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svt-luna · 2 months ago

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𝜗℘ HIM AND I

❛ 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘦. 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, "𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦", 𝘪 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥— 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: In a momentous night filled with cheers, Luna must confront the void of Jeonghan’s absence, finding solace in the echoes of his unwavering support from afar.

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of anxiety, cursing, pda, flirting, teasing, texting galore, fluff, fluff, fluff, and more tooth-rotting fluff, prepared to be sick of them

surprise!! i simply couldn’t help myself after seeing my baby in the concert yesterday!! this reminded me of a few anon requests i had a few weeks ago (request 1) & (request 2). there are a couple of scenes here as well which were requested by you lovely humans and i decided to do them because of how excited i was. i hope you guys enjoy this even though it’s a little rushed.

also a little fun fact: i accidentally deleted this the second i finished it 💀 thankfully i had saved it in my google docs… almost had a mental breakdown. so please enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears 🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

It’s always been the two of them together.

Since the very first day they met in that green-colored practice room at PLEDIS, they were like two peas in a pod.

The moment Luna walked in, feeling the weight of both excitement and uncertainty, Jeonghan was the first to approach her. No hesitation, no judgment— just a warm smile and a hand stretched out in welcome.

From that point on, they were inseparable.

Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, and Luna, who had initially been more guarded, found a natural rhythm together. He was her first real friend at PLEDIS, and because of that, Luna quickly became his shadow. She followed him everywhere, always listened to him, and valued his opinion above anyone else’s.

Even before asking the others, it was always Jeonghan’s thoughts that mattered the most to her.

Jeonghan was the first to notice every little shift in her mood. He knew when something was bothering her just by a subtle change in her expression. A slight furrow of her brow, a distant look in her eyes— Jeonghan saw it all.

And it worked both ways.

Luna could read Jeonghan like a book, noticing the moments when he was tired, frustrated, or simply needed a break, even when no one else could tell.

They shared an unspoken understanding, a quiet connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

But it was during Luna’s first monthly evaluation at PLEDIS that their bond solidified into something deeper. The pressure had been mounting ever since she joined. Everyone knew her as the former YG trainee, the one they called ‘The Ace’.

Other trainees whispered about her in the hallways, speculating about her skills, her future, and whether she could live up to the hype. She was terrified, though she would never show it.

Luna stood there, her posture rigid, her expression stoic, but Jeonghan saw right through her.

He knew her mind was running in circles, knew that she was silently carrying the weight of everyone’s expectations.

Right before her turn came up, he pulled her aside, just out of view from the others. Without a word, he placed his forehead gently against hers. Luna’s eyes fluttered closed, and instantly, the world around them began to fade away. It was just the two of them, their breaths slowly falling into sync. She could feel Jeonghan’s steady breathing against her, and with each inhale, her racing heart began to slow.

“Breathe,” Jeonghan whispered softly, his voice calming and sure. “It’s just you and me.”

Luna’s lips parted as she repeated, her eyes still closed, “Just you and me.”

Jeonghan stayed like that for a moment longer, watching her closely, his forehead still pressed against hers. He saw the tension slowly melt from her face, saw her shoulders relax, and he knew she was ready.

He gave her a few seconds to breathe before he finished with one final phrase: “Nothing else.”

And then, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

From that day on, this simple but powerful ritual became their anchor.

Every time Luna faced a challenge— whether it was another monthly evaluation, their first nerve-wracking showcase, their debut stage, or even the countless music show performances that followed— Jeonghan was there.

Always.

Every single time.

And every time, without fail, their routine remained the same.

Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, their breathing in sync.

“Breathe. It’s just you and me,” Jeonghan would say.

“Just you and me,” Luna would repeat.

And finally, Jeonghan would whisper, “Nothing else,” before placing that same gentle kiss on her forehead.

It became their unbreakable tradition, a constant in the whirlwind of their careers.

Every fan meeting, every concert, whether they were surrounded by thousands of screaming fans or in the quiet of a backstage room, they found those few moments for each other.

In their little bubble, it was always just them.

No matter how loud the world outside got, no matter the pressure or the expectations, when their foreheads touched and their breaths aligned, everything else faded away.

Nothing else mattered but each other.

Jeonghan and Luna had always found a way to stick to their ritual, no matter the circumstance.

There were times when Jeonghan wasn’t there with her before a performance, like when he had his elbow injury or when needed surgery for his ankle. He had been forced to sit out, recovering on the sidelines, watching as Luna and the rest of the members continued performing without him. And then there were moments when Luna wasn’t there either— laid up in bed, sick, forced to watch her team from a distance as they carried on without her.

Yet, even then, it didn’t matter.

They always found a way to connect, a way to anchor themselves in their shared tradition.

They would message each other, without fail, right before going on stage, sending the same words and phrases that had become their pre-show mantra.

Jeonghan’s simple, reassuring words would flash on her screen: Breathe. It’s just you and me.

And Luna would respond, without hesitation: Just you and me.

Jeonghan would finish with the final, comforting line: Nothing else.

It was never the same as having him physically beside her, but it was enough to ground her, enough to carry her through those moments of loneliness and anxiety.

Now, sitting backstage a few hours before the start of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Right Here’ tour in Goyang, Luna felt the familiar nerves bubbling up. They were kicking things off at the Goyang Stadium, a massive venue filled with excited fans waiting to see them.

But this time, it was different.

This time, Jeonghan wasn’t recovering from an injury.

He wasn’t at home, sick, waiting for the next chance to rejoin them on stage.

This time, Jeonghan was gone for what would feel like an eternity— two long years of military service.

As Luna sat in the makeup chair, her hair being carefully curled and styled, her makeup artist putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner, all she could focus on was the reflection staring back at her in the mirror.

Her face was dolled up, her hair perfectly styled, but none of it seemed to matter. Her eyes kept drifting back to her own reflection, searching for something to latch onto, something to calm the anxious storm brewing inside her chest.

This time, things were really changing.

She had come to terms with it over the last few years— the fact that Jeonghan would be gone and that after him, the rest of the members, aside from the foreign members and Seungcheol, would eventually follow.

The inevitability of it all had weighed on her, but she knew it had to happen.

Luna and Jeonghan had talked about it endlessly in the days leading up to his enlistment, late-night conversations filled with reassurances and reminders that this was something every man in Korea had to face.

Even on the day he left, Jeonghan had made it clear— he didn’t want her to be sad without him. That’s what he’d emphasized most. “Smile for me, yeah? You can cry, baby, but don’t spend the next two years crying about it. I’ll still be here. You’ll still see me.” he had said, a teasing grin on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But Luna knew better.

She knew how much he hated the thought of leaving her, even if he didn’t say it outright.

She was trying— really.

Really trying to see the bright side.

After all, Jeonghan hadn’t enlisted as a regular soldier. Because of his injury, he would be serving as a social worker instead, meaning he wouldn’t be stuck in the grueling life of a combat soldier. But even so, he still had to complete basic training.

He still had to endure those few weeks of separation. Almost two weeks had passed since and it was slowly driving Luna mad.

The last few months had been an emotional whirlwind, a rollercoaster she was still trying to process.

From headlining at Lollapalooza in Berlin to Jeonghan proposing to her the day before the festival, to their last date just days before his enlistment, and then, of course, being caught by the media.

Their five-year relationship and engagement were splashed across the headlines, their private lives exposed for all to see. The mixed reactions from fans and the public alike were something Luna had expected, but it was still exhausting.

