a green light to you. You didn’t want to wait even a second more. So you just took off his pants with such speed and impatience that it made Bucky chuckle. With the last movement, all of his clothes were on the floor, and you sat on your table, frozen because of the sight before you.

Bucky’s thick and perfectly long dick was the best fucking thing that you’ve ever seen. Pink and a little bit curled to his abdomen. Your mouth watered just thinking about tasting it. Or how well he’ll stretch you out. You didn’t even notice how your mouth opened a little bit, and you unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.

“You’re gonna destroy me, Bucky.” You mumbled, to which you heard only a deep chuckle. Your eyes moved back to Bucky’s smiley face.

“I hope so.”

Two different hands landed on your thighs again, spreading and lifting them up. You both looked down at where his cock almost touched your bare folds, and the first contact made you moan loudly. Bucky took the base of his cock, giving himself a few pumps, and moved the tip up and down your pussy, moving easily because of the mixture of your juices.

You grabbed his forearm and whined at the action.

“Ready, doll?” He was trying to be tough and strong, but you saw how he nervously licked his lips, the tremble of his flesh hand, and the tension in his abdomen. But you still vigorously nodded.

It was different from everything you’ve ever experienced. He was big but tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt you. He only pushed a few inches, but you already wanted to cry from all the feelings inside of you. Pain mixed with extreme pleasure.

Bucky was trying so hard to control his motions and go slow, but God, it wasn’t easy. From the first touch of his cock, it felt like he had gone to heaven. He knew that sex was good, he remembers it, but the feeling of you and your warm body that so gracefully greeted him inside made him feral. Bucky felt such a need to kiss you that it was almost painful, especially when your swollen lips were a few inches away from his.

He leaned in closer to your lips, but it made him slip deeper into you, which made you both loudly moan into each other's mouths.

“Fuck– doll, you’re so warm and tight, oh my god.” Bucky mumbled as the grip on your hips became harder. It’ll probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

The feeling of him inside of you was overwhelming. He was so deep and stretched you just the way that you wanted, and you almost cried from pleasure.

“Please, Bucky, please move!”

His hips slightly moved once, and it felt like his mood instantly changed. You were suddenly pushed back on your table, and your legs, still in heels, were thrown on Bucky’s shoulders. His metal hand stayed on your thigh, and the other one fell on your stomach to push your skirt higher on your waist.

“All dressed up for me, baby.” He started slowly moving, burying his cock deep inside, and then leaving only the tip to tease you. “You know how long I wanted to do that, huh? Bend you over and just fuck the shit out of you until you can’t say anything except for my name.”

“Bucky– Sarge, please go faster. Just fuck me, do whatever you want.” You were desperate, yes. But you couldn't help but beg, because you really needed him to keep his promise and fuck the shit out of you.

You reached for his hand on your stomach and interlaced your fingers together.

“If you keep calling me that, I won’t last too long, doll.” His thrusts became harder and faster as your body moved up and down on your table.

Bucky was looking at your drunk-looking face with a slightly open mouth because you couldn’t keep your moans quiet. Your hair was deshiveled, your skin glimmered with sweat, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“So beautiful, baby.” Bucky murmured, fucking you harder. The room was filled with loud noises from slapping skin and moans. “You love it when I talk to you like that, huh? Want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” His words definitely did something to you, and you unconsciously tightened around him. “Almost choking my cock, baby, fu-u-ck.”

“Mhm, Sargent, I’m so full of you.” You couldn’t see straight as the tip of his head pressed at the perfect spot with every thrust, it was too much and not enough at the same time.

The wet kisses on the inner side of your thigh sent shivers down your whole body when Bucky started to suck tender skin. His rough movement didn’t stop for a moment, and you knew that your orgasm was getting closer. The warm feeling in your belly slowly became bigger. It was hard for you to cum from sex, but Bucky did it so fast and without even touching your clit.

“C’mon, doll face. I feel ‘ya. Feel how your perfect little pussy is squeezing me. Cum with me, baby, cum on my cock.” His movements were still rough and confident, but you felt the slightest change in the way he was looking at you, how his body trembled a little bit, and the prettiest quiet noises escaped his mouth as Bucky was coming to his own end.

You were completely lost in your pleasure, with strong arms on your body and Bucky’s hard cock that was completely destroying you, so when fingers on your clit started to move in circles, your body slightly jolted up from your table.

“Bucky, Bucky, please—ohmygod, I’m coming!” You cried out loud and grabbed the hard wood under your arms.

“O-oh, fuck, doll, cum with me, please. Yes, squeeze my cock harder, make a mess. ‘M gonna cum.” With the last few pushes of his dick inside of you and movements of the fingers, you both fell from your heights, and the room filled with loud moans of pleasure. The feeling of his hot seed on your walls almost made you faint.

Bucky fell down on your body as your leg slipped from his shoulder. Two strong arms wrapped around you, and Bucky’s face nuzzled into your neck. You don’t know how long you two stayed silent, trying to catch a breath, while your hands gently rubbed Bucky’s back.

When he finally lifted himself up with a metal arm near your face on the table, the look in his eyes sent millions of butterflies to your stomach.

“I don’t even know what to say…” He chuckled and cupped your face with his right hand. “You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

“Even when my makeup, my hair, and my clothes are completely destroyed?” You playfully arched an eyebrow and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on your hot skin.

“Well, I did it, and I’m satisfied with it. You still look so hot, especially with my dick still inside of you.”

“Bucky!”

“Sorry, sorry. But I’m serious, though. Will you let me take you on a date? Maybe yesterday for lunch or for dinner after work?” His eyes had this little bit of doubt, and you couldn’t stop your wide smile because he was really thinking that you would say “no” after that.

“I will be glad to go out with you, Buck.” You dragged his face closer and gave him the sweetest kiss you could.

Bucky moved away, gently slipping out of you, and you hissed at the empty feeling. He helped you stand up on your shaking legs and handed you your clothes.

“Fuck, you completely destroyed my clothes.” You said as you were standing in front of the mirror. “How will I go home?”

“You can stay in my room.” Bucky came closer to you and helped you make your blouse look more presentable, even without buttons.

“Really?”

“Of course, doll. Just hold your shirt in case we bump into someone in the corridor, but I think everyone is already in their rooms.” Bucky finished dressing up, and you saw your underwear sticking out of his pocket.

“Don’t you want to give me my panties?”

“Na-ah, you’ll have to walk with me dripping out of you.” He gave you a cocky smile and turned all the lights off before wrapping his arm around you and leading you into the hall.

It was completely empty, but the second that you stepped out of the elevator, you saw Bucky’s best friends looking at you. All of you were looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam started hysterically laughing.

“You owe me fifty bucks, idiot!” He said to Steve, who was as red as a tomato. “Good job, Buckaroo, but I really thought that we were gonna ask her on a date first.”

“Fuck off, Willson.” Bucky growled, protectively stepping forward to protect you from their looks.

“Okay, okay, relax, no one’s touching your girl.” He said with a cocky smile on his face. “Let’s go, Steve. You’re too innocent to look at things like this.” Sam took his friend and led him in another direction.

“Asshole.” Bucky growled.

“Everything is okay, Buck, let’s go.” You stepped closer to his room, but he was still standing in his place. “I have to take a shower. Will you come with me, or will you stand here the whole night?” You smirked.

It was everything he needed to finally get closer to you, scoop you into his arms, and carry you into his room to the sound of laughter, which soon turned into moans.

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halfvalid · 1 year ago

Text

nobody but you

ABOUT

alternate title: the jealous character trope is actually kinda fun to write

rating: teen+

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!vinsmoke sanji | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

description: sanji flirts endlessly with you while dining at the baratie. zoro is displeased.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, no use of 'y/n', establishment of relationship, flirting, alcohol consumption, pda

author’s note: i got like ~5 requests to write this so here you guys go! this was a popular one lmao. the story is a vague spinoff to my other fic pretty in that, but it doesn't have to be read to understand this one.

You’d volunteered to deal with the docking fees for the Going Merry, locking up the pirate ship as the rest of the crew entered Baratie. You were just five or so minutes late entering after the restaurant the rest of the Straw Hats had gone into. You’d never seen anything like it before—an eatery right in the middle of the ocean, in the shape of a giant fish.

You stepped into the building cautiously, glancing around the wide expanse of the main room to try and catch a glimpse of your friends. The restaurant was big, with a mezzanine that you’d entered in and stairs leading down to the first floor. The host, a fishman who was standing at the reservation desk, glanced up to take a look at you.

“Ah, you must be with the pirates,” he said pleasantly. “Right this way, miss.”

You nodded, wondering how Luffy was intending on paying for the bill of such a place as you scoped out the area. It was far nicer than anything you would’ve expected—but then again, he’d somehow managed to score the Going Merry from Kaya back in Syrup Village, so you figured he’d work something out.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of the rest of your crew, tucked away in a circular side booth that the fishman led you to. Luffy brightened upon seeing you, waving you over with a hand so excitedly you feared it was about to flop around like rubber. Considering his powers, that was a more than likely situation, actually.

“Thank you,” you told the host, then turned towards your friends. “No food yet?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Usopp said, a little snicker in his voice. “Just the waiter getting our drink orders. He was flirting the heck outta Nami.”

“Oh?” you asked, a smile flickering up your lips. The only open space in the table was between Zoro and Nami—you gave Zoro a confused look, and he gestured down to his swords, which were caught in the ledge between the chair and the wall. You snickered. “Ro. You’re such a loser.”

“Shut up,” Zoro muttered, hand on your waist as you climbed over him to get to the empty seat. It stayed there for a moment longer, even after you’d arranged yourself in the seat, before he finally dropped his hand. Usopp made a face that you pointedly ignored.

