#the cozy drinks...the sparkling lights...

[anqaspond]

im in my "deeply misses christmas" phase of the year again

[fallingforchristmasworld]

[gloriasheaven]

gloria's heaven ♡

[callmemickey]

Cumming Home for Christmas

synopsis: Simon surprised you by being home 3 weeks early, which means you get to take him to your family’s Christmas get together! Unfortunately, Simon hasn’t had his fill of you… How thin do you think the walls are in the bathroom?

content: Afab, porn w a plot, smut (dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, quickie, slightly public? maybe other stuff idk) fluff fluff fluff kind of angst if you squint real hard he just loves you sm my sweet Angel babey reader muah love u 2

word count: 3.7k

notes: Don’t ask me why I chose Christmas this is purely self-indulgent. Also, he’s a brunette going off of the comics, so I’m running with that thx!

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Warm Christmas lights, sparkling ciders and the expensive alcohol, the soft hum of cozy Christmas jazz on the speakers, family buzzing and soaking in each other’s presence - there was nothing else you could ask for. In this massive sea of black and red formal attire, your family, both close and extended, came together for an amazing holiday party at your grandparents’ estate.

Simon, who surprised you by coming home over three weeks early, has accompanied you as your plus one to the family’s holiday party. It made the event even better. Your family adored Simon to bits and pieces, constantly embarrassing you in front of him, begging to know when he wanted to start a family with you, your aunts drinking too much and asking him to take off his coat and flex. He dealt with the melting pot of clashing personalities better than you had ever imagined.

Simon expertly handled the socializing carefully and precisely. He preferred to be an observer in these bigger settings rather than to speak. He gave simple answers that were concise one liners, saving his social battery. So, to make up for it, he would escape to assist anybody needing aid. When dinner was ready, he assisted in the kitchen, making sure that everybody had their meals first, and was later caught cleaning the kitchen (much to your displeasure). He also helped light your grandfather’s cigar outside. The Parkinson’s has been making it difficult for him to light them on his own, and Simon even listened to an old war story.

It was unbelievable how much you loved this man.

Now, nieces and nephews weaved between adults and furniture, the fireplace burned hot and strong, people laughed and yelled happily over the gentle music, and the scent of baking pies and pastries wafted and filled the air. Your lovely military fiancé, overworked and tired on his break, did so well to deal with this. Of course, Simon, being an incredibly selfless person willing to compromise in any situation or scenario just to make you happy, said that it was alright when you invited him. “Nothing would make me happier,” he had said in a low, roughened voice - which was right before he buried his face between your legs.

But I digress.

Simon stood next to you as your uncle told you both in absolute monotony about his recent trip to Italy, “So beautiful. Your aunt Amelia and I want to get a vacation home there.” He finished, and you nodded awkwardly. “Sounds like you and aunt Millie had a great time, uncle Mike.” Your tone was dry while Simon nodded and hummed in response. He just wasn’t… very present.

Simon had his attention and focus set on pretty high at the beginning of the night, but he was able to relax a little bit since then, to let himself just be in the moment - or so the psychiatrist says he should. He was actively paying attention to the conversation, yes that is true, but the hand holding your waist began to… wander, a little bit. Slowly at first, but much faster now. With a hand that started on your shoulder in the beginning of the night, bit by bit lowered down your back, smoothing above the top of your ass and to your hip. Fingers pressing deep into the black velvet of your dress, Simon tried to keep you caged next to him. That didn’t matter though, because you would have done little to resist him.

You two shared a quick glance. His dark brown eyes were slightly glossed, his gaze a salaciousness that he always brings home. Ooh, it made you want to rub your thighs together just to feel something. You nodded again to your uncle Mike when he brought up something else that was equally boring. Simon, having a better idea and use for his time, suddenly seemed to have remembered something, “Apologies, Mike, but Y/N and I have to make an important phone call.” You looked up at him.

That brief look in his eye was so, so hungry. The greed brewed like a dark storm. You felt a hot chill race down your spine, your core began to burn. You acted as if you remembered the same ‘something’ as well. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we almost forgot!” You gasped in a low voice. His fingers squeezed your hip, making your chest slowly fall into shallow breaths as you could imagine him purring in your ear.

Good girl.

You two waved him off as you turned to leave the kitchen. Simon took the wine glass from your hand and placed it on the countertops as you two walked through the doorway. His hand pressed on your lower back, guiding you into the dark hallway. The armoire in the middle lit with warm candles that smelled of cinnamon and spiced apples, casting shadows that bounced and flickered across the walls. It helped light your way to the restroom, but it also kept you two enveloped in shadows to help hide whatever sins you were going to commit. Simon, without a word, opened the bathroom, and with nobody inside, he sweeped you in, locking the door behind you two.

The bathroom had warm string lights strung across the crown molding, and a window with fake candles sat high on the wall. The room was a little loud with the echoes, so you smacked the switch on the wall to turn the fan on, hoping to mask whatever sounds were going to flood the room.

Not even a second, in such a calculated move, Simon plucked his mask off and had your lips locked with his as he hoisted you onto the sink counter. All you could do in that flurry of movement was gasp, his hands gingerly holding your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, sighing as you felt a hardened tent in his trousers press eagerly against your clothed cunt.

You ran your hands through his dark brown hair, a moan running from you into him as his hands gave your ass a harsh squeeze. He ground his hips into you, pulling a whimper from you as he pressed roughly against your thrumming clit. Simon broke from your mouth, kissing your neck as his fingers pushed up into your dress, grabbing your panties.

“Quiet - or they’ll hear us,” he whispered against your flesh. You panted with a nod as he slipped your panties off, tossing them onto the floor along with his jacket. Simon quickly unbuttoned his white sleeves, rolling them up to reveal his heavily veined forearms, his one arm tattooed with black. He expertly undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down slightly, his hardened cock springing free.

He kept kissing your neck, lightly sucking to tease but not enough to hickey or bruise. His fingers dipped into your embarrassingly wet sex, rubbing at your clit and folds before pushing two fingers into you. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, so wet already.” His voice was a growl against your neck, slowly pumping them, his fingers rubbing up against that spongy spot inside.

It caused you to mewl. Simon’s one hand jumped to cup your mouth shut, making you gasp. The movement threw you off balance, your upper back falling back to press against the mirror while grabbing onto his wrist for support. He continued to finger you and hold your mouth closed, your whimpers mumbled in his hand.

Just as quick as you just started grinding your hips, he pulled his fingers away. A disappointed moan left broken up between your mouth and his palm. Simon grabbed his cock and started to pump himself, lubricating it with your juices before rubbing against your clit. He moved his hand from your mouth down to your hip.

You whimpered, “Oh my god, Simon.” Your hips wriggled and bucked against the dizzying sensation. He chuckled, slowly pressing his cock into your hot, wet cunt. The familiar stretch made you hum in need. “You’re gonna tease me? On Christmas?” You whined, your legs once again wrapped around his hips, urging him to sink into you.

“Ahh, have you been a good girl, though?” He asked in a low rumble, his other hand grabbing the other hip, his prepared stance making your hole clench around his member. He had a half-lidded stare, swirling with a level of lust you couldn’t really see the end of - bottomless and ravenous. Simon towered over you.

“I’m always a good girl for you, Simon,” You cooed.

He slowly pushed in, making you inhale sharply as you stretched so wide to allow him to fit. You held your breath as he pushed his cock through. “I’m just teasing, love - I know you’ll always be my good girl,” he said with warmth in his voice.

His tip kissed your cervix as he nestled fully, deeply, completely. Your head rolled back on the mirror as a satisfied sigh escaped you, but Simon’s grip on your hips tightened intensely. You gasped as he began a fast pace, his hips slapping loudly against your thighs and echoing in the bathroom. It was almost too much. It gave you little time to prepare for his entering, but you settled nicely around him after a few more thrusts.

Simon wasn’t normally this fast. He loved to hit with hard strokes, but nothing typically of this pace. Fortunately, you weren’t one to complain. It was so goddamn good. You hate it when your fiancé is away, not knowing where he was for most of the time, but when he’s gone for so long and comes back? Fuck. It’s criminal how good the sex is. His impatience made it impeccable.

But you were desperate. You wanted to cry and moan and yell, to beg and pray for him to bring you to a higher plane of pleasure. Oh, God, you would do anything for it, anything for him. You grasped at his forearms, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving stinging crescent moon shaped imprints in their path. He groaned lightly at your sharp grip, a soft chuckle coming from him. “Oh, you like this?” He asked, and you nodded, biting your lower lip to keep anything but your gasps, pants, and squeaks from escaping.

“Touch yourself,” his voice wasn’t harsh, but it was a demand.

With one hand still on Simon’s arm, the other moved to your clit, and you began to rub in quick circles. Simon watched your face twist and change: your mouth hanging open as you panted, but occasionally closed to bite your lip so to stop yourself from moaning; eyes half-lidded, barely open, glazed, and painfully horny; back bowing and arching, your toes curling, body just at a loss at what it can handle. This was Simon’s favorite view in the world. It’s what he came home for. It’s what he fought for.

A moan tumbled from your mouth as you held on for dear life. “S-Simon!” You whined his name, the heat inside of you burning red hot, uncontrolled, and rampant.

“S’alright love,” his voice was soft, “you gonna cum?”

You nodded quickly, the fingers on your clit stuttering as you found your release fast approaching, his almost brutal pace not slowing in the slightest. “I’m gonna c- ah- cum, Simon!” You struggled not to say too loud. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, Y/N,” he ushered, “cum for me.” Simon knew how to drive you over the edge. His hand reached out, firmly but gently cupping over your mouth to keep your head in place - and to push back your lascivious sounds.

A moan found itself trapped, lodged in your throat as you fought with your whole might not to yell and cry out. Your orgasm ripped through and crashed over you like a tsunami. He had unraveled you.

Your back arched, and you couldn’t roll your head back. Your lashes flickered as you struggled to keep your eyes from crossing or rolling back to look at Simon while you came. The fingers you had on your clit stopped moving as you were paralyzed, but the grip you had on his forearm stayed strong, “Ahhh, fuckin’ look at you. That’s a good girl, cummin’ nice and pretty on my cock. You like that, yeah?” He groaned, hips putting in more power to drill into your tightened pussy, tears pricking at your eyes as the orgasm left your legs shaking around him.

Simon retracted his hand, grabbing back at your hip. You let out a quick, small cry as your free hand held back onto his forearm. “Y’alright, love?” He grunted, and you nodded furiously before he could stop, but he started slowing down. You didn’t want him too. “Need- I need you,” you gasped, “don’t stop, Simon.” You whimpered.

Oh, to be buried deep inside your pussy was all he could have ever hoped for upon coming home. Y/N, ever so kind and giving. Simon tightened his hands around your hips again and began the brutal pace as you struggled to keep silent.

That’s when you felt your body heating up again. Your sex thrummed with the building pleasure and excitement once more, causing you to moan while you held onto his wrists. A light sheen of sweat sat on your skin, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your flesh.

Simon moaned softly with a smirk, your fucked out expression and legs lazily clinging onto his hips was such an amazing sight. The snapping of him against you had beat your pussy red, leaving it angrily aroused. “You gonna cum again? Yeah? Ahhh, thas my needy girl.” Desperate, tiny grunts popped out of you with each thrust, your pussy swallowing Simon deeply.

“Si-Simon! Gonna- c-cum!” You gasped out with each pump. 

Your orgasm hit like a rapid flash of heat and pleasure. A squeal escaped you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back, legs around Simon’s waist tightened, your whole body trembled from his unrelenting pace. Your face was flushed red, eyes completely glazed and lost as your hair stuck to your face.

“Ah, f-fuck, so fuckin’ tight. So good - my girl is so good, God, cummin’ on my cock, just like that.” He growled, his hips slowly beginning to fall off rhythm while his orgasm began to creep up on him.

You moaned and begged, “Ah, Simon, nngh, I-I can’t- please cum!”

“Don’t you worry, g-gonna cum inside this pretty pussy,” Simon groaned, “gonna fill you up, yeah?”

You nodded furiously as your body screamed in overstimulation. “Please, I- ah! Too much, ah, you’re too much, Simon!” You cried out, your ever tightening cunt being stretched open, begging for his release.