And then, Jeonghan had left.

Just like that.

Officially inactive for two years— the two weeks of basic training already felt like an eternity.

And now, here she was, on the first day of their tour, her emotions on overdrive. The excitement of being on stage again, mixed with the crushing weight of Jeonghan’s absence, made her heart feel like it was caught in a tug-of-war.

She needed him here with her.

She needed his warmth, his comfort, his stupid little quips that always managed to pull a smile out of her, no matter how stressed she was.

As the team continued curling her hair, adjusting the strands to perfection, and applying the final touches to her makeup, Luna closed her eyes, trying to block out the bustling chaos of the dressing room. She could hear the other members around her, each one doing their own pre-show rituals. Some were talking and laughing, others were getting changed, or sitting in the makeup chairs.

It was the usual energy before a concert. But all Luna could hear were her thoughts, the mantra she and Jeonghan had shared for years repeating over and over in her mind.

Breathe. It’s just you and me.

The words echoed in her head as she tried to steady her breathing, to keep herself from spiraling into the anxious pit that had been creeping up on her ever since Jeonghan left.

Just you and me.

She whispered the words to herself, a quiet promise that, no matter how far away he was, he was still with her.

Nothing else.

Luna didn’t even realize her fingers had been fiddling with her rings— a telltale sign of her anxiety. She often did it without thinking, twisting and turning the metal bands around her fingers whenever her nerves got the better of her.

But now, the new addition on her left hand, the oval-shaped diamond engagement ring, caught her eye. Its sparkle under the dressing room lights felt like a beacon, drawing her attention to the very thing that had been on her mind all morning.

Her heart clenched, and for a moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

Seeing the ring, a symbol of her future with Jeonghan, only made her miss him more. But she fought it back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

Not today, she reminded herself. Today is a happy day. It’s the opening day of their world tour.

There was no need for tears— at least, not today.

She had promised Jeonghan she wouldn’t cry about it anymore, not about him leaving, not about the empty space beside her.

She was doing this for him, too.

Those thoughts began to ebb away, only to be replaced by a new wave of anxiety.

This would be her first time on stage since the confirmation of their relationship and engagement, and now, more than ever, she wished Jeonghan were there to face it with her. She always looked to him in these moments when the weight of the public eye felt like too much to bear.

But now, he wasn’t here, and the thought of going out there alone made her heartbeat quicken.

Anxiety slithered its way back into her chest, tightening its grip around her lungs.

I hate my mind sometimes, she thought bitterly, her fingers twisting the engagement ring as she tried to steady her breathing.

Luna wanted to be calm, to focus on the excitement of the concert, but her mind kept drifting back to all the pressure, and all the expectations.

She tried to push the thoughts away, inhaling deeply to force her heart to slow down.

Then, a sudden ding broke through the fog of her thoughts.

Her phone, resting on her lap, vibrated softly, bringing her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at the screen, blinking a few times to adjust.

Her lock screen— a photo of Jeonghan from their trip to Paris last year— made her heart skip a beat. He was posing in that carefree way only he could, the Parisian architecture stood in the background.

The memory brought a small smile to her face, but her heart skipped another beat entirely when she saw the name of the person who had just messaged her.

‘my angel boy🪽’

It was Jeonghan.

Luna almost burst into tears at the sight. Her fingers fumbled to unlock the phone as she hurriedly opened the message, heart pounding in her chest.

One word stared back at her:

Luna could’ve cried right then and there, overwhelmed by how perfectly Jeonghan knew her.

Even when he wasn’t physically there next to her, even when they hadn’t spoken in nearly two weeks, he still knew exactly what she needed to hear.

She didn’t know how she got so lucky, how she had found someone so attuned to her, so aware of her emotions.

How did I get so lucky? she thought, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. How am I this blessed to have him?

Her fingers moved quickly across the screen as she typed, a sense of urgency settling in her chest.

She needed reassurance, despite the fact that it was literally his number. She knew it was him, but a part of her needed to hear him say it again, needed to know he was still there with her in some small way.

The reply came almost immediately as if he knew she’d be waiting, breath held.

Luna’s chest tightened at the words, her heart swelling and her throat constricting. If it weren’t for the fact that her makeup artist was just finishing up her eye makeup, she probably would have let the tears spill over. But she blinked them back, biting down on her lip to keep herself steady.

Luna let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since she’d sat down in the makeup chair.

She was so thankful for him, so unbelievably grateful that no matter what, Jeonghan always found a way to be there for her. Even in the middle of his military service, he had still managed to send her exactly what she needed.

He always found a way for her.

And then, a thought entered her mind— one she didn’t want to entertain, but couldn’t help. She wished it were true, wished more than anything that he was here with her, physically present.

Her fingers moved on their own as she typed the words she was afraid to ask but desperately wanted to hear.

The seconds ticked by slowly, agonizingly, as she waited for his reply. Her heart pounded in her chest, hope mingling with dread, until finally, his answer came through:

For a moment, Luna’s heart nearly stopped.

Jeonghan was here.

He was really here.

The overwhelming urge to jump out of her chair and run through the stadium to find him flooded her senses.

She wanted nothing more than to see him, to feel his arms around her, to know that he was there in the audience watching her, supporting her as he always had.

Luna stared at the screen, her heart racing and her fingers trembling slightly over the phone as she typed back to Jeonghan. The soft warmth of his words lingered in her chest like a quiet flame, steadying the swirl of emotions that had been consuming her moments before.

She could almost hear his voice, teasing and soft, comforting her through the miles that stretched between them in her heart, despite knowing he was right there in the audience.

Her lips curled into a smile as her fingers hovered above the keyboard, their playful banter still vivid in her mind.

Her gaze drifted from the phone for a moment, taking in the organized chaos of the dressing room around her. The makeup artists and staff were in their usual whirlwind, preparing for the show, but Luna’s world had narrowed down to that little device in her hands and the man on the other side of the screen.

Luna could practically feel his presence in those words— steady, reassuring like he was holding her hand through the screen.

As the conversation came to a close, Luna found herself taking a deep breath.

The anxiety that had been gnawing at her seemed to ease as Jeonghan’s words echoed in her mind. He had this way of grounding her, making everything seem a little less daunting.

With her heart still pounding but in a much softer rhythm now, she tucked her phone away, letting out a small exhale.

The moment was tender and fleeting, but it was enough. Enough to remind her of why she was here, why she was standing on the precipice of something so grand, and why she wouldn’t let her fears hold her back today.

Because, as Jeonghan had said, it was just them— just Luna and him in this moment, no matter the crowd, no matter the circumstances.

Her gaze returned to the mirror, catching the reflection of the sparkling ring on her finger.

That simple band now held so much meaning.

It wasn’t just a promise of forever; it was a reminder that no matter where life took them, Jeonghan would always find a way to be by her side.

Luna released a long, steady breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she centered herself. She was still buzzing with excitement from the conversation with Jeonghan, her heart racing faster than it had any right to.

But now it was time to focus.

There was a show to do.

Opening night.

Slowly, she stood up from the makeup chair, her muscles loosening as the tension from the past few minutes ebbed away.

Her stylist, Jiwoo, called out her name just as Luna was about to head to her dressing room.

“Jiyeon-ah! Here’s your opening outfit.”

Jiwoo came toward her with the ensemble, a stunning black and white stage outfit designed to captivate under the lights. Luna’s fingers gently brushed against the fabric as Jiwoo handed it to her. The shimmering accents practically glowed under the dressing room lights.