“What’d you guys order?” you asked instead. If there’d been a menu available, the waiter had probably taken it away; still, there wasn’t much variety in the East Blue, so you could expect there’d be a lot of seafood and not much else.

“One of everything,” Luffy responded brightly. “So we’ll be able to try the whole menu!”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap?” you asked, brows raised. Luffy shrugged.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Quit it with the nickname,” Zoro muttered. Neither him or Nami had gotten any more receptive to it since you’d first started calling Luffy it. Usopp didn’t seem so keen on it either—if only because he fancied himself Captain Usopp. Luffy liked it, though, and that pleased you enough to keep using it.

“I’ll get you to start saying it eventually,” you teased, nudging Zoro in the arm. He shook his head, but there was a suggestion of a smile on his lips as he glanced away. “Just you wait.” You turned to Nami, eyes sparkling. “What about the waiter, though? Was he cute?”

Usopp laughed at that, and Nami gave you a disparaging look. “Come on,” she started. “Not you too. Zoro was all—”

The sound of footsteps cut off her speech, and you glanced up to find a lean, blond man pausing by the lip of your table. He held a silver plate, upon which perched a variety of different drinks—beers, milk, water. “Here are your drinks,” he said, voice lifting with an accent you couldn’t quite place. “And appetizers.”

He had just finished placing the last of the drinks balancing on his forearm on the table when the waiter glanced up and registered you sitting there. His expression instantly changed, the crease of his mouth softening into a pleasant smile, his previously-dull blue eyes bright and sparkling. “Well, hello there. An addition?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” you said. The waiter flashed a grin, white ivories shining under the fluorescents.

“Oh, absolutely no problem. They say those who are late are fashionable, and you, madam, certainly fit the bill,” the waiter said. Your eyes widened, glancing over to Nami to find her shaking her head, but the waiter didn’t stop there. “I’m Sanji. What can I get for you to drink? We’ve got a wide selection of fine wines that might suit your taste.”

“Oh, um—” you started, glancing at the rest of your crew again. Usopp was hiding his snicker, and Nami was giving you a tired look. Assumedly this had been the man who’d tried it on her, too—to unfortunate ends, probably, considering how Nami was. Not that this would be any more effective on you. Your eye was already captured by a particular green-haired swordsman, after all. “I don’t really have anything in mind.”

Sanji looked pleased about that, clasping his hands together around his platter. “Ah, let me guess, then. A bayberry or red currant wine, perhaps? Fruity, tart, full of flavor.” he winked. “A feisty drink for a feisty girl.”

“Can’t say I’ve tried it, but sure,” you said, the faintest smile on your lips. “I’ll let you know how I like it.”

Sanji grinned, looking rather satisfied with that, a delighted little smile on his lips. “One red currant wine, then. I’ll have it right out. And would you also like to order a meal, or…” He glanced over at Luffy, presumably referencing your captain’s more-than-outrageous order. “Are you all set?”

“I think we’re set, thanks,” you assured, and Sanji nodded. He flashed you another bright smile before turning on his heel back off to the kitchen.

Usopp finally let out the laughter he’d been keeping in, choked sounds emitting from his throat as he thudded his chest with a fist. You rolled your eyes, but it was good-natured, letting Usopp laugh.

“Well, at least I’m not being singled out,” Nami said with a sigh, and you exchanged a sympathetic glance with her. She patted your hand comfortingly, then scrutinized the water Sanji had gotten her. “At least he didn’t put it in a flute.”

“Zoro, you’ve got competition!” Usopp called, still laughing from the entire ordeal. You glanced to your side, to where the swordsman sat. Zoro had stiffened sometime during the conversation, jaw clenched and arms wound tightly across his chest. He hadn’t even touched the beer that Sanji had set in front of him, eyes fixed carefully to a spot beside Luffy’s head and refusing to look over at you.

“He’s a waiter,” Zoro said crisply. “He buses tables for a living.” With that, he grabbed his bottle, popping the tab and taking a swig.

“I don’t know, man, did you see the way he took down those pirates?” Usopp turned to you, all excited again. “Oh, you missed this whole thing! Two pirates were fighting over a seat or something, and Sanji just demolished both of them! You would’ve loved it.”

“He is a really good fighter,” Luffy agreed. Their words did nothing but seem to annoy Zoro further.

“Can we not talk about the restaurant personnel? Surely you can think of more interesting topics of conversation.” His tone was sharp, and all icy, and you inched your hand closer to his leg to tap his thigh in question. He glanced down at your touch, but didn’t deign to say anything else. He just picked up his beer again, nursing it while the rest of the crew continued on with their conversation.

Despite Luffy changing the subject, Zoro didn’t speak, and you kept peeking glances over at him in concern. Your feelings for him had just continued developing ever since Syrup Village, although neither of you had reasonably talked about the closet incident since it’d happened. What with the reveal of Kuro and the escape from the marines and all, there hadn’t exactly been time to. But you’d been on good terms, and the actions he made around you—pressing a hand to your waist as you moved past him, turning towards you first mid-conversation, shoving you down when the marines had fired their first cannon at the Going Merry.

Before you could whisper to him and question what his silence was about, though, Sanji reappeared, carrying two platters filled to the brim with plates. They were laden with different types of meat and vegetables, sauces glinting under the light and hot steam still billowing.

He set the dishes on the table, somehow managing to arrange them so they all fit on the countertop. Sanji set down the last plate then turned to you, placing a glass and a bottle of dark crimson wine on the table in front of you. He had to lean over Zoro to reach, and Zoro flinched, but still didn’t say anything as Sanji uncorked the bottle and poured you a glass.

“Tell me what you think,” he said, all smiles again. “I’ll be embarrassed if it isn’t to your liking.”

You picked the glass up, swirling it carefully inside the glass before leaning down into the cup to take in a full sniff. You tilted your head back to take a small sip, moving the liquid around your mouth to fully savor the flavor before finally swallowing. The wine was sweet, light rather than rich with a delicate tartness that burst on your tongue. You glanced up just to see a giant grin had stretched up Sanji’s mouth, brightening his face up considerably.

“What?” you asked.

“Not often do I see a patron who knows how to taste wine properly,” Sanji answered with a little duck of his head. “A lady of class, I see. How do you like it?”

“Not too strong. I like the tartness,” you answered. “A good recommendation. Thank you.”

Sanji gave you a little bow, hand flourishing to the side as he dipped his head. “I live to serve.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you serve me another beer?” Zoro said abruptly. Usopp coughed, and you could see Nami elbow him out of your peripheral vision. Luffy just looked confused.

Sanji’s face fell almost immediately after Zoro had spoken, his eyes flickering away from yours. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, a tight smile at his lips. He ducked out of the booth, and Zoro let out an irritated noise, tongue flicking against from the roof of his mouth.

Usopp snorted, fully this time, and you turned to glance over at him—he and Nami were both hiding their gazes, though you could see smiles cracked along their lips.

Zoro glared at them. “Shut it.”

“Not saying anything!” Usopp said, though he half-hid behind Luffy like Zoro was going to lunge over the table to get to him. That didn’t seem… entirely unlikely, actually; Zoro’s right hand rested firmly on the handle of one of his swords, fingers ready to pull the blade at any second. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to say something. But not in front of everyone else. It wouldn’t be appropriate, you decided.

Eventually your meal wound down to an end. Zoro got less and less tense throughout it, though you were fairly certain that was due to the drinks he was having rather than any actual reassurance. Sanji, thankfully, came back with the bill in the middle of a conversation you really didn’t want to think about—Luffy and his marine grandfather was not something your mind wanted to dwell on—only for him to disappear again.

Just moments later, a man with a braided mustache came storming out of the kitchen. Luffy did some more of his Luffy nonsense, and, honestly—you were getting too tired about all of this to pay any close attention. You spared a glance over at Zoro again. His face was as blank as ever.

“Okay,” Usopp said slowly, a few delayed seconds after who’d undoubtedly been the head chef yanked Luffy out of his seat. “I’m ready to check out whatever’s outside. Let’s go.”

“What about Luffy?” you asked, perplexed.

“He’ll find his way out of that,” Nami said with a sigh. She stood up, knocking back the rest of her drink. Since she wasn’t exactly wrong, you got up, glancing over your shoulder at the last of the group that remained seated. “Zoro?”

Zoro was staring into his now-empty bottle of beer. He still seemed off, the line of his mouth creased downwards, jaw set tight. “Yeah,” he said finally, standing to his full height and slipping out of the booth. He offered you a hand, helping you down from your seat, but said nothing more.

The four of you headed out to the mouth of the Baratie fish, which boasted a bar decorated with neon lights. You found a place to sit by the fish’s bottom lip, and you turned in your seat, staring out at the sea. The water was dark with the night, peaceful ripples moving across the water that sent shimmering waves across the blue.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Usopp said. “Come, Nami?”

“Huh?” Nami glanced up, and you turned to watch the exchange. “Oh, I’m okay, Usopp. Thanks, though.”

“No,” Usopp insisted, a smile still pasted on his face as he jerked his head, not very discreetly, in your and Zoro’s direction. Nami seemed to realize, then, eyes going wide before she got up from her seat.

“Actually, on second thought, I’ll join you,” she said, far smoother than Usopp had been. “God knows you don’t have any money to pay for a drink.”

She breezed past him, ignoring the offended gape Usopp left in her wake before he was scrambling to follow her. You turned your attention towards Zoro—he was lounging in the seat across from you, one hand on his swords with his legs crossed. “Hi,” you said carefully.

He stiffened. “Hey.”

