#thanks for the request i hope you like it!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tbaluver · 1 day ago

Note

Hello 👋 love your work so much ❤️. Anyway can I request a scenario where the MC and l&ds boy were adult film actors or porn-stars if you prefer, like what each boy is like on and off camera.

P☆RN STA-A-A-A-AR- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: Xavier x fem!Reader, Zayne x x fem!Reader, Rafayel x fem!Reader, Sylus x fem!Reader, Caleb x fem!Reader context: what it's like filming with your lover and behind the cameras genre: MDNI, smut smut, flitthyy but with aftercare a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ thank you for supporting my works! srry i took a while writing this req i was going and forth with this during school as well so i hope i did this justice! if not ignore this for now ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i also added what they're like when they're filming by themselves i hope thats okay! and i hope you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

tags: male masturbation, backshots, p in v

Solo Video:

Xavier is a well known porn star who prefers to keep his face and identity hidden to keep a low profile in public. With one hand subtly lifting the camera to focus on the bare lower half of his body, just enough to see the full view of his thighs twitch and tremble while the other hand strokes his length slowly, occasionally moving further down to cup his balls.

His viewers tuning in to his new video often see him lying comfortably on his bed, his sculpted body glowing under the light of his camera. His pretty pink tip glistened, making his viewers wonder how long he was going for when he made the video. Envy sparks among them as they wish they could be his bunny plushies resting beside him, wishing they could trade places. He knew what he was doing placing them there.

Soft whimpers escape his mouth as he pumps faster and faster, his chest rising and falling. You can tell he was so close from how his breathing stutters through the camera. Oh how badly the viewers wished they would get a glimpse of his flushed face. They would pay so much more if he’d let them.

Breathless, quiet pants of your name slip from his lips as he struggles to keep his voice down. He could feel his climax coming near, his orgasms building deep inside him and finally releasing his warm cum in thick spurts all over his defined abs.

The video cuts off there making viewers want more. The rest of his channel is filled with teasing mirror pics showcasing his defined physique while wearing his signature grey sweats. His fat cock makes an outline through the thin material while his large hands wrapped around his phone to carefully cover his face.

And his most popular videos? They’re the ones featuring you, his personal favorites.

On Camera With You:

The top of your dress was unbuttoned and tugged down to expose your breast. Your breast pressed against the window, exposed to, well, the backyard of your shared home with Xavier. He would never risk letting anyone catch even a glimpse of your bare body, hence why a lot of the videos that include you are covered or blurred out. The bottom of your dress was slightly pushed up, just enough to have Xavier sink his fat cock inside but also to slightly cover the curve of your ass.

He buries his head into your neck, your moans fogging up the window. “Mine..” He whispers in your ear, the sound of his hips slamming in and out of you relentlessly against you drowned it out. He drills into you harder, deeper, his mind focused on how wet your cunt feels around his dick.

His cock was hitting you so deeply that you felt like he was splitting you in two. “X-Xavier..!” You moan out, his hands travelling between your thighs to rub the bundle of nerves between your legs to give you that sudden stimulation. His hands caress the soft skin of your ass while he peppers sweet kisses down your neck as you both chase your high.

His hands make their way to pinch your perked nipples roughly as you press harder against the window which would leave a foggy mark later. You're almost there, from the way you’re clenching around him and the way he feels your thighs shake around his hand. All the pure sensation he was giving you was turning your brain into mush, your moans turning into incoherent babbles.

He angles his hips so you can feel his veiny fat cock hit right against the spongy sweet spot inside of you while continuing his animalistic pace. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach tighten again, waves of pleasure rushing through your body as you cum on his cock. With one final hard thrust, his cum seeps into you, filling you up to the brim. He rides out his orgasm, his hips stuttering.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck as you both catch your breath, his hands still resting on your hips. “You think you could do that again for me honey?” His warm breath brushes over your skin. You realized it a little too late but you’ve forgotten saying his name on camera would reveal his identity to the public.

“Mhm..” You hum weakly, your chest rising and falling as you tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Xavier. Honestly, he could’ve easily edited that part out, but he’d rather film with you over and over again. For now this little video will be for you and him to keep.

Behind The Scenes With You:

“Did you feel good? Do you want more?” He asks, making sure you were one hundred percent satisfied and content. He isn’t asking for the video but rather if you still want to go on just for your pleasure. He doesn’t mind at all, he’s more than happy to keep going for as long as you want him too.

And once you were completely satisfied with your needs, he’d carry you to the bathroom, peppering you with so many sweet kisses. He sits you down on the bathroom counter as you both wait for the bathtub to fill and get to the perfect temperature. He dampens a rug to help clean you up, while admiring every inch of your body while pressing soft reassuring kisses to any surface he can reach.

“Does this feel sore?” He asks softly, massaging your thigh after witnessing you tremble from today’s filming. And if it did, he’s quick to massage any sore spots while making sure there were any markings on your skin that needs tending too.

When the bathtub is finally filled to the perfect temperature, he carefully lifts you, stepping into the warm water together. He gently helps you wash and dry off. Afterwards, he slips you into one of his shirts that were way too oversized on you but perfectly comfortable.

He helps you settle onto the bed, adjusting your pillows just right before sinking into the bed right beside you. Thankfully, today’s video didn’t require the bed or you’d both be stuck on the couch waiting for fresh new sheets. He seriously thinks you should get more from how often you two make videos, but you both often forget.

With a soft chuckle at the thought, he grabs the blanket, tucking it around you both. His arms slip around you, pulling you closer as you two drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Zayne:

tags: male masturbation, p in v, reader riding zayne

Solo Video:

Most of Zayne’s solo videos feature him sitting in his office chair alone in his dimly lit room. His camera is usually propped up and behind it would be his computer playing a video you filmed touching yourself a while ago. When he’s by himself, he doesn’t remove every piece of clothing but when it's with you, it’s different. He often leaves his button up shirt unbuttoned, just enough to to reveal his defined muscles. His sleeves rolled up to show the scars on his arms, making viewers wonder if they were from you.

Even as a porn star, Zayne remains reserved, often cropping his face out just slightly in his videos, giving viewers a glimpse of his jawline to imagine his lips parting and his eyes shut from the absolute pleasure he was giving himself.

But to him, it would’ve been better if you were here.

Soft quiet groans slip past Zayne’s lips through the camera as his hand drags along his shaft faster now. He squeezes his fist even tighter, pumping faster into his sensitive hot pink tip as his cum spills out with uneven pants. His chest rising and falling, sweat coating his skin that made him glisten. The video ends like that with no outro, leaving viewers to look at the blank screen as they try to finish imagining sinking into his throbbing cock.

They can imagine all they want but the only way to know for sure is by clicking on the next few videos of you two together.

On Camera With You:

“You can do it, I know you can. I’m here.” He murmurs, his lips barely brushing by your ear. Both of his large hands rest on your waist, gently making soothing circles on your soft skin as you slowly sink into him inch by inch.

He was always so gentle and patient with his touches just as he is behind the cameras. Unlike the men you would see in stereotypical videos who rush into things quickly and end up finishing first.

A strangled whine travels up your throat once you finally let yourself down fully onto his cock. There's no doubt that he’s big. He’s so big that it makes you whimper every time he’s in you, splitting you open each time, making viewers completely jealous.

You both agreed it’s best to keep your faces hidden, unless of course you choose otherwise. Oftentimes, after filming you both make sure to blur your faces or crop them out the video. It’s truly a shame they’ll never have the view you have. His cheeks and ears are completely flushed, his lips swollen from all the kisses and biting, and that small pussy drunk smile he still has on whenever he watches you ride him.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his large hands smoothing over your back. You nod against his shoulder, resting your forehead there for a moment. “Take your time,” He murmurs quietly, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your head. You always manage, every single time. However if you did want to stop, he would with no hesitation. Your hips shift in little experimental ruts, grinding slowly.

Once you angle your hips just right, you pull your face away from his shoulder, sitting up slightly. You whimper loudly, bouncing up and down on him faster. He knows you want to moan out his name but for the sake of the video and his identity you can’t. But he doesn’t mind starting all over again if it means he’ll see you like this again.

He never gets tired of the sight he had in front of him. If this was an addiction then don’t bother him finding a cure. Your body was glistening with sweat as you moved up and down on his length. And the way your face contorts from the pleasure you were getting was beautiful to him.

His hips stutter up involuntarily, instinctively, begging you to give him more. An intense amount of pleasure begins to flood you from the slick drag of his cock inside you, opening you completely and letting him get deeper inside of you. Your panting and whining drown out from the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin in the room.

Your movements started to get sloppy as you desperately chased your high and with one final drop you completely buried yourself in him, your orgasm washing through you. Zayne’s hands tighten on your hips as he follows suit, cumming with a low groan. You could feel his cock pulse, stuffing your cunt full.

You melt on top of him, your chest rising and falling in sync with his as he rubs soothing circles on your back. You tilt your head slightly as he pulls you closer, his lips reaching for yours. “Thank you,” He murmurs against your lips. His body relaxes against yours as he rests his chin gently on top of your head.

Behind The Scenes With You:

The steady rhythm of Zayne’s slow breathing pulls you back to reality but his gentle caress trailing up and down your back almost lulls you to sleep on top of him. “I’m going to grab a few things to clean us up, love. I promise I’ll be quick okay?” He whispers softly. You nod slowly against his chest, too relaxed to say anything more. Gently, he lays you down beside him, propping the pillows behind you to make you more comfortable.

You watch his broad figure walk towards the door, a small smile tugging at your lips as you catch a glimpse of the marks you made from your film today. You let your eyes flutter closed for a couple minutes. However, it doesn’t last long when you hear the soft padding of his feet return and feel the subtle shift in the bed.

He comes back with a glass of cold water and a damp rag. “Come closer, you should drink,” He murmurs, slipping an arm under your back, lifting you slightly to help you sit up. You lean into him, sipping the cold water as he carefully brings the glass to your mouth. “Done?” He asks as he watches you pull away from the glass, your body sinking back into the softness of the bed. “Spread your legs a little, my love. I need to clean you up.” He sets the glass down beside the bed, brushing the damp rag over your inner thigh.

“Not too sore anywhere? How about here?” He asks, carefully massaging any tender spots, making sure he didn’t overdo it during filming. He watches your reactions closely, relief washing over him when you shake your head, offering a small smile.

“‘m okay Zayne, I promise.” His eyes soften, a tender smile curving on his lips too as he rubs your inner thigh in slow reassuring circles.

“Let’s take a quick bath, and then we can rest, okay?” He says softly. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as he effortlessly lifts you, cradling you against him as he carries you to the bathroom.

The water was already running. He’s prepared everything so quickly, just like he promised. As he helps you settle in the bathtub with him, you catch a glimpse of a neatly folded set of clothes on the counter after your bath.

Once you both finish washing off, he gently helps you dry off before turning his attention to himself. He grabs your favorite oversized shirts on the counter, the ones that always smell like him, pulling it over you.

After you’re both settled in comfortable clothes, he lifts you effortlessly, earning a small giggle from you. The walk back to the bedroom was short, just a few steps really, but he can’t help but love taking care of you.

He carefully sets you down on your side of the bed before climbing in beside you. He tucks the blankets around both of you, his arms pulling you closer. You rest your head against his chest, pressing a soft kiss at the top of your head before nuzzling closer to you.

Rafayel:

tags: male masturbation, backshots, p in v

Solo Video:

Rafayel is absolutely shameless whether he films with you or by himself.

He smirks when he sees more viewers coming in to join his stream. Sweat drips down his chest as his biceps flex as he bumps faster. “hah-i bet you like this don'tcha? filthy girl.” Viewers flooded into his stream with compliments while some typed how they wished it was them instead of his hands. “Yeah? Am I making you feel good? You wish you were on this cock huh?” They typed promises in the chat how they would make him feel so good but Rafayel doubts that. He doesn’t need to even think about if they’d make him feel good because with you, he already has everything he needs.

He knows you’re watching so he must perform a good show for you while you’re away.

His head falls back slightly while his eyes remain half-lidded to watch the numbers go up. He lowers his gaze, watching his hand stroke up and down his cock, concentrating on his sensitive tip. His sweet moans echo through the livestream when he cums hard again. A few whines slip out of his slips as he watches his hot cum overflowing to his balls and onto his hand.

He pants, a smirk playing at his lips as he glances back at the stream. He reads the chat, viewers begging for one more round while he cleans himself up.

“Thanks for the tips everyone. Catch me and my cutie new video next week.”

And just like that, the livestream ends.

On Camera With You:

“fuuuuck you feel s-so ah! good cutie,” Rafayel lets out a loud pornagraphic moan, his grip on the camera unsteady as he struggles to focus his view but also to get the perfect shot of your ass bouncing off his dick.��

Ah, this position is one of his many favorites. He has your ass up in the air while one of his hands grip your hips tightly that will probably leave a bruising mark on it the morning after. Your back curves with your face against the plush of the pillows, it was a breathtaking sight and no one can ever take it from him. The viewers can look and touch themselves all they want but they can never have you.

Rafayel looks down to where you’re both connected, stretching you wider than ever before. The sight is mesmerizing and he can’t stop his moans from slipping out.

His hips slap against yours while his hands roam around the soft surface of your back and your ass, occasionally giving it a tight squeeze. “mmmngh Raf-!” Your moans muffle through the pillow as pulsating pleasures send signals down to your core.

“Did you hah- like that pretty girl? Do mm- you want more? I’ll give you more,” The loud smack of his pelvis hitting your ass fills the room and each stroke he was pulling you down deeper onto his cock. He can’t take off his eyes on your pretty pussy and how it just swallows him up so perfectly.

“feels ‘s good ‘s good-!” you slur your words which means he knows he’s doing it right. your muffled whines and moans and the wet sounds of your cunt were spurring him on. His heavy balls stains with your arousal as they slap against your puffy clit. Hearing you feel this good because of him, the way your pussy feels wrapped around his dick, it was too perfect.

One of his free hands trails down to rub your sensitive clit while he pounds into you harder. He lets out a small whimper when he feels your cunt start to tighten around him and the way you’re quivering means you’re close. “Look so pretty takin it, take it all for me yeah?”

The orgasm rips through you, soaking his cock. His hips stutter momentarily, thick white ropes of his cum paint your walls. He nearly sinks on top of you but instead he rolls onto his back, pulling you right beside him to see your pretty face.

He smiles warmly at you, brushing the hair away from your face as he turns off the camera, not caring whether he captured anything good at all. All he knows right now is that you’re perfect. Everything you do is perfect.

Behind The Scenes With You:

You two lie side by side, his nebula eyes staring right at yours, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His hands moved gently over your back as your limbs were tangled together. “How do you feel?” He whispers, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Good,” you reply, smiling back at him.

“Likeee realllyy good or just good?” He teases, both of you laughing. He grins, brushing his hand over your cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” You nod as you watch him rise, his touch still lingering on your skin before he leaves.

You watch him leave, a small smirk curling on your lips as you watch his bare ass walk on full display before he disappears completely.

When he returns, he extends his hand to you, helping you drape yourself around him as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. The bathroom smells like your favorite soap while bubbles are gently rising to the surface of the water. He carefully guides your tired body into the tub, letting you sink into relaxation. “I’ll be right backkk cutie, just stay right there!” He boops your nose with the soapy bubbles, flashing you a wink before quickling walking away.

It takes him a few moments to return and when he does, he joins in right behind you. You relax, leaning your back against his chest. His hands help gently wash your sticky body with soap and water before washing his own. “Is this good?” He whispers, his warm breath fanning over your ear, earning a hum of approval from you.

After helping you finish drying off and getting dressed, he lifts you gently, carrying you back to the room where the sheets and blankets have been replaced by him, so you can rest in a freshly made bed.

He sinks into the bed with you, not letting you have a single moment to pass without wrapping his arms around you, earning a soft giggle from you from his clinginess. He tucks the covers around you both, his forehead gently resting against yours as you both begin to drift into a sleep. The perfect footage for the channel slips from his mind, he’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Sylus:

tags: male masturbation, size difference, p in v

Solo Video:

Sylus is often mischaracterized even in the industry. He doesn’t talk much in his own videos, leaving a lot of people to fantasize what he’s like in bed. Is he rough? Does he mind vanilla? What would he say to you?

Well that’s only for you to know and hear.

His solo videos are often him sitting up in his dimly lit room, his legs spread enough to give the viewers a glimpse of his bulging veins on his inner thigh. He keeps eye contact on the camera while his large hand drags along his length. He found this, well, boring, without you. All he could think about was the money he’d make from this and the pretty outfits you’d been eyeing at the mall that he’d surprise you with. It’s a shame really, knowing that it would be easily ripped apart by him.

He imagines pleasing you, his tongue tasting your folds while you whine and babble about the clothes he got you, completely shredded. Those pretty little sounds were cute to him.

He imagines rolling his hips against you while your nails claw at his back as you hold on tightly to him. Sylus curses under his breath as he increases his pace on his hand. His eyes fluttering shut, his jaw clenching. His fist pumps into his sensitive tip, helping him closer to his orgasm. A deep groan falls from his lips, his hot cum overflowing in his hands.

The video ends there, offering viewers recommendations of his popular videos. The ones featuring you and him everywhere. And he wouldn’t want it any other way, showing off his beloved and how good you make him feel.

On Camera With You:

“S-Sylus..” you whimper, nails digging into his skin when he pulls out and slides back in slowly. Your head spins at how full you already feel, unconsciously tightening around him. He’s just so much bigger, bigger than what the viewers see on the screen. A groan rumbles in his broad muscular chest as his grip on your hips tightens.

Inch by inch, he stretches you wider, stuffing you full of his cock. “Are you alright?” He whispers softly, not an ounce of teasing dripping in his tone as he checks to make sure if you’re okay. It was quiet enough that the camera can’t pick it up, intended only for you to hear.

You hum in approval, “K-keep going, please Sy more” your hips wiggling to signal him to keep going. He begins thrusting in and out of you, each stroke deep, brushing against your walls that felt so so good. Your viewers loved this. They loved watching his monster sized cock disappear into your pretty cunt. His size difference compared to your small frame turned people on while maintaining to be gentle and careful, quite different from the usual videos you would see in the industry.

“You’re doing so well, sound so pretty” he praises while he shallowly thrusts in you, the sounds in the room were so lewd from the squelching of your wetness. Each drag of his cock makes you feel every ridge and vein as he pulls in and out, earning soft mewls from you. “I’m gonna go faster now okay baby?” he murmurs waiting for your response.

With a breathless yes please sy, is all he needed to hear before he slams his entire length back in with a single thrust making you cry and babble incoherent words as he pistons in and out of you. Not even the tight grip you held onto him made you feel secure. He’s hitting depths that were only possible for him to find, each thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body making you chant his name brokenly.

“Just like that,” he coos, pressing wet sloppy kisses down your neck. It’s too much. It’s too good. Your loud choked sobs captured by the camera as his tip mercilessly drills into that sweet spongy spot over and over again. “That’s it..C’mon sweetie give it to me”

Your walls clench around his length, waves of pleasure continue to wash over you as Sylus fucks you through your high. With a few final thrusts, he sinks his cock as deep as he can, his hips stutter momentarily, trying to milk every bit of his seed into you.