“Y/N- Y/N, fuck!” He hissed as his hips slammed against you, tightly holding his cock against your cervix as if he was threatened to be ripped away. He groaned, emptying himself into you completely, his cock jerking and flexing harshly, making the veins on his shaft more pronounced. You whimpered, your cunt tensing around him as you felt hot waves shooting inside of you. He stayed for a moment while panting, his thighs shaking slightly, relishing in the feeling as oxytocin and dopamine flooded his brain. Simon pulled out, a throaty groan leaving you at the sudden emptiness, your legs letting go of him.

“Well… let’s hope nobody heard that.” Simon said in a low voice, pulling up his underwear and pants, buckling his belt and grabbing your panties for you. You slid off of the sink and inhaled sharply as your knees buckled. He immediately latched onto your arms, making sure you wouldn’t fall. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, y’alright?” He asked, slowly loosening his grip to make sure you were okay on your own.

“My legs, Simon. Jesus Christian Christ - I can’t stand.” You huffed, leaning against the sink, glowering at him as you took your panties from his hand, embarrassed.

He unrolled his sleeves, buttoning them. “You’re really gonna talk like that? On Jesus’ birthday?” He looked at you as he grabbed his jacket, shaking his head. “What would your nan say, hmm?” He feigned sincerity, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he swung the jacket on.

“Well, the jokes on you because Christmas isn’t even Jesus’ birthday.” You snapped back at him, slowly sliding your underwear on as your knees shook like a newborn giraffe. He tutted in disapproval as he moved up to you.

Simon’s body was close, his body radiating warmth. He wasn’t one for a lot of physical affection, which was alright, so when he took the time to be attentive to you… you always melted against him immediately. His finger lightly hooked under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. Your body subconsciously gravitated towards him, like a moth seeing the moon for the very first time.

He leaned down, lips brushing so close to yours, your eyes still connected . “Fuck what day it really is - I just know I’m home.” Simon pushed in for a deep kiss, brimming with emotions, the kinds he couldn’t really say. As he pulled away, he couldn’t help but admire you.

The golden candlelight fluttered across his face. His tired but warm eyes studied you, as if seeing you for the first time, memorizing and mapping every freckle, wrinkle, and spot, because he’s scared that the moment he looks away, he’ll forget. He took in your flushed, messy appearance as if God himself sent down a heavenly body to give him a reason not just to fight, but to live; an angel on its mission as a guide, and he would willingly martyr himself on the ground at your feet if it meant he could just hear you say his name. Once.

Simon wanted to say these things, but he wouldn’t. He might never. But that’s alright, too. Not everyone is meant to love so boldly.

You cocked an eyebrow as he stared at you so intensely. “You okay there, Lieutenant?” You asked, a small smile on your lips.

He realized that, yes, it was alright that he didn’t say those things. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have to - you just knew. Everyday he thought about how he didn’t deserve you. You, ever so loyal and strong. You’ve given him a purpose, motive, after all of these years - alone.

He often wondered what he had done to deserve having someone like you in his life. Someone who loved and cultivated, with hands of soft mercy, so tender and kind. A voice of validation, honesty, reason, all stemming from your unconditional love. If he had met you years ago, before the therapy and psychiatry helped, he would’ve let your fingers prick and bleed as you grasped at his thorns while he plucked you of your petals, leaving you broken and bare.

He didn’t deserve you.

Simon returned the smile, his voice soft, “Never better.” His hands moved to hold your waist as you two shared a few more kisses. “You know I like it when you call me that,” he hummed in between the lip locking.

You moaned gently and teasingly bit his bottom lip, your hands pressing against and gliding up his shirt. You kissed his jawline and sighed, “Is that so, Lieutenant Riley?”

He squeezed your waist in a warning. “Careful, love, we don’t have time for round two. Save it for tonight.” Your pussy purred just as Simon pulled away, picking up the mask from the sink and putting it back on in an attempt to obscure his identity.

You hummed, legs still a little shaken. “Well, I might need a minute to get my feet under me. You… okay with managing my family alone?” You asked hesitantly, eyes slightly squinting as if to flinch. He studied you for a moment, eyes glancing you up and down. It made you a little self-conscious, causing you to shift.

“Of course, Y/N,” his tone was reassuring, and subtly professional, “you sure you want me to leave you? Just say the word, love.”

Your body relaxed a little, and you nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”

Simon faltered, if for a moment, before he gave you a soft squeeze on the arm, and left. You sighed, turning to lean onto the counter and fix your hair in the mirror. Your legs really were shaking, much to your surprise. Yes, yes, Simon makes you shake plenty, but he doesn’t always fuck that hard, if rarely. You couldn’t be more embarrassed. Sending your fiancé, who is not the biggest people-person, back to the wolves, but it’d be more embarrassing if you walked out there in your current state.

You fixed your dress and made sure you were able to stand properly again after a few minutes. Making sure your hair, makeup, and dress were all still together, you left the bathroom with caution. You quietly snuck down the hallway, back against the wall. You got to the doorway and peeked around the corner to peer into the party.

You don’t know how long you were in the bathroom for as the crowd surprisingly died down. Family members left for home, hotels, or whatever bedrooms your grandparents had available, so the end-of-the-night afterparty was intimate and calm. You inched into the room, eyes falling on Simon, who was outside with your grandfather, lighter in his hand.

You smiled gingerly as your mother called you over. “Sweetie, everybody loves Simon. I know he isn’t much of a talker, or a hugger, but he made a great impression.” Her voice was filled with warmth and happiness, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “He also listens to your grandfather’s stories, bless his heart.” She cooed. Your mother continued to speak, but her voice drowned out as you watched your future husband.

Simon stood at ease, with his hands held together and relaxed behind him as your grandfather engaged him in a story, puffing his cigar shakily as his hands trembled while he was animated. It was so calm and serene, watching him nod, the ghost of his jawline moving beneath the mask as he spoke. Your heart fluttered as Simon’s eyes flicked over and locked onto you, giving a little wink before turning his attention back to the present conversation.

Okay, you’re definitely sitting on his face tonight.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Pussy Liquor (Eric Draven x Stripper!Reader)

Summary: It’s a slow, boring night at the club until he walks through the door.

Warnings: Eric is implied to have a lot of money(he’s in the music industry), unprotected public sex, lust at first sight, choking 18+MDNI

✰ I think this one has been a long time coming for me. I’ve never written stripper!reader but I was a stripper for several years so this is v personal to me. The songs reader dances to used to be my favorite set. thank u for always encouraging me pookie @babygorewhore ✰

It was a dreary, slow night. There were bodies in the club but no money to go along with them. A few dudes you can tell just turned 21 and are here for the experience, they’ll definitely spend the entire evening at the same table drinking cheap beer while they whistle at the dancers with their wallets closed. A few of the girls regulars are here, either in the back or cozied up at a table. If you were lucky they’d ask you to come sit with them and at the very least buy you drinks but you didn’t feel like entertaining someone for nothing more than a few ones and some shots. There was a couple in the corner arguing and a few older men with their eyes practically glued to the slot machines. Classic.

But there was one individual that caught your eye. He wasn’t someone you would usually see in a place like this. He was more like a pretty face you saw on the street and thought about for the rest of the week. He’s tucked away in a back corner booth drinking what looks like shots of crown royal, the whole bottle, always a good sign. He’s approached the stage and tipped each girl generously but hasn’t stayed for a set. You’ve noticed a few girls go offer him dances but he declines, offering them a tip anyway. You couldn’t blame them for trying. He was gorgeous. He’s extremely tall, still towering over even the tallest dancers in their heels. His toned arms are covered in tattoos and the white tee he’s wearing sits taunt against his chest. His distressed black jeans are tucked into beat up leather boots and his face is otherworldly. Those bright green eyes shine in the flashing lights of the club, the way they dance around his face accentuating different parts of his statuesque bone structure. He has full lips and a perfect pointed nose and you’ve never wanted to ride a customer right in the middle of the club until right now. You haven’t felt nervous to go on stage since you were just starting out dancing but the way his viridescent eyes raked over your body as you climbed the stairs to the stage had your heart pounding.

Your first song starts to play and you grab onto the pole lightly as you prance around it to the beat. You press the tip of your healed boot against the bottom of the pole and spin your body around it with your other leg pointed before pressing your back against it. You nearly trip when you see the man you’ve been fantasizing about all night sitting at your stage with a $20 bill sitting on the bar. You regain your composure, smiling at him sweetly as you slide down the pole onto your knees so you can crawl to him. The sound of Rob Zombie’s “Pussy Liquor” thrums through your body, making you feel like a succubus. You stop on your knees in front of the top bar, never breaking eye contact with him as you pluck it with your manicured fingers and stuff it into the band of your black bikini top.

“Thank you, that’s so sweet of you.” You press your tits together as you lean over and stick your ass out behind you. “I’m Bunny, what’s your name?”

“Well, that’s kind of forward, isn’t it?” His voice is much softer than you expected as he returns your smile with one of his own, it’s not condescending though, it’s almost playful. “I’m Eric.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. You can just watch me dance.” You wink at him before leaning back on your knees and pulling the string on your top so it falls down your body, your tits spilling free. Eric’s eyes sparkle and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks up at you like he hasn’t seen multiple pairs of boobs just within the last hour.

You pull the bottom string free and then toss it to the side as you push yourself up on your 8 inch heels. You sway toward the pole, running your fingers through your hair as you purposefully wiggle the fat of your ass. You grab onto the metal and roll your body before swinging your foot around it so you can climb up. You lock your legs together and lean backward, suspending yourself in the air. You watch as Eric pulls out a roll of cash and throws a huge stack of ones followed by several twenty’s. You grab onto your tits and jiggle them for him before titling yourself back up to grab onto the pole. You timed it perfectly so when the beat dropped so did you, right from the top onto the ground in the splits. Eric claps, which you find absolutely adorable because who the fuck claps in a strip club? And then he throws a literal hundred dollar bill onto your stage right as your first song ends. You tease him all through the next song, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails and when you’re leaning over to press your tits into his face he gives you this dopey smile and tells you that he loves the songs you choose. After your set is done you offer him a dance, and he insists on a private room.

You pull the thick red curtain back so you can lead him into the sectioned off area of the club. There’s walls on all three sides and an open face that’s completely blocked by curtains. You can’t help but giggle at the way he stands there awkwardly surveying the room. You can tell he’s never done this before.

“This your first time?” You grab onto a piece of your hair and twirl it, looking up at him through your lashes. He’s even taller than you thought he was and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs when how easily he could toss you around crosses your mind. You have no idea how you’re going to get through the next thirty minutes without getting turned on. You already are.

“Yeah. I’m just not sure how it works.” He chuckles lightly as he rubs the back of his neck but there’s this glint in his eye that tells you he isn’t going to make this any easier on you or your tiny thong.

“Well, why don’t you just sit down on the couch and I can dance for you?” You grab his hand and guide him to the couch, encouraging him to sit down. He obliges you and you lower yourself into his lap with your legs hanging over his. You’re back in your top now, but it leaves little to be desired and you feel your body heat as his eyes rake over you. One of his large hands lands on your thigh and he gives you a questioning look, instead of answering him verbally you swing your leg over his to straddle him and grab onto both of his hands, resting them on your hips. You throw your arms over his shoulders and grind down on him lightly and it has his grip on you tightening.

“I don’t know the rules and you’re making it really hard for me to control myself already.” Eric’s voice is a deep rumble that runs straight to your core and god you don’t usually let customers touch you like this but you’re starting to wonder if you can stop yourself from fucking him right here.

“Wanna know a little secret, Eric?” You ghost your lips across his pierced ear and you can feel his skin break out into goosebumps.

“Yeah.” He groans when you grind down on him harder this time, his grip on you turning almost bruising.

“I don’t usually let guys touch me, even for money, but you? You can touch me as much as you want.” You run your nose down his jaw before pulling away from him, flipping around on his lap and pushing yourself onto your feet. You roll your body and shake your ass for him while pulling your top off again. You shimmy back onto his lap with your back pressed to his chest and grind against his now hard bulge. You can’t help the little whine that escapes you. His large tattooed hands grip onto your tits and that’s when you lose all sense of reality.

“I really liked your songs, ya know?” Eric’s breath tingles against your neck, his lips just barely brushing your skin. “You’re the only girl here I wanted to talk to.”