You pursed your lips, mulling over the ways to go about the conversation before ultimately deciding to spit it out. “What’s wrong?” At his raised brow, you were prompted to continue— “During dinner. You were acting weird.”

Zoro shook his head, dropping his gaze from yours. You could see the faintest trace of freckles spattered along his cheeks, the yellow glow from the lanterns reflecting off his skin. “Nothing’s wrong. Just… the waiter.”

“The waiter,” you repeated. Zoro shifted, legs uncrossing and hand tightening around his swords again. His voice was low the next time he spoke, and you could barely hear him, having to lean forward to catch all of his words.

“He was flirting with you.”

Your breath hitched, but you tried to keep your tone casual. “He was flirting with Nami too,” you said, glancing up to meet his eyes. Zoro still wouldn’t meet your gaze, staring out into the East Blue behind you.

“That’s different.” Zoro’s eyes finally lifted, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks as you met eyes. You shivered, gooseflesh suddenly prickling up everywhere on your skin—the back of your neck, up your spine, down your arms and legs. “I don’t like Nami.”

You tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze. The words sent a little rush through you; a rush you got practically every time Zoro looked in your direction, actually, which was only a little bit annoying. The amount of influence a man you’d known for, comparatively, not that long had over you had you rolling your eyes all the time, but… you trusted Zoro at this point, as uncooperative as he and Nami had been throughout your entire journey.

“You’re jealous of a waiter.”

“Don’t—” Zoro sighed. “Don’t put it like that.”

“But it’s true. You’re jealous of a waiter,” you said, unblinking. Zoro rolled his eyes, teeth resting along his lower lip in an almost-bite. You snickered, tone sloping upwards to become more teasing, almost sarcastic. “How the mighty have fallen. From me practically begging you to say I looked nice in a dress to this.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Zoro said, uncrossing his legs to lean over and press his hand over your mouth. You laughed, surprised, as he leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the reaction. “Not another word.”

He removed his hand, giving you a look. You betrayed his trust almost immediately. “Of a waiter.”

“Do you want me to put the hand back?” Zoro threatened, but you were full-on laughing by now, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. The sounds escaped from your mouth, ringing out in soft, lively hiccups. He shook his head, hand falling to his side as he watched you, a ghost of a smile tugging up the side of his mouth.

“Sorry, Ro,” you said, unable to suppress your grin even as your laughter died off. “It’s a little funny, you have to admit.”

“I’d like to hear you talk if someone was flirting with me,” Zoro muttered, so quiet you could barely hear. You had to stifle another laugh.

“Okay, well, unlike you, I don’t get territorial over people I haven’t even talked about my relationship with, but I appreciate it.” You nudged him. “It’s kinda cute.”

Zoro seemed lost in the first half of your sentence, and you could practically see the cogs whirring in his head. For a moment, you were worried that the closet had been a one-time thing—but no, he’d mentioned just earlier that he liked you, so clearly something else was the matter.

Your worries were answered in just another moment. “...We’re supposed to talk about our relationship?”

“Zoro.” You gave him a look of disbelief, forced to suppress another laugh, though this time it was out of incredulity. “Yes. Have you ever dated anyone before?”

Zoro made a face at that. “Keeping that to myself, thanks.” He dropped his chin, glancing down at where you were, still leaning over you so you were forced to crane your neck to stare up at him. He tilted his head to the side. “So what kind of talking are we supposed to be doing?”

“You know, the establishment of being exclusive; a cementation of our feelings; what the relationship entails; where we want it to go…” You paused, watching as his eyes flickered down your face. Your words were going in one ear and out the other. “You’re not listening at all, huh.”

“Not really,” Zoro said, not sounding very apologetic about it. His free hand came to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head up just so. “Is the talking really that necessary?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” he repeated, stretching out the syllables of the word as he quoted you. “So we can do it another day.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “What were you thinking?”

Zoro was slotting his lips over yours before you could say another word, his fingers digging into the hinge of your jaw to allow him better access. You smiled into the kiss, lips curling upwards and open to let him lick into your mouth.

It wasn’t too risqué, but Zoro took your breath away all the same, an appreciative murmur low in his throat as he kissed you. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him insistently downwards so you could get a better angle at his mouth, sucking gently at his lower lip. He nearly stumbled, losing his center of gravity before steadying himself, one hand coming to rest on your ribcage as the kiss deepened.

“Guys!” Usopp’s voice came somewhere from the right, high-pitched and excessively scandalized. You felt Zoro scoff into your mouth.

“You realize you’re in public, right?” Nami deadpanned, plopping down in the seat next to you. You nudged Zoro’s head away, his hand still on your jaw, half-craned over your figure. Nami looked unimpressed, eyes flickering from Zoro to you and back again. “Get a room. Go back to the Going Merry for all I care.” She extended a hand, placing a mug of beer on the table before you before handing you a matching one. “I got you drinks. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning up to press one final kiss on Zoro’s lips before turning to take the glass Nami had outstretched. Usopp groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and lifting a giant cup of something with the other. It was so big you wondered how he’d even been able to carry it. You eyed him. “You’re going to pass out drinking that.”

Usopp made a face at you. You just laughed.

“Sorted out your issues with the waiter, then?” Nami asked, turning to fix a knowing look on Zoro. He rolled his eyes, effortless as ever as he settled back down into his seat.

“Still don’t like the waiter.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, and Zoro scoffed, picking up the mug Nami had gotten him. You could see the smile behind the glass rim, though, even as he clearly tried to hide it, and matched it with one of your own.

Zoro ducked his head to smile into his beer. Usopp made a gagging sound. “God,” Nami muttered, but their criticisms might as well have been deaf to your ears by then.

All you could see was Zoro.

#one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #reader insert #x reader #opla roronoa zoro #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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exhaslo · 9 months ago

Text

Over-Time

CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader!

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing

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

"Dear, (Y/N), you have been selected to join us for a group interview at Alchemax. Please arrive at appointed date and time below. Read and follow all instructions to ensure your interview. We can't wait to meet you."

Unable to fathom what you had just read, a loud gasp escaped your lips instead. All you really read was interview. Everything else blurred out since you were so excited to finally have a chance to leave your current job.

"Oh my gosh! Do I even have the proper clothes for an interview there?! I can't believe it!" You whispered, resisting a squeal.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Alcehmax was one of the biggest companies in Nueva York. Everyone in their right mind wanted to get even a chance to work there. Hell, some people were happy just being a janitor there.

It was all anyone wanted to gloat about. Getting an interview was nearly impossible and yet, your clumsy ass managed to get it. You had prayed to every God you could think of. The questionnaire was a nightmare and where people failed the most.

"Okay, okay! I have to prepare...I have to practice..." You told yourself.

Interviews were hard for you. You were nervous around new people and freaked out when asked hard questions. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you just smiled. You got this far. You had an interview to take and succeed in.

---------

"Lyla, have we found anyone decent enough within the last two group interviews?" Miguel asked with a grumble.

Lyla, Miguel's private assistant, just laughed. She took off her designer glasses and placed them on Miguel's desk. Miguel was the CEO of Alchemax. One of the richest men in all of Nueva York, and a man with a quick temper.

"We have some potential candidates for the open slot in Marketing, but no one to replace me for when I go on my vacaaaation~" Lyla sang happily. Miguel felt his eye twitch,

"Yes, I know. You haven't stopped bragging about your damn vacation all week. Would have been nice if you mentioned it sooner-"

"Oh, don't give me that, Migs. I had it pop up on your calendar every week for the past three months reminding you! It isn't my fault you don't look."

"I am a busy man. You know that because you make my schedule," Miguel hissed lowly then pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just-Ugh, I just find me someone who won't try and suck my dick within the first week."

Lyla just snickered as she typed on her tablet, "You need to find someone. Maybe it will make you less of a grump." She mocked.

Miguel exhaled loudly, glaring towards his assistant. It was a good thing that Miguel could tolerate that woman. Lyla was a close friend of his and knew how to push his buttons.

Leaning back in his seat, Miguel closed his eyes as he took the moment to rest. Lyla was going to be gone for a few months. She sure knew how to utilize her vacation time. Hell, Lyla had a tough job dealing with him. She deserved it.

"I just need someone....quiet."

---------

How could a building give off such an intimidating presence? It was as if all those powerful inside were warding off the weak and frail. The start of a challenging, yet welcoming part of your life. If you managed to do good in the interview.

Inhaling deeply, you gripped onto your folder and finally had the courage to make your way inside. You heard the stories, but Alchemax sure was a force to be reckon with. The inside of the reception floor felt like another world.

You had arrived super early. You were scared of being late and well, knowing yourself, you were probably going to get lost. Hopefully, your clumsiness won't get in the way of your interview.

"Ah-"

Magic words. Just thinking of it alone caused you to goof up. You had accidently bumped into someone while admiring the inside of the building.

"I-I'm s-so sorry!" You stuttered, panicked that you were fucking up already, "I wasn't looking! I'm sorry!"

"It's alright. Are you okay?" The man spoke as you picked up your paperwork that fell.

Tears were starting to form as you thought of running away. Glancing up at the stranger you bumped into, you sniffed and tried to compose yourself. The man before you had bend down and helped with your paperwork.

"No need to be afraid, I won't bite." The man said with a warming smile. You gulped, finding him very attrative,

"I'm sorry again."

"Oh? An interview?"

"Ah, yes. I'm a little early, but since I've never been here I wanted to make sure...I wouldn't get lost," You admited as he handed your paperwork, "Thank you. My name is (Y/N)."

"Miguel,"

You stood up, staring at the towering man before you. That name sounded familiar, but you were so focused on your goof up to remember. Everyone was probably staring at you, laughing and knowing that you were probably going to flunk the interview now.