“Wow,” Luna breathed out, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Why does it look better now than during the first dress rehearsal? It’s amazing.”

“Only the best for ou stars,” Jiwoo replied with a wink, smiling as she stepped back to admire the outfit Luna was clutching to her chest.

Luna felt a surge of warmth at her stylist’s words. She thanked her quietly before heading off, her mind now completely absorbed in the rhythm of preparation.

She was halfway down the room when she noticed Seungcheol, already dressed in his own stage outfit, leaning casually against the wall, eyes glued to his phone. His head was bobbing slightly to the beat of the music playing in the background, courtesy of Vernon, who had a playlist going to pump everyone up.

A mischievous smile formed on Luna’s lips as she quickened her pace and approached him. Without warning, she lightly punched him in the arm, enough to startle him but far from anything painful.

Seungcheol blinked in surprise, his eyes lifting from his phone to meet hers. “What was that for?” he asked, not angry at all but pouting back at her in mock offense. His expression was so comically disbelieving that it made Luna’s grin widen.

Luna gave him a playful pout of her own, leaning in slightly as she clutched the outfit closer to her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” she asked, her tone teasing but with an underlying warmth.

Her heart still fluttered at the thought of Jeonghan surprising her.

The realization dawned on Seungcheol, and his eyes widened slightly before nodded his head in understanding. “So, he told you already, huh?” He crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in mock scolding, looking down at her like a parent about to lecture their child. “Did he also tell you that he told us not to tell you?” His eyebrow raised as if challenging her, though the soft smile on his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

Luna almost burst out laughing at the way Seungcheol worded his sentence. He really could be so serious sometimes. Still, her pout remained as she nodded in confirmation.

Seungcheol sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Then why did you punch me?”

Luna couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, her expression softening as she looked up at him. “Because I’m happy, Cheollie,” she replied, her voice almost childlike in its honesty.

The simplicity of the statement, combined with the sincerity behind it, made the moment feel lighter, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Seungcheol’s expression softened too. His stern act melted away as he looked at her, the leader in him always understanding, always protective. “Well, I’m happy that you’re happy,” he said, his tone gentle, filled with affection for his longtime friend.

Luna hummed in grateful acknowledgment, her chest swelling with an overwhelming sense of joy.

If she was fire, Seungcheol’s words had been gasoline, igniting her spirit even further.

She felt more energized than ever, more ready to step onto that stage and give her all.

Without thinking, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on Seungcheol’s cheek. The surprised look on his face made her giggle.

Then, with a renewed sense of excitement, she skipped— yes, literally skipped— down the hallway toward the changing room, her laughter echoing softly as she disappeared around the corner.

The members of SEVENTEEN could feel the shift in the atmosphere almost immediately.

Luna’s energy was palpable, radiating from her as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

For weeks now, they had watched her bury herself in work, her usual brightness dimmed by the heavy absence of Jeonghan. Ever since he left for his enlistment, it was as though Luna had lost a piece of herself. She had kept her head down, moving from one task to the next with little time to breathe in between.

Photoshoots, solo events, rehearsals, preparation for this concert —she threw herself into it all.

Even during Fashion Week, where she shone as brightly as any model on the runway, the members knew it wasn’t quite the same. They could see it in the way her smile never quite reached her eyes, how she lingered a little too long in the practice room after hours, working through the choreography over and over as if hoping the physical exhaustion would drown out the emotional strain.

But no matter how much work she piled on, it didn’t fill the void left by Jeonghan.

It wasn’t just her who felt it.

The rest of the group could sense his absence as keenly as she did.

Jeonghan was like the glue that held them all together, always there with a teasing smile or a comforting word, and without him, something essential was missing. It didn’t help that Jun wasn’t around either, caught up in his own projects back in China.

Two out of fourteen of their pillars were gone, and though the group was as close-knit as ever, the hole they left behind was impossible to ignore.

But tonight, as Luna skipped down the hallway, her lightness and joy infecting the air around her, the difference was startling. It was as if the dark cloud that had been hovering over her for weeks had finally broken, letting the sun shine through again.

And everyone noticed.

Seungkwan, who had been warming up his voice nearby, exchanged a glance with Dokyeom, who grinned knowingly. “She’s definitely in a better mood,” Seungkwan murmured, his eyes following Luna as she disappeared around the corner.

“Thank Jeonghan hyung for that,” Dokyeom chuckled softly.

The rest of the members murmured their agreement. They knew how close Luna and Jeonghan were; they had been witnesses to the growth of their relationship, from quiet glances and hidden smiles to the deep bond they shared now.

Watching Luna struggle these past few weeks had been hard on all of them, especially since there was little they could do to ease the ache of missing someone so important.

But tonight, with Jeonghan’s surprise appearance, it was as if a piece of her heart had been restored. Luna practically floated through the corridors, her excitement contagious. The members couldn’t help but feel a surge of their own happiness, relieved that at least for now, Luna’s spirit had been lifted.

They were grateful to Jeonghan for pulling her out of the fog she had been in, if only for a little while.

The concert looming ahead was significant for all of them— opening night for their ‘Right Here’ world tour. A twelve-member performance instead of their usual fourteen. It felt incomplete, yet seeing Luna smiling again was a balm for their own worries.

They might not be able to share the stage with Jeonghan and Jun tonight, but they would carry the spirit of their absent brothers with them.

And for now, it was enough.

The air in the backstage room buzzed with an electric tension, the kind that always hung in the moments before a show.

Luna could feel her heart racing in her chest as she stood in the familiar circle with the rest of SEVENTEEN, their hands together in front of them as they leaned in close. This huddle had become their tradition, a quiet moment of unity before they stepped onto the stage.

It was their anchor, the reminder that no matter how many people screamed their names or how many bright lights shone on them, at the core, it was still the fourteen of them— or in this case, twelve.

Seungcheol, their leader, always took the opportunity to speak in these moments. His voice was calm, but there was a fire beneath it, a quiet strength that reassured all of them. “Let’s give everything we’ve got out there,” he said, his eyes sweeping over the circle, locking briefly on each of them. “Opening night of our world tour, let’s give them a show. For Jeonghan and Jun.”

There was a pause as the weight of his words hung in the air— Jeonghan and Jun.

Their absence was a wound they all felt deeply, but tonight wasn’t about sadness. It was about showing the world their strength, even if incomplete. And for Luna, it was about showing Jeonghan how proud she was, knowing he was somewhere out there watching.

With a deep breath, they all chanted their group cheer, voices blending into one. The sound reverberated through the room, filling Luna’s chest with warmth and grounding her. As the cheer faded, they broke apart, nodding to each other with a shared understanding.

This was it.

Luna’s heart thudded in her chest as she took her position on the platform behind the massive LED screen with the rest of the members. Her palms were slightly sweaty, and she wiped them discreetly against the fabric of her stage outfit.

The seconds ticked by slowly, anticipation building in the air like a coiled spring. She closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath to center herself, repeating the mantra that always ran through her mind before the lights hit her face. She exhaled slowly, feeling the jittery energy settle into something more controlled, more focused.

When her eyes opened again, it was just in time to see the LED screen in front of them begin to part.

The roaring of the crowd outside, though slightly muffled by her in-ear monitor, was deafening. It was like standing at the edge of a storm, the rumble of thousands of voices merging into one wild, electric sound.