“Yeah? You’re the only guy I’ve ever seen in here that I actually wanted to dance for.” You throw your hands behind your back so you can lace them behind his head as you continue to wind on his lap. “And it’s so fucking against the rules but I’d let you fuck me right here.” You lean your head back so you can look up into his eyes and his expression has changed drastically, it was like your words flipped a switch inside of him and he wants nothing more to eat you alive.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, bunny.” He chuckles and brings a finger up to your cheek. He runs it down your face to your jaw before ghosting it over your lips and you can’t help but dart your tongue out to lick the pad of his finger. “Let me take you home with me.”

“Well, I’m not really supposed to do that either. But I really feel like breaking some fucking rules tonight.” You wind your hips in a circle and his cock slides perfectly between your thong covered ass.

“They can’t be too mad if I pay them off, right?” He squeezes your boob, rolling your nipple between his fingertips.

“That would cost a lot. You’re hot enough to lose my job over. There’s other clubs. I want you to fuck me.” You whine and pull the strings of your bottoms so they fall down your hips. You never thought you’d be here, sitting on a customers lap begging him to fuck you like a bitch in heat. But something about this man was making you lose all rationality.

“Money isn’t an issue for me baby. Hell, I’ll get you out of here permanently if you want.” He runs that perfect nose along the column of your throat, inhaling the expensive perfume one of your regulars bought you a few months back. “And you don’t need to beg, the minute I saw you I knew I’d give you anything you asked for.”

“Fuck, Those are some big promises, honey.” You giggle, sugary sweet, and it makes him melt. He grabs onto your hips and pushes you to stand, your tiny thong falling at your feet, leaving you exposed to him. Eric grabs onto the globes of your ass and spreads them open, your pussy lips coming apart with a click from how wet you are.

“Would you look at that? So fucking perfect.” He grips onto your hips to turn you around, making sure to steady you when you stumble in your heels. You watch with wide eyes as he reaches for his playboy bunny belt buckle and your jaw practically drops to the floor when he pulls his cock out. It’s fucking huge and pierced. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, bunny. Come sit on it.”

Eric pulls you forward and you straddle him, your knees sinking into the leather of the couch. He grips onto his shaft and runs it through your wetness, the balls of his piercing bumping against your clit. He taps the head against your sensitive bud before lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing inside your wet walls. But it’s not enough, you want to feel the burn of the stretch while he splits you open so you slam your hips down onto his, taking him to the hilt in one thrust. It nearly knocks the wind out of you and a moan so loud that the music barely drowns it out.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Eric grips onto your ass and bounces you up and down on his cock as he stares into your eyes deeply. “You sure nobody is gonna come in here?”

“Nobody will, they’re definitely watching on the cameras and I’m definitely fucked as soon as we walk out of here but they’ll let it play out.” It’s like you gave him the green light because he plants his feet firmly on the ground and starts to fuck up into you. He grips onto your throat so he can pull your lips to his in a filthy kiss, not wasting any time intertwining your tongues together. The metal bar in his cock caresses your walls as his thick head bullies your g-spot and your toes curl in your boots. “Choke me harder.”

“Yeah? You like it rough, bunny? I’m going to have so much fun with you.” Eric squeezes your throat tighter and his free hand comes to run circles on your clit with his thumb. The way he’s talking about you like he already owns you combined with the pleasure he’s giving you has you already teetering towards the edge. “I’m gonna keep you, make you my pretty little fuck doll. You want that?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” You whine, drool starting to drip down your chin as your eyes roll back. Your manicured fingers scratch at his back through his shirt and you wouldn’t be surprised if it has tiny rips in it by the end of this.

“Look at me when you fall apart on my cock.” Eric grunts as he shifts his hips so he’s fucking into you even deeper and it has euphoria washing over your entire body the minute your eyes lock with his. Your pussy clenches around his cock like a vise grip and you moan so loudly there’s no way it can’t be heard outside of this room. But you’re way past giving a fuck. “Oh, that’s a good bunny, come for me.”

“Oh my f-fucking god! Fuckkkk me!” Eric’s thrusts don’t let up as he chases his own high, his hands grip onto your ass again and he’s practically folded in half on the couch as he bounces you like a fuck toy on his dick.

“I’m gonna fucking come.” Eric grunts before he’s pressing your hips flush against yours with his cock twitching inside you. You watch as he throws his head back, exposing his tattooed neck and you can’t help but lean forward and bite down on it. “Fuck yes, fucking bite me.”

You suck and bite on his skin until he goes limp underneath you, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He pushes himself up with his cock still nestled inside of you before pulling you close so he can kiss you with a passion no man ever has before. Who was this guy? And why did you never want to leave him?

“Alright, we should get out of here so I can go lose my job.” You chuckle as you stand up and grab your bikini, tying it back on while Eric tucks himself back into his pants. He comes to stand in front of you, taking your face into his hands.

“I meant that shit I said. I know we don’t know each other, hell, I don’t even know your real name. But come home with me, I’ll pay off these assholes and buy you whatever you want.” Eric smiles at you so sweetly you feel like you’re going to melt into the beer soaked carpet and how can you say no?

“Fuck it. Let’s go.” You giggle and push yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss him before pulling him out to face the music.

You definitely lost your job that night. But Eric fucked you so good you couldn’t even bring it in yourself to care. And he kept his promise. He kept you as his little doll and gave you everything your heart could ever desire.

Tagging a few moots who might be interested: @nailbatanddungeon @myspacebrat @ghoul-friendz @taintandviolent

Divider is by @cafekitsune

[sluttywonwoo]

thinking about ji coming home from the studio hyped as fuck knowing he made another banger and he wants to celebrate but you’re asleep. good thing you told him he can fuck you in your sleep so he does just that. spooning you from behind while he slowly moves in and out and softly caresses your thighs and shoulders so you don’t wake up. hnnng. -💛

they popped the fancy champagne tonight. it was a bottle they had been saving for a special occasion, a gift from someone with more money than they knew what to do with.

the track they’d been working on was far from perfect but it was finished and that was a huge feat in itself. chan, changbin, and jisung had been wrestling with the song for months. they kept pushing it to the back burner, telling themselves they’d save it for the next comeback, the next album, the next single. they would’ve tossed it had all three of them not been convinced it was good. it had the potential to be a title track if they could just figure out what was missing.

well, tonight jisung did just that and they celebrated like one of them had just won the lottery, drinking the sparkling wine out of paper cups from the water dispenser.

“it’s getting late, you should get home if you want to ride that high,” chris advised, giving jisung a knowing look.

the other two producers were well aware of how jisung liked to work off his adrenaline. you called to tell them as much, cursing them out over the phone for making too many good songs because you were tired of waking up sore.

jisung could feel heat creeping up the back of his neck and blossoming on his cheeks but he didn’t try to deny what his leader was implying because they both knew it was true. changbin even threw in an (un)helpful “go easy on her!” as jisung packed his bag and walked out the door, leaving a couple very confused staff members behind.

he was still buzzed when he made it home. he doesn’t drink often so he’s a bit of a lightweight but he stopped in the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the sink in an effort to rehydrate and prevent any hangover symptoms come morning.

the bedroom is dark. the whole house is dark but jisung had been holding out hope that maybe you had just tucked yourself away for the night and were still awake. maybe you were cozy in bed with a book or scrolling through your phone while you waited for him. he had no such luck.

he curses under his breath when he sees you curled up on your side beneath the covers, sighing quietly to himself. you’re even snoring softly. he should’ve asked his driver to go faster… but he didn’t want to stress the guy out. he doesn’t even know how long you’ve been asleep so it might’ve been in vain anyway.

jisung figures he should get ready for bed too so he takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth before slipping back into your room to grab something to sleep in. light from the bathroom spills into the bedroom, illuminating your side of the bed. he couldn’t tell before, but now that he can see you properly he realizes your shoulders are bare.

he blinks a couple of times just to be sure he isn’t seeing things.

jisung is used to you not wearing pants to bed but you usually wear one of his t-shirts because you get kind of cold during the night.

is it possible you’re… completely naked under there? jisung’s dick twitches at the thought.

he’d taken a cold shower in an effort to resolve his… excitement but it didn’t really help. he’s still half-hard and the idea that you’d been waiting for him like this is enough to make even more blood rush to his cock.

he quietly tiptoes over to his own side of the bed where he pulls back the blankets to reveal your sleeping figure.

his breath catches when his suspicions are confirmed. you had in fact, not worn anything to bed.

it had to be a sign, right? you’d talked about it before— several times, actually. your sex drives are pretty equal, which is kind of surprising considering how horny jisung is. but since he’s always working, you don’t get much time to indulge each other in that way. at least, not as much time as you’d like.

a solution you’d offered was sex while one of you was sleeping. jisung immediately agreed to it. he would let you do anything you wanted to him. but he was more hesitant to be the one to initiate when you were sleeping.

he knew it was a fantasy of yours, he knew it was a fantasy of his, it just felt so wrong to take advantage of you when you were unconscious.

but this feels like the perfect opportunity. he was already full of adrenaline and you’re naked in the bed you shared and his cock is starting to ache with how hard he is…

“fuck it.”

he decides against pajamas for the time being and crawls into bed with you. if you’re already naked he might as well be too.

jisung lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t wake up to the movement of the mattress. you shift a bit in your sleep as he gets settled but that’s it.

your warmth draws your boyfriend in, closer and closer until he’s practically spooning you. he’s hardly breathing because he’s scared of waking you up but in order to continue with his plan he has to move you. he starts with a hand on your hip before bringing it down to your knee so that he can part your thighs, pausing when he finds you’re already wet.

fuck, had you fallen asleep touching yourself?

“were your own fingers not enough, baby?” he whispers, condescension dripping from his voice even though you can’t hear a word he’s saying. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

jisung still wants to make sure you’re stretched enough for him so he slips one finger inside of you, then two. they’re met with little resistance but jisung keeps them in for a little longer, stroking up on that spot that makes you gush.

he works you up but doesn’t push you over the edge because he knows cumming will definitely wake you up. once he’s satisfied with his efforts, he inches even closer to you until his body is flush with yours.

since you fuck in this position all the time, it’s easy for jisung to line himself up and push into you.

he makes a quiet sound of relief when he bottoms out and has to fight the urge to bite and/or kiss your shoulder like he usually would. you let out a little sound of your own and jisung imagines the way your face must be scrunching up as you adjust to the feeling of being full. his hips stutter forward involuntarily at the thought and he freezes… waiting to see if he’s woken you up.

he doesn’t start moving again until your breathing evens out, caressing your thigh with his calloused palm to soothe you as he builds momentum.

it’s a lot slower than the sex you usually have but it’ll definitely be enough for jisung to cum. just the idea of fucking you in your sleep turns him on so much that he’s having trouble holding back even now when he’s barely started.

“so wet for me, baby. need me all the time, huh? even in your dreams.”

“ji?”

fuck, he’d pushed his luck too much with the talking. his mouth was always getting him in trouble.

you try to turn around but jisung holds you in place. “shhh, baby it’s okay. go back to sleep.”

“when did you get home? did you finish the song? ah- what… what are you doing?”

you know what he’s doing, even in your half-awake state. still, you want to hear him say it.

“i’m um… i, do you want me to stop?”

you shake your head and let your eyes fall shut again.

“don’t stop, feels good.”

“thank god,” your boyfriend groans, wrapping his arms around you in a full embrace, relieved that he can touch you as much as he wants to now.

“we finished the song, baby,” he tells you between kisses to your neck. “rushed home to celebrate with you.”

“i’m s-sorry i fell asleep!” you whine.

“nothing to be sorry for, my love. came home and found you all wet and needy… worked out perfectly, wouldn’t you say?”

“i missed you,” is the only response you offer.

“yeah? were you wishing it was me touching you instead of yourself?”

“yes,” you whimper, “couldn’t… couldn’t cum.”

jisung pouts and lets the expression seep into his voice. “poor thing. i bet you were so frustrated.”

“mhm.”

“what about now though, baby? think you can cum for me?”

you nod, almost head butting your boyfriend.

“‘m so close…”

“already?”

“i woke up with your dick inside me, what do you want from me?”

jisung laughs. “sorry, babe. you’re right. should we cum together? do you think you can hold it a little longer?”

“i’ll try,” you promise.

“that’s my girl.”