"Come, I'll take you to the floor you're going to be at. There are drinks in the lobby once you arrive. Help yourself."

"Ah, thank you."

You were just lucky to have bumped into someone as nice as Miguel. If it were anyone else, they would have probably made you feel worse than you already do now.

---------

Miguel stayed quiet as he led you to the elevator. He won't lie that it was slightly amusing to find someone who didn't immediately recognized him. That and quite refreshing. Miguel wondered what you would think if you found out that he was the CEO.

Glancing ever so slightly in your direction, Miguel couldn't help but smile. It was like you were in your own little world. You were fumbling with your fingers while you had a slight look of panic on your face. Honestly, that was how people should look for an interview.

Alchemax was not a place to enter with confidence.

"What position are you applying for?" Miguel asked, wanting to ease your nerves.

"Oh!" You gasped lowly, "Marketing."

"Hm. How good are you with planning and scheduling?" He asked casually. Your shoulders raised slightly,

"I, um, I like to...It's easier for me when I have everything in an itinerary. Makes for unnecessary distractions and delays. I find myself at ease with a schedule," You admitted with such a carefree smile.

"And organization?"

"If I'm not overwhelmed I'm great with organizing things." You chirped, "Oh, um, will I get a lot of people talking and asking me questions if I do get hired here? I...I'm just a little shy and if I get overwhelmed I do tend to be clumsy."

Miguel resisted a chuckle, finding you quite entertaining. After another second of silence, Miguel watched as you gasped and covered your face with your folder.

How cute.

---------

How embarrassing!

Just because he was a handsome face and kind to you, doesn't mean you could get comfortable! It took you hours to practice talking to yourself in the mirror to prepare for an interview and now you were blabbing away nonsense to a stranger!

Feeling the elevator come to a stop. You gasped lowly, admiring the lobby before you.

"Here is your stop." Miguel spoke.

"Thank you," You bowed your head slightly, still embarrassed from rambling off.

As you stepped off the elevator, you gulped. Nerves started to kick in as you took your first step to a better future.

"Oh, and (Y/N)," Miguel called out, causing you to turn, "Best of luck."

"T-Thank you!"

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

Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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heich0e · 8 months ago

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"what a surprise to see you here!"

you let out a long, weary sigh in the wake of the unduly jubilant exclamation, letting your bag hit the desk in front of you with a thump.

"i work here, gojo. just like you."

the aforementioned man steps into view around your shoulder, craning down into your face with that same easy grin he always wears—the one you find exhausting just to look at on days like today, because you know it means he plans on tormenting you for an extended period of time.

"and aren't we both so lucky to be here?" he hums, still smiling.

lucky?

you stand before him filthy and aching from the mission you'd just returned from, and with a night's worth of your students' assignments in hand you still need to grade by tomorrow morning. you're tired, and sore, and covered in curse guts and god only knows what else—and this smiling, obnoxious man hovering over you is calling you lucky.

you wish his blindfold was elasticated. if it was, you'd take hold of it, pull it back as far as you could, and let it snap it back over his eyes just to spite him.

"what do you want, gojo?" you don't even have the energy to sound annoyed anymore, the question leaving your lips in a lifeless monotone.

he pauses.

"you look terrible."

your head whips over to look at him again, and you immediately wince—a hand flying up to your neck. you think you must have strained it taking care of that last second grade curse. it hasn't been bothering you as much as the pain in your side, so you've mostly been ignoring it until now.

"gojo, if y—"

"gojo, gojo, gojo," he interrupts you before you can even manage to get the insult you'd been trying to say out. his tone is petulant, a little pout on his lips. "i've told you to call me satoru."

he enunciates each syllable of his name pointedly—like a reprimand.

"and why would I call you that?" you huff, tired of dealing with him. you grab your bag off the desktop, shove the stack of papers you'd come to your classroom to retrieve inside, and turn towards the door.

"because it's my name?" his tone lifts at the end like he's asking a question. "besides, you call sukuna by his name."

he's following along behind you. of course he's following behind you—you don't know why you expected to get away so easily.

"i call sukuna by his name because there's two itadoris now," you reply back, not that you owe him any kind of explanation. your steps are quick in spite of the stabbing pain in your side—literal, not figurative—but unfortunately it takes no effort at all for gojo to match your stride.

gojo groans a little. "how'd a guy that awful end up with such a cute little brother?" he whines, tipping his head back like he's lodging the complaint with a higher power. "my sweet yuuji and him have nothing in common beyond their family name."

you don't bother replying, stepping out from the main school building into the courtyard that leads towards the student dorms and teachers' residences. gojo is still close behind.

you find it ironic that gojo takes such issue with sukuna, a fellow sorcerer and jujutsu tech instructor, when there's no offence sukuna could be accused of that gojo himself is not equally guilty of committing. at least sukuna has the decency to not claim to be, well, decent.

there's something to be said for self-awareness.

"are you planning on following me the entire way home?" you ask him, irritation heavy in your voice.

"hey, i live there too, y'know," gojo counters.

barely, you can't help but think. gojo very rarely stays in his residence on campus. you're not sure where he spends all his time, whether it be a place off campus or even the gojo family compound, but you know it isn't here.

not that you particularly care.

"are geto and shoko busy tonight or something?" you ask again.

"suguru's away for a mission," gojo answers, seemingly not put off at all by the hostility in your tone. "shoko should be in her office, though."

you roll your eyes at his obvious evasion of your implication.

you freeze when you feel a hand touch your waist. the hand holding your bag goes limp at your side.

satoru is standing right behind you.

"your rib's broken."

it's quiet for a moment, but when you turn around, he's not smiling anymore and he's got his blindfold tugged down by one crooked finger. his eyes—the ones you so rarely see, the ones that make you feel equal parts awestruck and reviled—are on you.

"since shoko's in her office, you should go see her about it."

in one smooth motion, he covers his eyes again.

your teeth clench, your jaw tensing.

the next words you speak are barely audible through the barrier of your bite.

"what was that?" he asks, leaning forward in your space again.

you consider not repeating yourself, but all at once your resolve abandons you. you sigh, hanging your head and then you purse your lips in defeat.

"i c... i can't walk any further."

gojo laughs.

"i'm surprised you made it this far," he says, that bright smile of his back in place.

and so, a few minutes later, you find yourself with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist as gojo carries you towards shoko's office in the infirmary.

"you're lucky i found you when i did, you know."

lucky. there he goes with that again.

you snort mirthlessly.

"and all you have to do to repay me is say 'thank you satoru!'" he exclaims, his voice rising an octave in what you can only assume is an offensive imitation of what you sound like to him.

"i'm not saying that," you mutter dourly, your grip on his neck tightening—though not enough to actually satisfy your desire to wring his neck.

"so stubborn," he tuts, but there's no real admonishment in his tone.

"i wouldn't call sukuna by his name if i didn't have to. but there's two itadoris, it just makes sense." you say after a while, the infirmary nearly in sight. you're grateful you're so close to relief, because the ache in your rib is so acute now that you're starting to feel lightheaded. you lean in closer to gojo's back as he carries you, letting him bear your weight a bit more. "there's only one gojo."

a breathy chuckle slips from his lips—so gentle it sounds almost involuntary. "only one gojo, huh?" he repeats your words, almost like he's mulling them over.

you hum affirmatively, letting your chin hook over his shoulder as he turns the final corner towards shoko's office. your eyes flutter closed. "yeah, lucky for me."

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing

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eowynstwin · 3 months ago

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John Price x Reader. Fluff. Implications of a BDSM relationship.

At some point in the evening—for you, anyway, since when you answer the call it’s clearly midday for him—John finds the time during his latest deployment for a video chat.

He looks a little haggard when the call connects, face reddened across his nose and cheekbones and dark circles under his eyes. He brightens when he sees you, though, crows feet deepening.

“There’s my dove,” he says fondly, the rasp of his voice low and soft. His beard is growing out, curly and dark in the artifacting of the camera.

“There’s my captain,” you return, smiling.

“What day is it for you, there?” he asks, sitting back, getting comfortable.

“Saturday,” you answer.

“Mmm,” he hums, as if it’s the nicest thing he’s heard all day. Probably is, really. “Tell me about it.”

You do; John always likes to hear about your days, when he’s far away. The tiny adventures, the workplace dramas, the little pleasures and minor catastrophes of normal civilian life. Keeps him balanced, he tells you; reminds him there are other parts of his life aside from the job, and the work.

You show him the embroidery project you’re close to finishing, the little window hinges you bought at the craft store for the miniature apartment you’ve been building from a kit. It’s the same one that he always half-complains about being spread over the kitchen island when he’s home, and you always remind him that he doesn’t have much room to complain; he bought you the kit on a whim, after all, without your even asking.

At one point the door starts opening behind him—he’s posted up in a large tent, empty bunks behind him—and he quickly covers the camera with his hand. He mutes you for a moment, then comes back.

“Only got a few more minutes, sorry,” he says, refocusing on you. “And—y’didn’t mention that other project, I noticed.”

You suck your lips between your teeth, effecting ignorance. “Hm?”

“The writing one.”

As always, nothing escapes him.

“So here’s the thing,” you say, strangling the fingers of one hand with the fingers of the other, “the bathroom is so clean now, John.”

“Dove.”

“And I finally ordered my new glasses, you know, like I’ve been meaning to for months, and you keep reminding me about.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose between two broad fingers, eyes sliding shut like you’ve just told him that some important intel has gone bad. “How long have you been working on this.”

“I don’t think that’s important,” you squeak.