The adrenaline that rushed through her veins was immediate, like a shock to her system, awakening every nerve in her body. Luna could feel it pumping in time with the beat of the song, ‘Fear,’ which began to pulse through her ears.

As the screen fully opened, revealing the stage in all its glory. The noise of the crowd swelled even louder, crashing into them like a tidal wave, but the music in her in-ear monitor kept her grounded. She felt the thrum of the bass vibrate through her body, each beat synchronizing with her racing heart.

From the very first note of ‘Fear,’ Luna was on. Her movements were sharp, and precise, every step of the choreography drilled into her muscles through hours of practice.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins made everything feel sharper, more intense— the rush of the performance intoxicating. She was alive in a way that nothing else in the world could make her feel. Every sway of her hips, every lift of her arm, and every spin was executed with flawless precision. The music was in her bones, and the choreography felt like second nature, her body flowing effortlessly from one move to the next.

Luna’s eyes found the cameras, her expression shifting into the sultry, fierce gaze she knew the fans loved. Each camera angle was met with purpose— a glance, a smirk, a fleeting look that would send their fans into a frenzy. She could feel their energy, their excitement feeding into her own, and it made her perform even harder, even better.

The members around her were just as immersed in the performance. They moved as one, the choreography flawless, their presence commanding.

They were SEVENTEEN, a unit, even when parts of them were miles away.

As ‘Fear’ bled into ‘Fearless,’ the energy only amplified. The transitions were seamless, Luna’s voice strong and clear as she hit each note with power. Her voice was steady through her in-ear monitor, and she felt the music vibrate through every fiber of her being.

She lived for this— the lights, the stage, the connection with the audience. There was nothing quite like the feeling of performing, the way the adrenaline and music melded together into one euphoric experience.

With every song, every movement, the crowd grew louder, their energy mixing with her own. She craved it, thrived on it. It fueled her, pushing her to give more, to hit each move harder, to sing with more passion.

By the time ‘Maestro’ started, the third song in their opening set, Luna was fully in the zone. Her body moved on pure muscle memory, her vocals strong as they rang through the arena. She nailed every single move, every single note.

And through it all, she couldn’t help but give a little more, and perform with just a bit more intensity. Because tonight wasn’t just for her.

Tonight, she knew Jeonghan was watching. He was out there somewhere in the sea of fans, his eyes on her, and that knowledge made her push herself to give a hundred and one percent.

This is for you, she thought, her heart swelling with pride and love.

Every move, every note— it’s for you.

As the third song, ‘Maestro,’ came to an electrifying end, Luna and the rest of the members made their way to the front of the stage. The adrenaline still coursing through her veins was a heady mixture of euphoria and exhilaration. She could feel the sweat cooling on her skin beneath the stage lights, the pounding in her chest mirroring the thrumming energy of the arena.

The fans were screaming louder than ever, their voices a roaring tidal wave that seemed to rise and crash over the stage, swallowing the entire stadium in a sea of sound.

The members, still catching their breath from the performance, began to line up. Each of them took turns stepping forward for the opening ment, one after another, introducing themselves as a team and sharing their thoughts with the audience.

Luna stood among them, her eyes sweeping across the ocean of Carats before her. The crowd was vast— thousands of faces, all illuminated by lightsticks glowing in the stadium. It was a breathtaking sight, a reminder of just how far they’d come together.

As the other members took turns speaking, Luna allowed herself a small smile. She could feel the weight of the moment, how special it was to open this tour in Goyang. But there was something more than just excitement for the concert tonight— there was a warmth blooming in her chest, something that had taken root the moment she found out Jeonghan was somewhere in attendance watching.

For the first time in weeks, the emptiness she’d been carrying around wasn’t so heavy anymore.

Her gaze flicked back to the crowd as she waited for her turn to speak, her smile softening as she took it all in. The fans, some waving banners with her name, others dressed in shirts with her image printed on them, were giving all their energy back to her.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and she felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. These were the people who had supported her from the beginning, who had stood by her side through every high and low, and tonight was as much for them as it was for her and the members.

But before Luna could fully lose herself in her thoughts, the sound of the fans’ screams hit her ears, sharper and louder than before.

Startled, she blinked and realized her face had just been projected onto the enormous LED screen behind them. Her in-ear monitor had been removed earlier, so she heard the screams in all their full, raw intensity. It echoed through the arena, sending a surge of energy back into her, and she felt a slight flutter of amusement as she noticed the reaction of the crowd.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this reaction— the mixture of screams and disbelief. She was used to it by now, especially when her face appeared on the big screen, the high-definition clarity often making her look almost surreal as if she had been computer-generated. She had heard the fans joke about it countless times, calling her “too perfect” or “CGI” whenever she appeared like this.

Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her eyes locking with the camera directly in front of her, playing into the reaction. The screams grew even louder as the fans realized she was looking straight at them, her expression one of playful mischief.

She lifted her mic to her mouth, ready to speak, but before she could even get a word out, another wave of deafening screams erupted, cutting her off completely.

At first, she wasn’t entirely sure why— until her eyes caught the glint of light reflecting off her left hand.

Her engagement ring, the huge diamond glittering under the stage lights, was now visible to everyone as she used that hand to hold up the mic.

Luna couldn’t help but giggle, understanding immediately. Of course, they would react to that. This was the first time anyone had properly seen her wear the ring in public since the engagement news broke, and it was impossible to miss.

She waited patiently for the noise to die down, though her amusement was evident in the small laugh that escaped her lips. She raised her right hand slightly, signaling for the crowd to calm down. “Shh…” she hushed them playfully, the warmth of her tone making it impossible for the fans not to fall in love with her all over again. The stadium quieted, but just barely, the energy still crackling in the air.

“Hi, Carats!” Luna greeted brightly, her voice amplified through the speakers, instantly met with another round of enthusiastic cheers. Her smile widened as she continued, her heart swelling at the overwhelming response. “It’s your Luna.” She paused, letting the cheers wash over her again, feeling the adrenaline kick back into her veins.

“I’m so excited to be here with all of you tonight,” she continued her tone a mix of sincerity and excitement. Her eyes scanned the crowd again, drinking in the sight of all the fans who had come out to support them. “Opening the world tour in Goyang… It feels surreal.” She smiled, the sentiment clear in her voice. The fans responded with more cheers, their excitement palpable.

“I’ve missed you guys so much, and I’m so ready to make this an unforgettable night. Are you ready?”

The stadium erupted once more in response, and Luna’s heart soared. She knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be a night they would all remember for the rest of their lives.

Luna was just about to continue her ment, feeling the excitement of the crowd and the energy radiating from every corner of the arena, when the screams around her suddenly surged to a deafening level.

It was so loud that it sent a jolt through her, the vibration of thousands of voices hitting her like a wave. She blinked, momentarily stunned by the intensity, her lips parting in confusion as she glanced around.

“Why?” she mouthed silently, furrowing her brows as she looked down at the pit directly in front of the stage.

Her eyes scanned the faces of the fans closest to her, searching for any sign of what could be causing the commotion. But all she could see were the fans pointing wildly behind her, their faces alight with excitement and disbelief.

Before Luna could fully process what was happening, the members’ shouts reached her ears.

“Jeonghan-ah!” Seungcheol exclaimed, followed by Seungkwan and Dokyeom who chorused, “Jeonghan hyung!”

“Hyung!” echoed through the speakers, their voices overlapping in a mixture of excitement and joy.

Luna’s heart skipped a beat.