[lxndonorris]

such a tease - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smut (you've been warned) helping Max change after the Chinese GP, appreciating how good he looks in his racing suit and without x word count: 3570+ taglist: @game-set-canet EN: I had to use this picture, it lives rent free, got another for CL and LN planned, if you have any requests for others, let me know. Its my longest yet I think. Hope you like it. We need more body worshipping Max imo.

As you stood in the vibrant atmosphere of the Shanghai International Circuit, your heart raced with anticipation. It wasn't just any other day; it was the Chinese Grand Prix, and Max Verstappen, the love of your life, was poised to dominate the track.

As the lights dimmed and the engines roared to life, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. With each passing lap, you watched Max weave his magic, his driving prowess on full display for the world to see.

The tension mounted as the race unfolded, but Max remained unfazed, his determination unwavering as he led the others around each corner and each straight. Lap after lap, he danced with danger, his skill and precision leaving you in awe.

And then, as the checkered flag waved in the air, declaring Max the victor, you felt a swell of pride wash over you. You made your way toward the pitwall, just in time to catch him emerging from his Red Bull race car. 

Max's energy and excitement were infectious as he cheered loudly before he turned to meet your gaze. In one swift motion, he approached you and the rest of his team, hugging you tightly.

With a radiant smile gracing his features, Max held his throphy aloft on the podium, the golden light of victory illuminating his face. Dressed in his racing suit, adorned with the colors of his team, he looked every bit the champion he is.

As you watched from the stands, your heart overflowed with admiration for the man you loved. His determination, his dedication, and his unwavering pursuit of excellence were on full display for the entire racing world to see. And in that moment, amidst the cheers and the applause, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to be by his side.

While Max soaked in the adulation of the crowd, his eyes found yours in the sea of faces, a silent acknowledgement of your unbreakable bond. And as he raised a hand in salute, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever.

As the press conference unfolded, you noticed Max's gaze constantly finding yours amidst the sea of flashing cameras and eager reporters. His smirk, subtle yet unmistakable, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine.

With every question fielded, his eyes lingered on yours, and as he spoke, his hand subconsciously drifted to his chest and thighs, a gesture that seemed to amplify his magnetic charm.

Watching him, so effortlessly captivating and utterly beautiful, a rush of adoration swell within you. You knew how he felt right now—the excitement and adrenaline of the race lingering deep inside him, and the desire to share this moment with you and you alone. 

For just anyone, this seemed unimportant, but you knew that with every stroke, every little move of his fingertips, he imagined it was you instead.

As the conference drew to a close, Max's gaze met yours once more, and with a knowing smirk, he got up from the sofa. Together, you made your way through the paddock to his motorhome.

Now inside the cozy confines of his motorhome, Max wastes no time grabbing a cold can of Red Bull from the fridge, his go-to source of energy and focus. With a deft twist of his wrist, he cracks open the can, the satisfying hiss of carbonation filling the air.

Taking a long sip of the invigorating drink, Max's expression softens, a look of pure satisfaction crossing his features.

Turning to you, his eyes sparkle with a mix of exhilaration and contentment. Despite the intensity of the race and the demands of the press conference, he still manages to look effortlessly hot in his racing attire, clad in his sleek racing suit and signature cap.

As he stands before you, radiating confidence and charm, his presence fills the room. You let your eyes roam all over him: his racing suit hugs his athletic frame, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the muted tines of the motorhome's interior. Paired with his cap, adorned with the logo of his team, he looks every bit the part of racing superstar.

With a playful grin, Max extends the can of Red Bull towards you, inviting you to share his post-race ritual with him.

Taking it from him, you marvel at the warmth of his touch, the electricity that seems to crackle between you. And as you take a sip of the Red Bull, you enjoy the cold, refreshing liquid running down your throat.

With an hour until his next interview, you put the can down on the table next to you before turning back to meet Max's gaze right away.

With a confident swagger in his step, Max closes the distance again. One arm wrapped securely around your waist, he pulls you close, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Steadying yourself against him, you can't help but be swept away by the intensity of the moment. His proximity is electrifying; his scent, a mixture of his cologne, sweat, and champagne, fills your senses as he leans closer, his lips grazing against your ear.

"Care to lend a hand?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. His playful tone sends a surge of heat coursing through you, and you play along, relishing in the teasing banter.

With a playful smirk, you nod in response, your fingers trailing lightly along the contours of his racing suit as you begin to assist him in changing.

The adrenaline from today's race still surges through his veins, and his whole body tenses with the remnats of the high-octane action on the track. Despite the exhaustion that threatened to set in, there is a raw energy emanating from him.

You stroke his chest firmly through his racing suit; every muscle in his body seems to be coiled like a tightly wound spring, ready to unleash its power at a moment's notice. The fabric hugs his frame flawlessly, accentuating his athletic build and adding an air of intensity to his already striking appearance.

His eyes, ablaze with the remnants of the fierce competition, hold a magnetic allure that is impossible to resist. There is a primal energy to him, a wildness that sets your heart racing and your pulse quickening with every passing moment.

As your hands glide across Max's chest, tracing the contours of his racing suit, you feel the tension in his body gradually give way to a sense of relaxation. Enjoying how the sleek fabric feels underneath your fingertips, you stroke him even firmer, causing him to purr happily.

You let your hands run along his waistline as well, feeling his butt filling out the suit fully. Your hands are now freely encompassing all of him, from the small of his back, running along his spine and back around his shoulders, to his firm chest.

"That feels good." His smile widens as he pulls you closer, his grip firm yet gentle on your waist, a clear invitation to continue.

With each stroke, you sense the pleasure building within him, the sensation of your touch heightening the electric connection between you. His racing suit, once a barrier between you, now serves as a conuit for your intimacy, amplifying the intensity of your shared desire.

Max leans, his lips brushing over your neck and your ear, before he lets out a low, guttural moan, giving you goosebumps.

"Mhmm." You shiver as your hands gilde over his thick pecs and right his arms. As your fingers trail along Max's muscular arms, stroking the sinewy contours underneath his suit, he responds with a subtle flex, the muscles beneath his skin rippling with power.

He leans his head back, and with a knowing smile, he invites you to feel the strength of his arms. 

As you press your hands against his flexed biceps, you marvel at the firmness of his form, the raw energy simmering just beneath the surface. His muscles tense under your touch, a silent invitation to explore further to revel in the sensation of his strength.

With each flex, you feel a surge of excitement coursing through you, the heat of desire building with every second. Max's body is a canvas of power and grace, a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection, both on and off track.

And as you continue to stroke him, tracing the contours of his arms with reverence and awe, you can't help but be captivated by the sheer beauty of his physicality.

"Oh, fuck." You speak quietly, watching your fingers run along his arms and back to his chest. As your gaze meets his once more, a knowing smirk plays on his lips, and he lowers his arms just to grab your waist again, securely holding you in place.

"Feels good, huh?" He licks his lips as his gentle fingers run along your waistline.

"Oh, yeah." You respond with a coy smirk forming on your lips, and then you let your hand run up his chest and right to the collar of his slick racing suit.

As you toy with the zipper of his suit, teasing him with the promise of what lies beneath, you can't help but revel in the power of your own arousal. The sight of Max, so strong and commanding yet vulnerable in his desire, stirs something primal within you, igniting a fire that burns with ferocious intensity.

And you tease him with the zipper while looking right into his sparkling eyes. You alternate between gentle caresses and playful tugs, causing a low, deep rumbling in his throat.

The firmness of his form beneath the fabric carries an intoxicating allure, pulling you closer and closer.

As you unzip his suit slowy, teasingly, you reveal the snug white fireproofs underneath, and a low growl escapes his lips, a primal sound of desire and anticipation. With his head leaning back, he surrenders to the sensations, his body tensing beneath your touch.

Sliding your hands inside his suit, you feel the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric, the firmness of his muscles, even more evident now, inviting your touch. 

With each stroke, you apply just the right amount of pressure, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from Max as he arches into your touch. His breaths come in shallow gasps, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in the space between you. 

And as you continue to stroke him, your movements growing bolder and more confident with each passing second, you feel the arousal within you intensifying as well, matching the intensity of his own desire.

With a shared determination, Max and you work together to remove the upper half of his racing suit, leaving the sleeves hanging down his waist. As the fabric falls away, his muscles are revealed, defined, and taut beneath the thin material of his undergarments.

Each contour is accentuated by the tight fabric, a testament to the physical strength and endurance required of a Formula 1 driver.

Unable to restrain the urge to touch him or feel him, you place both of your hands on his chest again. With every touch, every stroke, Max lets out a low, primal growl of pleasure. 

His grip on your waist intensifies as well, as he starts to stroke you in response. This spurs you on, fanning the flames already burning inside your belly, encouraging them to engulf your entire chest with burning desire.

Your hands explore the planes of his chest and the curves of his abdomen. The sensation of his muscles rippling beneath your fingertips only fuels your desire further, each growl serving as a symphony of passion between you.

Running your hands up Max's chest and neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your hand, you trace the outline of his lips with your thumb, a teasing question poised on your lips.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" You ask, a playful glint in your eyes.

Max's response is a simple nod, his expression softening as he meets your gaze. The tension that gripped his features now melts away, replaced by a look of pure contentment and desire.

With a mischievous grin, you reach up and remove his cap, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. His messy hair spills out from beneath, tousled and tousled from the excitement of the race. Running your fingers through his hair, you marvel at the softness, the strands tangling around your fingertips like silk.

Leaning in closer, you caress his cheeks, feeling the stubble beneath your touch. His skin is warm and smooth, in stark contrast to the rough texture of his racing suit.

At the same time, you keep stroking his tummy, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs with your other hand. The look in his eyes, dark with desire, tells you that he is enjoying every moment of the exquisite torture.

You let your hand wander even further down his body, and you gasp once your hand encompasses the desire bulding up inside his racing suit. In response, Max lets out a low sigh and starts to grind his hips against the palm of your hand.

Your eyes meet his, and the two of you smirk knowingly.

With practiced ease, Max slips off his shoes, the tension in the room palpable as he stands before you, his clothes clinging to his form.

As the racing suit falls to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment, your eyes trace the outlines of his body, mesmerized by the sight before you.

Max stands tall and proud, his muscles defined and toned beneath his tight fireproofs. The fabric is hugging his form like a second skin, and unlike the racing suit, it is unable to hide any of his features. 

His muscles ripple underneath, his biceps are thick with tension, just like his entire chest and thighs. The unmistakable bulge forming inside his trousers shows the effect all that teasing has on him, and Max isn't even trying to hide it.

Instead, he rubs the palm of his hand across his member while biting his lower lip and watching you closely. Still, you're not done teasing him yet.

Placing your hands back on his firm chest, you continue to stroke Max through his undergarments, eliciting a chorus of enticing sounds from his throat. With each touch, each stroke, the desire threatens to consume you both.

Max responds eagerly to your touch, pulling you closer until there is barely any space between you. His hands, once idle at my sides, now roamed freely, exploring every curve and contour of my body with a fervent hunger.

Feeling his hands on your butt, pulling you flush against him, sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you. The sensation of his touch is all-consuming, setting your skin ablaze with longing and need.

You suddenly can't wait to feel his bare skin under your fingertips. Tugging greedily at his shirt, you expose the hard lines of his abs. Responding to your need, he takes his shirt off in one swift motion, exposing his beautiful, toned chest.

Just like before, you stroke him and play with his hard nipples, just the way he likes it. His skin is so warm, tensed, yet oddly soft. His muscles react to the simplest touch, and you know he's longing for so much more.

Your eyes follow his hand, stroking himself, his chest, abs, and then further down to his member, tenting visibly. Max is letting out low growls, pressing his body against yours while biting his lips.

"Let me take care of that." You smirk and kiss him lovingly before you make your way down his chest. With every stroke, his breathing quickens, and you place kisses all over his chest, down his abs until you're on your knees.

Max runs a hand through his hair and across his face. His entire being is craving a release, to let go of all this pleasure and desire building up inside him.

Teasingly, you trace the outlines of his member with two fingers, causing him to moan quietly. Then, you slip your fingers inside his pants. As you play with the waistband, teasingly tugging at the fabric, Max's reaction is immediate; a low groan escapes his lips as he leans into your touch, his desire palpable against your fingertips. 

With each playful tug, his arousal grew, the fabric of his fireproofs stretching against the swell of his desire, its heat radiating through his clothes.

There is no room for restraint or hesitation. Both of you are consumed by the fire of your shared passion.