One blue eye opens, piercing you. Humor sparks in its depths, though when he speaks, his voice is gruff, every bit as commanding as when he gives orders to his men. “I need to go,” he says, “so here’s the deal I’m gonna offer you. If that draft isn’t done by the next time I speak to you, then when I get home I’ll put you over my knee and tan your arse until you’re crying. Understood?”

Your voice has retreated somewhere down your throat, hiding very far beyond your trembling vocal cords. “Yes sir, understood,” you manage to peep.

His other eye opens, and he smiles affectionately. “There’s a love.”

#true story #lol y’all are gonna hunt me down it’s not even that long of a one shot…like 4k max #price x reader #mwritesprice #madi writes #captain john price #john price #price cod #john price x reader

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 months ago

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sisterly responsibilities pairing: reader x sistersfiancé!rafe synopsis: reader brings her sister home after a night out and meets her fiancé warnings: nothing really, just some less-than-pure thoughts - wc: 1k this is the third day of my birthday celebration! this is basically just an introduction to this reader that i have future fics planned for!! only two days until my birthday,,, wack!!

your sister was picture-perfect; almost out of law school with a job already aligned, a rich, hot fiancé, gorgeous house paid by your parents as a present for getting into law school... not to mention how flawless she was, her closet filled with designer brands provided by her fiancé.

so, it took you by surprise when she called you at midnight on a friday evening while you were finishing up an essay; you two were the furthest thing from close and the last time she called you was a 15-second call to wish you a happy birthday, and if you knew what you'd end up having to do, you would've just ignored her call and let it go to voicemail.

your sister was currently asleep in the passenger seat of your car, her heels somewhere in the passenger seat where she'd drunkenly thrown them, her makeup smudged and her dress askew, jenny having mumbled something about being out with coworkers before she passed out. why she had called you to pick her up and not her fiancé was a complete mystery to you.

when you pulled up in front of her home, you tried shaking her awake, yet, just like when you were younger and her alarm clock blared through the walls, she didn't even stir. letting out a groan, you unbuckled your seatbelt, getting out of your car and making the short walk to her front door, ringing the doorbell, and when you didn't get an answer, you started knocking/borderline pounding on the door impatiently.

after a while, the door swung open, who you immediately recognized as rafe, jenny's fiancé. you'd never met him, but you'd seen plenty of pictures of him on her instagram, and even though even those made you question how the hell your sister managed to land a guy like that, they didn't do justice to the actual man; he hadn’t put on a shirt, a pair of sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, a slight outline of a bulge visible, the man wiping at his eyes.

you shook the filthy thoughts he'd caused out of your head when you realized he had opened his mouth, about to speak, cutting the man off before he could. "i'm jenny's sister." you explained, "she called me to pick her up, and she's currently passed out in my car." you said with a tight smile.

"oh. oh, shit." the man's eyes widened slightly, and he slipped a pair of slippers into his feet, and the two of you made your way back to your car, and the only thing that could be heard between the two of you was the gravel under your feet, both clearly not knowing how to deal with the situation.

you opened the passenger seat of your car, your lips pursed as you watched jenny's fiancé pick up the sleeping woman bridal-style, letting out a small sigh, "you wanna come in for a minute?" he asked, a similar tight-lipped smile on his face that was on yours. "there's some coffee left if you want."

chewing on your lower lip, you thought about his offer for a moment; you didn't really feel like being alone with your sister's fiancé; if he was anything like your sister, you'd rather spend an evening hanging out with a wall, but by the drooping of your eyes and the yawn you were trying to hold back, you could tell that driving in your current state wouldn't be a good idea.

"sure. coffee sounds good."

rafe led you inside, pointing out the kitchen, mumbling that he would take your sister to bed. you looked around as you made your way around the house and towards the kitchen, and you noticed one thing; it matched your sister's personality to a t.

it was a sleek, modern house, and you were sure that there wasn't a single dust bunny in the whole building. most of the furniture was black or white, and the only pictures were of her and her fiancé, or of her and your parents; almost as if she were an only child.

you poured yourself a cup of coffee as you looked around the kitchen, just as spotless as the rest of the house, but you were soon pulled out of your reverie by approaching footsteps, so you hid your lips behind the cup of coffee, taking a large gulp as you saw jenny's fiancé round the corner, his muscular chest now unfortunately covered.

"thanks for bringing her." he said with a nod, the tight-lipped smile still present on his lips.

"yeah, sure." you cleared your throat, lowering the cup. "can i ask you something?"

"go ahead."

"why didn't she just ask you to pick her up?" you asked, and by the deer-in-headlights look on his face, you could tell that rafe didn't want to talk about it, causing you to backtrack, "you don't have to tell me. i just don't get why she'd ask me."

"no, it's fine." rafe shook his head, clearly trying to find the right words, "we just had a fight earlier today, and she stormed out. i thought she'd go and stay over with one of her friends, or even your folks, but i guess not."

you nodded, drinking some of the coffee.

"what, you're not curious as to what we fought about?" he said, a bit of amusement evident in his voice.

"oh, no." you almost laughed, shaking your head, "the day i get curious about jenny's life is the day hell freezes over."

"i thought you two were close?"

"no, pretty much the opposite. this is the first time i've seen her in months ." you responded, finishing your cup of coffee and placing the empty cup onto the counter, almost desperate to get out of the situation, "thanks for the coffee, but i gotta get going. i have a deadline for an essay tomorrow."

"let me walk you out." rafe said, and before you could protest, his hand was on your lower back, causing shivers to run down your spine as he was leading you to the front door, and you were grateful that you'd decided to put on a sweatshirt so that he couldn't see the goosebumps that were now all over your arms.

but as soon as you two arrived at the door, rafe's hand left your back, and the butterflies that had started fluttering in your stomach disappeared just as fast. you opened the door before turning to him with a small smile on your face, "thanks for the coffee. take care."

"get home s-"

before rafe could even finish what he was saying, you were out of the door, pulling it closed behind you. you looked up at the star-dotted night sky, letting out a sigh of exasperation at the thoughts you'd had only moments before about a man you definitely shouldn't be having them about. "i'm out of my mind. i need to get laid."

#rafe cameron #🎂 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron fic #outer banks fic

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captain-joongz · 10 months ago

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Tits out

Pairing: best friend!Wooyoung x f!reader

Genre: bffs to ??, college au, pure smut, barely any plot, fluff, humour

Summary: When talking to your best friend about your nipple piercing during movie night backfires in the most spectacular way possible and Seonghwa's new couch gets caught in the crossfire

Word count: cca 7k

Warnings: reader is chubby, there's no discussion, they just jump into it, titty sucking, nipple and nipple piercing fixation, unprotected sex (this is pure fantasy, be careful in the real world), a little bit of body insecurity about body hair, fingering, doggy, squirting (let me know if i missed anything)

I had met Wooyoung back in the first year in uni and now four years later we were still going strong. The man that walked in confidently into a lecture hall, bee-lined straight for the empty space next to me and was sitting down before I even comprehended his question of “is this seat taken?”, who then proceeded to talk my ear off and invite himself for lunch with me, was quite easy to befriend, believe it or not. After sitting next to him a few times and going for lunch later, I’d managed to get out of my shell a little too and soon we were two merry extroverts steamrolling through university hip to hip. He’d become one of my best friends, one of my closest friends and a person that understood me almost perfectly. We knew we could count on each other completely and trusted each other blindly.

I was introduced into his friend group, and he was into mine and we often hung out together in huge groups of rowdy younglings, going dancing and spending weekends eating too much junk food and watching bad movies someone had put on, but no one really paid attention to besides the occasional joke about its stupidity. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve done something extremely stupid while hanging out with them and was heavily encouraged by both Wooyoung and San. It was the most fun I’ve had though, and that’s what really mattered.

Now I was already out of school, but Wooyoung and most of his friends were continuing with their studies. Due to this, we tried to hang out every Friday, but a lot of the time it ended up being just me and him or even just me sitting in their living room watching Netflix waiting who makes it home first. It was like my second home at this point, and no one was phased when I showed up out of the blue and sat on the couch like I owned it. Especially since Seonghwa bought the new one, that one was extremely comfortable.

Usually, Friday night was a hang out and movie night for me and Wooyoung anyway, but today I was a woman on a mission. A few months ago, I had gotten a nipple piercing. It wasn’t my first one (though it was definitely the most painful one) so I wasn’t extremely worried about it, but lately it has been acting up a little. It usually didn’t hurt but sometimes there would be this slight discomfort around it and I’ve even noticed some slight scabbing even months later. I knew realistically that it was most likely okay, but my anxious nervous little brain had managed to convince me that I’m going to lose my tit or something. That’s why I needed a second opinion. And that’s where Wooyoung came in.

Tonight, I was making my way towards their flat knowing I’m about to ask Wooyoung for the weirdest favour one ever could, but it should be okay, right? We were such close friends, it definitely wasn’t a big deal, right? You normally asked your friends to take a look at your tits and tell you whether there’s something weird about one of them, that was just a usual Friday, no?

I checked the group chat again and confirmed that it would be just me and Woo tonight and then made my way to their building’s door. They lived on the fourth floor without an elevator, which would normally be a minus, but since it was an old warehouse made into an apartment building, their flat was actually massive and housed all of them without a problem, so I graciously sacrificed myself and stomped up the stairs a few times a week to see their faces (and eat their food).

Upon arriving to the flat, I found Woo busy making something in the kitchen, humming lightly while whipping cream like a 50s housewife.

“What you up to?” I asked casually strolling into the room, making Wooyoung jump with shock. “Jesus fucking Christ, you sneak in all the time and yet I still get scared by you,” he said and put his hand over his heart. I slapped his shoulder and peeked at what he was making.