She turned so fast that her hair fanned out behind her, whipping around in the rush. Her eyes immediately flew to the massive LED screen behind her, and there, on the other side of the screen— clear as day— was Jeonghan.

Her Jeonghan.

He was sitting in the VIP box, slightly off to the side, his phone raised in front of him.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat when she realized what he was doing— he had been filming her. From the moment her ment started, Jeonghan had been recording, and even now, his phone was still pointed at her, capturing every second of her on the big screen for all to see.

A huge smile broke out across Luna’s face, uncontrollable and radiant. Her heart swelled, a mix of affection and disbelief flooding her chest.

Despite the face mask covering the lower half of his face, there was no mistaking it— it was him.

His presence was unmistakable, and the way he waved at the camera, greeting the fans with that familiar charm, made it all the more real.

The entire arena seemed to vibrate with excitement as Luna felt her emotions catch up with her. She could barely tear her eyes away from the screen, but when she did, her gaze found him in real life. Her eyes locked onto him, sitting in the VIP box at the top of the stadium, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

It may sound cliché but she fell in love all over again.

His simple, unwavering presence— here, in the middle of everything— was enough to make her heart race, and the love she felt for him deepened, filling every corner of her being.

Luna brought the mic to her lips, a laugh bubbling up in her throat as she shook her head. Without thinking, she playfully yelled, “Ya! Yoon Jeonghan!” Her voice came out as a half-whine, half-scream, making the members around her burst into laughter.

The fans, already whipped into a frenzy, screamed even louder at her words, the energy reaching a fever pitch. Luna grinned, unable to help herself, her laughter mixing with the cheers. The other members joined in, their amusement clear as they teased her.

“I miss you,” Luna added, her voice soft but clear over the speakers.

And that was it— absolute pandemonium.

The stadium exploded, the screams of the fans echoing through every corner of the arena, drowning out everything else. Luna couldn’t help but laugh again, the sheer magnitude of the moment hitting her all at once.

But it didn’t stop there.

Jeonghan, ever the showman, lifted his phone higher for everyone to see. The camera zoomed in on the LED screen, and the crowd collectively gasped.

Displayed on Jeonghan’s lock screen was a picture of Luna. Not just any picture— one from a date they had taken in Japan a few years ago, one of their private moments now shared with thousands.

The arena went absolutely insane, the noise level so high it almost shook the stage beneath their feet.

Luna’s face flushed bright red, her hand flying to her mouth in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment. She turned around quickly, facing the back of the stage, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

The members around her were jumping up and down, laughing so hard they were barely standing still, their teasing relentless.

“Oh my god, Jeonghan hyung is such a romantic!”Seungkwan shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is that from your date?” Joshua teased, nudging Luna playfully.

“Jiyeonie noona is blushing!” Dino called out as he pointed at her making the others laugh even harder.

Luna turned back around, her face still flushed as she dared to peek at the big screen again. Jeonghan was still there, but now he was pointing at the picture on his phone, then at himself, and then he dramatically pointed at his cheek, a playful demand for a kiss.

The crowd went wild, the screams reaching an ear-piercing level as fans caught on to what he was asking for.

“I think he is asking for a kiss,” Seungkwan exclaimed, laughing.

Luna couldn’t help but giggle, her heart racing with a mix of affection and embarrassment. She brought the mic up to her lips, still smiling as she faced Jeonghan’s side at the VIP box. “Alright, alright,” she said playfully, her voice ringing through the stadium.

Then, with exaggerated flair, she blew him a flying kiss, her hand gracefully sending it his way.

The moment her hand dropped, Jeonghan dramatically threw himself back into his seat, clutching his chest as if he had been struck by her kiss.

His playful reaction made the fans go even crazier, and the members around Luna erupted into laughter once again, their teasing and joy filling the stage.

“Look at him, he’s down!” Dokyeom shouted, pretending to fall over in mock imitation of Jeonghan.

“That’s it, he’s been hit!” Hoshi added, cackling.

Luna’s laughter was loud and genuine, her heart full to the brim as she watched Jeonghan’s antics. The fans, the members, and even she herself couldn’t stop laughing.

It was chaos, pure and beautiful chaos, the kind that made nights like these unforgettable.

After the playful chaos with Jeonghan finally settled, the rest of the members resumed their opening ments, their laughter slowly giving way to more composed introductions and heartfelt words for the audience.

Luna, still feeling the lingering warmth from Jeonghan’s surprise, smiled softly to herself as each member took turns speaking. The energy from the fans was infectious, their excitement palpable in the air, and Luna could feel it vibrating through her body as she stood there.

Her heart was full, and despite the adrenaline still pulsing in her veins, a sense of peace settled over her.

As the ments drew to a close, the lights dimmed once more, and the show continued. The familiar rhythm of concert life took over, and the intense but thrilling rush of performing for thousands blended with the organized chaos behind the scenes.

Luna, along with the rest of the members, darted backstage after each set, the heavy weight of sweat-soaked outfits quickly replaced with fresh, intricately designed costumes for the next round of performances. Staff swarmed them, deft hands touching up makeup, fixing stray hairs, and ensuring every detail was perfect for the next stage.

The transitions were fast and seamless, but it was a routine they all knew well. Even though their hearts were pounding from the intensity of the performances, there was an unspoken synchronization between them and the crew that made everything flow smoothly.

Hairdressers would gently direct Luna into place, powdering her face or dabbing at her forehead to control the sweat, while stylists adjusted her new outfit with quick but precise movements, pulling at seams, fastening zippers, and checking accessories.

All of it was part of the dance behind the curtain— a carefully orchestrated chaos that Luna thrived in.

She barely had time to think as they moved from one stage to the next, the brief moments of calm between sets filled with the hurried energy of preparation.

And yet, amidst the rush, Luna found small pockets of time to catch her breath. When there was a moment— perhaps while waiting for the final adjustments to her outfit, or in the seconds before they rushed back onstage— she would glance at her phone.

Jeonghan, ever the dork, had been texting her nonstop from his seat in the VIP box, live-commentating as though he weren’t right there watching the whole thing in person.

His messages were ridiculous but endearing, a constant stream of compliments and observations that made her smile even when she was exhausted.

Between texts about how she nailed a particular move or how amazing she looked in her current outfit, Luna found herself laughing under her breath. Jeonghan’s enthusiasm for her performances, even though he had seen her on stage countless times, never seemed to wane.

His words, no matter how silly or over-the-top, made her feel seen and calm— like she was the only person in the room, even though there were thousands watching her.

As the show progressed, Luna slipped into the rhythm of it all. Each costume change, each song, each interaction with the fans— it all blurred into a heady mixture of excitement, adrenaline, and joy.

But through it all, there was Jeonghan, his presence like a tether grounding her, even from afar. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she wasn’t looking in his direction. And whenever she had a spare moment to breathe backstage, she’d quickly type back a teasing reply, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words.

It was like any other concert in some ways— the fast pace, the never-ending flow of energy— but at the same time, it was different.

There was a lightness in her heart she hadn’t felt since Jeonghan left for his enlistment. His presence here, even just in the audience, brought her comfort in a way that made this concert feel special, as if this night was theirs alone, even in front of thousands.

As the concert reached its halfway mark, the energy in the arena surged once more as the opening notes of ‘Good to Me’ filled the space. The pulsating beat and rhythmic synths set the mood for the song, its sensual yet intense tone capturing the attention of everyone in the stadium.

Luna felt a thrill run through her as she got into position, preparing for her part. This song held a special significance tonight, more so than it ever had before.