You pull his pants down and let your hands roam all over his thighs before you focus all of your attention on his dick.

As you take him inside your mouth, your entire body gets just as stiff as he is, and right away, Max lets out multiple low moans, leaning his head back while running a hand through your hair, encouraging you to take it all.

Easily, the two of you adapt to each other's movements, moving in sync with one another to an unseen, unheard rhythm.

Max moves deliberately, soft and gentle, even though he is already on the verge of cumming. All that teasing, paired with the excitement of winning today's race, dominating the entire grid, built up inside him, just waiting for this moment.

It doesn't take long for him to lean his head back even further and let out an exhausted, long moan.

His familiar taste spreads across your tongue, causing you to relish in that moment.

Max runs a hand through your hair as you separate yourself from him. He bends down, placing a hand at your neck, stroking you with his fingertips. 

"That felt so good." He moans as he leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he helps you get up and steadies you against his firm frame. 

"It was amazing." You lick your lips, savoring the taste still lingering on your tongue.

Max then steps out of his fireproofs, leaving them pooled at his feet. He stands before you, completely exposed, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

He touches himself a few times, still feeling that pleasure running through his veins, and you can't help but smile.

As you watch Max get dressed again, your gaze lingers on every movement, captivated by the effortless grace with which he moves. 

He starts by slipping into a fresh pair of underwear, the fabric clinging snugly to his form. Max struggles a little with his stiff member, but that just makes the two of you giggle.

"Always the same with you." You tease, but he just shrugs.

"I can't help it." He tilts his head slightly. "That's what you're doing to me." 

Rolling your eyes, you can't help but giggle again.

Next, he pulls on a pair of jeans, the denim hugging his legs in all the right places. With each movement, the tension in the room seems to grow again, amplifying the allure of his every gesture.

Finally, Max reaches for his signature Red Bull shirt, the fabric stretching tautly across his firm chest and shoulders. Even though it is a familiar sight, the shirt seems to fit him even more perfectly than usual, accentuating every contour of his muscular frame.

As he smoothes down the fabric, adjusting the shirt just so, you can't help but reach out for his chest once more. 

You run a hand over Max's red Bull shirt, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric. A shiver of excitement exhoes through you.

Your soft strokes elicit another guttural rumble deep from within his throat, and he places his hand on top of yours. The fabric of his shirt stretches and molds to the contours of his body, flattering him perfectly.

His familiar scent envelopes you again, filling the air with an intoxicating aroma that is uniquely his own. It is a scent you know and love—a blend of musk and sweat mixed with the subtle hint of his favorite cologne.

"Do I smell okay?" He asks suddenly, and you just nod.

"Yeah, so good." You smile and lean in to him, kissing him deeply while still stroking his chest through his tight shirt.

As you pick up the discarded clothes from the floor, you can't help but revel in the sensation of Max's racing suit and fireproofs between your fingers. The fabric is so soft yet sturdy.

As the two of you fold the garments neatly, you notice how they still retain the faint scent of Max—a scent that fills you with a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Feeling his arms wrap around you from behind, his touch gentle yet possessive, you melt into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his presence. His hand strokes your tummy with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter, each caress sending waves of pleasure through you.

Turning around to face him, you are greeted by the sight of Max in his signature look, his cap firmly in place, and a playful glint in his eyes. Despite the intensity of the day, he is ready for the next challenge, his confidence unwavering as he prepares for the next interview.

With a smile, you reach up and adjust his cap, making sure it is perfectly aligned. Max grins in response, a silent acknowledgement of your unspoken bond.

[pastryfication]

sleepy airports | loscar

pairing: oscar piastri x reader x logan sargeant

note: i’m trying to get better at poly fics, so please bear with me xx

in the airport, the bustling terminal is filled with the hum of travelers and the distant announcements of flight statuses. the excitement of your vacation is buzzing in the air, a bright spot in the midst of the usual airport chaos. it’s been a while since the three of you took a break together, just you, and the anticipation makes you giddy.

the three of you arrived early, giving yourselves plenty of time to navigate the security lines and grab a bite to eat. now, with hours to spare before your flight, you’ve settled into a quiet corner near your gate. oscar has claimed one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and is lounging back with a book, while logan and you settle on either side of him.

you notice logan’s head nodding slightly as he tries to stay awake. he’s always been an early riser, and the wait is starting to take its toll. you feel the same way, your eyes growing heavy as you finally sit down in a quiet place. it doesn’t take long before you find yourself snuggling closer to your australian boyfriend, resting your head against his shoulder. his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing are comforting, and you feel yourself relaxing. as you close your eyes, you sense a gentle shift in the seating arrangement.

oscar glances up from his book and smiles. without saying a word, he moves to sit a bit more comfortably and gently wraps his arm around both you and logan. logan sighs contentedly and his head falls to rest on oscar’s shoulder as well. oscar’s eyes soften as he looks at the two of you, his free hand reaching up to lightly stroke your hair.

time seems to slow as you drift in and out of light sleep, lulled by the soft murmur of the airport and the comforting presence of your partners. it’s these small, quiet moments of togetherness that you cherish. the three of you are wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and love, a small, happy island in the middle of the bustling terminal.

when your flight is finally announced, oscar gently nudges you awake. you stretch and blink, feeling both refreshed and reluctant to leave the cozy nest you’ve created. logan stirs as well, his eyes slowly opening, and he smiles groggily at you. oscar gives a soft chuckle and stands up, offering you his hand.

“come on, sleepyheads,” he says. “time to board.”

as you all walk toward the gate, the excitement of the journey ahead replaces the initial grogginess. the flight is smooth, and the three of you settle into your seats. oscar sits by the window, giving you and logan the middle and aisle seats. you end up leaning against oscar’s shoulder again, while logan stretches out beside you.

you chat about your plans for the trip, the places you want to visit, and the food you’re excited to try. logan is the enthusiastic storyteller, recounting amusing anecdotes and trivia about your destination. oscar occasionally chuckles, his fingers lightly brushing yours as you share in the conversation.

the flight attendants come by with snacks and drinks, and you all take turns sharing bites and sips. it’s a small pleasure, but it feels special when done together. you look around at your partners—logan’s eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, oscar’s face relaxed and content—and feel a profound sense of gratitude fill you.

at some point during the flight, you drift off again. the gentle hum of the plane and the soft light filtering through the window provide a soothing backdrop. when you wake, the sun is dipping lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the aeroplane. logan has shifted slightly, his arm now draped protectively around you, and oscar is still sitting patiently, letting you use him as a pillow. the two boys had been sharing a quiet moment, their heads close together above you in a comfortable silence.

as the plane begins its descent, you all share a look of excitement and anticipation. the vacation is just beginning, and you can’t wait to explore, laugh, and make memories together. the trip has already been filled with little moments of affection and togetherness, and you know that these moments will only continue to grow.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers. 

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.  

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette. 

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax. 

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.  

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks. 

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too. 

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day. 

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.  

She wants...my name.  

My name.  

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy. 

How fucking dare they. 

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it. 

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets. 

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.  

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?” 

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.” 

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off. 

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.” 

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger. 

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand. 

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.” 

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.” 

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you. 

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup. 

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.” 

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile. 

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked. 

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.” 

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you. 

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess. 

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it. 

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-” 

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped. 

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire. 

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance? 

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added. 

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.” 

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last. 

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning. 

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.  

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”  

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort. 

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.  

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful. 

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”  

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club. 

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”  

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair. 

“Spill it” you demand.  

“Spill what?” 

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.” 

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”  

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend. 

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance. 

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul. 

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.  

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration. 

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible. 

“We love each other. That won’t happen.” 

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.  

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-” 

Ding 

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag. 

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.  

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability. 

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word. 

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things. 

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.” 

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.” 

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles. 

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort. 

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone. 

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?” 

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion. 

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-” 

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.  

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.” 

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you. 

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.  

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.  

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.” 

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk. 

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest. 

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics. 

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen. 

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt. 

“Ajax.” 

“Hm?” 

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete. 

You unfurl the cover. 

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.  

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry: 

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing  my sun and star        ♡    my blood and bone           ♡  ♡ my goddess, my angel,   the very essence of my existence     ♡        ♡     my love is infinite and eternal   you are destined to be mine   ♡     ♡        forever, forever she is mine ”  

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.  

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile. 

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.” 

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage. 

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up. 

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf. 

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock. 

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.  

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.” 

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.  

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.” 

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney. 

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?” 

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.” 

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” 

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.” 

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back. 

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums. 

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.” 

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.  

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.  

“You mind making another, Lyney?” 

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.  

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?” 

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.” 

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.” 

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely. 

“How many times must I apologize?” 

“Until you die.” 

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”  

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.” 

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours. 

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”  

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.” 

“It was a surprise.” 

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah, from back home.” 

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.” 

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.” 

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.” 

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-” 

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-” 

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.  

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.  

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-” 

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.  

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” 

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege. 

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.  

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run. 

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him. 

“Ajax?” 

“Yea?” he chirps.  

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek. 

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.  

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him. 

“No baby,  nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin. 

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”  

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on. 

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.” 

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.” 

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves. 

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight. 

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost." 

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers. 

“You don’t need…me?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” 

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle. 

“What if I just...lock you up?” 

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs. 

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”  

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant. 

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical. 

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.” 

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.” 

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.  

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.  

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.  

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.  

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair. 

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion. 

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back.  Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes. 

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.  

“Ajax.” 

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body. 

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.  

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.  

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips. 

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.  

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.  

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy. 

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s  ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud. 

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.” 

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.  

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.” 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand. 

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question. 

“Of course.” 

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing. 

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length. 

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!” 

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.  

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.  

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel. 

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.  

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”  

No. It can’t be true. 

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.  

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.  

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?” 

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard. 

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

[likedovesinthewindd]

the art brainrot goes crazyyyyy rn and all i can think of is a fic of him yearning for reader UGHHHH

he would worship the ground you walk on he would love you with everything in him ugh I NEED HIMMM SO BADDD

𖹭 ⊹ ˚.

It's late, very late, and Art is supposed to be asleep by now. He has a big match tomorrow, and he knows he should be resting, but he can't fall asleep. He tossed and turned in the bed as he tried to get comfortable. The luscious hotel bedding was soft but still uncomfortable in a way. It was a big bed, too big for just one person, and it felt like the white sheets were swallowing him whole.

He thought about you sharing the bed with him. He thought about the way you'd cozy up to him and burry yourself in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He thought about your warmth that would permeate throughout your body and seep into his.

He thought about the smell of your body lotion and your soft breathing that always lulls him to sleep, and his body ached as it longed to feel yours. Because more than anything, he needed you with him right now. He missed everything about you. He wanted to hear you and smell you and feel you and see you and his body ached to feel yours.

Before he can stop himself, he's reaching for his phone and searching for your contact. It rings about four times before you answer, voice half muffled and laced with sleep. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asks softly, immediately feeling like a jerk.

He can hear the ruffle of your sheets as you move to sit upright. "I just managed to fall asleep, but it's okay," you say through a yawn, and it makes Art feel worse because he knows you struggle with sleeping. "I'm sorry," he found himself saying again, and he could hear the dismissive sound you make.

"Don't be, I'm glad you called," you said softly, and it's like Art could feel the day's tension leaving his body at the melodic sound of your voice. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you next to him, your voice speaking to him softly in his ear instead of through his phone's speaker.

"Art?" you ask when the line gets too quiet and he humms. "You okay?" he humms again. "Yeah, I'm fine," he sighed, but you could hear the tiredness in his voice. "How was your day?" he asked as he moved to lay on his back as he stared into the darkness.

You smiled, hand rubbing over the material of your nightie as you spoke. "It was okay," you started, "Just a little boring. I missed you a lot today." Art's heart clenched painfully at your words. "You have no idea how much I miss you," he said softly, "I wish you could've come with me."

"I wish I was there too," you said forlornly, and then the line's silent for a moment, the two of you just listening to the other's breathing. Art's eyes already feel heavy, and he reckons he could easily fall asleep just like this — with his phone pressed tightly to his ear as he listens to your soft breathing. In his mind's eye, he's looking over you as you're sleeping, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest and the way your mouth is slightly parted.