His body melting against you, both of you sticky and exhausted. Both of you breath heavily, the room filled with the sound of your uneven breaths. Once the high clears from his mind, he lifts his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before softly pulling out. He doesn’t ignore your whine from the emptiness, gently soothing you with sweet praises and showering your face with tender kisses.

With one last kiss, he whispers, ‘I’ll be right back’ before turning off the camera to save you both some time to edit. Whether or not that final, intimate moment stays on film is your choice but the care he shows you behind the scenes remains unseen, something just for the two of you.

Behind The Scenes With You:

“I’ll be right back okay sweetie? Do you need anything?” He sits beside you on the bed, his large hand gently squeezing your thigh. You shake your head, offering a small and weak smile before he stands up and disappears from your sight.

A few minutes pass and he returns a few things in hand. He helps you sit up slowly as you take a few needed gulps while he gently cleans you up with the damp rag, massaging any area with some oils that he thinks is sore from the past scenes you’ve recorded for today.

You lay back down, letting out a deep exhale as exhaustion floods your body. Your eyes were growing heavy, nearly fluttering shut but Sylus stops you. “No yet sweetie,” he says softly. “I’ve got a bath running, and then you can rest okay?” He hovers above you, showering you with kisses just enough to keep you awake. With a weak ‘okay’, you give in. He carefully slides his arms around you, lifting you up and carrying you effortlessly to the bathroom. He checks the water temperature, adjusting it to your preference and once he’s satisfied, he carefully lowers you both into the warm, soothing water.

After the bath, he lifts you gently, carrying you to the counter by the sink to keep you from standing. He carefully dries your hair before grabbing one of his oversized shirts, the one you love so much, slipping it over your head. Once you're settled, he takes a quick moment to dry off, grabbing his robe before turning his attention back to you. He carries you to one of his many rooms, as the one you two filmed today needs to be cleaned.

“Would you like anything else?” He asks softly, helping you lay down on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. You shake your head, pulling at the fabric of his robe to come join you. A low chuckle escapes him as he joins you, sitting up beside you and letting you snuggle closer to him. You rest your hands against his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he tucks you in. Editing the video can wait, right now it’s just the two of you.

Caleb:

a/n: his is shorter bc im still trying to figure out his personality but i wanted to include him ! tags: reader jorking caleb off

On Camera With You:

The camera was propped up by your kitchen table, near the windows so the natural lighting can capture his defined abs. You stood behind his seat, your fingers teasing his abs, tracing the lines as you go lower and lower. This was how many retakes by now? You stopped counting after the fifth one, losing track of how much he came too fast. The clips were too short but they were handy if you wanted to keep them to yourself, which you will.

“p-please, i need you,” Caleb whines once your finger lines over his waistband. His cock happily awaiting your touch beneath his boxers, again. “make me feel good, only you can. i’ll do good this time, p-promise.”” he’s already a whimpering mess and you haven’t even started yet.

He helps you tug down his sweats along with his boxers, his heavy cock springing upwards to slap his torso from its release. His cock was so hard he thinks he might explode and you can tell his frustration from the tip of his cock, all hot pink and swollen just for you.He was already leaking again and you hardly touched him there.

You carefully wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking his cock up and down. His head falls back, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips rock slightly up into your hand, meeting your strokes. He’s trying so hard not to finish early again but how can he not when just your hand already feels so good.

You pump him faster, leaning over with your other hand to squeeze his balls, your nails softly grazing onto the sensitive flesh. He lets out a loud whine when you twist your wrist around his glistening tip. “‘m gonna cum, fuck ii’m so ah! s-sorry!” He whimpers loudly, spilling all over your hand with a pathetic whine. “I’m sorry..one more time..” He looks up at you with pleading eyes and who are you to say no? At least this time it was at least ten seconds longer than the last one

Behind The Scenes With You:

No matter who was more exhausted after filming, he always insisted on cooking you a delicious meal, despite any protests you might have. Sure he could easily order take out and have it delivered but he personally found it better to have a home cooked meal for a girl he absolutely loves who treats him so well.

But first, he’d make sure you were both freshened up, helping you slip into his favorite shirt, one that was oversized on you. Dressed in nothing but his grey sweats, he’d start up the stove, chopping vegetables to make the flavor pop. If you didn’t listen and rest in bed as he asked, he’d scoop you up effortlessly, ignoring your complaints as he carried you back to your shared room.

When the meal was ready, he’d bring over a tray with your favorite dishes, setting it right in your lap before settling right beside you.

626 notes · View notes

reiding-writing · 2 days ago

Note

hi. I have been reading all your criminal minds stuff and I just LOVE IT!!! Anyway, my request is a cold!reader x Spencer, were reader gets hurt pretty badly (like veeeery badly) and he saves her. Keep writing, you got talent there!

CRACKED ICE — SPENCER REID!

a foot chase goes awry when a shot takes you down. spencer makes sure you’re alive enough to make it to the hospital.

spencer x cold reader | 2.4k | angst | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

WARNINGS | reader gets critically shot, unsub also gets shot but not badly, lots of blood mentions

a/n — thank you <333 i need to write more angst for this series i think

The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and rainwater, the streets slick with puddles reflecting the dim streetlights. Sirens wailed in the distance as your boots slapped against the wet pavement.

You were closing in on the unsub now, your breath ragged but controlled, each step pushing you further into the chaos that had erupted only moments ago. The rest of the team was scattered behind you, covering different angles, but you were in the lead.

“Team, status!” you barked into your comm as you rounded a corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of your target.

“No visual,” came JJ’s voice, breathless but steady. “He’s fast—too fast. We need to get him before he gets out.”

You glanced ahead. So many side streets, perfect for a man who knew the area. But you wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.

“Keep looking,” you ordered, even as you sprinted forward, the adrenaline pumping faster than your legs could keep up with.

Without waiting for confirmation, you veered left, cutting through a narrow alley that wound its way between two old brick buildings. The sky overhead was clouded with the weight of an impending storm, and it was only a matter of time before the rain began to fall again.

Your fingers brushed the side of your gun, just a touch, ensuring it was secured in its holster. You couldn’t afford to hesitate.

The alley narrowed as you sprinted deeper, the sound of footsteps behind you fading as you focused on the task at hand. And then, just ahead, you spotted him.

The unsub.

A tall, lanky figure darted from one shadow to the next, the barrel of a gun glinting briefly as he moved. You had to act fast. You skidded to a stop, pressing your back against the wall of the building to the right, silent and still. You could hear his labored breathing now, closer than ever.

“FBI! Drop your weapon!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the silence.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the rain. Then, a flicker of movement.

The unsub was turning, eyes wide with panic. You knew he had a gun, but you didn’t hesitate. You raised your own weapon, fingers tight on the trigger. He was cornered now. There was no escape.

But then, in a desperate last-ditch effort, he spun, his gun coming up in a smooth motion—too fast, too practiced.

The first shot rang out, and you barely had time to register the impact before the world seemed to slow. Pain. White-hot, jagged pain shot up your leg, and for a brief moment, all you could do was stare at the blood blooming through your pants.

You hit the ground hard, knees slamming into the asphalt, but your finger squeezed the trigger reflexively, sending a burst of fire at the unsub. The recoil was a blur, but you saw the man stumble, his shoulder jerking as the bullet grazed him. He stumbled back against the wall, clutching at his arm with a howl of pain.

Your breath was ragged now, your focus on him, not the searing pain in your leg. You pushed yourself to your feet, gritting your teeth as you made the effort to stagger toward him. The alley was spinning slightly, the walls closing in around you as dizziness swept over you. But you weren’t done yet. You had a job to do.

“Hands in the air!” you shouted, even though the words came out slurred. You were close now, so close. The unsub was on his knees, clutching his arm, but his gun was still gripped tightly in his other hand.

“Don’t make me shoot you again.” you warned, your voice growing hoarse as you approached. Your fingers were trembling now, the pain too much to ignore, but you had to finish this. Had to cuff him.

You took another step forward, but that’s when your leg finally gave out. A sharp cry tore from your throat as your knees buckled beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground in a heap, the world spinning faster now.

The unsub—he was moving again, but you were too weak to stop him. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision, but it was no use. Blood was pooling beneath you now, the sharp taste of metal in the air as your vision blurred at the edges.

The sound of pounding feet grew louder, and then familiar voices cut through the haze.

“Shots fired! There’s an Agent down!” Morgan’s voice was sharp with urgency. “Over here!”

You blinked up at the blurry shapes of your teammates rushing into the alley. Morgan went straight for the unsub, forcing him onto his stomach to secure the cuffs. But Spencer ignored the scene entirely, his focus laser-sharp as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice tight. His hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before he pressed them against your thigh, trying to stem the bleeding. “Stay with me, okay?”

“Reid,” you muttered, your voice strained but laced with sarcasm. “You’re ignoring your arrest quota.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. His jaw was clenched, his normally steady hands trembling slightly as he worked. "You’re losing too much blood," he said, more to himself than to you. “I need to—hold on—“

He pulled off his jacket, looping it tightly around your thigh just above the wound. The pressure made you hiss in pain, but he didn’t falter. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, twisting the fabric to form a makeshift tourniquet.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you bit out, your tone dry despite the agony.

“Keep talking,” he said, glancing up at you briefly. “Sarcasm’s good. Means you’re still with me,”

“Spencer Reid,” you said, pausing to suck in a shallow breath. “Master of the obvious and amateur tourniquet maker. Truly a man of many talents.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. “You’re going to be fine,” he said, more firmly this time. “The ambulance is on its way,”

“Just let me bleed out,” you muttered, blinking rapidly to stave off the encroaching darkness. “Better that that another stupid hospital.”

Spencer’s expression tightened. “Stop that. You need to stay awake.”

“Your concern is cute, but there are more important things at hand here,” you murmured.

“Not right now,” he snapped, though his voice cracked slightly on the words. His hands pressed harder against your leg, trying to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to make it. Do you hear me?”

You swallowed hard, the fight to stay conscious growing harder with every passing second. “Fuck—“ You take as deep of a breath as you can manage. “Go, fucking cuff the guy already, dig your finger into his bullet hole if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m staying here,” Spencer stutters out a breath of his own, hands still applying pressure against your leg, fingers saturated red.

You snorted, despite the pain, trying to focus on something—anything other than the pounding in your leg. “I didn’t just get shot for you to not arrest this guy, Reid.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “I’m not letting you bleed out on me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with concern.

His fingers were trembling slightly, but he kept his focus, muttering to himself about the importance of stopping the blood flow, keeping you conscious, keeping you alive.

“You can’t just… you can’t just ignore the guy,” you protested, even as your head swam and your vision darkened. “He’s still there…”

“Morgan’s handling it,” Spencer interrupted, his voice firm now. “And you’re not going anywhere until I make sure you’re stable. Do you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but it came out more like a half-hearted shake of your head. The world around you was spinning, the sounds of the city fading into the background.

You heard Morgan’s voice in the distance, barking orders as he secured the unsub. JJ was likely talking to the EMTs, telling them to hurry.

And all you could do was lay there, helpless, staring up at Spencer’s face. His wide, concerned eyes locked on yours as he hovered over you, applying pressure to your wound with shaky hands.

“I’m not dying, Spence,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion. “I just… need a second. Just… a second.”

“Don’t close your eyes.”

But you do, and then you don’t have the energy to open them again.

—

The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the lingering smell of coffee from the cup sitting untouched on the small tray table by your bed.

When you stirred, the first thing you noticed was the heavy ache in your leg, a deep, throbbing pain that felt like it had settled in your bones. The second was the weight on your hand—warm, steady, and grounding. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the pale morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains.

Spencer was slouched in a chair beside your bed, his lanky frame folded awkwardly into the too-small seat.

His head was tilted forward, soft brown curls falling over his forehead, and his hand rested lightly over yours. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair, his tie loosened, and the faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw. He looked exhausted, but even in sleep, his grip on your hand didn’t falter.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the sharp pang in your leg. The movement must have been enough to wake him because his eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused for a moment before they locked onto yours. Relief flooded his face in an instant.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—concern, maybe, or perhaps guilt.

“Unfortunately,” you croaked, your throat dry. You glanced at the IV drip hooked to your arm and the bandages wrapped tightly around your thigh. “Looks like I survived.”

Spencer leaned forward, his hand tightening around yours. “Barely. You lost a lot of blood. If we’d been a few minutes slower—”

“But you weren’t,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the lingering haze of fatigue. “You got me here. That’s what matters.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowing. “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly. “When you passed out, I thought—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the memory. “I thought we were going to lose you,”

You offered him a faint smirk, trying to inject some levity into the moment. “It takes more than a bullet to get rid of me, Reid. You should know that by now.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his serious expression. “I do. But still…” He glanced down at your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “You need to stop putting yourself in these situations,”

“Occupational hazard,” you replied, shrugging as best as you could while lying flat on your back. “Comes with the badge.”

Spencer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning your face as if to reassure himself that you were really okay. “The unsub’s in custody,” he said after a moment. “Morgan and Rossi handled it. He’s not going anywhere,”

“Good,” you said, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “At least it wasn’t for nothing.”

“It wasn’t,” Spencer agreed. His voice softened, and he added, almost to himself, “But you scared me. I don’t want to go through that again.”

You met his gaze, the raw emotion in his eyes catching you off guard. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And I know you’ll probably do it again if it means saving someone else. But just—be careful, okay? Please?”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. Instead, you gave his hand a light squeeze, letting the silence speak for you.

After a moment, Spencer cleared his throat, his usual awkwardness returning as he shifted in his chair. “I brought you some books,” he said, gesturing to a small stack on the table beside your bed. “Thought you might want something to do while you recover.”

You glanced at the titles—an eclectic mix of crime novels, classic literature, and even a few puzzle books. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure you had what you needed.”

You smiled, genuinely this time, and for the first time since waking up, the weight of the past day felt just a little lighter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice soft but steady.

The two of you sat in companionable silence after that, the chaos of the previous night a distant memory as the morning light spilled into the room. For now, you were safe. And that was enough.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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junhoswifey · 2 days ago

Note

hii can you pls do head canons for dating dae ho??

kang dae-ho / player 388 bf head canons ˚⊱🎀⊰˚

pairing(s): kang dae-ho x female!reader

warnings: femme reader, modern day au, language, nsfw, kissing, mentions of sex/oral sex, fluff

-touchiest/clingiest person ever and he makes sure everyone knows it

-biggest gentleman ever!!! 💗💝💖💘💓💞💕

-steals your hair ties when he can’t find his own bc he knows you don’t mind

-will spoil you any chance he can especially for anniversaries/birthdays

-always complimenting you and reminding you how much he loves you

“you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” “i love you so much baby”

-has made playlists for you before and you listen to them religiously

-has a hard time going a couple days or even hours without you

“i’ve missed you so much!” you heard dae ho yell as you walked through the door. he engulfed you in a hug before you could even react. “it hasn’t even been a day baby…” you whisper in his ear. he smiles to himself before replying, “i know…” he looked down shyly almost like he was embarrassed. you picked his face up in your hands making him look at you. “it’s okay i missed you too dae… i wish we could spend every minute together.” his smile widened at your words holding on to you tighter like you were going to slip away any second.

-always sending you texts throughout the day to update you on what he’s doing

-loves physical touch (hugging, holding hands, cuddling)

-loves watching you do your makeup/hair just staring at you in awe of how he landed the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen

nsfw warning!!! (18+)

-def a switch idc!

-thinks about you while jerking off and likes to pretend it’s your hand instead of his

-loves cockwarming even if you’re just laying in bed together watching tv

-can’t help but get hard every time you’re even remotely close to him

-loves it when you take control and act more dominant

-he seems so innocent but i feel like he’s def saying the nastiest things during sex

“taking my cock so well babygirl” “you look so pretty like this”

-has a praise kink

-eating you out is his fav hobby and he can literally do it for hours on end

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :’)

⇾ dae-ho my beloved💋💋💋 i hope you guys enjoyed i may do a part two if yall want & keep sending requests i love writing for him!!! thank you for reading i love you all :)

#junhoswifey 𝜗𝜚⋆#kang dae ho #dae ho #kang haneul #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #dae ho squid game #dae ho x y/n #dae ho smut #dae ho fluff #dae ho imagine #kang dae ho fluff #kang dae ho smut #squid game #squid game smut #squid game fluff #kang haneul x reader #player 388 #squid game 2

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therightbeaches · 2 days ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: following a near-encounter with death, your not-quite-boyfriend slash boss takes it upon himself to take care of you. [5.7k] contents: fem!bau!reader, reader was mentioned to be hurt but no gory descriptions about what happened, but theres semi-graphic (?) descriptions of hypothetical injury, first kiss, soft hotch, this is fully self-indulgent fluff (forgive me) a/n: i've never written for criminal minds before and i am rather nervous so please dont criticize too harshly :') + i tried to not make him too ooc (not sure how well that worked out.) i also beg for one-shot requests because i love writing them :p reblogs and comments are more than appreciated ♡ i hope you enjoy!

Sense by sense you come to.

Taste. On your tongue lingers the metallic taste of blood. It coats your throat thick like petroleum jelly. The aftertaste of artificial sweetener. Saccharine.

Smell. It’s sterile, alcohol swabs. Dully sweet like laundry. Coffee and creamer. So good and warm it’s nauseating.

Hearing. Steady beeping somewhere from your right. The rustle of fabric. Birdsong bleeds through thick walls. A phone rings, shrill and stark amongst the dull hustle and bustle outside of your room, and a woman speaks unintelligibly.

Touch. A pinprick tag itches against the back of your neck. Scratchy cotton sheets and a gauzy blanket and a too-flat pillow. Then a slow-burning hurt that climbs through your limbs like being devoured by flame, and you think that if you didn’t already meet your end then this must be what it’s like.

Your eyes blink open. The fluorescent lights above are too bright for you to see anything. Metal clinks as someone opens the curtains, then, Aaron’s face comes into your view in a hazy blur. He has a big bandage on his left cheek and prominent dark circles but otherwise looks well enough.

“Hello,” he says, and a warm paper cup of coffee is pushed into your stiff hands. “How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?”

“Um... a six and a half. I mostly feel really out of it.”

“They’ve given you as much painkillers as they can. I bet that the brain fog will lift once you have something solid to eat.”

You push yourself up slowly as he edges into focus. In one hand he has a black duffel bag with your old shirt’s dirty sleeve hanging out of the zipper top, white fabric stained rust-brown with dirt and old blood. In the other, a thick manila folder with a seal adorning the front and his pen shoved into the crease.

There’s a strange silence then; strange within itself and strange in the fact that, with him, silence is never strange. His lips twitch downwards: he can feel it too. Then he inhales sharply as though it stings to speak.

“You were more than brave out there. You saved Julia’s life.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Your tone must not be convincing enough because he puts the bag down and curls his fingers around the half-rails of your bed, reinforces the idea with a pointed look and sighs, “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t have made it in time to help her without your courage.”

“Thank you,” you say again, milder this time.

He doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t need to. The sort of unspoken communication that blossoms with time and effort; he looks out for you, and in turn you look out for him. It’s the same for the rest of the team, of course, but it’s no coincidence that you’re the one he always picks to watch his six in the field. And, again, he needn’t speak for you to know. Perhaps born from the innate desire to wane the burn of vulnerability; words stamped across his skin invisible to the untrained eye.