“You literally gave me the keys, Wooyoung, I’m hardly sneaking in,” I said and rolled my eyes at him. He just laughed and pushed me out of the kitchen. “Shut up and start choosing the movie or I know we’ll just end up scrolling through Netflix for hours like always,” he shouted over his shoulder and went back to whatever snack he was making.

As I sat on the couch, I was steeling myself for what I was about to ask him, trying to figure out how to bring it up. No time like the present, right. I mindlessly scrolled through the movies, but really I was waiting for Woo to join me in the living room. Then finally he came in through the door, a plate of little cheesy snacks in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. I was just about to open my mouth, but he cheekily winked at me and made his way back to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a little tray with two cups of hot chocolate, the coke and two glasses.

He finally joined me on the couch and for a while we both just sat there, arguing about whether we want to watch a comedy or a thriller, while I was thinking how to broach the subject. But in the end, I didn’t even need to do that. In the middle of my sentence about how I’m not watching another stupid horror movie about nothing, Wooyoung suddenly turned to me and just gave me this look. And I knew I was done playing around. I stopped in the middle of talking and stared at him. He grinned.

“Okay, just spill it,” he said when I stayed silent for too long.

“What do you mean?” I attempted to stray away from the topic until I was ready, but he’d already saw through me. “Really?” he asked incredulously, “I’ve known you for years, you think I don’t recognise when you want to talk about something? Just spill the beans already.” I heaved a deep sigh and then turned on the couch to face him. He was still grinning.

“Okay, this might be really weird, but just bear with me for a while, okay?” I started. While I was slightly worried about the piercing, I also couldn’t help but fear Woo’s reaction, after all this wasn’t exactly a normal thing to ask your friend. I knew worst case scenario he’ll just say no and laugh it off, but still. He looked a little more serious for a moment, but then I continued talking. “I need you to look at my tits, okay?”

Wooyoung looked at me shocked for a moment and then bursted out laughing. I just glared at him annoyed. “Hear me out-“ I started but he cut me off. “Is this about like being insecure about them? You want me to look at them and say they’re okay? Y/N, you know your tits are amazing-“ he was going on and on, but this time it was me who cut him off.

“God, no, nothing like that,” I shut him up embarrassed. While it was true that I was slightly insecure about my plump figure, I loved my boobs, I knew they looked great. They were simply just right, it was one of the things I loved about my body. Wooyoung sensed that it must be something more serious and gestured for me to continue.

“You know I got the piercing, but lately it started to act up a little and I’m getting nervous and I just need you to look and tell me it looks fine,” I got out in one breath and he just stared at me. “Okay…? Why don’t you look into the mirror?” he asked, genuinely curious. “I have, but since I’m getting so nervous about it, I need a second opinion,” I explained, “Come on Woo, I know it’s a super weird and gross request, but help me out here.” Wooyoung laughed again and smirked at me.

“Gross and weird?” he repeated, “Not only I’ll see a nipple and a piercing, but I’ll also see a boob and a nipple with a piercing, that’s like some of the best things in this world combined together.” I slapped his shoulder again, but we both laughed this time.

“You’re the worst, god,” I said laughing, “I’m surprised you haven’t died over being such a fucking horndog all the time yet.” He laughed too and then gestured to my top.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just shut up and pull your tits out,” he joked and made himself comfortable on one end of the couch. I wasn’t particularly shy about showing my body, so it wasn’t that hard to bare myself like this. Hell, me and Woo have probably seen each other naked a few times but just didn’t care enough.

I pulled the two straps of my top off my shoulders and bunched the fabric around my waist, then reached around to my back to take off my bra. When it hit the floor Wooyoung’s full attention was suddenly on my chest, and it flustered me a little. I fought the instinct to cover myself with my arms and instead just sat there, topless with my best friend intensely staring at my boobs.

“So?” I asked anxiously, “What do you think?” He suddenly straightened up and it brought us quite close to each other. “That you have really great tits,” he said absent-mindedly, his hands raising on instinct as if going to squish them. I flushed and swatted at them. “Yeah, I know,” I said annoyed, “that’s not what I asked though.” That seemed to break him out of it a little bit and he hunched down so his face was on level with my chest. I face-palmed and hoped no one would come home unannounced, cause this would be damn hard to explain.

“No, yeah I think it’s okay,” Woo said after a while, “I mean, the pierced one looks a little different, but that’s to be expected. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.” I relaxed at hearing him say so and felt the tension leave me at once. But I just needed a little more to feel completely at ease.

“Can you like… touch it to see if it’s weirdly warm or if there’s some weird texture or something?” I asked embarrassed and quickly looked to the side when Woo’s head whipped up to look at me. “You want me to what now?” he questioned me flabbergasted.

“I don’t know, dude! You’re the one that gets into contact with tits, you’ll know if there’s something wrong with it!” I started hurriedly explaining myself, growing more flustered by the minute. Wooyoung stayed quiet for a moment and then sighed. I thought this was finally the line that was too far for him, but then his hand suddenly flew up and stopped just millimetres from my nipple. We both just sat there, holding our breath, not knowing where to look, when he slowly brought his fingers in contact with my skin. I gasped quietly, but in the silence it was still audible. I flushed in embarrassment and refused to look anywhere else except for the wall by the TV.

Wooyoung’s fingers messed around a little, pressing down on the nipple and gently squeezing it, also lightly touching onto the piercing. Surprisingly enough, what I felt wasn’t pain like I feared. With every soft brush of his fingers over the sensitive skin, a little bolt of pleasure shot through me and I had to fight to keep myself from gasping more or arching into his touch. I felt the blush spreading over my face and completely mortified I noticed beginnings of a scorching wet heat between my legs.

Then suddenly his hand was gone and he was clearing his throat. The silence that set between us was broken and we both started shifting around, not knowing what to do with the situation we found ourselves in.

“I think it’s totally fine,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse, but I was so embarrassed I barely even registered it.

“Oh thank god, I was really getting nervous,” I said and laughed a little awkwardly. Wooyoung wasn’t saying anything and just sat in front of me tensely, so I assumed it was good and he just needed a moment to shake off the sudden awkward atmosphere, and turned around to find my bra. That was a rookie mistake though. The moment my eyes left Wooyoung, he striked. As I was searching the floor with my eyes, suddenly what felt like a lightning strike went through my whole body. My back arched on instinct, and I toppled backwards onto the couch with a loud moan.

Wooyoung’s mouth has attached itself onto my pierced nipple and he sucked again, another shock pulsing through me and pleasure suddenly flooding my senses. My hands flew to his shoulders, but instead of pushing him away I just pulled him closer. I myself wasn’t sure of what was happening or what we were doing, but it felt too good to dwell on it and I definitely didn’t hate it.

Wooyoung moved closer and made himself comfortable between my spread thighs, his mouth busy sucking and licking around my piercing. I was letting out tiny breathy moans, my legs instinctively pulling him closer to my core, hoping for a little friction.

“What… what are you doing?” I finally gathered my wits and asked breathlessly. I looked down to see the top of his head moving around. He peaked up to look at me and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve never been with a girl that has a nipple piercing, I couldn’t help myself,” he explained, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“You damn horndog,” I muttered, but didn’t push him away or stop him. That gave him confidence to continue, and he smirked at me, as one of his hands brushed down my front until he was slightly pushing on my clit through my clothes and I arched again. He moved to the other nipple and played with it a little, while his unoccupied hand moved to my other breast, touching it teasingly, squeezing it slightly and thumbing the piercing.

“It’s so sensitive,” he murmured and watched his hand completely fascinated. I was about to retort something, but he chose that moment to bite at my breast and move up to leave wet hot kisses on my neck and a loud moan came out instead. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone, and I was starting to worry I might utterly embarrass myself. One of my hands sneaked down between our bodies, trying to encourage him to touch me properly instead of just gently pressing, but he caught it and pulled it up to my shoulder. Suddenly he was towering over me, smirking at me and just generally being a menace. I arched again, this time trying to push our lower halves together, but he avoided me with a laugh.

“God, please, Wooyoung just touch me,” I begged him as the desperation from the scorching heat cursing through my veins was taking over, throwing everything into the wind and fully committing to getting fucked by my best friend. He kept smirking and propped himself up over me on his elbow.

“Touch you, huh?” he said and suddenly his hand was back to teasing my clit, this time with more force. I keened and pushed up into him, suddenly embarrassedly realising just how wet I’d gotten from such small ministrations. He chuckled watching me, head diving to take my pierced nipple into his mouth again, gently playing with it with his tongue and scraping his teeth over it. I jerked and my hands flew into his hair, holding him in place so that he’d never stop, my mouth falling open on a silent moan, too overwhelmed by the sensation to properly function. He slowly moved up to my neck, peppering kisses and small bites along the way, while his fingers moved in little circles over my clothed clit.

I was so turned on I could die, I needed him to touch me properly – like stuff me full of his long beautiful fingers. And I told him as such. And he laughed at me.

“Aw, such a little desperate angel, aren’t you?” Wooyoung whispered into my skin. I whined his name, hoping it would speed him up. He scoffed at me playfully but moved away to pull my shorts off, grabbing them with one hand and pulling them down in one swoop; leaving me a little breathless and only in a bunched up top around my middle, while Wooyoung was still fully clothed. I started pulling his shirt off and he obliged, flinging it to the other side of the room eagerly.

Woo sat back on his heels between my spread thighs to take me in and I started to feel shy again, hands moving to grab onto him and pull him back onto me, but he pushed my arms back into the couch and held them there for a moment, before sitting back again.