"I can't sleep without you. Need you here with me," he finds himself saying, and you're nodding on the other end before you realize he can't see you. "I had to drink some chamomile because I was tossing al night, basically. I'm so used to having you close to me. The bed's too empty." Your hand rubs over his side of the bed when you say it, and you watch the way your engagement ring sparkles in the faint light shining through the gaps of the curtains.

"How's your shoulder?" you ask, and Art sighs. "It's okay, doesn't hurt as much anymore," he says. "That's good, I'm glad," you said. Your eyes shift to the clock on your nightstand, the green numbers almost taunting. "It's so late, Art, you should probably try getting some sleep. Aren't you playing tomorrow?"

"I am," he said almost reluctantly, mimicking you as he looked over to the dresser, the small digital clock displaying the time in angry red numbers. "Can you tell me about your day?" he asked out of the blue, seemingly ignoring your inquiry. "Art—"

"Please, I just want to hear your voice a little more," he interrupted, and your whole chest restricts painfully at the pitiful tone of his voice. You missed him so much, and contact between you two had been limited because of how busy he was during the day. "Okay," you said softly, moving your body to lie back down deeper underneath the sheets as you started telling him about your day. And he listened as you softly spoke, closing his eyes and imagining you were laying on his chest as your soft body warmed his.

[be4chywritez]

Plzzz tell me we are getting a part 2 of you had me at hello

You ask and you'll receive.

had me at hello ll | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x perez!reader

oscar and you are dating but when dating someone with such a high profile scrutiny is unavoidable.

my masterlist!

part l

request are open!

prompt list

You checked your phone nervously, glancing around the corner of the dimly lit café. It was your first real date, away from the prying eyes of the paddock and the ever-watchful media. You smiled as you saw Oscar approaching, his usual quiet demeanor replaced with a boyish grin.

Oscar slid into the seat across from you, his eyes sparkling. “This place is perfect,” he said, looking around at the cozy décor. “How did you find it?”

“An actress never tells her secrets.” You teased, winking. “But seriously, I thought we could use a break from all the chaos.”

You ordered drinks and settled into an easy conversation, talking about everything from your favorite movies to the challenges you and Oscar have faced in your careers. The more they talked, the more You realized how much you enjoyed Oscar’s company. He was kind, attentive, and surprisingly funny.

Midway through your conversation, Oscar reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I have to tell you something,” he began, his cheeks tinged with pink.

“What is it?” You asked, intrigued by his sudden seriousness.

Oscar took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I absolutely love your accent. The way you speak… it’s beautiful. I could listen to you talk all day.”

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. “Thank you, Oscar. That’s really sweet. I guess I never really thought about it.”

Oscar smiled, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “It’s just… it’s a part of you. And I like everything about you, even the way you say my name.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling your heart race. “You’re making me blush, Oscar.”

You finished their drinks and decided to take a walk along the quiet streets. The night air was cool, and You shivered slightly. Without a word, Oscar draped his jacket over your shoulders, his hand lingering on your arm.

Y/n looked at him through your lashes, taking hold of his hand, gently giving him enough time to pull away, but he didn’t. He brought their interlinked hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through you as you felt the gentle pressure of his lips on your skin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it carried so much meaning. You squeezed his hand, your fingers intertwining perfectly.

As they walked, the city lights casting a soft glow around them, Oscar suddenly stopped.

“Y/n, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you replied, looking up at him.

“What happens if this gets out?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I don't want to cause something with your brother," He swallows watching you with careful eyes.

You took a deep breath, considering his words. “We’ll deal with it together,” you said firmly. “I don’t know what Checo could do, but I do know that I want to be with you.”

Oscar smiled, relief was evident in his eyes. “I want that too.”

Oscar let out a huff. "So, you're my girlfriend?" he asked, swinging your hands. You looked over at him, "Looks like it."

You continued your walk, eventually reaching the front of your hotel room. Standing there, basking in each other's warmth, he opened his mouth to say something, "I'm sorry, I have to," he said, grabbing the side of your face and bringing you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, your hands gripping his wrist.

You both pulled away, lips swollen. "Good night, Oscar," you smiled, ducking into the room.

You quietly entered the hotel suite, as you settled your bag down you heard knock on your door, using your code knock like when you guys were little.

letting him in he takes a seat on the loveseat.

He took in your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, and the way your pupils were slightly dilated.

"¿Dónde has estado?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Where have you been?

“Just out,” you reply nonchalantly, trying to hide your smile.

Checo notices and sits up straight."¿Con Oscar verdad?"

With Oscar right?

You sigh, knowing you can’t hide it. “Yes, with Oscar.”

Checo frowns. “estoy preocupado por ti. Todo esto con Oscar… es complicado. Ustedes tienen carreras exigentes y los medios son implacables. Simplemente no quiero que te lastimes.”

I'm worried about you. All this with Oscar… it's complicated. You have demanding careers and the media is unforgiving. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.

You sit down next to him, your excitement from the date now mixed with concern. “I understand why you’re worried, Checo. But Oscar makes me happy. And I think we can handle it.” You rest your head on his shoulder.

Checo looks at you, his expression softening. “Simplemente no quiero verte lastimado. Si él te hace feliz, eso es todo lo que importa. Pero prométeme que tendrás cuidado."

I just don't want to see you hurt. If he makes you happy, that's all that matters. But promise me you'll be careful.

You nod, hugging him. "Te lo prometo. Y gracias por preocuparte tanto."

I promise you. And thank you for caring so much.

"Solo recuerda, siempre estaré aquí para ti, pase lo que pase." he told you.

Just remember, I will always be here for you, no matter what.

you let him out of your room, then collapsing onto the bed with a hazy expression on your face. Your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, from guilt to excitement to fear of the consequences.

Later that night, you can't stop thinking about Oscar. The day's excitement has only heightened your feelings for him, and you find yourself wanting to be close to him again. You text him, and within minutes, there's a soft knock on your door.

You open it to find Oscar standing there, a shy smile on his face. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hey," you reply, stepping aside to let him in. "I just... I wanted to see you."

He closes the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours. "I wanted to see you too," he says, his voice a low murmur.

Without another word, he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your face. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and then his lips are on yours, soft and gentle.

You melt into the kiss, your hands gripping his wrists as you lose yourself in the moment. The kiss deepens, and you feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. He walks towards the couch, sitting down, and you straddle him, your hands making their way to the hair at the base of his neck. You tug slightly, making him let out a quiet groan.

The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and you press closer to him, feeling his hands move to your waist. The intensity of the moment builds, your heart pounding in your chest as you lose yourself in his touch and the heat between you.

Just as things are starting to heat up, you hear a soft knock on your door. Both of you freeze, pulling away from each other reluctantly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to compose yourself.

"Y/n, are you okay?" It's Checo's voice, filled with concern.

You glance at Oscar, who looks equally startled. Taking a deep breath, you call out, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a minute."

You quickly straighten your clothes and smooth your hair before opening the door. Checo stands there, his expression a mix of worry and curiosity.

"What's going on?" he asks, his eyes darting between you and Oscar, who is now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Nothing, we were just talking," you say, trying to sound casual.

Checo raises an eyebrow but doesn't press the issue. "Alright, just wanted to make sure you're okay. It's late, try to get some sleep."

You nod, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. "I will, thanks, Checo."

As Checo turns to leave, you close the door and lean against it, your heart still racing. Oscar steps closer, his hand finding yours.

"That was close," he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Too close," you agree, squeezing his hand. "Maybe we should call it a night."

Oscar nods, leaning in to give you one last, lingering kiss. "Good night, Y/n. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Oscar," you whisper back, watching him quietly leave the room.

With your heart still pounding, you crawl into bed, laying there your fingers dance around your lips, they feel swollen, and you sigh trying to fall asleep, for now, you let the warmth of his kiss linger as you drift off to sleep.

-

You and Oscar have been dating for a while now, you attend races as much as you could, switching up which team you would support.

Checo has accepted that you and Oscar are together, and he's happy to see his little sister happy.

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stretch languidly, the memory of last night bringing a smile to your face. The clock reads 8:30 AM, giving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Oscar.

You slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot helping to shake off any lingering sleepiness. As you go through your morning routine, your thoughts drift to Oscar, and a giddy excitement bubbles up inside you.

Once you're dressed in your carefully chosen outfit you admire yourself in the mirror.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you out of your reverie. It's a text from Oscar

Morning! Ready to go?

Yeah meet me in the lobby in 10?

Perfect see you soon 😊

Feeling a rush of excitment, you grab your things and head down to the lobby. As you wait, you check your reflection one last time in the lobby mirror, adjusting your hair and making sure everything is perfect.

Just as you finish, you hear a familiar voice behind you. "Y/n?"

You turn to see Checo walking towards you, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing down here so early?"

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly compose yourself. "Oh, just meeting Oscar."

Checo chuckles, "You sure do love him."

Just then, the elevator doors open, and Oscar steps out, looking slightly flustered but undeniably handsome. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he quickly makes his way over.

"Good morning," he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Good morning," you reply, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

Checo watches the exchange with a neutral expression, but you can sense his protective instincts kicking in.

"Ready to go?" Oscar asks, offering his hand.

You take it, feeling a surge of happiness. "Absolutely."

Checo clears his throat, drawing both of your attention. "Oscar," he starts, his tone serious, "Look out for her."

Oscar nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I will."

Satisfied, Checo steps back, giving you both a nod. "Alright, you two. Have a good day."

You and Oscar head out of the hotel, hand in hand. The drive to the paddock is filled with easy conversation and laughter. Oscar seems more relaxed than ever, and you can't help but feel the same.

When he parks, he doesn't get out immediately he looks over at you, he runs his thumb against the back of your hand, "you look beautiful." he says.

You blush, thanking him, he get out of the car, opening your car door helping you out, he grabs your had walking towards the etrance of the circuit.

Fans push against the barricade trying to get Oscar to sign things, he slows down you let go of his hand to let him sign things for fans, you stand next to him, a fan greets you, you greet back, "y/n you look so cute today," you smile at the fan thanking her.

Oscar peers at you, "she always looks cute," he says handing back a cap to a fan, fans around you "Aw" and you giggle, Oscar bids them goodbye walking towards the garage.

The race went great for your brother, but for your boyfriend not so much, P16 wasn't a nice look, he walked toward the garage, his head hung low, and mechanics and engineers pat his back, you walk towards him taking his helmet that clutched he wrapped around your waist burying his nose into your shoulder.

you let him sit there, rubbing his back comfortably, he lets go, pecking your lips, and going to his drivers room.

That night Oscar layed down his head against your chest, an episode of Criminal Minds played in the background, you can hear him mutter something at the TV when the Team missed a clue.

Your phone vibrates, it is an email from your agent, she attached a letter from Sony, it read.

Dear Y/n, you got the part! You were amazing, the scripts are attached to this, and we can't wait to brainstorm with you, here is a rough draft schedule for filming.

Kindly, Tony Vinciquerra

You blink at the schedule before processing anymore Oscar sits up, "We should order ice cream." he says slipping out of bed, he grabs the phone calling room service.

You stare at Oscar, and when he notices he gives you a wink, you look down at the email, you turn off your phone facing Oscar promising you'll tell him tomorrow

-

You found Oscar sitting in the jacuzzi on the balcony of your room, his head leaned back, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly ajar. His eyes opened as you approached, his face lighting up with a smile that quickly faded when he saw the worry in your eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, watching you as you sat on the ledge of the jacuzzi, the ends of your thin nightgown getting wet.

“Hey,” you replied, “We need to talk.”

Oscar nodded, taking your hand in his.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I got an offer for a film role. It’s a big opportunity, but it’s in Barbados. I’d have to be away for three months.”

Oscar’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his expression serious. “That’s amazing, Y/n. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

“But it means we’d be apart,” you said, your voice trembling. “And you know long distance doesn't work.”

Oscar cupped your cheek with his free hand, looking into your eyes. “We’ll make it work. I won’t lie, it’s going to be tough, but we’ll figure it out. I believe in us.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away. “I believe in us too. But I’m scared, Oscar. Scared of losing you, of what people will say…”

Oscar pulled you into a tight hug, not caring if your nightgown got wet, his voice gentle but firm. “You have to go, and I’ll support you every step of the way. We’ll find a way to make it work, no matter what.”