It’s different this time, though. He’s leaving not because he wants to — rather, he has to, stolen away from you as you were him by your profession (a whole thirty-six hours he had to spend without you around to nag him, what a tragedy it was!) You’d expected him to come just to leave since the moment you saw him, but perhaps foolishly, you’d clung to a shard of hope that’d cut up and bloodied your palms. You rub them together self-consciously.

He waves the folder in the air unenthusiastically and, despite him knowing you’ve already put the pieces together, voices it anyway.

“I can’t really stay for long,” he says simply.

“Where are you going?”

A prompt, disguised by niceties in typical fashion, though entirely unnecessary with him: when will I be able to see you again?

He sucks on his teeth and flips the folder open. “Albany. I think a day or two at most and we’ll be back.” He spares the details of the case lest you worry yourself to your grave. Your recent brush with death has already been nearly too much for the team to handle.

You don’t mean to slip into the habit of doubting him, not Aaron, who knows better than to lie to you because always he’ll splinter, crack, then crumble into a fine powder under the weight of your gaze. He’s smart, so smart, and so perceptive and by God if you know anything, you know him — down to the lines of his fingerprints and each individual eyelash across his waterlines, and you know now that something is troubling him.

“What is it?” you ask.

His brows crease in the center like you’ve said something offensive. “What is what?”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s sulking.

He knows something that you don’t and he doesn’t want to tell you — evident through the bob of his Adam’s apple with a thick swallow, the whitening of his knuckles around the bed’s guard rails. You give your cup a perfunctory squeeze and the plastic lid pops off and skitters to the ground.

There’s another silence wherein you wait, he waits too, staring at you dumbly. An eternity passes till he brushes his thumb over the length of your forearm, elbow to wrist, then traces the ridges of your knuckles before letting his arm drop limply to his side. He looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot and draws the blue privacy curtains around your bed to enforce extra precaution.

“I was just worried,” he finally says, his voice lowered. “I still am, honestly. You know, seeing you like… this.” Like, sick and weak, strung up with IVs like a puppet and unable to move without strain. “And I don’t want to leave you,” he adds as an afterthought.

In the presence of other agents, doctors, strangers, he’s a professional. He knows how to keep things curt and platonic, but when it’s just you and him, I missed you, I was worried about you, I need you around, I can’t lose you.

The way he speaks to you makes you feel something. He worries about you every moment you’re on the field. He frets over you when you’re ill, misses you when you’re apart, thinks about you all the time. Long ago you’d passed the threshold between mere team members to friends, and now, you’re touching base with what’s next. Beyond friends. Borderline lovers. Whatever that could mean for you. And the vulnerability in his voice strikes you, making him sound so small, so pained by your pain.

“You don’t need to worry,” you say, hoping to soothe his qualms. “I feel alright.”

“I can’t help it. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” is your light response, then a switch of the topic, and you ask again, “Will you tell me about the case?”

He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then it moves to push your hair out of your eyes. Lingers in a soft caress on your cheek and your palm fits over the back of it when you lift your hand to cover his.

“Like I said, I think it’ll only be a couple days. Don’t stress yourself out over it. I want you to focus on getting better, alright?”

“Can you call me?” you ask.

“Every chance I get.”

And, trapped in the makeshift prison of your hospital bed, you can only croak out a weak goodbye that scratches your throat as you watch him leave.

⊹₊ 𐙚

It’s been a week since they discharged you from the hospital, assigned a lot of rest and fluids. Seldom a word from Aaron, though, and you, too, are beginning to fret just like he had over you. Your cuticles are peeled from existence, you’ve bit your nails too short and raw and red, your lips are chapped to the point your mouth tastes of metal more often than not.

Penelope has been more than kind and has kept you company in your too-empty apartment, even bringing over the case file and a grainy image of the evidence board sent over by the rest of the team for your viewing pleasure. You didn’t have much of value to add and ended up feeling more useless than you were to begin with.

Now, your gaze is trained on the toes of your too-big socks. A seam is misaligned along the top and the heel has pulled up to the back of your ankle. And you think of him. He’s all you can think about as of late. Feels something like nausea crawling up your throat to think of something happening to him.

Nervous. On edge. Sick with worry. He said one or two days. It’s been six and counting, who knows what could have happened to him out there, he was being secretive about it and he’s never secretive with you. Not you, why wouldn’t he tell you what was happening? Why wouldn’t he let on any details about the case? What if he’d anticipated getting hurt or —

You don’t dare entertain the thought. The only reason you’d imagined it up in the first place is because it happened to you. In the end, you’re still very much human no matter how much bureaucratic authority you have. That’s to say, you’re very much flesh and blood and bone, and from the safety of your apartment Aaron is even more so when he’s out on the field. Flesh can be cut, torn apart, blood can spill unstoppably like a faucet, bone can shatter into a million unfixable pieces. A bulletproof vest will do nothing against a knife jammed into his neck or a shotgun to the back of his head. You shudder and tug at your socks to un-bunch them from your heels.

In the middle of your bout of overthinking, the lock on your door clicks and turns and it swings open with a quiet creak. Aaron stands in the doorway, backlit by the dingy lights outside, akin to an angel with the cast of his hair and the contours of his face dipped in shadow.

“Hello? Honey, I have something for you,” is the first thing he says, the silhouette of his arm twisted to hide something behind his back. From his other hand dangles his go-bag, which falls to the floor of your living room with a dull thud. He peels out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair.

The relief chokes you. Strangles you till you’re blue in the face. You’re struck speechless and can only watch as he pushes the door closed behind him and tosses the keys into the catchall on the hall table, toes off his shoes, then comes over to sit with you on the couch. Plastic crinkles behind his back as he moves closer.

“I’ve got something,” he says again. “A present for you.”

“Aaron-”

“Before you say I didn’t need to, I wanted to,” he interjects, waving a hand to stop you. “I saw them while I was out and thought of you.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

All turbulent emotions vanish like morning dew on a sunny afternoon, your heart thrumming hard against the confinement of your ribs. You let yourself think it’s only because you’re just excited to see him in good spirits, certainly not because he places a hand on your knee and squeezes lightly, or looks at you with poorly-concealed adoration in his gaze, or the knowledge of the fact he thinks of you often enough to go out of his way to get you something nice.

From behind his back, he produces a bouquet of pink roses wrapped neatly in a matching shade of cellophane with a flourish and you nearly fall to the ground. He’s brought you flowers. Roses. He saw roses while he was out and they made him think of you, and that thought alone nearly has you knocked out cold.

You’re able to mutter his name before you reach for his shoulders for a hug, and he lets out a small huff as he’s pushed down to lay back on the couch with your arms around him.

“Consider this my apology for being too busy to call,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “Consider your apology accepted.”

His free hand rubs up and down your back, lingering flush to the space between your shoulder blades to press you close to his chest. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Has Garcia been taking good care of you?”

You nod into his shoulder. “You know her.”

“That I do. Do you have a vase that I can put your flowers in?”

“There’s one in the kitchen cabinet.”

But he doesn’t yet stand to retrieve it, too engrossed in the warmth of your hug. This is not how a boss acts with his subordinate. Not even how a friend would act. If he were just a friend he wouldn’t come to you first, because your space is his space, and he wouldn’t have brought you a really nice bouquet, and he wouldn’t find such comfort in your embrace and the smell of your perfume that he goes slack under you. Him and you, always, together.

A moment passes and he shifts out from beneath you. You watch him get up with remorse, his hand holding onto yours till the distance draws his fingers away.

“You know,” he begins, rummaging around in your cabinets to find the aforementioned vase, “I’ve been honing in on my cooking skills.”

“That so?” you ask from the sofa, jelly-limbed with your neck craned to watch him.

“I can make stir fry if you want dinner.” His arm retracts from the cabinet, hand around the neck of your vase.

So he cooks for you. Insists upon it, even. Even though the hospital cleared you fine to go home and you feel more or less well, he insists on taking care of you. You let him. Maybe for his peace of mind. A chance to take care of you just like you’ve taken care of him countless times before. You won’t pretend to not like having him dote on you.

The roses sit between you, lit by warm candlelight because the overhead light buzzes too loud and the bulb flickers when you turn it on. It’s sweet and it’s romantic, shit, you really shouldn’t be getting so personally involved with your boss. The no-fraternization rules implemented by the Bureau higher-ups have been hammered into your skull since the day you joined, yet just look at you. Too late for go-backs now.

Over the table, you say, “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

It’s not that you’re implying anything because you’re not, voice void of sexual innuendo. He doesn’t seem to take it in such a way anyway. His gaze meets yours and he draws closer with a hand curled like a cage atop yours.

“I will,” he replies. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

He’s slept over before a secret half-a-dozen or so times, mostly on the couch. Only in your bed once. That one time was after you’d came home from a particularly bad case, and it was the second time you’d seen him as upset as he was. Beaten black and blue, scraped up worse than he’s ever been on the job. You’d diligently cleaned his wounds up (always too proud to sit in the back of an ambulance and let a professional take care of it), sat with him until he fell asleep, then you never spoke of it again.

Tonight he sleeps beside you. Blissfully unaware to the way you stare at his profile — the line of his nose, the mess of his hair where it’s fallen over his forehead, the way the light catches on his fluttering lashes and turns them a pale blue. The back of your knuckles run against his cheekbone. Tender, soft, so unlike most anything else he knows now.

He’s beautiful. All of you belongs to him.

You stir to Aaron’s heavy arm draped across your abdomen and crack one eye open to see him staring at you. The room is warm, sunshine spilling over his back to paint him shining gold, and the tip his of nose presses against your neck when he sees you’re awake. He must’ve gotten up before you woke because you can smell fresh-cut grass from the open window and the scent of coffee brewing floats in from the kitchen, and from outside you can hear the humming drone of a lawnmower, the song of morning birds chirping.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, more a murmur than anything.

You shake your head no. A part of you — the small part that yearned for his care and attention long before now — is awestruck. You’ve got Aaron in your bed, the same Aaron who bleeds and hurts and fights beside you, the man who hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place, and he’s touching you like you’re made of glass.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m okay for now,” you reply.

“Are you sure, honey? I can cut up some fruit for you. You could do with some vitamins… maybe some sun, too.” Mournfully, he gets up from bed, leaving you with only the warmth of the sheets where he lay just a moment ago. You watch, blinking slow, breathing slow.

“I’m really fine,” you insist meekly, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

With hands planted on either side of your head, he leans back over you in bed, brows pulled in concern like you’re still bedridden in the hospital. His thumb ghosts over the delicate skin of your undereye, then lower, feather-light down the slope of your jaw and to where your collarbone peeks out from the neck of your shirt.

“I’ll bring you a bowl,” he says, disregarding the rejection.

And then he kisses you before he leaves to the kitchen. Nothing full-fledged, only a brief press of his lips to your cheek, but it renders a swell in your gut, too hot beneath your quilt, breathless like your heart is going to rip straight out of your chest and chase him down to kiss him again. The print of his lips burns white-hot. A brand on your skin.

He pauses in the threshold of your bedroom and looks back. “I’m sorry if that was… weird.”

“No! No, it wasn’t weird. I liked it, actually.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron fusses over you incessantly the entire day, from cutting your fruit up to holding your hand to help you to the couch, despite your insistence that you’re fully recovered. He isn’t so used to putting his feelings so brashly on display, but you’ve been walking this tightrope between friends and more for a while and it’s no secret he wants it. Wants you. Wants whatever you may have to offer. No matter if you’re well or not, he’ll want you.

“Thank you,” you say over lunch, picking idly at the tangerine he’d peeled for you. “For staying with me, I mean.”

He lifts his head. He’s opened the window above your sink, citing the lovely weather and your need for sunshine as his reasons for letting the bugs in, and it makes his eyes shine from his seat facing the sun.

You’re like a vampire, he had said. Don’t get me wrong, definitely a beautiful and kind one, but fresh air will do you good, then he’d laughed as he stood in the spill of warmth exuding from the open window.

In his hand is the other half of the tangerine, which he assiduously peels the spongy pith from and discards in a small heap atop your dining table.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind.” Aaron breathes out and hands you two slices stripped of their white viscera. “I like taking care of you. Every so often someone get hurts on the field and it never gets more comfortable to deal with. It makes me feel… good to be here with you.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s only the truth.”

You’ve been better for the greater part of a week and no longer need babying like you did at the start, you think, but withhold on commenting for fear that he thinks you don’t like having him around. You more than like it, really, and you like it even more when he leans over the table enticingly.

He’s smiling widely when he speaks. “And the company is the best part.”

“Even if the company is a vampire?” You touch the side of his throat, flush over his jugular where a vampire might bite. His heart thrums hard beneath the pads of your fingers when you push down with the faintest pressure.

“Even so.”

⊹₊ 𐙚

“Can I see you in my office? There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

You stand from your desk. Aaron — rather, Hotch, because you’re at work — has been staring at you through his window the entire morning like a reverse-scenario zoo animal in an enclosure. It’s been unsettling to feel someone’s eyes on you perpetually but you let it slide because you know he’s just worried. He made it very clear that he didn’t want you coming back to the office so soon, for worry you might bump a fading bruise on the exceedingly dangerous desks in the bullpen or injure your back further by sitting in the expensive, cushy roller chair.

It’s an overcast Monday in light of your sunny weekend. Aaron had messaged you at five-thirty in the morning, insisted heavily that if you intended on coming in today then it had better be with a warm coat on. You’d come to a tentative middle ground via a knit sweater that he likes because Emily runs cold and makes sure the whole office knows it (Seriously, you can’t remember the last time she’d allowed it to be less than the low eighties, and most of the team would rather bear the heat than listen to her gripe about how cold it is. Today, it’s freezing. The heat is broken and you figure you’ll have to deal with it once she comes in.)

He’s waiting for you when you step in and close the door behind you, drawing the blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’d be better if you’d stayed home to rest.”

“I promise I’m recovered enough for desk work, Aaron.”

He grumbles with no real upset and beckons for you to come around the other side of his desk. When you do and lean back with palms braced over the lip, a broad hand slips around your waist to touch your back. He drops it quickly. So unprofessional, you might tease, if you weren’t so pleased with the fact that he’s unabashedly touching you at work.

Something in the air has shifted. Following the night you spent together, it’s as if the spark between you has turned into a real firecracker, a sparkling dazzle of neon color and fizzling light. He’d left Saturday afternoon after a lot of coaxing that you’d be alright alone, made you promise you’d eat real food and not just cereal and frozen pizza and TV dinners. Most importantly, he wouldn’t leave without kissing you silly all over your cheeks and forehead and jaw. And when you’d anticipated the killing blow and closed your eyes and parted your lips, he’d bid you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your shoulder.

It was cruel, but you don’t mind waiting for a real kiss. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the juice, isn’t that what they say? This thing, for lack of a better word, with Aaron being as discernible as it is, is still relatively new. Not to mention he’s navigating romance for the first time again after Haley, so you’re more than willing to take it slow with him.

“What did you do over the rest of the weekend?” he asks conversationally.

“You know, the ushe.” You tuck your cold hands between your knees, press your lips together like you’re really devastated by the answer you’d come up with. “I laid around feeling sorry for myself, missing you…” you trail off, wistful.

“You poor thing,” Aaron responds sympathetically. “What can I do?”

You lean forward with a mock show of great sadness, though not without an underlying coquettish, hopeful demeanor. “The only thing that would make it all better is dinner later tonight with someone special.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking of asking my own someone special if she wanted to get takeout and spend the night at mine after work.”

It’s awful, the way he’s staring at you and beaming. Like you’re the one who hung all the stars in the sky, crafted the constellations just for him; like you control the tide of the ocean and the spin of the Earth; like you’re the light that makes the moon glow. Makes you want to grab him by his hand and bring him back to your place and never let him leave the comfort of your apartment. Keep him safe and warm and content.

You settle instead on smoothing his lapels down. He isn’t propositioning you when he asks you to stay over — never would he be so blatant, and you don’t think you’re quite involved enough yet for such a risqué offer to be on the table (though the notion has you imagining a torturous handful of things that you wouldn’t dream of telling him about.)

“Tell you what,” he begins. He moves his chair to be positioned in front of you. You have to look directly down to see him face-to-face. “We’ll pick up some dinner and we can watch whatever movie you like. Do you have your go-bag?”

“I do... and if I want to watch Mean Girls?”

“I’ll watch anything you want,” he supplies.

“Oh, how sweet are you?”

“Don’t tell anyone. My professional reputation would be ruined.”

Truth be told, there is a prominent lack of ‘professional reputation’ in Aaron’s department, at least within the team. He can pretend as much as he likes for as long as he likes but it’s their specialty to sniff out lies, pick up on secret cues, and of course they notice when he comes into the office with two cups of coffee instead of one, when he holds your hand to help you up the steps of the jet. You’ve received enough conspiratorial looks to know that they know.

You don’t suppose Aaron is your boyfriend. Your relationship with him is a nuanced thing. Becoming the brunt of office gossip is one thing, jeopardizing your careers is another — Strauss has her suspicions and there’s been, well… talk that stokes the (albeit small) kindling flame. It comes down to having a discussion that will remain on the back burner until the both of you can sit down and discuss the professional implications and the other difficult things that Aaron doesn’t want to talk about.

Dark has long since encompassed the Bureau by the time that he decides to be done working. You’ve been waiting on the couch in his office for the better part of the day, his suit jacket draped over your legs fashioned into an impromptu blanket. And then there’s the shuffling of loose-leaf paper shoved into folders, the scratch of his chair’s wheels as he pushes it in.

The toes of his shiny oxfords come into view and a kind hand pushes a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

He wedges his hand beneath the small of your back to get you up. You’re tired from your day and limp when he encourages you to sit, but ultimately allow him to prop you up against the back of the couch. You take his hand to stand up when he offers it to you.

One and a half years ago, he wouldn’t dream of holding your hand. Wouldn’t even sit next to you in the conference room or on the jet, in fact. But Aaron didn’t really start liking liking you until eight months ago and didn’t tell you for even longer. It took him a long while to gather the courage to come out and just say it like any normal adult with feelings might do.

If you told your former self you’d wind up holding hands with Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, going home to eat dinner with him and sleep in his bed, you’d have laughed in your own face. The most you’d ever let yourself indulge in such a fantasy prior to his grandiose confession of more than friendly feelings was maybe, just maybe, in an alternate timeline you’d met Aaron under different circumstances and it would have been history.

But you have him in this timeline. You have him picking up your dinner, driving you to his house, crouching down in front of you to undo the buckles keeping the straps of your kitten heels fastened around your ankles. He rubs your calf after tucking your shoes away before he stands and walks to the kitchen.

“What a long day,” he comments. He loosens the knot of his tie and looks over at you over his shoulder. “For you especially, I imagine. Does it get tiring, laying on the couch in my office?”

“Mhm,” you hum agreeably. “A very long day of very grueling paperwork. My boss can’t stop assigning me more and more when there are other agents who could share the workload.”

You know Aaron is smiling, even as he’s faced with his back to you. It’s clear in his voice. “Maybe your boss just thinks you’re very diligent and produce quality work.”

“That sounds to me a lot like favoritism, Hotchner.” You saunter up behind him, draping your arms around his waist. He tears apart the plastic bag holding your food then separates portions onto two ceramic plates.