This song in particular is about desire, about someone craving the presence and touch of someone else who is always good to them— both emotionally and physically. The lyrics were bold and full of passion, and every time they performed it, it felt like they were laying bare their emotions for all to see.

But tonight, for Luna, those lyrics held an even deeper meaning.

As the first verse unfolded, the members took turns with their lines, their movements synchronized and sharp, every gesture purposeful. The choreography was fluid, with a mix of subtle sensuality and power, perfectly matching the song’s intensity. When it was Luna’s turn to sing, her voice cut through the air, clear and confident.

“‘Cause you, you're my everything, we are a match. Cause you, you're my everyday, you also know it.’”

Her eyes drifted toward the VIP section, where she knew Jeonghan was watching. She sang the lyrics as if they were meant for him and him alone. Her gaze locked on the spot where he sat, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she poured every bit of emotion into the words.

“‘I need you, you need me. Cause you, you already know, everything is you, you.’”

The song spoke of someone whose presence was irresistible, someone who made everything feel right, even when things were difficult. And right now, Luna couldn’t help but direct those words to Jeonghan, who had been her rock, her constant source of support, even though he wasn’t physically by her side these days.

When Jeonghan’s usual part in the song came up, a brief instrumental break building the anticipation, Luna seamlessly took over his lines, her voice rich with emotion as she sang in his place.

“‘You did this once before, only by looking at your eyes I can tell, whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion.’”

She turned fully to where Jeonghan sat, her eyes sparkling under the stage lights as she sang to him, her voice softening slightly as though the thousands of fans didn’t exist at that moment.

It was just her and him.

She could feel the weight of her emotions bubbling up as she sang to him, every word wrapped in the longing she had felt since he left for his enlistment.

The lyrics— about someone being so good to her, about how everything about that person was perfect— took on a whole new meaning now.

It wasn’t just a song anymore; it was her heart speaking to Jeonghan.

As the chorus hit again, the music swelled, and Luna moved back into the choreography, her body syncing with the rest of the members as they danced with precision and grace. The lights flashed in rhythm, and she could hear the deafening screams of the fans, though the sound was muffled by her in-ear monitors. The energy was electric, but amidst the chaos, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, Jeonghan’s face appeared on the massive LED screen behind them, catching both Luna and the other members off guard. The audience roared in response, the sudden sight of him sending a wave of excitement through the arena.

He was watching Luna with that familiar, soft smile in his eyes, his phone held up to capture the moment as if he couldn’t get enough of watching her perform.

Luna’s breath hitched for a split second, but then a smile broke across her face. She couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to sing, her movements a bit more playful now as she pointed toward the screen where Jeonghan’s face loomed above them all. The rest of the members joined in on the fun, laughing and teasing her as they danced and sang around her, clearly enjoying the moment as much as the fans were.

The fans, who were already losing their minds, screamed even louder when they realized Jeonghan was watching his fiancée with such open admiration. Luna playfully rolled her eyes, her heart swelling as she continued to sing and dance, now with a renewed sense of joy.

For a few seconds, it felt like everything in the world was perfect. Jeonghan, despite not being on stage, was still a part of the performance in his own way, and the fact that Luna had been dedicating this song to him all along made it even sweeter. She twirled with the rhythm, her body moving effortlessly through the steps as she threw a playful glance at where Jeonghan sat.

And for that brief moment, as she danced and sang her heart out, Luna felt like the distance between them was nothing. It was as if he were right there with her on stage, sharing the spotlight.

As the final notes of ‘Good to Me’ faded out, Luna couldn’t help but glance once more toward the VIP section, her heart fluttering as she thought of him watching her.

The lights dimmed on stage as the last notes of their set echoed throughout the arena. With a collective breath, the members hurried off the stage, rushing toward the backstage area in their usual post-performance frenzy.

It was the familiar chaos of concerts: stylists, makeup artists, and hair stylists all buzzing around, ready to get them prepped for the next set. Luna felt the residual adrenaline in her veins, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. The fan in front of her chair whirred softly, its cool breeze hitting her flushed face as she sipped from her water bottle.

Her body was still buzzing with energy from their performance, her skin damp from sweat, strands of her hair sticking to her temples. She sat in front of the mirror in her chair, eyes half-closed, her hands limp at her sides as multiple people fussed over her.

One person gently dabbed at her face with a sponge, touching up her makeup, while another tugged at her hair, fixing strands that had come loose during their vigorous dancing. Luna sat still, letting them work, only opening her eyes every now and then to check her reflection, making sure everything was back in place.

Her breathing was finally starting to slow down, the pounding of her heart calming after the rush of the performance. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the vanity in front of her, watching the reflection of her teammates in the mirrors around her as they too got their touch-ups.

The room was alive with activity, the noise of the concert still a faint echo from the stage outside.

But just as she was gathering herself for the next half of the show, a few crew members came in, a noticeable tension in their steps. Luna straightened slightly in her seat as one of them approached Seungcheol, the leader, with a serious expression.

“There’s been a small fire on stage,” the crew member announced, causing the entire room to fall silent. Luna’s stomach dropped, her eyes widening in shock as she quickly glanced at the other members.

Everyone froze for a second, processing what they had just heard.

A fire?

Before any of them could react, the crew member quickly continued, raising his hands to reassure them. “It’s nothing major! Just a light fixture caught fire, but the staff is already handling it.”

Relief washed over the room, but the air still felt tense. Questions were thrown around in rapid succession, the members’ voices overlapping as they expressed their concerns.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Is everything under control?”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Can we still continue the show?”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

Seungcheol, ever the responsible leader, was busy talking to the staff, his voice low but firm as he tried to get more details.

Luna, though still a little shaken by the news, stood up from her chair, adjusting her sleeves as she walked over to where the rest of the members were gathered. Her concern mirrored theirs, but the crew assured them that the situation was being managed.

“We’ll need to delay the show for a few minutes while we make sure everything is safe before you can continue,” another crew member explained, and Luna could feel the unease in the room settle somewhat.

The staff’s confidence was reassuring, but the worry for the fans still lingered.

Luna stood near the center of the group, her fingers absentmindedly fixing the cuffs of her outfit as they all discussed the situation. “As long as everyone is fine and no one is hurt–” she began, her voice steady despite the worry she felt.

But before she could finish her sentence, something felt… off.

The room grew a little quieter, and she noticed some of the members stifling laughter. Seungkwan was biting his lip, trying not to give anything away, while Minghao’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he watched something— or someone— behind her.

Confused, Luna paused, looking down at her sleeves as she fiddled with the fabric. She didn’t notice the figure that had quietly slipped into the room behind her, moving with the practiced stealth that only one person could pull off.

Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from beside her, its gentle tone making her heart skip a beat, though she was so used to it, that she didn’t even question it at first.

“Everyone is fine,” the voice said smoothly, almost casually. “The staff are handling it.”

Without even glancing up, Luna nodded, completely absentminded. “That’s good,” she murmured, still focused on adjusting her outfit.

The members erupted into laughter from in front of her, and that’s when it hit her.

Wait… that voice.

Her hands froze mid-adjustment. Slowly, Luna’s eyes widened, and she turned her head to the side, not fully registering what had just happened. But when she finally looked to her left and saw who was standing next to her, she did a double take, her breath catching in her throat.

“Hannie?!”

Jeonghan stood there, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his eyes, his face partially hidden behind a mask but unmistakable to her.