Feeling the warmth of his embrace, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. It started softly, but soon it deepened, fueled by the intensity of emotions. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, holding him close as you poured all your love and longing into the kiss.

-

The following week, Checo and Oscar stood before you. You wore sunglasses to conceal any signs of tears.

Oscar stepped away, allowing you and your brother a moment together. "Vas a estar bien, te estaremos esperando, no te preocupes," he assured you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

You're going to be fine, we'll be waiting for you, don't worry.

Planting a tender kiss on your forehead, he signaled to Oscar, who approached. After placing your glasses atop your head, Oscar gently wiped away a stray tear. "I love you," he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheeks before landing a soft kiss on your lips. You reciprocated, whispering, "I love you, Oscar," as he smiled warmly. "I love you more," he replied.

As Checo returned to your side, your gate was called. Grabbing your bag, you walked away from them. Checo patted Oscar on the back reassuringly. "She'll be okay."

-

You sat in your trailer, staring at the script in front of you. You had just finished another exhausting day of filming, and your body ached for rest. Your phone buzzed with a message from Oscar, asking how your day had been. You smiled at his thoughtfulness, but a pang of guilt hit you for not being able to respond immediately.

Later that evening, You found a quiet moment to call Oscar. “Hey,” you said softly, leaning back against the couch.

“Hey,” Oscar replied, his voice filled with warmth. “How was your day?”

“Long,” you admitted, sighing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Oscar said, his tone sincere. “But I have some good news. I’ve been doing really well in the simulations. The team thinks I might have a good shot at the podium this weekend.”

Your heart swelled with pride. “That’s amazing, Oscar! I knew you could do it.”

“But there’s something else,” Oscar continued, his voice growing serious. “The team wants me to stay focused. They’re worried that our relationship might be a distraction.”

Your heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“They think we’re spending too much time together,” Oscar explained. “They want me to cut back on our calls, at least until the season ends.”

You felt a knot forming in your stomach. “Oscar, I don’t want to be a distraction. I want to support you.”

“I know,” Oscar said gently. “And you do. But I have to prove to them that I can stay focused."

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “Okay. We’ll make it work. I believe in you, Oscar.”

Oscar’s voice softened. “Thank you, Y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, ending the call and staring at your phone, you sigh running a hand through your face.

before dwelling on your thoughts too much, your assistant called you out to film some promotional videos.

-

Later that week, You found yourself on a film set in a picturesque but remote location. The long hours and demanding schedule left little time for anything else. You missed Oscar terribly, your brief texts and calls never feeling like enough.

It also didn't help that he was traveling around the world.

One night, after an exhausting shoot, you returned to your trailer to find a bouquet of flowers and a note from Oscar: "Thinking of you. We’ll make it through this. Love, Oscar."

Tears welled up in your eyes as she read the note. You called him immediately, needing to hear his voice.

"Hey," he answered, sounding equally tired but happy to hear from you.

"Hey," you said, you voice breaking. "Thank you for the flowers. I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," Oscar replied. "But remember what we talked about? We’re in this together. No matter what."

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reassurance washed over you. "I know. And I’m here for you too, Oscar. We’ll get through this."

You and Oscar stayed on the phone for hours that night, until you fell asleep.

-

Your co-star bangs on your trailer door you jump up from your spot, quickly opening the door to be greeted by him. "Y/n, stop being so boring. The crew and I are gonna go get a bite. Wanna come?" he asks.

You consider for a moment, then reply, "Yeah, I'll go."

You sit at the pizza parlor with the crew, enjoying the sweet Barbados air as it tickles your face. It takes your mind off Oscar, though you feel slightly guilty for not thinking about him. But it feels good to relax.

Your co-star leans towards you. "So, how's your Australian?" he asks. You smile at the thought of Oscar, reaching for your phone and opening up your photos. You slide through them, showing pictures of your boyfriend. What you don't notice is the flashing camera of the paparazzi. All they capture is you and your co-star sitting closely as you smile at him.

If you felt a strain in your relationship before you felt it now.

The tension reaches a boiling point when a rumor spreads that you were seen with a co-star, leading to speculation about your loyalty to Oscar. The headlines scream: "Trouble in Paradise for Y/n and Oscar?"

Oscar sees the news and feels his insecurities flare up. That evening, he calls you, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

"Is it true?" he asks, skipping the usual pleasantries.

"Is what true?" you reply, confused.

"That you’re getting close to your co-star? The media is having a field day with it," Oscar says, his voice tight.

Your heart sinks. "Oscar, no. It’s just a rumor. You know how the media is. Please, don’t let them get to you."

Oscar's tone remains skeptical. "How can I be sure, Y/n? These pictures don't lie."

You feel a pang of hurt. "Oscar, please believe me. I would never hurt you like that."

There's a tense silence on the other end of the line before Oscar speaks again, his voice strained. "I need some time to think. I'll talk to you later."

The line goes dead, leaving you feeling shaken. As you hang up the phone, a sense of dread settles over you, wondering if your love for each other will be enough to overcome the doubts and rumors swirling around you.

-

@willowpains @ilovefictionalm3n

[scarletwinterxx]

sweet nothings - jeon wonwoo imagine

hello🥺just a quick fluff moment with wonu🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Wonwoo isn't a morning person, he has a bad habit of staying up either to playing games on his computer or on his phone until the early hours of dawn.

That was until he met you, you never really stopped him from doing his favorite hobby. You didn't mind if he played, but you always leave a sweet reminder that he should get enough sleep. It wasn't until the first night you slept over at his apartment and he found you asleep on his bed, looking at the clock it wasn't that late to him but seeing you all cozied up under his sheets made him want to call it a night.

He turned his computer off and shut all the lights before going under the covers beside you.

Now that's his favorite thing to do, going to sleep with you in his arms.

Years later, now you live together. His nights and your mornings always end and start with each other.

Right now as he quietly tiptoes around the bedroom to leave for work, he gets his bag, phone and keys before looking at your sleeping figure.

For a second he contemplates whether he should just miss a day of work and get back under the sheets to cuddle you. A bit of sunlight seeping in the room, just enough for him to make out your features, you looked so serene and peaceful. The rest of you still hidden under the duvet while your cheeks pressed against the pillow cutely. Wonwoo couldn't help him self, he walks over the bed, leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek

"Hey love, I'm gonna go now. I'll call you later okay" he whispers even though you're probably still lost in dreamland

Instead of leaving like he said, he just stays there to watch you. A fond smile making it's way to his lips as he commits this moment to memory, just like all the photographs he has of you.

The apartment he used to live in on his own that he now shares with you, making it your little home. It's like you were always meant to be here with him. Your toothbrush next to his, yours and his' clothes in the closet, his favorite mug you always steal in the morning to drink your coffee. The apartment filled with sweet nothings you collected through the years of being together.

You stir in your sleep, raising your arms above your head to stretch. Letting out noises that Wonwoo can only describe as cute baby dinosaur noises. Your hand landing on top of the duvet, the shiny stone on your ring finger catching the light coming from between the curtain. Wonwoo's eyes follow the sparkling reflection, smiling even bigger when he sees his ring on your finger. Your ring now.

"Mhm? You leaving?" you groggily ask, feeling the other side of the bed. When your arm lands on the bed instead of the usual warmth of your man, you crack one eye open to see your fiancé smiling down at you.

"Yes, baby. Go back to sleep, I'll see you later okay" he leans down again to give you a few more kisses which you welcomed warmly.

By the time Wonwoo reaches the bedroom door, you're already falling back asleep.

He's not a morning person but for this he'd happily wake up everyday for. He really needs to go but he can't take his eyes away from you, his heart filling up with love and adoration even when you're not doing anything. The voices in his head screaming just how much he loves you while in reality he just smiles softly before finally leaving the room.

[fallingforchristmasworld]

[lem0nshark-writes]

"Shores"

Daemon Targaryen x Male Reader

Type: fluff

Word count: 1052

Warnings: dragonback riding, trip down the memory lane, fluff, light teasing, reader is chaotic and so is Daemon

A/N: Request by a lovely reader on wattpad with dragonback riding + fluff for Daemon! 💕 I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it and I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update it! I hope you have an amazing day! 💕

With sun hanging low above the sea horizon but the sunset not yet in sight Daemon and you rode side by side on your dragons above the calm waters.

There was no mission happening, no where to be, the two of you just wanted to feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your skin, and let your beloved dragons stretch their wings and enjoy some fun in the warm skies.

You chuckled wholeheartedly as you and your dragon passed over Daemon and his, making a loop and getting back to his left where you previously rode side by side with him before speeding before him, daring and challenging him to a race.

Daemon smirked, never being the one to back down a challenge, and his dragon raced right behind you.

You turned back to look at him grinning, not too far ahead, before having your dragon take on an even faster pace, riding along the coast and towards the sunset.

He followed suit, not taking too long to finally catch up with you and then once caught the four of you settled for a calm cruise, dipping down closer to the surface.

You closed your eyes happily, content feeling settling in your chest. Feeling the wind pick up your hair, the sparkling salty droplets scattering across your face and the sun on your skin, and Daemon by your side, was there anything else you could ask for?

You opened your eyes, soft smile spread across your lips when your eyes fell on Daemon who was already looking at you, admiring your form.

You blushed slightly still smiling, "Enjoying the view?"

"Very much," he smirked, hands softly resting one on the other atop the reins of the saddle of his dragon.

Your grinned, dipping down further with your dragons to the water, so close that now the hind legs of your dragons touched the water surface, leaving a trail across the sea as they went.

Soon enough the warm light of the setting sun illuminated your figures, letting you two know it is time to return back to the shores.

And so you did, taking a sharp turn to your right the four of you set path towards the land, riding once again besides the shore till you found cozy enough spot to land on, getting off your dragons and with some kind and warm words and pets setting them off to lay and rest across the grassy hills above.

Light night breeze picked up your hairs as Daemon and you walked towards the little sheltered area by the bottom of the hill, your dragons resting above you.

You started the fire and settled beside its warm form, your head laying down in Daemon's lap as his long fingers played with the strands of your hair.

You looked up at your lover, smiling softly at him as he did so back, staring down at you lovingly.

His fingers moved from your hair to your cheek, thumb slowly going over the small scar on it, remembering how you got it - the same night the two of you first met, challenging a guy to a duel after starting a pub fight over the same guy calling him ugly, and you, well, being very drunk.

The whole scene made absolutely no sense to Daemon as the two of you never saw each other in life before, but it amused him so much that after everything had calmed down, and you handed the ass to that clown daring to insult him, Daemon approached you and the two of you spent the rest of the night talking and drinking together. It was one of the fondest memories to him and still to this day made him chuckle wholeheartedly whenever he remembered it.

You smiled up at him noticing the fond expression across his face, "What are you thinking about?"

"The night we first met," he smiled back, smile turning into a bit of a grin at it, "you really made a mess up there," he chuckled.

You chuckled too as you remembered, "Shhh I still don't remember half of that night, but I hear it was wilder than you speak of it," you grinned.

"Oh that's for certain, words cannot describe everything that went down," he laughed a little, "you lunatic."

You grinned and lifted yourself up just enough to kiss him on the lips, "you know you love me."

"That I do," he grins.

"And it couldn't possibly be worse than when we had to run from the guards-" you burst into a laughter remembering that one.

"You looked good in that old lady's dress I'm not going to lie-" he adds with a smirk, barely holding in a laugh.

"We nearly burned down a whole street and that's what you take of it??" you laugh.

"Hey it was a good fit for you," he laughed as well.

"Shut up," you grin.

"You love me," he smirks.

"That I do," you grin and cup his cheeks, pulling his face downwards so you can kiss him again. He gladly returns the kiss.

"And you looked marvelous in that blanket you wrapped yourself in, seriously what was that?" you chuckled at him, teasing his camouflage of choice.

"At this point thinking back I'm pretty sure it was some sort of a carpet, and an unwashed one judging by the smell of it-" he contorted remembering the stench of his chosen camouflage.

You burst into another laugh as he tried to stifle your mockery by starting to tickle you vigorously.

You tried to wiggle out of his hands and crawl away but he pulled you back by your hips and attacked even stronger. You squeamed and giggled underneath him, begging for mercy before he finally took pity upon you and stopped his vicious attack.

You breathed heavily as you tried to calm down, fingers wiping at the tears that formed at your eyes before lightly punching his chest, "you ass!" you grinned at him.