“Uh-huh,” he says wryly. “You see, honey, favoritism would be more like if I let a member of my team quote unquote lay down to rest her eyes on my sofa instead of doing her work like I very kindly asked — oh wait, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So I am your favorite? Ooh, how scandalous. Imagine if word got out that you were picking favorites.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you have to ask.” Aaron turns and puts a hand on the back of your neck, scoffs, shakes his head good-naturedly. This mood he’s in, playful, teasing, is so rare, and you love it. “Do you ever see me letting Morgan take a nap during work hours?”

“Derek will nap regardless if you let him or not.”

(This is true. You’d caught him sleeping in the conference room once. He’d made you swear not to tell Aaron in exchange for vending machine money — and who were you to deny such a generous offer? Your silence was easily bought via chocolate bars.)

“In that case, I might have to give him a stern talking to.” His expression is grim.

“Oh, please don’t. He gave me money to buy candy from the machines if I swore not to tell you.”

Aaron is delighted by this answer. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“Does that make me a bad friend?” you ask morosely.

“No, no. You’re the best friend. And an even better subordinate for ratting him out… it’s good to know where your loyalty lies.”

He’s laughing when he says it and then he isn’t laughing a mere moment later. Rather, he’s leaning in on a whim, eyes fluttering shut, a hand over the back of your neck, thumbs a whisper against the curve of your cheek. There’s a perceptible flash that travels like lighting up your spine — he’s going to kiss you for real this time, you know he is, and it’s something you’ve wanted for who-knows how long and it’s finally yours to have. To keep. And it’s not just about the kiss, is it? It’s about Aaron, like it most always is, and you thank your lucky stars one by one to have found a man like him and to be able to keep him.

But it’s over nearly as soon as it began. How torturous for it to end so quickly when you’ve dreamt of kissing him day and night. It’s only right for you to go for another and another and another, and yes, juice is always sweeter when the fruit has had time to ripen.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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yaniluvs · 2 days ago

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by your side 日 ── your boyfriend wakes up, feeling your absence and lost-warmth in the middle of the night.

𓍯 bf!jisung ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 1.7k ── ༯ DRABBLE, domestic fluff, comfort, slight humour, reader deals w/ intimacy trauma, slow-paced, kisses, very cutesy. req. by ml ! ��⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. 𖦹ࡇ𖦹

yani's note ˖ ˙ ᰋ and i make a comeback >< when @cosmicalily requested me this, i couldn't not post it right? anything for my bb !!!! thank you so much for requesting hun, hope you like it and feel better !! i'm so sorry for anybody who has gone through something like this, please remember you're so strong. you deserve all the love. you're only healing, and sometimes it's not as quick for everyone. it will get better, definitely. anyway, my break might be coming to an end soon at this point because life is actually better now, kinda, hehe. comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the night was unusually quiet, as if the universe itself had decided to hush the world into stillness. the faint hum of the city outside was softened by the gentle patter of rain against the windows, a rhythmic lullaby that often lulled you into dreams. but tonight, it couldn't. not when your mind was restless, tangled in thoughts you couldn’t untie. you hadn’t meant to disturb the peace of the bed—the warmth of your boyfriend beside you was usually enough to keep the darkness at bay. but something unspoken gnawed at you, an ache too familiar to ignore.

it was nearing 3am when he stirred, his hand instinctively reaching out to the space where you should’ve been. the emptiness startled him awake, his fingers brushing cold sheets instead of your warmth. blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains, his heart sank when he realized you weren’t there.

the room was bathed in silver moonlight, spilling through the half-open curtains in soft, uneven waves, illuminating the chaos of their shared space. the indent of your body remained on the mattress, a shallow impression in the memory foam, stark and still. jisung’s fingers brushed the cooling fabric, the texture of the duvet suddenly foreign against his fingertips. it was as your absence had stripped the bed of its familiarity, leaving only muted reminders of you—your scent lingering faintly in the air, a whiff of your favorite vanilla and cinnamon moisturiser.

he pushed himself upright, the sheets slipping away from his chest like water pooling to his waist. the air felt sharper without you, slicing through the warmth he’d carried in his sleep. his eyes, still heavy-lidded and bleary, scanned the room, seeking you out instinctively. shadows gathered in the corners, their jagged edges softened by the moonlight. your absence grew louder with every passing second, an ache that started in his chest and crept into the pit of his stomach.

jisung swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the chilled floor. the hardwood creaked beneath him, a sound that might have woken you, coaxing a sleepy protest from you lips. now, it only echoed in the stillness, a reminder of how empty the space felt without you. his hands rubbed his face, chasing away the remnants of sleep as he called you softly, the syllables barely escaping his throat.

then he saw it; a faint glow seeping through the crack of the balcony door.

there you were, silhouetted against the quiet rain. the soft drizzle had dampened the balcony floor, leaving trails of silver glistening in the faint light. you were wrapped in one of his hoodies, the hem brushing against your thighs, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if shielding yourself from a chill that wasn’t entirely physical.

he walked away from the messy bed silently, the cool floor against his feet grounding him as he padded toward the door. he hesitated for a moment, watching you from behind the glass. the way your shoulders rose and fell, your head tilted slightly as if lost in thought, made his heart ache. he knew—he always knew when something weighed on you. and tonight, it seemed heavier than usual.

sliding the door open, he stepped out. the cool night air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of rain and earth. “couldn’t sleep?” his voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile quiet around you.

you startled slightly, your head turning to see him. his eyes, dark with sleep but laced with concern, met yours. “i didn’t mean to wake you,” you murmured, your voice as fragile as the raindrops clinging to the railing.

“you didn’t,” he assured, stepping closer until he was beside you. he didn’t touch you right away, knowing better than to invade your space without invitation. instead, he leaned against the railing, his gaze following yours into the rain-drenched cityscape. “what’s on your mind?”

you hesitated. the words felt too heavy, too tangled. “i don’t know,” you admitted, though you both knew it wasn’t entirely true.

jisung’s lips curved into a faint, understanding smile. “you’re a bad liar, baby,” he said gently, his tone devoid of accusation.

you exhaled a shaky laugh, the sound barely audible. “it’s stupid,” you began, but he shook his head before you could finish.

“if it’s keeping you up at this hour, i wouldn't think it is,” he countered, his voice steady, grounding.

you shifted your weight, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the railing. “sometimes it feels like… like i’m still stuck. like no matter how far i’ve come, there’s still this part of me that's just..” your voice broke, frustration mingling with vulnerability.

jisung’s eyes softened, his heart aching at the raw honesty in your words. he took a step closer, careful and deliberate, his presence warm and steady. “hey,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing. “look at me.”

you turned to him reluctantly, your eyes glistening not with rain but with unshed tears. he reached out slowly, giving you every opportunity to move away, but you didn’t. his fingers brushed against yours, tentative, before he took your hand in his. “you’re not stuck,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “you’re healing. and healing isn’t a straight line. it’s messy and hard, but it’s still progress. you’re still moving forward.”

a tear slipped down your cheek, and jisung caught it with the pad of his thumb, his touch featherlight. “you’ve come so far,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “and even on the days when it feels like you haven’t, i’ll be right here, reminding you that you have.”

his words unraveled something in you, the knot of tension loosening as you leaned into him. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his hoodie enveloping you both. the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a comfort, a rhythm you could anchor yourself to.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of exasperation and affection. “don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “not for this. not for feeling. not for anything actually.”

the rain continued its quiet symphony around you, the city a blurred canvas of lights and shadows. the world felt distant, inconsequential, as you stood there wrapped in jisung’s arms. his presence was steady, grounding, as if he were your anchor in a storm.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you,” you said softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

jisung laughed quietly, the sound warm and soothing. “you existed,” he said simply, his lips brushing against the crown of your head.

for a while, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t heavy, but comforting, a shared understanding that words weren’t always necessary. the rain eased into a gentle drizzle, the air cool and crisp, carrying with it the faintest hint of dawn.

eventually, jisung broke the silence. “come back to bed?” he asked, his voice soft, coaxing. “it feels empty and cold without you.”

you nodded, smiling slightly, letting him guide you back inside. the warmth of the bedroom was a stark contrast to the cool night, and as you slipped beneath the covers, jisung’s arms found your waist again, holding you close.

“we’ll figure it out together,” he murmured against your hair, his voice heavy with sleep but resolute. “always.”

and with him beside you, the world felt a little less heavy, the darkness a little less daunting. you closed your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing and the faint patter of rain lull you into a peace you hadn’t thought possible. for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe.

the soft warmth of morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in hues of gold and amber. the rain had stopped, leaving the world outside damp and glistening, like a secret freshly unwrapped. you stirred, cocooned in the familiar scent of jisung’s cologne and the lingering traces of sleep. his arms were draped around you, one hand resting against the small of your back, the other tangled in your hair. his steady breaths tickled your neck, a gentle reminder of his presence.

for a moment, you didn’t move, savoring the rare quiet of the morning. the weight of his arm, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, felt like home. slowly, you turned your head to look at him. his face was relaxed in sleep, his lips slightly parted, his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. the sight made your heart swell, a quiet ache of love and gratitude.

as if sensing your gaze, jisung stirred, his hold tightening briefly before his eyes fluttered open. his brown eyes met yours, soft and drowsy, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face. “good morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but filled with warmth.

“good morning,” you replied, your voice just as soft. you reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering against his skin.

he closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a cat seeking affection. “how are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes opening again to search yours.

“better,” you admitted, your lips curving into a small smile. “thanks to you.”

jisung’s smile widened, his dimples appearing. “good,” he said simply, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “that’s all i want.”

you shifted closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. his skin was warm, and the faint scent of him—a mix of his cologne and something inherently jisung—wrapped around you like a blanket. “i don’t ever want to leave this spot,” you mumbled against his skin.

he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “then don’t,” he said, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “stay here. with me. forever.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “forever?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and sincerity. “forever and then some.”

the two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, exchanging soft words and lazy smiles. the world outside could wait. in this moment, there was only the two of you, tangled in love and the quiet magic of a new day.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

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cassianaries · 3 days ago

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Can you do reader x luigi where they are best friends and are lying on her bed and theres soooooo much tension and they finally fuck and its sooooo cute cus hes so gentle and sweet but also its super hot because shes never been eaten out before and its awesome!!! Plspslslslss full length!!!

The Space Between - Luigi Mangione x reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI - smut, swearing.

Author's note: Thank you for the request. I hope you all like this! Let me know what you think or if you have any more requests.

Word count: 2,895

It was Friday night and there was no other place Y/N wanted to be than in her apartment. While others got ready for a night on the town dressed in their best, Y/N was currently in her pajamas. Her apartment was clean, she ordered takeout, she had several candles illuminating her apartment, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere she was after. She had her favorite movie queued up, this was her definition of a perfect Friday night. Her friend group invited her out to a night of copious drinking and karaoke, but she politely declined. Her night was planned eat her dinner and dessert while watching several of her favorite movies, do her nightly routine, and be in bed with a good book by 9:30 and fall asleep.

She always planned her Friday nights, its what gets her through her week. When she's bored at work she'll create a list of movies/tv shows she wants to watch, make note of that restaurant she saw on Postmates that looked good that she decides she will order from, Y/N has always been a planner, and she doesn't mess around about her Friday nights in. Her Friday night went on without a hitch, the movies she chose were always good, of course they were they were her comfort movies. The dinner she had that night from a local Thai place was delicious that she finished it 30 minutes into her first movie, and the chocolate chip cookies she made were baked to perfection.

It was now 9:30, on the dot she finished her skincare routine and was not in bed with her book in her hand and the book light being the only source of light illuminating her room. She sighed, content with how her enjoyable her Friday night was. Just as she was sinking into bed, there was a knock at her apartment door.

She shuffled out of bed, dragging her feet annoyed and seemingly on the verge of throwing a tantrum. She looked through the peep hole to see Luigi, she opened the door with a huff, "What do you want?"

He let out a breath smiling, his upbeat energy annoyed Y/N, she just wanted to read her book in bed, in her cozy warm bed. But no. She was standing at the threshold of her apartment door, there was a cold draft, she was tired, annoyed and Luigi was smiling. He was dressed in white basketball shorts and a plain blue shirt. He had on his black nike sneakers and he still smiling holding a book in his hand. She wanted to smack him with the book that was in his hand- wait, why is he carrying a book? No, she thought. He better not- I swear to God. If he's here for the reason that I think he is here I'm going to--

"I thought I'd stop by and join your coveted Friday night reading sessions," he replied brightly walking past her into her apartment and making his way into her room. It took her a second to realize he'd just charmed his way into her apartment, she quickly slammed the door and locked in, making her way to her bedroom. When she arrived at her bedroom door, he had already removed his shoes, turned on her bed side lamp, and was laying on the other side of her bed.

"Do you have an extra book light?" he asked casually. She was frozen at her door, still in a state of disbelief. He ignored the look of shock on her face, when Y/N finally picked her jaw off the ground she sputtered, "W-what you want a- what are you doing here Lu?" she finally asked.

"I'm here to read with you. You never want to go out with us on Friday nights and you seem to love what you do on Friday telling us about it the next day so I thought I'd join. It seems like a perfect evening. What movies did you watch?" he asked casually.

Luigi and Y/N's other friends have a group chat that is very chaotic, no one ever really reads what she writes unless it's something important or a direct question. So what she's done ever since Y/N started her 'Friday night tradition' is recap what she did for her coveted Friday night. Y/N provides a daily recap of the night; what movies/shows she watched, what she ate, and what book she read in bed. No one ever interacted with her Friday night recaps, so she just assumed they either skimmed it or didn't read it. But Luigi being himself, of course he read it and invited himself to the silent reading portion of the night.

Y/N sighed, "I didn't think you actually read my recaps."

He looked up at her and said very seriously, "Of course I did, you're my friend I like hearing about what you're up to."

Before Y/N could kick him out he interjected, "Look, if I really am going to ruin your Friday night, I can leave. I just thought it could be fun to read together and maybe even discuss and show each other what we're reading."

How could she tell him to leave? He looked up at her with his book in his lap, ankles crossed, and with a look of genuine excitement. Y/N kneeled down to open the bed side table drawer, and handed him a book light. He had the biggest smile on his face as she made her way to her side of the bed. They both sat in silence reading your books. Y/N opted for a romance novel and Luigi was reading a historical fiction book. The room was silent except for the occasional turning of a page and the sounds of the city outside her bedroom window.

An hour into the reading session, Y/N had slumped further into her bed. She could feel a pair of eyes on her and she turned to face Luigi. He was staring at her, the goofy smile from earlier no longer on his face. His gaze was softer than she'd ever seen, it was almost careful.

"Why are looking at me like that?" she asked placing her book off to the side. She noticed his book wasn't even open, it laid flatly on his chest.

"When you read, you mouth the words," he replied absentmindedly.

"Okay," she laughed. "And what about it?"

"It's adorable," he replied.

She cleared her throat unsure of how to respond, but decides on a quick 'thanks' under her breath. She tries to go back to reading, but the interaction created a tension in the air that changed the entire mood of the night. She was unsure of how to act, how to respond, what to even-think. Her other friends in their friend group would mention how Luigi was different with her and she would just say he's like that with everyone, it's Luigi he's kind. But her friends would point out the lingering stares or how he would always have her attention, how when he made a joke he always looked to her for approval. It was subtle, but it was there. And this moment solidified it for her.

She never wanted to confront it because she liked being friends with Luigi, she never really had a lot of friends before meeting this core group she had now. He was the friend she prayed for. Attentive, caring, thoughtful. Not that her other friends were, but with Luigi it was just different. If she said something and no one heard it, he would say it loudly so that they would hear. If she wanted to go somewhere no one else wanted to go, he would go with her so she wouldn't go alone. If she said something and no one acknowledged it, he would. She never wanted to mess that up or lose that by pursuing something more than a friendship with him.

"Luigi-" she started.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"What if-" she began.

"It won't change anything, I promise. You'll have me, no matter what happens, you'll always have me. I'm always going to be here." He replied softly.

She nodded.

"Y/N, I need you to say it."

"You can kiss me Lu," she whispered.

He was shaking, she could sense his nervousness as he maneuvered to face her. She had moved to be nearer to him He was now in front of her his hands cradling her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek. She like this, she leaned into his touch. He leaned forward and she met him halfway, their lips moved slowly. Luigi sighed into the kiss as if he finally let out a breath he'd been hold for far too long. Y/N pulled away smiling, and quickly pecked his lips causing Luigi to smile.

Y/N leaned forward and initiated another kiss and deepening it, she wants this. She wants Luigi. She made it very clear when she straddled him, he let out a groan pulling away. "Are you sure?" he asked. She was now grinding against him hoping that would answer his question, he placed his hands on her hips to stop her movements, she groaned in protest hiding her face in his neck. He pulled her back so that he could look at her, moving the hair out of her face so that he could see her.

"Baby- I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you say you want this," he said panting.

She nodded her head quickly, "Yes Lu, please."

"How do you like it?" he asked. "What's off the table?"

"Nothing, do what ever you want to me Lu, I don't care just touch me please" she said desperately.

"Okay, tell me if it's too much." he replied kissing her lips before flipping her over she yelped in shock and he laughed kissing her lips hungrily. He moved to her neck and when he surfaced again and she could see his face, something changed. Luigi looked more serious, he wasn't smiling anymore.

"Open," was all he said.

Y/N obliged. She opened her mouth sticking out her tongue. Luigi spit in her mouth, "Swallow it" was all he said. She did as she was told and opened her mouth to show him she had obeyed.

"Good girl," he replied. "Good fucking girl."

He began removing her pajamas and she laid naked in front of him, there was something about having him completely clothed and her fully naked in front of him on display. His eyes explored every inch of her body, "You're so beautiful" he replied breathlessly. Y/N began to sit up to remove his clothing, but he pushed her back onto the bed causing her to bounce a bit. "Did I say you could touch me?" he asked his voice more stern and dominant. "No," she replied softly.

He slapped her cheek lightly and gripped her chin, his thumb was near the corner of her mouth, she took hold of his wrist and put his thumb in her mouth sucking lightly. She removed his thumb and looked up at him, "I'm sorry daddy," she replied. The domineering look in his face faltered as his jaw slacked, he ripped his thumb away from her mouth and began tearing off his clothing as if they were on fire.

Their mouth and hands took turns exploring each other's body leaving her moaning his name and calling him 'daddy' and begging him to fuck her already which she learned he loved being called that. She was gripping his biceps when she felt him teasing the entrance of her pussy with his fingers, she moaned trying to move her hips to speed up the movement. His middle finger was playing with her entrance and the wet noises from her pussy filled the room.

"Whose this pussy belong to?" he asked continuing his cruel teasing.

"Yours," she replied breathlessly her eyes closed.

"Open your eyes and tell me who this pussy belongs to," he replied slowly and sternly.

She opened her eyes and choked out, "Yours-" thats when he slammed his fingers into her and kept them there. She let out a yelp and cry of relief. He began moving his fingers in and out her pussy, the sounds of her wetness and her moans filling the room. He didn't stop, he place his left hand on the space above her pussy and below her navel to create pressure and it made the sensation even more enjoyable. Where the hell did he learn that? she thought to herself. She was moaning and screaming his name has he continued to please he with his fingers, she tried to stimulate her clit but he pushed her hand away and said something about it being his job to please her, she wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. The next thing she knew she squirted and she screamed from relief.