“No, no, angel, I’m looking at your pretty pussy,” he teased me, hands grabbing at my full thighs to keep them spread wide. I looked down and suddenly an insecurity reared its head again. About two years ago I had stopped shaving in my intimate area, only trimming it a little, cause it irritated my skin too much and the last time I was about to get some, the guy called me disgusting. Wooyoung was currently watching me like a starved man in front of a feast, but still I nervously covered myself with my hands. His eyes flicked up to me, questioning, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry,” was all I said, mad at myself that I couldn’t even properly get out why I was suddenly so uncomfortable, and he looked at me all confused. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, but then realisation lit up his eyes and he moved to stand up from the couch, “Did you change your mind? You know it’s okay to tell me.” I looped my legs around his waist to pull him back to me and he fell forward with an “oof”. This pressed his erect cock to my core as he held himself up with his hands right by my head and we both moaned at the contact. My legs kept encouraging him to grind into me and for a moment we both just breathlessly moved against each other, Woo releasing little moans and sighs into the heated air between us, and I watched his half-lidded eyes slowly become hazy with pleasure, utterly fascinated.

“So I guess no changing of minds,” he chuckled on a small groan as his hips started thrusting a little harsher against me, losing all rationality and just chasing pleasure. “No, nothing like that,” I whispered back and pulled him for a kiss for the first. As soon as our lips touched, we started hungrily devouring each other, moaning into each other’s mouths and our hands grabbing onto each other desperately. I ended up helplessly grabbing onto his back and most probably leaving red scratches in my wake.

After a moment Woo pulled away, sat back on his heels again and I whined and tried to pull him back, leading him to laugh at me once more; but his fingers went straight for my pussy, spreading it open and sliding through the wetness there. As if placated, I immediately stopped whining and arched my back more, begging for his touch.

“What was that about before?” he asked slightly breathless and I could see he was being serious, even though his finger started slowly circling my clit and playing around. I could barely concentrate on explaining as I was too busy drowning in the liquid pleasure spreading through my entire body.

“Just a little… hng- a little insecure about- about my hair,” I answered while writhing around, simultaneously wanting more and hoping he’d stop so that I could explain properly. His eyes immediately flicked down between my legs just as his finger slid down and slowly slipped into me. I moaned loudly, hands grabbing and squeezing the couch. His gaze was trained on my hole as he pumped his finger in a few times and then quickly slid in a second one.

“Fuck, you’re so wet..” he whispered, still watching his fingers slowly fucking into me, his other hand going to squeeze his erection still tenting his sweats. My mouth was hanging open, eyes unfocused, noises just pouring out as I was finally feeling full for the first time. But then suddenly he pulled his fingers out and focused on me again. I actually sobbed out, trying to close my legs to keep his hand from leaving, but they were still kept spread by his hips.

“Why would you be insecure about it?” Wooyoung whispered and it took me a moment to remember what we were talking about before. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him, sitting between my spread legs with an obvious erection in sweats stained by my wetness from our grinding before. I flushed again and tore my eyes away from his cock, only to catch his smug smirk. I schooled my expression and said: “The last guy I was with called it disgusting. Said he’s not Columbus to be exploring the rainforest.” Wooyoung scoffed.

“What a fucking asshole, who even comes up with shit like that?” he asked incredulously, “Well, clearly he’s a fucking coward, but thankfully… I’ve always liked a little bit of adventure.” He said the last bit all flirty, winking like an absolute sleaze and I just knew something awful was coming. “Besides,” he said while pressing himself into me again, “the rainforest is the perfect place for my anaconda.” I groaned, but this time from pure embarrassment at his jokes while he cackled like a madman. I pushed him away and started to turn around so that I could stand up.

“God, I changed my mind, get off of me,” I said morosely, but he just grabbed my hips and used the momentum to turn me around and get me on all fours, then pressed us together. A bolt of arousal shot through me, and my arms buckled under my weight, my face pressing into the couch while my ass stayed propped up by Wooyoung, pressed into his hips.

“Actually, this is quite a good idea,” he said grinding into me, “I always knew you’d love to be fucked like this.” He bent over me, his chest pressing into my back as he whispered straight into my ear. “Pressed down like this, taken from behind quick, rough and dirty,” he murmured, “Put nicely in your place…” I moaned unabashed, hips pushing back onto his cock on their own and lust making itself painfully known again; in response I could feel Wooyoung’s hands tightening on my skin and suddenly he pulled back to hurriedly tug his sweats down. His hands made their home on my hips, squeezing and pulling, keeping me pressed into him, his cock slotting between my thighs and sliding along my wet pussy. I keened and attempted to grind back, but he held me as his hips pulled back.

“God, please,” I begged, “Please, Wooyoung, give it to me…” He held himself with one hand and I heard him chuckle. “You want it?” he teased. I felt the head of his cock gently teasing around my hole, slightly pushing in and pulling out again. I sobbed exasperated and nodded, face mushed into the couch and hands grabbing onto the throw pillows, my whole body just fucking screaming for his cock to spear me through and through, cunt spasming and tightening around nothing.

“Yes! Yes, please!” I cried and he finally slid inside in one slow thrust. I moaned with relief and sagged into the couch a little, finally getting what I’ve been wanting this whole time. Wooyoung groaned behind me and his hands dug into the skin of my hips, pushing us impossibly together. The feeling of fullness satisfied something wild and primal in me and I found myself struggling to close my mouth, too blissed out to do anything.

He stilled for a moment to get us both accustomed to the feeling, but clearly both of us were too horny to wait even a little longer, because the second I pushed my hips back into him, he started slowly grinding in small circles and it wasn’t long before it shifted into shallow thrusts punching out little gasps out of me.

I only had to whine out “please!” once to get Wooyoung to speed up and pound into me in a much faster pace, to both of our reliefs. Woo’s cool had quickly melted away into a desperate quick pace that had tiny whiny moans spilling out of him. I wasn’t fairing much better, the slide of his cock along my walls from this angle was absolutely heavenly and within few moments had me absolutely losing my already frayed mind. With my head turned away from the cushions I found myself unable to close my mouth, moans freely slipping out and bouncing off of the walls of the living room. Embarrassingly enough I could feel a string of drool coming out of the corner of my mouth onto the couch, but I couldn’t force myself to care when Wooyoung was fucking me so good.

It quickly became obvious we were both too horny and turned on to keep any kind of decorum, so we descended into a messy filthy fucking, Woo eventually bending over me and plastering his chest to my back, mouthing and biting at my neck in between grunts and groans. Just thinking about how deliciously I was filled with his cock had me moaning loudly, Wooyoung chuckling as if he wasn’t the same, losing his mind over the tight wet heat enveloping him in a torturous hug.

I found myself quickly spiralling, the molten pleasure pumping through my body at an alarming speed. I reached back and pulled at Wooyoung’s hips, forcing him to shift his leg a little closer and putting his hips a little higher over mine, giving him perfect access to that one spot deep inside of me with every thrust. I lost all control over my body then, taken over by the all-consuming pleasure, the moans coming out higher and louder with every thrust.

“God- ah aah-“ I panted out, hands digging into the pillows looking for any kind of purchase to withstand the onslaught of sensations, “I- I’m cumming so-soon.” Wooyoung giggled breathlessly into my shoulder and his hips suddenly gained back a little more direction, aiming to hit the spot with every slam into me, slowly speeding up until he was railing me like a madman, the wet squelch of my cunt and slapping of skin on skin accompanying the cacophony of our joined pleasure. I wailed, unable to keep up with the mounting climax, almost screaming on every thrust inlaid with little gasps, groans and cut off gibberish pouring out of my mouth. It felt as if my entire body lit up, the bliss becoming a little too much for me to properly register beyond “Oh god! Oh yes!” ringing through every inch of my very being.

Then Wooyoung’s hand moved to my tit again and squeezed and pinched the pierced nipple few times, even giving it some light slaps. My whole body seized up on a lightning strike of pleasure and the orgasm hit me like an actual truck, getting thrown over the edge so unexpectedly and with such force that I gave one last wheezing cry, mind blanking out and all I could register was the white ecstasy pouring through me, out of me, as if my entire body was made out of it, every nerve screaming with it.

Distantly I registered Wooyoung’s startled cries and moans, his hips jerking against mine quickly and erratically, his hands back on my hips tightening until I could feel his nails biting into my skin and was sure I’d have a nice set of imprints for at least the rest of the day. Then he stilled over me, cock pushed as deep inside as it could go, pulsing and throbbing as the cum poured out in thick spurts. His deep groan of satisfaction reverberated through my whole body since he was still pressed into my back tightly, letting me enjoy the moment with him.

As if invisible strings were cut, we both collapsed into the couch and hazily I realised I only stayed upright because Wooyoung was holding me so he could fuck me harder. After few minutes my mind slowly started coming back, body tiredly catching up, registering the pleasurable ordeal it just went through. I could feel my pussy throbbing, hot and wet from being thoroughly fucked and filled with Woo’s release, my hips hurting from the pounding. I was almost expecting to see bruises all over me.

For a few moments only laboured breathing was heard through the room as we both recovered, the haze gradually lifting, allowing us to come to terms with what had just happened between us. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel awkward at all. It may have been because I was still lying boneless, unable to speak from the force of the orgasm with Wooyoung’s softening cock still wedged deep inside of my pussy, but I found myself quite comfortable squished into the couch, feeling his shallow breaths in the crook of my neck and his thumping heart against my back. I wondered if he could feel mine, as it was beating just as wildly.

But the comfy silence was broken by the man himself, when he whistled and said: “Wow, I had no idea you could do that.” There was a little teasing undertone to his statement, but mostly I could detect only giddy wonder and pride.