He grinned back, "You know you love me."

"That I do," you grinned again and kissed him once more as you settled back with your head in his lap and his fingers in your hair and the two of you continued your talk and trip down the memory lane deep into the night.

[softonshanks]

Starlight and Sailor's Delight

Characters: Luffy x female reader

Total word count: 1129 words

Plot: Luffy and the reader spend a nice night during a festival and Luffy has to face his feelings for Y/N, realising that becoming king of the pirates isn't the only thing he cares about.

Author's note: I'm working on all the request you sent me and I am so so so thrilled because I am having such a fun time writing all this stuff. Unfortunatly today I had a very long work day, so I haven't been able to ultimate your prompts. Thus, I have decided to post a one shot about Luffy I had previously wrote, let me know if you like it (: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes.

The sun was setting on a warm, tranquil afternoon when Luffy and his crew docked at a remote island known for its serenity and breathtaking views. The Straw Hats had stumbled upon this hidden gem purely by chance—its isolation was both a mystery and an invitation for adventure. The island's sole settlement was a quaint village with narrow streets and cozy cottages, known for its simple beauty and tight-knit community.

Luffy and Y/N walked through the village, taking in the scenery, while the rest of the crew preferred to rest on the ship and join them later. Y/N was enthralled by the vibrant flowers lining the streets and the gentle hum of the nearby brook. Luffy, with his boundless energy, bounced from one spot to another, his excitement contagious. He couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes sparkled with every new sight, though he wasn’t quite sure why it made him feel so… happy.

“This place is so cool!” Luffy exclaimed, his straw hat tilting as he leaned in close to a flower.

“I can't wait to see it at night,” Y/N said, her voice filled with excitement. “I have always read about this festival where the whole village lights up with lanterns, and the stars look like they’re dancing in the sky.”

“Whoa, that sounds awesome!” Luffy said, his eyes wide with anticipation. “We’ve gotta check it out!”

As they strolled, a local woman approached them, her face beaming with warmth. “Ah, visitors! We’ve been expecting you. Tonight, we’re having our annual stargazing festival. Would you like to join us?”

“Festival? That’s the one you were talking about Y/N!” Luffy shouted, his enthusiasm drawing the attention of nearby villagers. “We’re in!” The woman laughed and led them to the village square, where preparations for the festival were underway. Lanterns were being hung, and a large telescope stood prominently in the center, surrounded by tables of food and drink.

As dusk fell, the village came alive with festivities. Villagers and visitors alike gathered, chatting and laughing as the first stars began to appear. Luffy and Y/N mingled with the crowd, soaking in the lively atmosphere. Luffy’s heart felt lighter than usual, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Being around Y/N just seemed… nice. Y/N was drawn to the telescope, where a young man with glasses was eagerly explaining the constellations to a group of fascinated children. Luffy, however, was more interested in the food table, his eyes widening at the sight of the variety of local treats.

Y/N later joined him, holding a small plate of what looked like sweet pastries. “You’ve got to try these, Luffy. They’re amazing!”. Luffy grabbed a pastry with childlike glee and took a big bite. His eyes lit up. “This is awesome! We should take some back to the ship, so Sanji can taste it and cook it for us again once we leave,” said with his mouth full of food.

They spent the evening sampling food, enjoying the music, and laughing with the locals. As the sky darkened and the stars became more prominent, the atmosphere grew more magical. Villagers gathered around the telescope, and Luffy, never one to miss out on fun, decided to take a turn. Y/N watched with a soft smile as Luffy peered through the telescope, his face scrunched up in concentration. “See anything interesting, Captain?”

“Whoa, I think I see a giant meatball!” Luffy exclaimed, pulling back with a wide grin. “Oh, wait… nope, just a star. But it kinda looks like one!”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Only you, Luffy.”

“Hey, I’ve got a pretty good imagination,” Luffy said, puffing out his chest with pride. “And a great appetite!”

Y/N giggled, her heart fluttering at his carefree attitude. There was something so endearing about Luffy—something that made her feel warm and safe, even amidst his wild antics.

As the night wore on, the focus shifted to dancing. The villagers formed a circle, and soon, Luffy and Y/N found themselves caught up in the rhythm. The music was lively, and the dance was infectious. Luffy’s movements were wild and uncoordinated, but filled with pure joy. At one point, Luffy noticed Y/N standing off to the side, watching the others with a thoughtful expression. He bounded over to her, grabbing her hand with his usual enthusiasm. “Come on, Y/N! You can’t just stand there. Let’s dance!”

“I’m having fun just watching,” Y/N replied with a soft smile. “But thanks, Luffy.”

Luffy tilted his head, his eyes full of curiosity. “You sure? You look like you’re thinking too much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes. “Just thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed today. And how glad I am that I met you”. Luffy’s grin softened into something more sincere, though he wasn’t entirely sure why her words made his heart skip a beat.

“I’m glad too, Y/N. It’s been awesome having you around”. Y/N’s heart warmed at his words, and for a moment, they stood there, the sounds of the festival fading into the background. The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, casting a gentle glow over the village. She hesitated for a second, then leaned in and rested her head on Luffy’s shoulder. His face flushed slightly, a rare sight for the usually carefree pirate.

“That is nice!” he said, stopping for a moment and just enjoying the view of villager’s dancing, while he and Y/N were in peace. "This is really nice," repeated, as he rested his head on Y/N's one. While the dance continued, something shifted in the air between them. Luffy found himself drawn to Y/N in a way he didn’t quite understand. Her laugh, her smile, the way she seemed to glow under the lantern light—it all made him feel… different. A warm, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest, but he shrugged it off. He was Luffy, after all. The only thing he wanted was to be kings of the pirates, maybe some meat most of the time. He didn’t have time for complicated stuff like feelings… right?

“Luffy,” Y/N’s voice broke the crystallized moment they were in. “Thank you for tonight.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up at her words, though he wasn’t quite sure why they made him feel so warm inside. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Y/N. This is awesome!”

Y/N’s heart swelled at his simple sincerity. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling. But before she could speak, Luffy, with his usual impulsiveness, did something that caught even him by surprise. He leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

It was a gentle, tentative kiss, filled with all the innocence and curiosity that defined Luffy. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, everything else faded away—the music, the laughter, the festival—leaving only the two of them, connected in the quiet of the night.

[enhyunj]

› ECSTASY | P.SH ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

masterlist

pairing: football player!sunghoon x cheerleader!afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: ≈ 1.3k

warnings: drug use (I DONT CONDONE IT) + alcohol consumption

synopsis: At a vibrant party, you and Sunghoon escape to his bedroom for a private moment. Amidst passion and shared indulgences, your connection intensifies, making for a memorable and intimate night together.

NOTE: THEYRE IN COLLEGE NOT HIGHSCHOOL!! THEYRE BOTH 20+ 😭🙏🏼🙏🏼

The party is already in full swing when you and your friends finally make your entrance. The night has been eagerly anticipated-a chance to unwind and have fun with your boyfriend, Sunghoon, and your close-knit group. You spot him immediately, his tall, broad frame commanding attention in his letterman jacket. He's engrossed in conversation with his football teammates, a bottle of beer in his hand. The sight of him sends a thrill through you, especially because of the secret you've brought tonight—a little surprise just for the two of you. A sly smile tugs at your lips as you weave your way through the crowded room toward him.

"Hey, babe," you greet him, sidling up next to him. Sunghoon turns, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he sees you.

He leans down, wrapping his strong arms around you, and kisses you deeply. The taste of beer on his breath mixes with his cologne creating an intoxicating blend.

"You’re here," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

You laugh, a light, musical sound that draws the attention of his teammates. "I had some cheer things to handle first," you explain with a playful grin.

Sunghoon chuckles, his warm breath tickling your skin. "Well, now that you're here, stay close. I don't want to lose you in this crowd."

Blushing at the attention, you nod and link your arm through his, resting your hand on his bicep. Together, you navigate the party, drinking, dancing, and laughing. The energy of the room is electric, and you feel alive, wrapped in the warmth of Sunghoon's presence.

As the night progresses, you and Sunghoon find a secluded corner away from the loud music and boisterous guests. He pulls you close, his hands roaming your body, igniting a fire within you. Your hearts pound in unison, and the heat between you is palpable. His lips find yours again, and you kiss passionately, tongues entwining in a dance of desire.

"Let's get out of here," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

You nod, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Taking his hand, you lead him upstairs to his bedroom. The familiar coziness of the room, with posters of his favorite bands on the walls and a neatly made bed, welcomes you.

Closing the door behind you, you turn to face Sunghoon, your eyes shining with desire. He wastes no time, pulling you into a hungry kiss. Your hands explore his body, feeling the hard planes of his chest and the smooth skin of his back.

"I've been waiting for this all night," he groans, his voice thick with longing.

You smile, a thrill running through you.

"Me too."

With nimble fingers, you begin unbuttoning his shirt, kissing along his jawline. Sunghoon helps you undress, his hands shaking slightly as he reveals your body inch by inch. Soon, your clothes lie forgotten on the floor, and you're pressed against other, skin to skin.

You reach for the nightstand drawer, your heart pounding with excitement.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. "What do we have here?"

You produce a small bag of weed and a pipe, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Thought we could have a little fun."

Sunghoon's eyes light up, and he takes the pipe from you, packing it with the fragrant green herb. He lights it, inhaling deeply, and then passes it to you. You take a hit, the smoke filling your lungs, and exhale slowly, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

"That's good stuff," you murmur, snuggling into his side.

Sunghoon chuckles, his arms tightening around you. "Yeah, it is."

You lie there for a while, enjoying the pleasant buzz, the soft music from downstairs providing a soothing backdrop. Sunghoon strokes your hair, his touch gentle and loving.

"You know," he says, his voice low and rough, "I love it when you cheer. But I love it even more when it's just you and me."

You smile, a warm, contented feeling spreading through you. "I love it too. It's like we're in our own little world."

He kisses you then, a deep, passionate kiss that leaves you breathless. The weed has heightened your senses, and every touch, every sensation, feels amplified. You can feel your heart racing, your skin tingling, as Sunghoon's hands roam your body, exploring every curve.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I can't get enough of you."

You moan softly as he teases your neck with his lips and tongue. "Sunghoon..."

His name escapes your lips like a plea, and he responds by tracing a path of kisses down your body, his hands gripping your thighs. You can feel his desire, and it only els your own.

"I love your thighs," he murmurs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"So soft and smooth."

You whimper as he nips at your skin, his hands squeezing your thighs lovingly.

"Please, Sunghoon..."

He chuckles, the vibrations tickling your skin. "Impatient, aren't we?"

Before you can respond, he enters you in one swift motion, filling you completely.

You cry out, your head thrown back, your body arching off the bed. Sunghoon groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move, his thrusts deep and purposeful.

"Oh, God," you moan, your eyes screwed shut as pleasure washes over you.

"Sunghoon, yes..."

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he moves within you, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "You feel so good," he pants. "So tight."

You meet his thrusts, your bodies moving in perfect sync. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound blending with your passionate cries. The scent of sweat and sex fills the room, heightening the intensity of the moment.

"I'm close," you whisper, your nails digging into his back. "Sunghoon, don't stop."

"I won't," he grunts, his muscles tensing as he drives into you. "Come for me, baby."

Your bodies move together, the pace frantic now as you chase your release.

The pleasure builds and builds until you can't take it anymore. With a scream, you climax, your body shaking uncontrollably. "Sunghoon!"

He follows close behind, his body stiffening as he fills you with his release.

He collapses onto the bed, pulling you close, his chest heaving. You lie there, your hearts pounding, your sweat-dampened bodies entwined.

"That was." Sunghoon trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

You smile, a feeling of contentment washing over you. "Incredible."

He chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "Yeah. Incredible."

You snuggle closer, your heads resting on the same pillow. The two of you lie there in comfortable silence, your breathing slowly returning to normal. The party seems distant now, the only world that matters existing within these four walls.

"I love you, you know," Sunghoon says softly, his voice full of tenderness.

You smile, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest. "I love you too."

And in that moment, with the soft glow of the moon illuminating your intertwined bodies, you know that this is where you're meant to be-safe and loved in the arms of your boyfriend, Sunghoon.

end note: I feel like it was kind of rushed but I lost motivation after writing a bit of it forgive me pls :33 sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes!!