She heard Luigi groan and she opened her eyes as her chest moved up and down rapidly that she had soaked her bed and his chest. His perfectly sculpted chest was drench in her wetness. She closed her legs and her hand covered her mouth in shock, Luigi looked at her and then looked down at his chest. They didn't say anything for what felt like hours to her.

"Open your legs baby, I need to fuck you," he replied hurridly.

She obliged, he leaned down spit on her pussy, slapping it. A bit sensitive, Y/N yelped in shock and moaned in pleasure as his cock slammed into her. He held onto her hips as he continued to fuck her into the mattress.

"Are you going to come again for me?" he asked moving one of his hand's from her hips to grip her breast. Y/N was fucked out. She couldn't respond, but Luigi was a talker. He asked her again gripping her chin with his thumb and index finger, "Hey- are you going to come for me again?" he asked more sternly.

"Yes, I'm going to come" she replied breathlessly.

"No one's ever made you squirt like that huh?" he asked.

"No one has, you're the only one" she replied.

"Fuck-" he groaned picking up speed. Her breasts were swaying back and forth from the force of his thrusts, she could tell he was close.

"You're the only one whose ever made me squirt Lu, you're the only one" she replied holding one of his hands, he intertwined their fingers.

"Y/N fuck- fuck I'm coming-- I'm comin- Y/N I-" he couldn't even get the sentence out and Y/N wouldn't had even heard it as the blood rushed to her ears as she came hard. He collapsed on top of her their chests rising and falling rapidly. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, caressing the hair at the name of his neck. He lifted up his head to look at her, his signature Luigi smiled plastered on his face. It was a contrast to who he was minutes ago slapping her face and condescendingly nodding when asking her if his cock felt good inside of her.

"Was that okay?" he asked. He was overthinking, typical Luigi.

"Yes baby that was more than okay, I think me coming twice proves that" she replied amused at his look of shyness.

"Okay I just wasn't sure if you'd be into me being rough and I didn't want to hurt you and I-" she cut him off by kissing him.

She pulled away, "I'm fine, I loved it." she replied sweetly and he smiled shyly embarrassed and replied with an 'okay good' under his breath, she could see a proud smile forming on his face.

"So how are we going to explain us to the others?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe we can get a cake or something and write 'Hey we did it' and present it to them." she said.

"That's a good idea" he replied truthfully. Y/N always liked how he got her humor. "But first we need to go to CVS" he replied.

"Why?" Y/N asked.

"To get the cake and a Plan B. They have cake at CVS?" he asked making his way to her side of the bed picking her up bridal style. Y/N let out a yelp in shock.

"They don't have cake at CVS," she replied dryly.

"Okay we'll get the Plan B tonight and we'll wake up early and stop by the bakery." Luigi replied.

"You're sleeping over I assume?" Y/N asked lifting her eyebrows as Luigi continued walking in the direction of the bathroom.

"Of course I am baby, it's going to be our Friday night tradition and make sure you let the group chat know how this Friday night was I want to hear a full breakdown, review, and rating of tonight's events." Luigi said enthusiastically.

"Lu I am not telling them that we slept together and I sure as hell am not rating it" Y/N replied shocked.

Luigi replied, "I'm kidding baby, but I would like some one on one feedback if you don't mind" he replied wiggling his eyebrows and laughing as he lead them into the shower.

#luigi mangione fluff #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione request #luigi #luigi mangione imagine

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aureatelys · 18 hours ago

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hotch being super touchy with bau!reader during a night out with the team and like cannot wait until they’re home or something ? (idk if this helps!!)

citrus

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 1.5k c.w.: fluff!! suggestive content, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, needy touchy hotch <3

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i realize now while typing this that you may have been asking for horny hotch but instead i give you needy hotch with a touch of horny. not my best work but i hope you like it <33

You first start to suspect something’s wrong when Hotch sits next to you on the jet.

Not that Hotch sitting next to you was an abnormal occurrence, however ever since you two came clean about your relationship with the rest of the team, both of you made the effort to maintain as professional as possible. Which meant not sharing hotel rooms even though you’re sure the budget manager wouldn’t complain, no favoritism, and no PDA.

The no PDA rule was particularly difficult for you because, how could you not touch him?

The team had just finished up a kidnapping case in Florida. Nearly two weeks of suffocating in the humidity and dealing with swarms of mosquitos every time you stepped outside of the precinct. The relief from being in a familiar setting and the working AC is tangible when you plop down into a window seat facing the front of the cabin.

When you notice Hotch approaching you and taking the seat next to yours, you barely hide the surprise on your face. Hotch just merely raises an eyebrow at you before he jumps into debriefing.

Afterwards, when everyone has either fallen asleep or victim to playing chess with Spencer, Hotch knocks his knee against yours.

You look up from your book, a question forming on the tip of your tongue, when you notice Hotch hunched over his files and eyebrows creased in concentration.

It must have been an accident, you think. Except he does it again.

“You okay?” you ask, placing your bookmark and setting your book aside. It’s not like you were paying attention anyway, having had read the page at least two times by now.

“Fine,” he mutters, not unkindly, before scribbling something at the bottom of a file and moving onto the next one.

The past two weeks had been difficult for everyone, and the week before wasn’t any easier. You assume that Hotch was just itching to go back to your shared apartment to check on Jack before passing out in your bed.

And then he bumps against your knee again.

You don’t say anything this time, instead picking up your book and hitting your knee back against his. You just barely catch the corners of his mouth quirking up.

You could’ve sworn Hotch was going to decline tagging along with you when you decided to go out to O’Keefe’s with the rest of the team as soon as you landed. You were even expecting a glare, silently telling you that everyone needs to go home to get some rest and that he is driving you two back to the apartment whether you like it or not.

You start to think Hotch is really up to something now when he shrugs and agrees to tag along with you, promising just one drink.

And then, Hotch rests his arm on the console while driving, his hand worryingly close to your thigh despite Reid and JJ sitting in the backseat. Then, he’s placing a large hand on the small of your back when you’re walking into the bar, causing a shiver to run up your spine despite the warm evening air. Then, he sidles up next to you in the booth, thighs pressing against each other and his wide shoulder brushing against yours. It’s a lot of touching, which you’re clearly fine with, but touching from Hotch, at work, several times in the span of 30 minutes?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, having to lean in to be heard over the music even with his good ear.

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you over his drink. “I told you, I’m fine.”

And it’s like you’re able to see the idea form in his head, having spent so much time with him on and off the clock that you’ve luckily gotten better at reading him.

You still nearly jump out of your seat when Aaron places his warm hand on your thigh, underneath the table where nobody else was able to see.

You’ve gotten used to how touchy Aaron can be behind closed doors. At home, he’s constantly touching you—an arm around your waist, a finger tracing the curve of your jaw, or a kiss pressed at the crown of your head.

But this? A hand on your thigh at a bar in front of your coworkers?

You can feel the heat of his palm seep through your pants, annoyingly close to where you really want him the most. Is that what this is about?

“You two lovebirds alright over there?” Emily calls from the other side of the table, looking spectacularly sober despite you witnessing her downing shot after shot.

The sudden weight of 7 different pairs of eyes on you has you even more frazzled because Aaron’s hand only squeezes the flesh of your thigh while he glances at you casually, his free hand wrapped around an old-fashioned.

“Just talking about how I need another drink,” you say, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as strained to them as it does to you. And technically it is true as you shake your glass to emphasize the ice cubes clinking around with no fruity drink accompanying it.

When you notice Garcia’s mouth open to volunteer to come with you, you scramble up out of the booth, glad that you chose the outside spot, and weave your way through the crowd to the bar. You try to ignore the way the right side of your body suddenly feels colder without Hotch’s body pressed up against yours.

You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The only thing keeping you from spinning around to maybe unethically flash your badge is the familiar weight of Hotch’s palm pressed against your hip and the citrusy smell of whiskey on his breath against your ear.

A giggle bubbles out of you, instinctively leaning back against his chest. You’re secretly glad that he left his suit jacket in the car, leaving you to ogle the way the crisp white dress shirt stretches over his shoulders. “Seriously, what is with you today?”

His lips ghost over your ear, the low tone of his voice making your knees weak. “I’m not allowed to touch my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that.

You lean even harder into him, one of your hands coming down to grab at his toned forearm as you reach for your finished drink. “Of course you can. I just can’t remember the last time you’ve been this touchy in front of everyone, or ever really.”

“I don’t hear any complaints.”

“I might start if you don’t kiss me.” And it’s mostly to just poke fun at him because Hotch hasn’t even held hands with you in front of the team, much less kiss you in a crowded bar with them undoubtedly watching and whispering amongst themselves.

You’re expecting Hotch to huff a laugh against your ear, letting go and stepping away from you. Maybe even him holding your hand while he leads you through the dance floor and back to your booth to humor you.

You don’t expect Hotch’s free hand to come up and cradle your chin, tilting your face towards his almost uncomfortably to press his lips against yours. It’s soft, chaste even, but the fact that he’s kissing you in front of your colleagues and strangers, in a crowded bar with the loud music nearly thrumming through your veins, makes you feel hot all over.

His arm tightens around you, spinning you around until you’re facing him, and he swallows the gasp you unintentionally let out as he deepens the kiss, your mouth instinctively parting. You’ve been dating for months but kissing him still feels like that very first time in his office, the hard edge of his desk digging into your hip and the glow of the sunset highlighting the clear affection in his eyes.

When you pull back, you notice a pink tinge high on his cheeks and the way his tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as if chasing the taste of your fruity cocktail. “What was that for?”

“Just letting you know that I can’t wait to take you home,” he says, pulling you until the entire line of your body is pressed against his. Your hand unconsciously comes to rest on his chest and you’re not sure if you can feel the bass line for the song playing or the thudding of his heart.

His hands start trailing down to your ass and you seriously wonder how touchier he can get.

But, like you realized earlier, it’s been weeks since you’ve had alone time with Hotch. So, you untangle yourself from him despite his protests and slip your hand in his pocket to retrieve the car keys. You grin when it’s Hotch’s turn to jump.

“I’ll meet you at the car?”

“I already said bye to them for us, let’s go.”

And then he’s pulling you towards the exit with his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist. You barely have the chance to peer over the moving crowd to see the rest of your team waving at you, wearing shit-eating grins.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #mine #aaron hotchner fanfic

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mugglebornmarvelite · 3 days ago

Text

Nightmares Fade

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: After a traumatic mission, you are left shaken by a nightmare that lingers, blurring the line between reality and fear. Unable to shake the feeling of unease, you make your way to the kitchen, hoping a warm cup of tea will calm your nerves. But it’s not just the tea that brings comfort to you.

Based on this request.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, nightmares, a little anxiety and tension, the reader is jumpy, mentions of violence from a mission (implied), mental fatigue, and fluffy (because I can’t help it)

Author’s Note: I tried to avoid gory details or focus too much on the contents of the nightmare.

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

You sat straight up in your bed, your heart pounding as you tried to catch your breath. The nightmare clung to your mind. The shadows of your fears haunt you even in the comfort of your bed.

It was just a dream.

The last mission was gruesome. Normally, they didn’t affect you, or at least you tried not to let them rattle you, but the remnants of the aftermath followed you into your dreams.

It was just a dream.

You wiped your temple, trying to shake off the images and the helplessness that still echoed within you.

It was just a dream.

Reaching towards your nightstand, you looked over at the time on your phone.

2:15 am

Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cool touch of the floor grounding you for a moment.

Just a dream.

You ran your hands up and down your face as if trying to scrub away the bad thoughts.

You paused for a moment, feeling that uneasy stillness. The kind of stillness where every creak in the house makes your skin crawl, where the quiet is too much to bear.

You flinched at a sudden noise.

Something moved.

You froze.

A tight knot formed in your stomach.

But it was just your coat, slipping off the back of the chair by your desk.

A breathless giggle escaped you.

You were being ridiculous.

It was just a silly dream.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your robe and padded toward the kitchen, hoping that making tea would help.

You reached the kitchen, filling the kettle with water, the soft noise soothing your nerves. You weren’t sure why you felt so unsettled; you should’ve been able to shake the nightmare by now. But it lingered, just beyond reach, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Then you heard it.

A sound.

Quiet, but unmistakable.

From behind you.

You screamed, gripping the closing thing to you, which was the handle of the panini press.

Bucky’s tough demeanor cracked, the corner of his lip tugging into a soft smile, a hint of amusement on his face.

His imposing figure loomed in the doorway, his broad shoulders practically filling the space. His blue eyes, though soft in the dim light, were fixed on you, tense yet unreadable.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s just me.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief flooded through you as you realized that you didn't have to fight off an intruder while wearing a bunny robe, and you released the panini press handle.

Thank God.

It was just your wild imagination.

His presence in the kitchen wasn’t a coincidence; you knew he must’ve heard you. You froze for a moment, wiping at your face again, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears. Your first instinct was to turn away, to pretend like nothing was wrong, but that was a pointless game to play with Bucky. He saw through every façade.

Before you could escape to privacy, you heard a sharp whistle from Bucky. “No, you don't. C'mere, sunshine.”

You winced at his tone, but his voice was gentle and commanding in the way only Bucky could be.

You knew he wasn’t going to let you hide.

Reluctantly, you turned back toward him, though your eyes were on the floor as you shuffled closer. “I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, keeping your voice steady, even though you could feel your heart still pounding.

“You okay?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky didn’t buy it.

His sharp instincts had a way of seeing right through any façade, especially yours. He uncrossed his arms, taking a few steps toward you, his large presence making the space feel smaller.

“C'mere,” he said softly, that gentle authority in his voice making it impossible to say no.

Reluctantly, you turned toward him, your eyes flicking to the floor. “Really, Bucky. It’s nothing.”

He didn’t buy it for a second. His flesh hand reached out, gently lifting your chin.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern. “Nightmare, right?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, feeling the weight of the admission, that vulnerability creeping up your spine.

Bucky's face softened, the hardness of his usual demeanor slipping away as he leaned closer to you. "Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Come sit down, alright?"

Before you could protest, he guided you to the couch, his large, strong hand steadying you as he sat you down. He wrapped a cozy, warm blanket around your shoulders, the soft fabric instantly comforting.

“Stay here,” Bucky said with quiet authority, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll make finishing making you some tea.”

You let out a soft sigh, melting into his warmth as he gently pushed a few strands of hair out of your face.

The simple tenderness of the gesture made your heart swell, and the gentleness of his touch was so at odds with the hardened bravado he often leaned into.

With you, Bucky was a different kind of man.

A sweet, soft, protective one.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured before he moved to the kitchen.

The rhythm of his movements in the kitchen was reassuring as you sighed.

When he returned, he was holding two steaming mugs of tea. He settled down beside you, and you shifted out of your cozy blanket cocoon, eager to share its warmth with him.

“Oh, no, sunshine, you don’t have to do that,” he said softly, his voice like a gentle caress.

“I want to,” you murmured, your smile shining through, soft and sweet.

His smile grew, a look of pure affection, as he pulled you closer, his arm sliding around you effortlessly, bringing you into his side like it was where you belonged.

“Here,” Bucky said softly, his voice like velvet, as he handed you a mug, the warmth of it seeping into your hands. His fingers brushed against yours, soft but lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as though he was trying to pass some of his calm into you. “This should help. It’s chamomile.”

You took a sip, the warmth from the tea settling in your stomach and slowly spreading through your chest.

The sense of calm you needed started to return, but the best part was Bucky. He was still holding you close, his hand gently brushing your hair back, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

You paused, considering the offer. It had been so hard to open up to anyone, especially about your nightmares.

But with Bucky, there was no fear of judgment. He was safe. And somehow, his presence alone made everything feel a little bit easier to bear.

“I was running…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I got cornered and I couldn’t escape. And I kept hearing the team and you…but everyone was too far. No one could reach me in time.”

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, his body tensing for just a moment before he relaxed again, rubbing your back in slow, comforting strokes. “I’m right here, sunshine. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions swelling up again. "I know. I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about how scary it felt."

He kissed the top of your head, his voice like a low hum in your ear. "You don’t ever have to face that alone. We’re here. I’m always here. No matter what."

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like the blanket he’d draped over you earlier. "Thanks, Bucky. You’re… you’re really something else."

“Nightmares don’t stand a chance when I’m around,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair in slow, calming motions. “You’ll never face them alone. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

His words were a promise, quiet but unwavering. And as you snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek, the fragments of your nightmare seemed to fade into the background.

But then you smiled faintly, attempting to lighten the mood, even if only a little. “If we fall asleep here, Sam’s probably going to take another picture.”

Bucky chuckled.

“Let him,” he said with a grin. “You’re worth it. You should know that by now, sunshine.”

You practically melted into his side.

There was something in the way he cared for you that made everything feel like it could be okay, even in the worst of moments.

Nothing else seemed to matter.

And for the first time that night, you felt the weight of fear and anxiety fall away, replaced by the comfort and safety only Bucky could give you.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

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unconventional-lawnchair · 3 days ago

Note

hi loveee!! hope you’re doing well!

i was wondering if i could request no Voldemort AU, Wolfstar!daughter reader where her parents and harry’s parents have been making jokes about her and harry dating, and since then they have seen her slowly fade and eating less and kind of just drifting away for a few months, and when her parents, lily, and james talk to her about it she just tells them she likes girls and was really scared of telling them because she felt she was disappointing them.

if you don’t feel comfortable that’s totally fine!! love your work

An: Thank you and I'm sorry this took so long! I got a little carried away I am so sorry.

Expectations

Wolfstar!Daughter who is struggling to express her sexuality...

Summary: (See above) Reminiscing on some romantic encounters, you have come to the conclusion Harry Potter is not someone you'd ever date. HURT/COMFORT

WC: 7.1k

CW: The reader is so gay, she kissed Luna and Ginny, almost kissed Hermione, some intense negative self talk, mentions of not eating and guilty James and Sirius

The warm smell of toast and coffee wafted through the kitchen as you thundered down the stairs, your shoes slapping against the wood with unbothered energy. The kitchen was alive with the sound of the radio crackling softly in the corner, a cheerful tune mingling with the chatter of voices and the occasional clink of dishes.

Lily stood at the stove, flicking her wand to keep the eggs from burning. James leaned casually against the counter, chewing on a piece of toast and grinning at Sirius, who was regaling everyone with a clearly exaggerated story about his work as an Auror the day before. Remus sat at the table, reading the Daily Prophet with a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

You slipped past Lily with precision, she hardly glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Late again, I see. I suppose your grand entrance was worth skipping breakfast?”

You gave her a cheeky grin, swiping the slice of toast right out of James’s hand as you breezed by. “Skipping? Please, I’m right on time,” You quipped, taking a dramatic bite and ignoring James’s exaggerated gasp of betrayal.

“Oi!” James protested, clutching his now-empty hand. “I was munching on that!”

“You snooze, you lose, Potter,” You shot back, already rounding the table to Sirius. He was mid-sentence in his story when your arms looped around his shoulders, pulling him into a quick hug. He stopped talking just long enough to lean into the affection, grinning like the proud dad he was.