��Do what?” my words still a little slurred, because I was still recovering the functions of my brain and fighting sleep, so deeply sated I could barely hold a full thought.

“Squirt,” Woo stated matter-of-factly, his hands beginning to gently caress my sides to help me come down. “Huh?” I said eloquently and turned to look at him. He just gave me a soft grin, eyes squinting in joy as he took in my state. “I did what?” the question was more rhetorical and I wasn’t even really talking to Wooyoung, rather I started to squirm trying to look down as if my pussy held the answer. And in some way it did. When I managed to lift up my hips a little, my whole body protesting and Wooyoung behind me grunting at the jostling of his soft cock, hands digging into my hips to try and hold me still, I saw that the couch beneath us was absolutely soaked. Slight panic seized me, I didn’t even know why, it was just a natural reaction of my tired brain to the information that apparently Wooyoung, my best friend, had made me squirt for the first time in my life, all over Seonghwa’s lovely sofa. Well, at least it did explain why the orgasm had been so fucking intense, feeling as if the soul left my body and astral projected into a parallel universe.

The squirming dislodged Wooyoung from me and a splat of his cum joined the already huge stain on the furnishing. Now I winced, realising that there was no way either of us was surviving this. Unceremoniously I plopped back down into the mess and turned to Wooyoung, who was sweaty and rosy-cheeked, watching me with amusement.

“Seonghwa is going to fucking murder us,” I muttered tiredly, already back to fighting sleep off now that I was lying again. I let my eyes fall shut and only heard Wooyoung’s answering laugh, only felt him get up from the couch and gently roll me over on my back. There was shuffling, rustling of clothes and footsteps around the living room, but I couldn’t find the strength to look at what was Woo doing, letting myself drift on the high and the aftershocks that were still coursing through me.

Wooyoung was humming somewhere in the apartment and then there was a gentle touch on my hip. I whined but let him do what he needed. A warm wet towel was pressed onto my stomach lightly in lieu of warning and I slowly opened my legs again, feeling the strain and the burn that just hurt so good. Woo tenderly cleaned me up with soft unhurried strokes, then helped me sit up against the pillows to try and put some clothes back on me.

I blearily opened my eyes and blinked at him. Wooyoung was kneeling on the floor in front of me wearing only his sweats and holding his black tee. When he saw I was back in the land of living, he slowly pulled it over my head and helped my arms into the sleeves. I was feeling all warm and fuzzy from his sudden softness, thoroughly enjoying this after-care, suddenly found myself overtaken by the violent need to cuddle and sleep it off, so I was just about to suggest that, when he suddenly sprung to his feet and pulled me up with him. I let myself be man-handled with only a slight surprised yelp, but suddenly standing I realised my legs still weren’t in working order, if my shaking buckling knees were anything to go by, so I just grabbed onto his shoulders and hoped he wouldn’t let me fall.

He didn’t. Another nicely warm towel was now wiping my butt of anything I had been sitting in, his hand gently patting it before putting me back onto the couch in the area that was dry.

I wanted to sleep, but I was too amused by the picture of Wooyoung standing in front of the huge wet stain with a deep thinking expression on his face, wracking his brain for anything to do about it. When a giggle escaped me, suddenly his eyes were on me with a mischievous glint.

“You made the mess and now you laugh at me when I’m trying to save our lives?” he asked jokingly, amusement lacing his tone. I giggled again and curled around one of the pillows, fully committed to watching the comedy unfold. Wooyoung just sighed and looked at the couch as if it murdered his first-born.

“I gotta come up with something before-“ his voice was cut off by the door suddenly opening and a commotion coming in. There were three voices happily chattering something and I could recognise the guys from that. With terror I met Wooyoung’s eyes the moment we registered Seonghwa as one of the voices. Before any of us could even move a muscle, the three men walked into the room and promptly froze in their tracks.

“Holy shit!” It was San who shouted that, but we were focused on the cacophony of emotion going through Seonghwa’s face seconds before he cried out “MY COUCH!!” on the top of his lungs. There was genuine anguish and betrayal in his voice before his eyes redirected from the stain to us with pure fury.

“Okay! Time to take a shower!” Wooyoung shouted and pulled me up, but ended up supporting my entire body when my knees buckled and I was balancing on shaking legs like a new-born fawn. From this angle I could see the pure amusement and approval on San’s face right next to the disgusted traumatised Yeosang. I blushed furiously and let Wooyoung drag me off to a bathroom, where he sat me gently on the toilet.

“I’m going back out,” he whispered with determination as if he was about to walk into a battlefield, leaving his wounded comrade in the safety, knowing there was only death outside. I snickered at him and he theatrically waved at me from the door, before walking out and shutting it behind him.

I could still fairly clearly hear everything go down though, especially when only moments later Yeosang popped in to give me my clothes and stuff I left on the table and didn’t close the door fully after him. My phone was vibrating like crazy, which could only mean San was already blessing the group chat with all the piping hot tea. I unlocked it and clicked on the notifs.

Mountain man: lolol woo and y/n fucked on the couch and completely ruined it

Princess: ew fuck you wooyoung

Muscle baby: i’ll never fucking use the living room again

Brat: 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

The situation unfolding in chat was interrupted by the scene that was going on in the living room in the real time.

“Calm down, I’ll think of something,” Wooyoung’s voice carried through, trying to console Hwa only to be followed by another shriek of “BUT MY COUCH!!”.

“Wow Wooyoung, I really thought better of you,” Sannie teased, adding oil to fire and I could clearly hear his laughs. No signs of Yeosang, but he was probably just standing there watching it all go down.

“I spent months picking it out!” the level of hysteria was steadily rising in Hwa’s voice and I really slowly started fearing for Woo’s life. “I’m gonna have it dry cleaned or something,” the said man offered only to be met with more shrieking.

“You better fucking throw that thing out, there’s no way I’m sitting on it after this,” San added very unhelpfully to the conversation, “especially since I saw the state of it.” There was a beat of silence during which I imagined Wooyoung was throwing daggers at San with his gaze for stirring more shit into it.

“I’ll buy a new one,” was his final plea and while it was met with some more grumbling and fake-crying, I could hear the situation calming down.

Captain: what the fuck is happening there when i’m not home

Mountain man: fornication

Demon angel: disgusting

M o t h e r: MY COUCH

M o t h e r: my amazing couch in the perfect shade of blue that i was looking for

M o t h e r: DEAD AND DEFILED

Puppy: i’ll help you look for a new one, hyung

Mountain man: wooyoung already agreed to buy a new one since he was the cause of the *suspiciously* large stain

Captain: no details

Captain: never any details

Captain: first rule of fight club

xoxo from hell: 🤔🤔

xoxo from hell: i think

Princess: oooh she breaks her silence

xoxo from hell: that a certain man here in this chat should rather shut up considering last week i walked in on him fucking a girl on the kitchen table

Brat: oop-

Mountain man: Y/N

Mountain man: NO

Demon angel: 🤮

Muscle baby: RIGHT WHERE WE EAT???!!!

Puppy: eat pussy apparently

Princess: nice

Captain: don’t encourage him

“MY KITCHEN TABLE?!” Seonghwa’s scream sounded through the flat just as Wooyoung slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him with a wide grin. Distantly I could hear San’s pleading and general chaos as Hwa no doubt started raining fury upon him.

“Nice save,” Wooyoung smirked at me and started ridding us of clothes so we could finally take the shower we both desperately needed. The feeling of the hot water hitting my spent and pleasantly aching body relaxed me and I sighed with content. I was basically ready to melt into a puddle right there, sleep slowly rearing its head back up, so I just went with the motion and let Woo soap us both up and rinse us, I let him dry me and put a fresh tee on me that I didn’t even notice he brought with him. I was just watching him with eyes half closed and a doped out smile on my face.

“You’re so cute like this,” Woo muttered as he led me through the hall to his room, amusement and fondness filling his voice with uncharacteristic gentle sweetness. Upon entering his room I immediately beelined for the bed and burrowed myself between the blankets and pillows. Woo rummaged around in his closet for a moment, but it was the only sound I could hear as the apartment suddenly fell almost eerily quiet.

“If I’m so cute now,” I finally mumbled out from underneath the cozy pile, “maybe you should fuck me more often then.” That had Wooyoung turning around to face me with a mischievous grin. “I fully intend to do that,” he said devilishly and jumped in with me. It took a bit of shuffling to get into a comfortable spooning position, but we were no strangers to cuddling each other, so it went rather smoothly.

Just as the sleep was claiming me and I felt myself getting pulled under, Woo suddenly perked up and said: “You don’t think the silence means hyung murdered San and now Yeosang’s helping him get rid of the body, right?” I snickered gently, but just swatted at him to lay back down.

“Well, he probably deserved it,” Woo muttered and snuggled in closer to me, letting the exhaustion finally lull us to sleep. And it was the most comfortable sleep I’ve had in a while, even if San potentially paid for it with his life.

Divider from the amazing @saradika-graphics 💜

A/N: hope you enjoyed yourself, don't be shy I'm always open to comments and asks!!

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fic #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fluff

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allpiesforourown · 4 months ago

Text

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it.

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety.

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out.

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person.

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student.

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong.

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that.

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS.

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.”

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple.

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding?????

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret.

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was.

Instead he asks what they’re doing.

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet.

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses.

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword.

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!”

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan.

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him!

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do.

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice.

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist.

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.”

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?”

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing.

#role reversal au #svsss #shen yuan #luo binghe #bingqiu #liu qingge #allpiesforourown #gonna tag it binggeyuan too bc binghe is a fuckboy until he gets domesticated by sy #binggeyuan #luo bingge

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