She barely had time to process it before a squeal of delight escaped her lips, and without thinking, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her just as tightly. “You really didn’t notice me until now?” he teased, his voice filled with amusement.

Luna only buried her face into his chest, her heart pounding with a mixture of surprise and overwhelming happiness. “I— how are you—?” she stammered, her voice muffled against him.

He pulled his mask down slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss to the temple of her head, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck gently. “Just wanted to make sure you guys are alright,” he whispered, laughing softly against her hair.

The rest of the members, still watching with wide smiles, couldn’t help but laugh at her delayed reaction.

“We are alright by the way. Thank you for asking!” Seungkwan said sarcastically considering all Jeonghan’s focus was on Luna.

“Seriously, no one’s that used to someone’s voice,” Hoshi added, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Luna pulled back just enough to look up at Jeonghan, still holding onto him as her laughter bubbled out. She swatted at his chest playfully. “You sneak!”

Jeonghan grinned down at her, his arms not letting her go just yet. “You should know by now I love surprising you.”

And despite the chaos of the moment, despite the earlier worry about the fire, Luna couldn’t stop smiling. Being in his arms, surrounded by her members, with the concert still buzzing around them— it was perfect.

Even in the most unexpected of circumstances, with a fire delay and a surprise visit, everything felt right.

Jeonghan stayed with them for what felt like the briefest twenty minutes of Luna’s life, though time itself seemed to stretch and bend while he was by her side.

From the moment he appeared behind her, she felt his presence like an anchor, grounding her amidst the bustle of their delayed concert.

Jeonghan hadn’t let go of her once, keeping her close, his hands never straying far from her skin. The warmth of his touch lingered in every kiss he pressed— soft and tender against her forehead, her temple, the nook of her neck, the curve of her cheek, and even the subtle brush of his lips against her own when the others weren’t watching too closely.

His affection was quiet but ever-present, each kiss a reminder of how much they had missed each other.

It felt like he was memorizing her in those fleeting moments as if they were sneaking time in their usual bubble despite the chaos around them.

When his lips found the back of her hand, her engagement ring cool beneath his touch, Luna’s heart swelled. He had always been tactile with her, but tonight, it felt like every kiss, every touch held extra weight. Each one was a silent acknowledgment of everything they had been through together— of how much they meant to one another, of how much he wished he could be with her on that stage.

The rest of the members let them have their quiet reunion without interruption. They continued chatting with Jeonghan, catching up on things, but they gave the couple their space. Despite being surrounded by people, the world felt small and intimate, just for them.

But twenty minutes was never enough.

Eventually, the crew came back to inform them that everything was under control, and the stage had been cleared. The fire was contained and minor— no one had been hurt, and nothing had escalated.

The relief that washed over Luna was palpable, though it was bittersweet because it meant Jeonghan would have to go back to his seat.

She hadn’t wanted to let him go, but as she watched him flash her a reassuring smile, she knew he would be watching, cheering her on just like before. He pressed one final kiss on her lips, his hand lingering on hers for a brief moment before he slipped out of the room.

The twenty-minute delay had passed like a blink, and though they were slightly behind schedule, none of the members seemed to care. They were just grateful that the situation hadn’t spiraled into something worse.

Once they were cleared to go, the members gathered themselves, adjusting their outfits and shaking off any lingering tension.

The fire was a hiccup, but the show had to go on.

And it did— seamlessly.

As they returned to the stage, the energy from the fans was as vibrant as ever. Jeonghan had taken his seat again, watching from his place in the audience, and Luna couldn’t help but glance in his direction, feeling that familiar spark knowing he was there, watching her. She felt renewed, the anxiety from earlier gone as they launched into their next set.

Song after song, they poured everything they had into their performances. The members danced and sang with such passion, interacting with the fans and throwing themselves into their signature antics.

It wasn’t a SEVENTEEN show without a few hilarious, chaotic moments, and despite the earlier scare, they didn’t hold back. The fans were relieved that everything had been handled, roared with approval, feeding off the energy the group gave.

Of course, there were jokes about the fire.

Some of the members couldn’t resist cracking a few light-hearted comments, saying the fire had only started because their performances were just that hot. Seungkwan, Hoshi, and even Dokyeom threw in their quips, teasing that the stage couldn’t handle their intensity, eliciting more laughter from the crowd.

The fans ate it up, cheering and laughing as the members played off the unexpected situation with ease.

And in the middle of it all, Luna found herself back in her element. The slight delay faded into the background as the show flowed effortlessly from one set to the next. She moved with the music, her voice blending with the others, her body moving in sync with the choreography she knew so well.

Every now and then, she’d sneak another glance toward Jeonghan, catching his gaze even from afar, feeling that unspoken connection between them.

As the night wore on, the setlist began to wind down. They’d gone from high-energy songs to their slower, more emotional tracks, each moment imbued with meaning. The atmosphere in the arena shifted as the fans realized they were nearing the end of the show.

Before they knew it, they were standing on the stage, looking out at the sea of fans, about to perform their final song for the night. Luna’s chest tightened with emotion, a mix of pride and awe at what they had accomplished.

The first night of their world tour was coming to a close, and it had been everything they’d hoped for— despite the unexpected bumps along the way.

As the final notes played, Luna felt the bittersweetness of the moment sink in.

The first day of their tour was over.

But it was only the beginning.

The moment Luna stepped behind the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears, but the rush of adrenaline hadn’t yet settled. It thrummed beneath her skin, buzzing like static as their crew and staff cheered loudly, creating a vibrant wall of sound that filled the backstage area.

Members of the team, the staff, and the crew clapped for them, congratulating them on a successful opening night, their faces beaming with pride. Several cameras followed their every move, capturing the behind-the-scenes footage that would later be used for DVDs and special releases for the fans, a memory to be immortalized.

Hoshi and Mingyu were already talking to one of the cameras, playfully waving and making exaggerated poses, their faces red from exertion but their spirits sky-high. The others mingled around, some talking to the crew, others exchanging breathless laughs as they tried to steady their breathing after the intense finale.

But Luna’s mind wasn’t on the cameras, the chaos of the crew, or the noise swirling around them. Her eyes, sharp and singular in their focus, found him immediately.

Jeonghan was standing just beyond the cluster of people, waiting for them— and more specifically, waiting for her.

He had removed his mask, revealing the full brilliance of his smile, and her heart fluttered at the sight. It was the same smile that had always undone her. The same smile that now, five years into their relationship and officially out in the open, still made her feel like she was falling in love all over again.

Luna’s body reacted before her mind fully registered the thought, and before she knew it, she was running. Bolting, really— her legs carrying her with the kind of speed she reserved for the stage, for the most high-energy moments of a performance.

But this? This was pure, uncontainable emotion.

The excitement of seeing him again, of having him waiting for her so openly, so proudly, after everything they’d been through.

She was running toward her home.

And the fans in the nearby seats could see it all.

The backstage area was still partially exposed to the arena, especially the seats that stretched upward, giving some fans a perfect vantage point. As Luna dashed across the back, the fans who could see her immediately erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a frenzy.

Pandemonium broke out as the realization hit that she was running straight into Jeonghan’s arms. The fans screamed, some pulling out their phones, others clutching their chests as they watched the scene unfold like something out of a drama. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the collective gasp of thousands witnessing the moment.

Jeonghan, waiting with that same easy smile, braced himself just as Luna crashed into him. His arms wrapped around her waist with ease, and with a gentle laugh, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her around effortlessly. Luna’s giggle was light and carefree, the kind of sound that made everything else melt away.