“Morning, Cherry Bomb,” Sirius greeted, ruffling your hair as you pulled away.

“Morning, Dad,” You hummed breezily before turning to Remus. You leaned down to give him an exaggeratedly loud kiss on the cheek, making him chuckle and shake his head.

“You’re in a good mood,” Remus observed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he folded his newspaper.

“Am I not always?” You asked, snagging another slice of toast from the plate on the table and tossing him a wink.

Laughter and banter filled the room again as the chaos resumed. The radio switched to another upbeat tune, and Lily turned back to her cooking, muttering something about “pot-stirrers” under her breath. Sirius leaned back in his chair, smirking at James’s ongoing complaints about his stolen toast, and Remus sipped his tea, watching the scene unfold with fond amusement.

“Pops, can you-” You started, pointing toward the creamer sitting just out of reach on the table. Before you could even finish your sentence, Remus flicked his wand, and the creamer floated gracefully into your hand.

“Thanks, Pops,” You sang with a grin, pouring a splash into your coffee. “You’re on top of it today.”

“I try,” Remus replied with a faint smirk, returning to his tea and paper without missing a beat.

Before you could reach for the sugar, a familiar hand slid it toward you from the corner of the table. Harry, his hair even messier than usual, had just shuffled into the kitchen, still looking half-asleep but apparently sharp enough to anticipate your needs.

“Here,” he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he pushed the sugar closer.

You gasped dramatically, holding your hand to your chest as though he’d just saved your life. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you’re my favorite Potter.”

Harry blinked at you, clearly too tired to respond with his usual quick wit. “Not a high bar,” He muttered, sliding into the chair next to Remus and slumping forward.

James, who had been about to take a sip of coffee, froze mid-motion, eyes widening in mock offense. “Excuse me?! I am the original Potter- one might say the prototype- and therefore the best!”

“Don’t forget the loudest,” Sirius added with a grin, earning a glare from James.

Lily turned from the stove, wagging her spatula in your direction. “Careful, love, you’re going to give Harry a big head.”

You snorted, swirling your coffee as you leaned back against the counter. “Please, his head’s big enough already. I’m just giving credit where it’s due.”

Harry, now more awake, gave you a sideways glance, a hint of a smirk creeping onto his face. “You know, you’re really setting the bar low if all it takes is a sugar bowl to win you over.”

“Hey,” you shot back, pointing your spoon at him, “don’t underestimate the power of good timing and selflessness, Potter. You could learn a thing or two from your favorite person.”

Harry rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “If I’m your favorite, I dread to think how you treat your least favorite.”

“Easy,” You cheeked with a wicked grin, “I steal their toast.”

James groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Unbelievable! You two are ganging up on me. Is this what parenthood leads to? Betrayal at every turn?”

“Seems like it,” Sirius chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a wolfish grin. “Honestly, Prongs, they’d make a great couple- at least then someone would appreciate your genes.”

You nearly choked on your coffee, sputtering as you quickly set the mug down. “Oh, come on,” You shot at Sirius, your tone sharp but playful, though a prickle of discomfort crept into your chest.

James was grinning now, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, he’s not wrong. Potter and Black- it’s destiny, really. Perfect balance of brains and chaos.”

“Merlin’s beard, not this again,” You groaned, running a hand down your face. “The only thing Harry and I are destined for is quidditch captain, and I’m winning.”

“But think of the headlines!” Sirius pressed on, clearly relishing the way you were squirming. “‘Auror Legacy Marries rebel Black 2.0.’ It’s got a ring to it.”

“Don’t,” Lily cut in sharply, waving her spatula like a weapon. “You’re embarrassing them.”

Remus huffed quietly, setting his tea down with a frown. “Honestly, can’t the two of you give it a rest? They’re kids, not a tabloid story.”

You seized the moment, folding your arms and aiming your most cutting glare at your dads. “Thank you, Pops. Finally, someone with some sense.”

Sirius, unbothered, leaned over to nudge James. “You notice how defensive she’s getting? Means we’re onto something.”

“That’s because you’re delusional,” You snapped, though your tone had lost its bite. “For the record, Harry and I would never work. He’s a disaster, I’m a disaster, and that’s just too much disaster for one relationship.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at you, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Speak for yourself. I’d carry this disaster just fine.”

“Oh, please,” You fired back, your grin tight but still intact. “You can’t even carry your Firebolt without tripping over your own feet.”

The room erupted in laughter, and you forced a chuckle, though the weight of their teasing lingered. You’d always been good at playing along, but this time, something about it felt different. The jokes stung in a way they hadn’t before, but you weren't ignorant to why.

The laughter in the kitchen echoed around you, but it began to feel muffled, as if someone had pressed a pillow over your ears. You stared at your coffee mug, your grin faltering slightly, though you were careful to hide it. The jokes about you and Harry- something you’d always brushed off with ease- felt heavier lately, the sting burrowing deeper into your chest.

Your grip tightened around the coffee mug as the laughter in the kitchen grew distant, the sound blurring into background noise. Your mind wandered, pulling you back to a quieter moment, one you rarely let yourself dwell on.

The library was quiet save for the soft rustle of pages and the occasional whispered reprimand from Madam Pince. You’d been helping Hermione find a particularly elusive book for her research, one she was determined to get her hands on without incurring the wrath of the ever-watchful librarian.

“You’re sure it’s up there?” Hermione had whispered, standing on her tiptoes as she pointed toward the highest shelf.

“Positive,” you’d replied, smirking as you pulled your wand out and flicked it expertly. The book floated down, landing gently in her hands.

“Show-off,” she murmured, though her lips curved into a faint smile.

You’d grinned back, feeling uncharacteristically shy under her warm gaze. The moment lingered longer than it should have, her eyes searching yours as she clutched the book to her chest. There had been something there- something thrillingly unfamiliar. The space between you had felt electric, the quiet of the library amplifying every breath, every heartbeat.

You’d thought about leaning in, about what it might feel like to close the gap. But the creak of Madam Pince’s footsteps had shattered the moment, and you’d stepped back, laughing it off as Hermione tucked the book under her arm and muttered something about returning to the common room.

“Oi,” Sirius’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. You blinked, realizing the room had gone quieter. Sirius leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as he looked at you. “You alright, trouble?”

“Yeah,” You smiled quickly, plastering on your signature grin to mask the lingering thoughts. “Just tired, I guess.”

Sirius didn’t press, but his gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned back to James, who was recounting a story you’d already heard a dozen times.

“Well,” Sirius said, clapping his hands on the table as he stood. “Time to pack it up, everyone. Let’s head home before the house decides to redecorate itself again.”

Lily shot him a look, though there was a smile playing on her lips. “That house doesn’t need redecorating. It needs a miracle.”

Sirius smirked. “And I’m just the man for the job.”

You chuckled softly, slipping off your stool and stretching as the others began gathering their things.

For now, you focused on the warmth of the kitchen, the familiar sound of Sirius and James bickering, and the way Remus always managed to keep everything running smoothly. It was enough, at least for the moment.

The goodbyes at the Potters’ were as warm and chaotic as the morning had been. Hugs were exchanged, and James couldn’t resist pulling you into an exaggerated bear hug, practically lifting you off your feet.

“Take care of my heir, Cherry Bomb,” James teased, grinning ear to ear as he nodded toward Harry. “You two are a dream team, after all.”

“James,” Lily said warningly, her tone sharp but her smile betraying her amusement.

“You’re delusional,” You shot back with a scoff, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed how much the teasing was starting to wear on you. You glanced at Harry, who offered you a small, sympathetic smile before pulling you into a quick side hug of his own.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Harry mumbled under his breath. “They’re impossible.”

“Right back at you,” You replied with a crooked grin, but your heart wasn’t entirely in it.

As you stepped back, Sirius clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave you a knowing smirk. “Don’t worry, Prongs, I’ll make sure they don’t elope without your blessing.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” You groaned, throwing your hands up as Remus gave Sirius a pointed look and muttered something about restraint.

“Goodbye, Lily,” You said pointedly, ignoring the boys and turning to give her a warm hug. She gave you a small squeeze, whispering a quick “Be patient with them” in your ear before you stepped away.

Sirius finally ushered you toward the car, jingling the keys in his hand like a prize. “Alright, let’s hit the road before James gets any more brilliant ideas.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he slipped into the passenger seat. “Or before you make any, for that matter.”

You climbed into the backseat, slumping against the window as Sirius started the car with a triumphant flourish. He seemed to take a little too much pleasure in the sputtering growl of the engine, muttering something under his breath about “showing Walburga what she’s talking about.”

The car pulled away from the Potters’ house, and the chatter in the front seat quickly turned into playful bickering between your dads. Sirius insisted he didn’t need a map, while Remus quietly pointed out every turn they were about to miss.

But you barely registered their voices. Instead, you stared out the window, your mind wandering again. The familiar streets blurred together as you replayed the events of the morning, the teasing, the lingering stares, and the way Harry’s half-smile seemed to carry a shared understanding.

But still, you were elsewhere.

You and Ginny had been wandering aimlessly, avoiding curfews and teachers, giggling over whatever nonsense had entertained you that day.

She had shoved you playfully against the wall in a narrow corridor, her fiery red hair catching the dim light as she grinned up at you. You’d retaliated immediately, pushing her back with a mock growl, but she was quicker, spinning and pinning you to the stone wall with a strength that belied her smaller frame.

“You’ve got to stop underestimating me,” She teased, her freckled nose scrunching as she smirked. “One day, I’ll wipe that cocky grin off your face.”

“Big words for a Weasley,” You quipped, grinning. “Want to back them up?”

Ginny paused then, her smile faltering just enough for you to notice. Her hands lingered on your shoulders, her grip light but steady. Her brown eyes softened, and something thick hung in the air between you, heavy and electric.

Her voice dropped, quiet and teasing, but there was a nervous edge beneath her bravado.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her, the confident grin slipping from your face. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say a word, Ginny leaned in.

Her lips brushed yours, soft and tentative, the kiss lasting only a heartbeat. It was over almost as soon as it began, but the feeling lingered- a spark, warm and thrilling, like the crackle of fire catching on dry wood.

You barely had time to process it before Ginny leaned back, her cheeks flushed as she studied your face. “Well?” She asked, her tone light but her eyes searching. “How was that?”

You swallowed, your voice coming out a little breathless despite your best efforts to play it cool. “Not bad, Weasley. Not bad at all.”

Ginny’s grin returned, bright and cheeky. “Told you I’d shut you up one day.”

Before you could respond, Ron’s voice rang out from the far end of the corridor, calling for Ginny. The two of you jumped apart as if burned, your heart racing as her brother’s footsteps approached.

“Guess I'm caught.” Ginny muttered, casting you a quick glance. Her expression was a mix of amusement and something deeper- something you were familiar with. She turned on her heel, jogging down the corridor to meet Ron as if nothing had happened.

You stood frozen for a moment, your fingertips brushing your lips as you replayed the moment over and over in your mind.

“Oi, trouble,” Sirius’s voice yanked you back to the present, his tone amused but curious. “You’ve been awfully quiet back there. What’s on your mind?”

You blinked, realizing you were still in the car, the hum of the engine grounding you as the memory faded. You plastered on a grin, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat.

“Just tired, dad,” you replied, your voice light and teasing. “Long morning.”

Sirius glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, but he didn’t press. “Well, don’t fall asleep back there. I’m not carrying you up the stairs again.”

Remus chuckled softly, turning in his seat to look at you with a knowing smile. “He says that, but we both know he would.”

You laughed, grateful for the distraction they didn't know they provided.

The car pulled to a stop in front of Grimmauld Place, and you were out of the backseat before Sirius could even turn off the engine. The heavy door creaked open under your hand, and the familiar musty air of the house greeted you. You were halfway up the stairs when Walburga Black’s shrill voice began to echo from her portrait in the hallway.

“Filthy half-bloods! Defilers of the noble house of Black!”

Without missing a beat, you stopped at the landing and turned to face her, smirking as her painted eyes glared daggers at you.

“Oh, shut it, you old hag,” You snapped, your voice dripping with mockery. “If this house had any standards left, your frame would be collecting dust in the attic.”

Walburga’s wails grew louder, incoherent insults tumbling from her mouth. Behind you, Sirius strode in, shaking snow from his jacket as he glanced up at the commotion.

“Oi, pup, what’s all this noise about?” He called, grinning when he spotted you leaning casually against the banister.

“Just giving dear old Gran her daily reminder that she’s irrelevant,” You shrugged, crossing your arms. “Thought she might appreciate the consistency.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, dropping his keys onto the hall table. “Ah, you’re a good kid. Keeping family tradition alive.”

He turned to Walburga’s portrait with an exaggerated bow. “Lovely as always, Mother. But if you don’t pipe down, I’ll have to introduce you to my new Muggle rock records.”

Her screeches hit a new pitch, and Sirius winked at you before turning to Remus, who was rolling his eyes and carrying the bags into the livingroom.

“Don’t encourage her,” Remus muttered, though his lips twitched with a faint smile.

Sirius waved him off, clearly pleased with himself. You snickered and started back up the stairs, shouting one last retort over your shoulder at Walburga.

“Hope you have a terrible night, you miserable cow.”

Her howls followed you all the way to your bedroom door, but you ignored them, shutting yourself inside with a satisfying click.

You flopped onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, your body sinking into the mattress. The familiar creak of the springs beneath you was oddly comforting, even as your mind wandered. Staring at the cracked ceiling, you let the faint noises of the house fade into the background: the distant hum of conversation downstairs, the occasional groan of the pipes, the muffled screeches of Walburga’s indignation.

The memories came rushing back unbidden, weaving themselves into the present.

It was well past midnight. Grimmauld Place was silent except for the occasional creak of the old house settling, its usual cacophony of voices replaced by the muffled hum of distant dreams. The kitchen was dimly lit by a single candle, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the aged stone walls. You and Luna had crept downstairs, stifling giggles like two schoolchildren sneaking past a strict headmaster.

Luna sat on the counter, her legs swinging idly, her pale blonde hair catching the soft glow of the candlelight. She watched you rummage through the pantry with the serene curiosity she always seemed to carry, her gaze steady and unbothered even when you nearly dropped a jar of biscuits.

Her soft laughter bubbled up, the sound light and airy, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “Careful,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper. “We wouldn’t want to wake the ghosts.”

You turned to her, holding up the jar triumphantly. “Ghosts don’t care about biscuits, Luna,” you quipped, though your tone lacked its usual edge. Something about her presence always softened you.

Luna tilted her head, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. “Maybe not. But I imagine they’d enjoy the company.”

Her words hung in the air between you, her gaze steady and unwavering. The intimacy of the moment- the stillness of the house, the shared laughter, the closeness- felt overwhelming. You set the jar down on the counter, your movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid to shatter the fragile quiet.

“What?” You asked softly, your voice low as you stepped closer. The question wasn’t accusatory, just curious, as though you could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing against you.

Luna didn’t respond with words. Instead, she leaned down, her movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you the chance to step away. When you didn’t, her lips brushed yours, soft and tentative. The kiss started slow, hesitant, like the first notes of a melody yet to find its rhythm.

But then it deepened, a quiet fervor building as her hands found your shirt, tangling in the fabric and pulling you closer. Your hands instinctively rested on her hips, grounding yourself in the warmth of her presence. The candle flickered wildly, like its flame was threatening to extinguish under the intensity of the moment, but neither of you paid it any mind.

When you finally pulled back, the world felt different, quieter, as if the house itself was holding its breath. Luna’s gaze held yours, her cheeks flushed but her expression calm, steady.

“Was that alright?” She asked, her voice barely audible in the stillness.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you offered her a small, shy smile. “Yeah,” You murmured, your voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “It was more than alright.”

Luna’s smile widened, and for a moment, the weight of everything else fell away. In that kitchen, under the flicker of candlelight, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a moment that felt like it had been waiting for you all along.

The memory lingered like a soft melody, playing on repeat in your mind. Luna’s serene gaze, her touch, the flicker of candlelight that had seemed to mirror the spark between you- everything about it had felt right. Safe. But as you tried to focus on her eyes, your heart sank.

Like some cruel trick, the silvery blue of her irises shifted, darkening until they glowed an all-too-familiar shade of green. The serene warmth of Luna’s face dissolved, replaced by Harry’s steady, piercing gaze.

A shock ran through your body, sharp and unforgiving, jolting you out of the blissful memory like a bucket of ice water. Your chest tightened, the sudden dissonance between memory and reality leaving you breathless.

“No,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as though you could physically dislodge the image. “No, no, no.”

Your hands clenched into fists, and a frustrated growl tore from your throat. You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it across the room with all the force you could muster. The satisfying whomp of impact was immediately followed by a loud crash as the pillow toppled your bedside lamp, sending it to the floor in a spray of shattered glass.

The sound made you wince, your frustration replaced by a pang of guilt. You sat up, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the mess on the floor. The dim light of the room cast eerie reflections off the broken shards, and for a moment, you felt as fragmented as the lamp lying before you.

“Oi! Everything alright up there?” Remus’s voice carried up the stairs, calm yet laced with concern.

You winced, glancing down at the shattered remains of the lamp, your heart sinking. “Uh… yeah!” You called back, scrambling for an excuse. “Just… taking out some aggression on a pillow!”

There was a pause before Remus replied, his voice tinged with amusement. “And did the pillow learn its lesson?”

You hesitated, looking at the broken lamp before sighing. “Uhm… it seems my lamp learned it for him!”

A loud bark of laughter echoed from downstairs, followed closely by Sirius’s booming voice. “Don’t touch it! I’m coming up!”

Your stomach twisted as the familiar sound of Sirius’s boots on the stairs grew louder. You quickly crouched by the broken lamp, trying to sweep the shards into a neat pile with your hands, only to nick your finger on one of the sharper edges.

“Bloody hell,” You hissed, sticking the wounded finger in your mouth as Sirius’s voice reached the landing outside your door.

“Oi, trouble,” He called, knocking once before pushing the door open without waiting for an answer. He took one look at the broken lamp, the glass scattered across the floor, and your sheepish expression before crossing his arms and leaning casually against the doorframe.

“What happened?” He prodded, though his tone was more curious than accusatory.

You stood, brushing your hands on your trousers and avoiding his gaze. “The pillow was out of line, so I threw it,” You admitted, gesturing toward the offending pillow lying innocently on the floor. “Didn’t realize it had a vendetta against my lamp- unfortunately he took her down with him.”

Sirius’s lips twitched as he tried to hold back a grin. “Sounds like the lamp got the short end of the stick,” He mused, stepping further into the room to inspect the damage. “What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, unsure how much you wanted to share. Sirius had a knack for prying the truth out of you, but sometimes you weren’t ready to give it up.

“Just… had a lot on my mind,” Your voice muttered quietly. “Needed to let it out.”

Sirius tilted his head, studying you for a moment. Then, without a word, he pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at the shattered lamp. “Reparo!”

The broken shards flew back together with a soft clink, reforming into the lamp as if nothing had happened. Sirius smirked, giving the now-intact lamp a light tap with his wand for good measure.

You stared at it, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Of course,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Sirius grinned, tucking his wand away. “Because you’re dramatic, Cherry Bomb. Always have to make a scene.” He leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a knowing look. “What’s the fun in fixing things when you can wallow in the chaos a little longer, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your moment. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late, just lets me know you still need me.” Sirius replied, flashing a cocky grin. Then his expression softened, his gaze flickering to you with something closer to concern. “But seriously, kid, you good?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on you. Sirius might joke around, but his ability to see through you had always been unnerving.

“I’m fine,” you finally said, though it sounded unconvincing even to your own ears. You tried to smile, hoping it would sell the lie. “Just a long day, you know?”

Sirius didn’t look convinced, but he let it go- for now. “Alright, if you say so. But if you ever need to talk… well, you know where I am.”

You nodded, feeling a flicker of gratitude for his understanding. “Thanks, Dad.”

Sirius smirked at the title, ruffling your hair as he passed by you toward the door. “Get some rest, pup. And maybe lay off the pillow abuse next time, yeah?”

“Only if it's learned its lesson.”

He gave you a playful glare. You laughed softly as he left, shutting the door behind him. The room fell silent once more, save for the faint hum of the house around you. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the repaired lamp and letting out a long, steadying breath.

"Dramatic," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. But the small smile faltered, slipping away as something cold and heavy began to settle in your chest. A creeping dread gnawed at the edges of your mind, setting your breaths into an unsteady rhythm.

Dramatic.

You could almost hear Sirius’s teasing tone, James’s bark of laughter. The word echoed, sharp and cutting in the stillness of the room.

“They’re just joking.”

“Don’t take it to heart.”

“They don’t mean it.”

You’d told yourself these things countless times before. But their voices played on a loop in your head, louder and louder, until you could hardly think of anything else.

“If you get married, we’ll finally be a big pack!”

“You two would be perfect together!”

“You’d work so well- balance each other out!”

James and Sirius’s teasing words replayed with such vivid clarity, the echo of their laughter twisting in your chest like a knife. Even Lily’s and Remus’s softer reassurances slipped in, well-meaning but hollow now, reminders that they’d never taken it as seriously as you did.

Because all jokes have a bit of truth to them, don’t they? That dark, nagging voice in the back of your mind whispered its usual poison. What if they mean every word? What if they’ve always meant it?

The years of good-natured teasing, the remarks, the suggestions- they stretched out in your memory, suddenly too heavy to ignore. And for the first time, you wondered if that was all you were to them. If you were just a puzzle piece waiting to fit into their perfect picture.

The thought made you feel small, insignificant. Like your only worth to them was tied to something you didn’t even want. It wasn’t a new fear- not really- but it had always been something you could push aside. Something you could shake off with a roll of your eyes and a forced laugh.

But not today.

Today, it was eating you alive.

The weeks that followed were quiet. Too quiet. The lively energy you usually brought to Grimmauld Place seemed to dim, like a fire struggling to stay lit. The teasing banter that once felt like second nature now felt heavy, stifling. You found yourself retreating into your room more often, your appetite waning as the days blurred together.

At first, they didn’t notice- not fully. James and Sirius chalked it up to stress, maybe a rough patch. “She’ll bounce back,” Sirius had said confidently, leaning back in his chair like it was a guarantee.

But then you started skipping meals. Not just breakfast, but dinner too. You’d pick at your plate, offering vague excuses before excusing yourself early. The chatter at the table would falter each time you slipped away, the tension thickening like storm clouds.

You avoided Harry most of all. The warm sibling bond you’d always shared felt unbearable now, every interaction laced with an invisible wall you couldn’t bring yourself to break. He’d tried to confront you once, standing awkwardly in the doorway to your room.

“Hey,” he had said, his voice uncertain but soft. “You’ve been… quiet lately. Everything alright?”

You had plastered on a smile, too tight to be convincing. “I’m fine, Harry. Just tired.”

He’d hesitated, his hand gripping the doorframe like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”

The lump in your throat had felt insurmountable, and you’d turned away under the guise of searching for something on your desk. “I know. Thanks.”

He hadn’t pushed further, but you’d felt his lingering gaze before he left, the door clicking softly behind him.

Sirius, of course, noticed the cracks in your armor. He’d tried to coax you back to your usual self with his over-the-top antics, but your forced chuckles only seemed to worry him more. Remus had asked if you were feeling ill, his sharp eyes scanning your face with parental concern, but you waved him off with a quiet reassurance that everything was fine.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting Grimmauld Place in a muted twilight. The kitchen was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the radio in the background and the occasional clatter of dishes as Lily cleaned up after dinner. You sat at the table, idly tracing patterns on the wood with your fingernail, your untouched tea growing cold in front of you.

“Alright, love,” Lily said softly, breaking the silence. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her eyes kind but steady. “I’m not one to pry, but something’s been eating at you for weeks, and we’re all worried.”

You froze, your fingers stilling on the table. “I’m fine,” you muttered, the words automatic, rehearsed.

Lily tilted her head, her fiery hair catching the faint light. “You’re not fine. And that’s okay. But shutting us out isn’t going to help.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” Lily pressed gently. “You’ve been pulling away from everyone-especially Harry. You barely eat, you hardly talk, and you don’t even sass Walburga anymore. That’s not like you.”

The mention of Harry made your chest tighten. You clenched your jaw, your hands curling into fists on the table. “It’s nothing he did,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Lily’s brows lifted slightly, her gaze sharpening. “Then what is it?”

You hesitated, the storm of emotions that had been building for weeks threatening to spill over. The kitchen felt too small, too stifling, and Lily’s unwavering gaze made it impossible to retreat.

“I just…” You started, your voice trembling. You shook your head, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m tired of the jokes. The teasing. All of it.”

Lily frowned, leaning forward slightly. “What jokes?”

“The ones about me and Harry,” you snapped, your voice louder than you intended. “About how we’re perfect for each other. About how it’s destiny. It’s like that’s all anyone sees when they look at us.”

Lily’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt. She waited, giving you the space to continue.

“I’m not…” You took a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat. “I’m not in love with him. I never have been. And I never will be.”

Your voice broke on the last word, and you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders trembling. Lily reached under the table, her hand resting gently on your knee. “It’s alright, love,” she said softly. “Keep going.”

“I hate it,” you admitted, your voice muffled. “I hate how they act like it’s inevitable. Like my only purpose is to… to marry Harry and make everyone happy.”

Lily’s hand squeezed your knee, her touch grounding you. “No one expects that from you,” she said gently. “Not really.”

“They do,” you insisted, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care. “Even if they don’t say it outright, they mean it. And I’m just supposed to go along with it because it’s what they want.”

“Do you want to date Harry?” Lily asked, her voice careful, measured.

You shook your head vehemently, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “No. I don’t. I’ve never wanted that. I don’t… I’m not even attracted to men.”

The confession hung heavy in the air, the weight of it both terrifying and freeing. Lily’s eyes widened briefly, but she quickly masked her surprise with a soft, understanding smile.

“That’s what’s been eating at you,” she said quietly, more to herself than to you. “You’ve been carrying this alone.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t know how to say it. And I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously.”

“I take you seriously,” Lily said firmly, her hand never leaving yours. “And I’m so proud of you for telling me.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door creaked open, and you looked up to see James, Sirius, and Remus standing there, their expressions a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

Lily turned her head toward them, her gaze sharp. “Don’t you dare say a word.”

“We weren’t eavesdropping,” James said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “We just… heard voices.”

You flushed, your chest tightening as their presence threatened to overwhelm you. But Lily’s hand squeezed your knee again, her steady presence grounding you.

“It’s alright,” She murmured, her voice low. “If you’re ready.”

You hesitated, your gaze flickering between the three men. James looked as though he was holding his breath, Sirius’s expression was unreadable, and Remus’s eyes were filled with quiet understanding.

Finally, you exhaled, your shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m not in love with Harry,” you said, your voice steadier now. “And I’m not interested in men. At all. And I- hate that you guys assume. Assume I-” Your voice cracked and there was a long moment of silence.

Sirius moved first, his usual bravado stripped away as he slowly approached you. His grey eyes were soft, filled with something that looked painfully close to regret. He crouched down beside your chair, resting one hand on the table and the other gently on your arm.

"Kid," he started, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t realize we were pushing you like this."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Sirius squeezed your arm lightly, his expression heartbreakingly tender.

"You’re my little girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "The last thing I’d ever want is to make you feel like you’re anything less than exactly who you’re supposed to be. And if we made you feel that way... I’ll never forgive myself."

That did it. The tears you’d been holding back slipped free, and you let out a shaky breath. Sirius reached up to gently wipe one away, his touch careful and loving. "You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You don’t have to be what anyone expects, not even us."

Behind him, Remus was watching with a guarded expression, his gaze flickering between you and James. The latter stood frozen in the doorway, his face pale and his hands trembling at his sides. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

"I..." James started, his voice cracking slightly. He swallowed hard, his hazel eyes glistening as he took a shaky step forward. "I didn’t know. I didn’t- Merlin, I’m so sorry."

You looked up at him, your tears blurring his figure. His voice broke again as he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought we were just joking around, just... having a laugh. I didn’t realize we were hurting you. I would never-" He cut himself off, running a hand through his already-messy hair. "I never wanted you hurting."

Sirius’s hand remained steady on your arm as he glanced back at James, his expression unreadable. But the slight twitch of his jaw and the flicker of his gaze told you he was holding back words of his own.

Remus finally stepped in, his calm, measured tone breaking the tension. "It’s not about what any of us wanted," he said softly, addressing James but keeping his focus on you. "It’s about what she needed- and didn’t get- from the people who were supposed to protect her."

James visibly flinched, his shoulders slumping as he looked at you again. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For every stupid joke, for every time I didn’t think- just, all of it. I’m so, so sorry."

For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight in your chest lighten, just a little. You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to be seen for who I am. Not... not who you all want me to be."

James nodded, his eyes glassy but determined. "You’re right. And from now on, we’ll do better. I’ll do better."

Sirius tightened his grip on your arm briefly before letting go, his hand coming up to cup your face. "We’ll figure this out, pup. You’ve got us. Always."

"And for what it’s worth," Remus added, his soft smile offering a flicker of comfort, "we’re proud of you. For being honest, even when it’s hard."

Before silence could over take the room; Harry entered the kitchen with his usual messy hair and an expression of mild concern, but the moment he saw your tear-streaked face, his demeanor changed entirely. His eyes darted between you, Sirius, and James, his body tensing like he was ready to jump to your defense.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his voice sharp with alarm. He pointed an accusatory finger at James. “Dad, what did you say? Did you-”

“Harry,” You interrupted quickly, your voice wavering but firm. You stood from your chair and took a step toward him, guilt tugging at your chest. “It’s not him. It’s not anyone’s fault. I just… I should’ve talked to you sooner.”

Harry blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked down at you. “Talked to me about what? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I’ve been ignoring you, and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shook his head, his concern not easing. “Don’t worry about that. I just want to know what’s wrong.”

The words caught in your throat for a moment, but then you found the courage to say them. “I like girls.”

Harry stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he said slowly, his tone filled with cautious confusion, “Me too.”

For a brief, horrifying moment, you thought you’d miscalculated everything. But then he raised an eyebrow, smirking as he added, “You kinda snogged my girlfriend, though.”

You blinked, startled by the unexpected quip. Then the absurdity of it hit you, and a laugh bubbled out of your chest, light and free. Harry grinned at your reaction, pulling you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you like a protective barrier, and for the first time in weeks, you had your best friend back.

“I was so worried,” He mumbled into your shoulder, his voice softer now. “You’ve been so distant, and I didn’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” You assured him, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just been… a lot. But I’m okay now. Or I will be.”

Harry pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes searching yours. “You could’ve told me, I’m always on your side, you know that, right?”

You nodded, tears pricking your eyes again, but this time they were accompanied by a warm smile. “I know. Thanks, Harry.”

He ruffled your hair affectionately, his grin mischievous now. “And, for the record, you owe me for Ginny. That was cheeky.”

“I’ll buy her flowers,” Your smirked with a chuckle, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

“I said you owe me. Stop trying to take her from me.” He chuckled, shoving you softly.

The room, once so heavy with tension, now felt warm again. Sirius, James, and Remus watched from the sidelines, their expressions a mixture of relief and quiet pride. Harry kept his arm around your shoulders as he turned to his dad and the others.

“Well,” he said brightly, “looks like we’re all good here. Is the kitchen open again? I feel like I'm owed desert- you made my cousin cry.”

The group erupted into laughter, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could laugh with them- truly laugh, without the weight of expectation holding you down.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #Remus Lupin x daughter!reader #Sirius Black x Daughter!reader #wolfstar #wolfstar!daughter #lily evans #hermione granger x reader #ginny weasley x reader #luna lovegood x reader #lily evans x james potter #sirius black x remus lupin

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russellsppttemplates · 2 days ago

Text

Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.

Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.

"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.

"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.

"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.

"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.

"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".

"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.

"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.

Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.

A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.

"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.

"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.

"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.

"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.

And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.

"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".

"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.

"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.

"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.

"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.

"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.

"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.

"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.

"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.

"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.

"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.

"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.

"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.

"You don't have to", you reasoned.

"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".

He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.

"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.

"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.

The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.

"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.

"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.

"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".

"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.

When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.

As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.

“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".

Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.

As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.

Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.

You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".

P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".

Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.

Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.

As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.

Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.

By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".

"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.

"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.

Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".

It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.

As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.

One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.

Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.

Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.

“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.

“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.

“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.

Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.

“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.

“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".

But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".

“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.

“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".

You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.

Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.

Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.

“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.

“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".

"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.

"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.

Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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dirtyvulture · 21 hours ago

Text

The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes.

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate.

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out.

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan.

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you.

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes.

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases.

You turn and wink at her.

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie.

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say.

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you.

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha.

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand.

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her.

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this.

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you.

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though.

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn.

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly.

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor.

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her.

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration.

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind.

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue.

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer.

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours.

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

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

AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

To be continued...(hopefully)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

305 notes · View notes

trashytracktales · 1 day ago

Note

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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sailorsoons · 1 day ago

Text

Amnesia (c.sc)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another.

Word Count: 11,920

Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers

Type: Smut, Angst if you squint

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Under the cut

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2: Thank you @yoongukie-ff for sending me your original reblog of this to pull the summary information from. I appreciate you and I love you!

Main Masterlist | Tag List Request Form | Ask | Playlist

Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes.

DAY ONE

You’re a goner as soon as you lay eyes on him. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face.

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says.

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan.

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt.

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though.

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.”

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?”

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?”

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.”

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.”

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism.

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group.

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap.

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin.

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.”

“No, no, you are. Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.”

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.”

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.”

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do.

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.”

“I’m down.”

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back.

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.”

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.”

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?”

“What will you give me?”

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful.

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more.

You already do want more.

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment.

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes.

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.”

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.”

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet.

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.”

DAY TEN

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :) You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad? Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :)

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?”

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?”

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?”

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.”

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out.

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control.

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine?

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot.

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees…

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass.

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something.

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be.

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.”

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.”

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.”

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.”

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom.

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine.

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick.

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance.

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder.

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door.

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.”

“Too bad.”

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck.

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.”

“Hmmm. I’m listening.”

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.

“I’ll massage your shoulders…”

“Hmm.”

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.”

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him.

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.”

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do.

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily.

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom.

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on.

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin.

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs.

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?”

“Shut up.”

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door.

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.”

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing.

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist.

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves.

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns.

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth.

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy.

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.”

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.”

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?”

“Antigone by Sophocles.”

“What’s that one about?”

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered.

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.”

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.”

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.”

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.”

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs.

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit.

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently.

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.”

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up.

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you.

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy.

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance.

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it.

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm.

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.”

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come.

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily.

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.”

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance.

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him.

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.”

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin.

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him.

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you.

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.”

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass.

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you.

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish.

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.”

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.”

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.”

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.”

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable.

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.”

“Alright.”

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.”

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.”

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?”

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?”

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily.

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?”

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget.

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to.

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber”

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs.

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it.

“I suppose I can be convinced.”

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?”

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s-

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.”

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.”

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!”

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing.

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you.

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs.

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to.

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches.

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes.

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you.

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs.

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much.

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator.

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation.

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table.

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him.

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements.

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.”

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.”

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar.

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey.

Seungcheol wants this.

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you.

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you.

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd.

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by.

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss.

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants.

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop.

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too.

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.”

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.”

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.”

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving.

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status.

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky.

“Gonna suck something else, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?”

“Huh?”

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You should have seen your face, though.”

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket.

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway.

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours.

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there.

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire.

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch.

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?”

“Fucking anywhere will do.”

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.”

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.”

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it.

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off.

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.”

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily.

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips.

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.”

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you.

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his.

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you.

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.”

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft.

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers.

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?”

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.”

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter.

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you.

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.”

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you.

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over.

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.”

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.”

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously.

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?”

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.”

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are.

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping.

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.”

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached.

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.”

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little.

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself.

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you.

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you.

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours.

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come.

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle.

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears.

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch.

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you.

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand.

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.”

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?”

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.”

“Sure thing, wifey.”

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?”

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.”

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.”

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.”

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.”

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.”

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.”

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.”

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.”

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mylovesstuffs · 2 days ago

Text

OT13 reacting to their s/o who loves smiles but feels insecure about showing their teeth

Request: Halooo I am the same anon that req wisdom tooth drabble!!! So can I req for svt ot13 s/o that love smile but never showed their teeth cause they're insecure with it?? I do have an open bite and I do be jealous w ppl that can smile with their normal teeth 🥲🥲 Also can I be ur ⭐️ anon??

A/N: This is dedicated to all kinds of smiles—big, small, toothy, closed, crooked, or perfectly aligned. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, especially when society has such rigid standards for something as personal as a smile. But the truth is, the world isn’t looking for perfect smiles; it’s looking for your smile—the one that lights up the people around you, the one that reflects your joy, and the one that makes you you. Whether you’re someone who shows off their teeth confidently or someone who keeps their smiles shy, you are absolutely radiant just the way you are. I hope this reaction brings you warmth, and maybe even a little courage to embrace your smile, because SEVENTEEN and I think it’s the best one there is. Thank you for reading, and remember: your smile is a gift, not just to you but to everyone lucky enough to see it! 💛

I definitely encourage you to read everyone's part, especially Minghao's.

Seungcheol: Cheol would notice right away how you always smile with your lips closed. He’d encourage you without pushing too hard, so you’d catch him saying things like, “I love it when you smile—it’s my favorite thing about you.” And when you explain why you’re self-conscious, his protective mode kicks in. In his mind, you’re perfect exactly as you are. He’d make a habit of kissing your forehead after every smile, as if to say, Thank you for sharing this with me. Warm, comforting, and always your biggest cheerleader.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan is a tease—but in the sweetest way possible. He’d catch you hiding your teeth and tease you playfully about how even your shy smile could start a fan club. But deep down, he’d be the FIRST to remind you that nobody’s smile is ‘wrong’. He’d even come up with ridiculous scenarios like, “If anyone says anything about your teeth, I’ll report them to Smile Security.” Sure, it’s dramatic, but somehow it’s comforting. With him, you’d slowly start to see your smile through his eyes: bright, genuine, and absolutely worth showing off.

Joshua: Shua’s the ‘patient and reassuring’ type. He’d never rush you into anything but would always make it known how much he loves your smile—whether or not it shows your teeth. He’d probably sit with you one evening and casually mention how he used to be insecure about something too, just to remind you that everyone has their struggles. The way he’d look at you every time you smiled? Pure love and admiration. Slowly but surely, you’d start feeling like, Maybe my smile isn’t so bad after all.

Jun: Junhui wouldn’t even let you finish explaining your insecurity before he’d start showering you with compliments. He’d be so sweet and genuine about it too, like, “What? But your smile is so pretty! Have you seen yourself?” He’d probably find little ways to make you smile more, through goofy antics or heartfelt gestures. The best part? He’d never let you feel like you had to change—he loves your smile, whether it’s teeth-showing or not. And his genuine enthusiasm? It’s impossible not to feel a little brighter around him.

Hoshi: Hoshi would make it his personal mission to see your biggest, toothiest smile. He’s dramatic like that. He'd do the silliest things to make you laugh, like impersonating the other members or dancing in the weirdest ways (mind you he's performance team leader TT). When you finally let out a full smile, he’d stop mid-act and just stare. “Wow. That’s the one. That’s the smile that could light up a stadium.” And you’d know he’s not exaggerating (even though he’s Hoshi and exaggerates everything). It’s just how he loves—with his whole heart. I'm feeling soft :(

Wonwoo: He’d notice your insecurities but wouldn’t bring them up directly. Instead, would focus on making you comfortable and appreciated. He’d probably start complimenting you in subtle ways, like, “Your smile is really nice,” or “You look happiest when you smile.” Over time, his steady reassurance would make you feel less self-conscious. And when you finally smile without holding back, he’d just give you that soft, proud look, as if to say, See? I knew it was beautiful.

Woozi: Woozi would be a mix of logical and sweet about it. He’d listen to your reasons and then quietly debunk every single one of them, like, “Who said teeth have to be perfect to make a smile beautiful? That’s nonsense.” He’d focus more on how your smile makes him feel—happy, loved, and lucky to know you. And if you ever caught him sneaking a photo of you smiling? Just know it’s because he wants to remember how happy you looked in that moment.

Dokyeom: Oh boy, Seokmin would be all over this. He lives for smiles, especially yours. He’d probably start a whole campaign to make you feel better about it, complete with compliments, funny jokes, and random bursts of Look at that gorgeous smile! energy. You’d have no choice but to smile around him because he’s just that infectious. And when you finally let out a toothy grin, he’d gasp like, “I KNEW IT! YOU HAVE THE BEST SMILE IN THE WORLD!” Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Mingyu: Kim Mingyu, the man he is, would be the type to go above and beyond to make you feel good about your smile. He’d start by complimenting you constantly and taking candid photos where you look natural and happy. Then, he’d show them to you like, “Look at this—your smile could cure my bad days.” He’d probably even bring it up to the members like, “Isn’t her smile the best thing ever?” And when you roll your eyes at him, he’d just grin and say, “See? Even your eyeroll smile is perfect.” AHHGHTCGTCGCFFCCT

Minghao: Hao would be supportive and no-nonsense. He’d listen to your insecurities, acknowledge your feelings, and then remind you that nobody’s perfect. “Imperfections make us human,” he’d say, and it would somehow hit deeper than you expected. He’d probably encourage you to focus on how your smile feels rather than how it looks, and over time, his grounded perspective would help you see your smile in a whole new light. With him (with others too), you’d start to appreciate the beauty in being uniquely you.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be the loudest advocate for your smile. “Are you kidding me!” He’d probably start hyping you up every time you smiled, to the point where it becomes impossible not to feel confident about it. And if anyone dared to say something negative about your teeth? Oh, he’d drag them to filth, no hesitation I'm telling you. With Seungkwan in your corner, you’d never have to doubt your smile again.

Vernon: He would be ridiculously sweet. He’d casually drop comments like, “Your smile’s cool,” and then act like it’s no big deal—when really, he’s melting inside every time he sees it. He’d never pressure you to show your teeth but would secretly be over the moon whenever you did. And the way he’d look at you in those moments? Pure adoration. Honestly, he’d make you feel like the coolest person in the world, open bite or not.

Dino: Chan would be all about boosting your confidence. He’d give you a pep talk about how unique smiles are the best smiles and how yours is his favorite thing about you. He’d hype you up so much that you’d almost feel like a celebrity. And when you finally smiled without holding back, he’d act like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “That’s it! That’s the smile that could rules my heart!” That’s just how much he cares.

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jianwon · 2 days ago

Note

Hiii! Could u do a roommate or best friend semi who secretly likes you however u have a lover so she doesn't show her feelings too much and maybe u had a fight/broke up with them so semi comforts you? You can choose how to end this! (also doesnt have to be smut)

closer than you think

sypnosis. when se-mi moves in with the y/n, their unlikely friendship grows into something deeper. as y/n faces heartbreak, se-mi’s unwavering support reveals that love might have been beside her all along.

content— roommate!se-mi x fem!reader. pure fluff. mild angst. reader has a boyfriend. emotional distress. one-sided love. mentions of squid game characters.

a/n— thank you so much for the request anon! i genuinely had so much fun writing this! i hope this meets your expectations, enjoy reading :3

wordcount. 3.2k

when se-mi first moved into the dorm apartment with you, she had no idea how much her life was about to change.

at first, their dynamic had been straightforward. se-mi was the quiet, reserved type who preferred to spend her evenings locked in her room, practicing new tunes on her bass guitar, while y/n was the friendly, energetic whirlwind who could strike up a conversation with anyone, and anywhere.

“you’re going to love it here,” you had said on your first day together, your smile radiant as you unpacked boxes together. “i just know we’re going to be the best of friends!” se-mi had smiled politely, unsure of what to expect. but as the weeks turned into months, she found herself drawn to your warmth.

you had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special. whether it was dragging se-mi to the convenience store for late-night snacks or convincing her to sing in the living room to terrible pop songs, you just had a knack for pulling se-mi out of her shell.

se-mi, in turn, became a quiet anchor in your life. she was the one who stayed up with you during stressful exam weeks, making you coffee and offering soft reassurances. she was the one who listened without judgment when you needed to vent about your problems.

somewhere along the way, se-mi realized her feelings for you had grown into something deeper. but by then, it was too late. you were already taken by someone else.

the apartment was already alive with the smell of coffee and the soft hum of music drifting from the kitchen when you stumbled out of your room, your hair a tousled mess.

“morning, sunshine,” se-mi’s voice floated over from the kitchen, smooth and calm, as if she hadn’t been awake for hours. you yawned, dragging your feet toward the source of the smell. “morning,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

se-mi stood at the counter, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back in a loose half-up ponytail. she was frying eggs while keeping an eye on the toaster. “you’re up early,” you noted, leaning against the counter.

se-mi glanced at her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “someone has to keep this place running while you sleep like a log,” she teased. you stuck your tongue out. “excuse me for needing beauty rest.”

se-mi chuckled, setting a plate of toast and eggs in front of you. “you’re already cute enough. no need to overdo it.” you could feel your cheeks burn, and quickly focused on the food. “thanks," your voice barely above a whisper.

you ate breakfast together, your conversation light and easy as you talked about your plans for the day. se-mi couldn’t help but steal glances at you, who seemed to glow in the morning light.

afterward, you settled into your usual weekend routine. you dragged se-mi out to a nearby park for a walk, chattering away about a funny incident at uni while se-mi listened with a small smile.

"you’re not even paying attention!” you accused, poking se-mi’s arm. “i am,” se-mi replied smoothly. “your classmate tripped on his own shoelaces and blamed it on your laptop charger.”you laughed, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “okay, fine. you’re listening.”

the day passed in a blur of shared moments. groceries, laundry, a quick detour to your favorite café for iced drinks. everything about your routine felt natural, comforting, like pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

the dorm apartment was unusually still, the soft hum of the city outside the only sound filling the quiet. se-mi sat on the couch, her legs stretched out lazily as she scrolled aimlessly through her phone. her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, a faint crease forming on her otherwise calm face.

7:30 pm. you were supposed to be home two hours ago.

her thumb hovered over her phone screen, considering whether to text, but she resisted. instead, she locked her phone and leaned her head back against the couch. the silence felt heavier than usual, and though se-mi would never admit it out loud, she hated the way the apartment felt so empty when you weren't around.

both of you had planned this evening all week. pizza, your favorite show, and a late-night chat about anything and everything. se-mi had looked forward to it more than she cared to admit. but the way time dragged on hinted at what she already suspected: you weren't coming home on time.

the faint sound of keys jingling reached her ears, and se-mi immediately sat up straighter, her cool expression slipping back into place. the door clicked open, and there you were. you stepped inside, your usual cheerful energy noticeably dimmed.

“you’re late,” se-mi said, her tone light but sharp enough to convey her displeasure. she leaned back against the couch, feigning nonchalance even as her eyes lingered on your face.

you paused mid-step, a sheepish grin forming instantly. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, se-mi.” closing the door behind you, placing your bag on the counter. “my boyfriend wanted to introduce me to his friends, and, well… i couldn’t say no.”

him.

se-mi didn’t let her smile falter, though the familiar pang of disappointment twisted in her chest. she shrugged, crossing her arms casually. “it’s fine,” she replied, her tone cool, though it wasn’t. “guess the show can wait another day, it's late.”

you plopped down on the couch beside her, leaning close enough that se-mi could feel the faint warmth radiating from you. the proximity was both comforting and torturous.

"i really am sorry,” you said softly, tilting your head to meet se-mi’s gaze. “i’ll make it up to you. promise.”

se-mi chuckled, the sound low and teasing. “you always say that,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. her fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before pulling away. “but i guess i can’t stay mad at you. you’re lucky you’re cute.” you laughed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “you’re the best, se-mi. seriously.”

se-mi simply smirked, but her heart ached in ways she couldn’t control.

this wasn’t the first time you had canceled plans because of your boyfriend, and se-mi doubted it would be the last. it had become a pattern: you would enthusiastically make plans with se-mi, only to break them at the last minute when your boyfriend demanded your time instead.

se-mi had grown used to the disappointment, though that didn’t make it sting any less. it wasn’t just about the canceled plans, it was about the way your boyfriend treated you. se-mi had seen it firsthand. the dismissive comments, the controlling behavior, the way he always seemed to chip away at your bright energy.

and yet, se-mi never said a word. she knew her place.

late at night, when the apartment was quiet and you were asleep in your room, se-mi would stare at the ceiling, imagining a different reality. one where you weren't with someone who didn’t deserve you. one where you saw her, truly saw her as more than just a friend.

but that was just wishful thinking.

it was late in the evening when your phone buzzed on the coffee table. you glanced at the screen and sighed, your shoulders slumping.

nam-gyu.

“your boyfriend?” se-mi asked, her voice neutral but her gaze sharp. you nodded, picking up the phone but hesitating before unlocking it. se-mi could see the conflict in your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” se-mi asked softly, setting her guitar down and turning her full attention to you. biting your lip, your fingers tightening around the phone. floods of ranging messages overtaking your screen.

“he’s mad at me,” you admitted. se-mi raised an eyebrow. “why?”

"i don’t know,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “he just… he says i don’t make enough time for him. that i’m always with you instead.” se-mi’s heart clenched at the words. she had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still stung.

“i don’t understand,” you continued, voice breaking. “i try so hard to balance everything, to make him happy, but it’s never enough.”

se-mi reached out, gently placing a hand over your hand. “hey,” she said softly. “it’s not your obligation to make him happy all the damn time. if he can’t appreciate how amazing you are, that’s on him, not you.” your eyes filled with tears, and she quickly wiped them away.

“you’re always so supportive,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

se-mi swallowed hard, her heart aching for her friend. “you deserve someone who makes you feel like you’re enough,” she said quietly, her thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "i’m just tired.." you whispered, leaning into se-mi’s touch.

se-mi nodded, her hand tightening slightly. “then rest,” she said softly. “i’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.” you nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

you leaned against se-mi’s shoulder, and both of you sat like that for a long time, the silence between you filled with quiet understanding.

you stared at the darkened phone screen, chest tightening with a mix of relief and ache. the quiet of your room suddenly felt suffocating, the weight of nam-gyu's words still hanging in the air. drawing in a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

for a moment, you didn’t move, your mind replaying the conversation over and over again. you had known for a long time that things between you and nam-gyu weren’t right, but hearing the words aloud "you know what? we’re done." made it all feel real in a way you weren't sure you were ready for.

a soft knock at your door broke the silence. “y/n?” se-mi’s voice called gently from the other side. “i heard you shouting from across the living room, is everything okay?”

you hesitated, fingers brushing over the phone in your lap before setting it aside. “yeah,” you said, your voice unsteady. “just… give me a minute.”

there was a pause, and then se-mi responded, her voice quieter. “i’m here if you need me.”

you closed her eyes, the tears finally spilling over. the warmth in se-mi’s words was a stark contrast to the coldness you had just experienced. you wiped your cheeks quickly, not wanting to let the weight of the conversation linger any longer than it already had.

a minute later, you opened the door to find se-mi standing there, her brow furrowed with concern. “what’s wrong?” se-mi asked, her voice soft but steady.

shaking your head, trying to muster a smile. “it’s nothing. nam-gyu and i had a fight... again."

“what did he say?” se-mi’s expression darkened slightly, her jaw tightening. “it doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, stepping aside to let se-mi in. “it’s over now. we’re over.”

se-mi’s eyes widened, and she immediately reached out, resting a comforting hand on your arm. “are you okay?” you let out a shaky laugh, brushing at her face again. “i don’t know. i think so? i mean… it’s probably for the best, right?”

se-mi didn’t respond right away. instead, she guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, sitting beside you. “if it’s what you decided, then yeah, it’s for the best,” she said firmly. “but it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.”

you nodded, lips trembling as you tried to keep yourself together. “it’s just… he made me feel like everything was my fault. like i was the reason we weren’t working.”

“he’s wrong,” se-mi said immediately, her voice sharp in a way you didn’t hear often. “you’ve done nothing but try to make that relationship work. if he couldn’t see that, that’s on him.”

the conviction in se-mi’s voice brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time, they didn’t feel as heavy. you let out a deep breath.

“thank you..” you whispered.

se-mi didn’t reply right away, but her arm came up to wrap gently around your shoulders, holding you close. “you don’t have to thank me,” she murmured. “i’ll always be here for you, y/n. no matter what.” and for the first time that night, you felt like you could finally breathe.

"you’re going to be okay,” se-mi said, her voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded slowly, the weight on your chest easing with every word se-mi spoke. “it’s just… i gave so much to that relationship, you know?” you said, your voice cracking. “and it still wasn’t enough.”

se-mi’s hand dropped to yours, her fingers curling around it in a reassuring grip. “that’s because he didn’t know how to appreciate you,” she said, her tone firm. “you gave him everything, i've seen it all and that’s why, it's not your fault.”

your fingers tightened around se-mi’s as you let out a shaky breath. “you always know what to say,” you murmured. “that’s because i care about you,” se-mi replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “more than you realize.”

the words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. your eyes searching se-mi’s face. “se-mi…”

se-mi’s smile faltered slightly, but she held your gaze. “i just… i hate seeing you hurt,” she admitted. “you deserve to be with someone who makes you feel loved. who puts you first.”

as both of you sat there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence, the weight of the past began to fade, replaced by the quiet, unshakable hope of something new.

over the next few weeks, se-mi devoted herself to helping you heal. she dragged you out for walks in the park, tried every café in town, and even endured cheesy romantic comedies just to see you smile again.

one afternoon, as you wandered through a small bookstore, se-mi handed you a novel. “this one’s about a girl who finally realizes the perfect person for her was in front of her all along,” she said with a sly smile.

you rolled her eyes but took the book. “are you trying to make me cry again?”

“maybe,” se-mi teased, her smirk softening into something warmer. “or maybe I’m just reminding you of something important.”

it had been months since your breakup. the apartment had regained most of its usual warmth, though there was still a lingering heaviness in the air.

se-mi had been patient, giving you space to heal while quietly supporting you in every way she could. but tonight felt different. there was a nervous energy coursing through se-mi’s veins, an urgency she couldn’t quite explain.

you were both sitting on the couch, the faint glow of the television casting soft shadows across your faces. a bowl of popcorn sat forgotten, and you were laughing at something on the screen.

se-mi wasn’t paying attention to the show. her eyes were fixed on you, her heart pounding in her chest.

“y/n.." she said, her voice cutting through the laughter. you turned to her, your smile fading slightly at the seriousness in se-mi’s tone. “what's up?” se-mi hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

she had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in her head, but now that it was here, the words felt heavy on her tongue.

“i-i need to tell you something,” she began, her voice quieter than usual. “and i need you to promise you’ll hear me out.”

your brows furrowed in concern, shifting closer to se-mi. “of course. what’s going on?” se-mi took a deep breath, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. "i like you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “more than a friend.” you blinked, your eyes widening. “you… what?”

“i've liked you for a long time,” se-mi continued, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “probably longer than i should have. but i didn’t say anything because you were with someone else, and i didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

her gaze dropped to her lap, unable to meet your eyes. “but i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way. not when i see you every day, and not when i know how much better i could treat you if you’d just let me.”

the room was silent except for the faint hum of the television. se-mi’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest. finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “se-mi… i-i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” se-mi said quickly, lifting her head to meet your gaze. “i just… i just needed you to know. and no matter what you decide, i'll still be here for you. always.”

your expression was a mix of emotions. confusion, surprise, and something else that se-mi couldn’t quite place. slowly, a small, tentative smile began to form on your lips. “you're so stupidly perfect, you know that?” you said softly, leaning closer.

se-mi blinked, caught off guard. “what?” you chuckled, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “you're always there for me. always putting me first, even when you don’t have to. it's hard not to notice, se-mi.” se-mi’s breath hitched, her heart soaring. “does that mean…?”

you raised a hand, gently brushing your fingers against se-mi’s cheek. “i don’t know yet,” you admitted, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “but i promise i'll think about it. i just… need time.”

se-mi nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “take all the time you need.” you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to se-mi’s cheek, lingering for just a moment before pulling away. “thank you,” you whispered, smiling warmly.

se-mi’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “of course.”

the days that followed were different. there was a subtle shift in the air between the both of you, a new kind of tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

se-mi found herself hyper-aware of every little moment. every time your hands brushed, every shared glance, every teasing comment that lingered just a bit too long. you seemed to notice it too. you started seeking se-mi out more often, your smiles softer, your laughter brighter.

your “friend” dates became more frequent, and se-mi couldn’t help but notice how you would lean into her touch just a little more than before.

one afternoon, as you sat in your favorite café, se-mi caught you staring at her. "what?” se-mi asked, raising an eyebrow. you shook her head, a small smile playing on your lips. “nothing. just… thinking.”

“about what?” you hesitated for a moment before leaning forward, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “about how lucky i am to have you.” se-mi’s heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her cool. “you better be,” she teased, smirking. “i'm not this nice to just anyone, you know."

you laughed, the sound warm and familiar. and for the first time in a long while, se-mi allowed herself to hope.

a/n— requests are always open!

#player 380 #player 380 x reader #se mi #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #semi x reader #semi #squid game #squid game player 380 #won ji an #squid games #wlw #lesbian #lei writes 𐙚⋆.˚

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