It was just him.

Just her.

Just them.

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

The moment her feet touched the ground, Luna’s hands came up instinctively, cupping his face as if grounding herself in the reality of his presence. She felt the familiar warmth of his skin beneath her palms, the softness of his hair brushing against her fingers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

But Jeonghan, always one step ahead, beat her to it. He leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle, unhurried, filled with the quiet certainty of their love.

Despite the madness surrounding them— the cameras, the crew, the fans, and even the members throwing cheeky glances and comments their way— none of it mattered.

In that moment, it was only the two of them.

Every kiss still felt like it held new meaning— like they were discovering parts of each other they hadn’t yet explored, even after all this time.

The fans were screaming louder now, their cheers mixing with the laughter of their members, who were already teasing them for being so openly affectionate. “Scandalous!” Hoshi's voice echoed in the distance, followed by Dino’s exaggerated gasp, and the others quickly joined in with their own jokes. Seungcheol shook his head, a playful smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to keep the group in line.

But neither Luna nor Jeonghan cared.

They had stopped caring about the opinions of others the moment their relationship became public.

After years of hiding, of sneaking around, and stealing moments where they could, this openness felt like freedom.

No more disguises.

No more secrets.

Just them, unashamedly in love in front of everyone who cared to watch.

Jeonghan pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against her forehead, then her temple, as if sealing the moment with small, lingering kisses. Luna’s heart swelled in her chest, a smile tugging at her lips as she rested her head against his chest for a brief second, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

Around them, the world buzzed with excitement, but in his arms, it felt like peace. The cameras kept rolling, capturing every second of the moment, and the fans continued to scream, but none of it mattered.

It was just the two of them, lost in each other, in a love that had weathered time, distance, and now, the scrutiny of the world.

The members laughed louder at the display, throwing more jokes in their direction, but Luna and Jeonghan simply smiled at one another, content in the knowledge that they no longer had anything to hide.

This was their world now, and they were living it fully, unapologetically.

Luna’s bubble of peace with Jeonghan was suddenly burst when Seungkwan’s voice cut through the noise of the backstage area, dripping with exaggerated sarcasm and mock disgust. “We get it, you two love each other, knock it off!”

Jeonghan’s deep, melodic laugh rang out instantly, and Luna couldn’t help but join in, feeling the warmth of their private moment turning into something shared, something lighthearted. The laughter of their teammates blended into the air, creating a symphony of joy around them.

Jeonghan gently parted from her, his hand grazing hers one last time before he turned, arms wide, playfully chasing after Seungkwan with a mischievous grin.

“Seungkwanie,” Jeonghan cooed dramatically, dragging out his name in a sing-song voice, his playful nature in full force.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened as he pretended to scramble away, but it was too late. Jeonghan easily caught up with him, enveloping him in an exaggerated bear hug, both of them stumbling as Jeonghan swayed them from side to side like a father holding a child. Seungkwan groaned in mock suffering but couldn’t stop the smile breaking across his face.

“Why am I always the target of your love?” Seungkwan whined, though his arms returned the hug before half-heartedly trying to push Jeonghan away. “Can’t you just keep your affection for noona?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t dedicate a whole essay for me on Weverse on my birthday,” Jeonghan grinned and ruffled Seungkwan’s hair before finally releasing him, earning a playful shove in return from Seungkwan who pouted, “Shut it.”

“I have so much love to give, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan replied, still laughing.

As the playful banter continued, the group naturally gravitated toward the corridor that led back to their designated waiting room. Conversations and laughter littered the halls, filling the air as they walked, their energy still high from the concert.

It felt like any other day like Jeonghan had never been gone at all, like they hadn’t just gone weeks without his presence on stage or in their daily lives.

Luna found herself walking a few steps behind the group, watching with a smile that spread wide across her face.

It was surreal— Jeonghan, back with them, laughing and joking like no time had passed. For a brief moment, she let herself forget the reality of his military service, letting herself imagine that everything was normal again.

That he had never left and that he would be with them for the rest of the tour.

But as happy as she was to have him back, even if just for tonight, a pang of sadness tugged at her heart.

It wasn’t quite complete. Not without Jun.

She wished he were here with them, completing their chaotic group and filling the room with his quiet but steady presence. With Jeonghan and Jun both gone, it was like a piece of their family was missing. She sighed softly, letting the feeling pass as she reminded herself that Jun would be back soon, too.

It was only a matter of time.

By the time they reached their waiting room, the atmosphere was buzzing with the same energy they carried off the stage.

The room was filled with the familiar sounds of SEVENTEEN— playful banter, teasing remarks, and laughter that echoed off the walls. They were still riding the high of the successful opening night, adrenaline pumping as they began to peel off their performance outfits and transition into their more comfortable clothes.

Some of the members were already seated, pulling off stage shoes with tired groans of relief while others started removing their makeup, faces still flushed from the heat of the stage. The air was thick exhaustion but it was home.

It was the usual post-concert chaos— everyone talking over each other, recounting moments from the show, poking fun at any small mistakes they made during their sets.

Hoshi was standing in front of the mirror, dramatically wiping off his makeup with a makeup wipe. “The energy was insane. I can go another round— I was born for this, you know?” he declared, his voice full of mock drama, earning a round of eye rolls and amused chuckles from the members who are used to Hoshi’s energy.

Luna couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her as she leaned back into her chair, watching the usual antics unfold around her. Even after years together, the energy in the room was always electric post-concert.

No matter how tired they were, there was something about that post-show buzz that brought out the best— and the most ridiculous— parts of them.

Her gaze drifted to Jeonghan, who was now sitting on the arm of one of the couches, his hair slightly tousled from their earlier reunion. He was watching the members with a soft smile on his face, occasionally throwing in a comment here and there, but mostly content to just soak in the atmosphere.

He caught her looking and flashed her a wink, and her heart did a little flip. She smiled back, warmth flooding her chest. Moments like this were what she cherished most— the simplicity of being together, the feeling of family, of belonging.

The noise around her continued, a comforting, chaotic background to her thoughts as she settled back, letting herself enjoy the moment.

This was what she loved— being surrounded by people she cared about, performing with them, and knowing that despite everything, they would always find their way back to each other.

As she sat there, letting the laughter wash over her, she couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful for her members, for their fans, and for moments like this— where everything felt perfect, even if it was just for a little while.

Luna leaned back in her chair, sighing softly with contentment. The concert had gone well, their first night was a success, and even with the unexpected fire, they’d managed to pull through together.

Unbeknownst to her, Jeonghan’s gaze had been fixed on her for several moments now, watching her quietly from his seat. He had a way of seeing her, really seeing her, even when she was lost in her own thoughts. His heart warmed at the sight of her— a mix of strength and softness, glowing in the afterglow of their performance.

Without a word, Jeonghan stood up from his spot, his movements so smooth and silent that no one noticed as he crossed the room toward her. He gently caressed her arm, his touch soft and familiar.

Luna glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness. There were no questions in her eyes, just trust. Without needing to say anything, she let him guide her to a more secluded corner of the room, away from the others, away from the bustling noise of post-concert excitement.

Jeonghan turned toward her, a soft smile lighting up his face as he gazed down at her. “Hey,” he said, his voice a warm melody that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Hi,” Luna smiled back, her voice soft, and without hesitation, their hands found each other, fingers naturally intertwining.

The world around them faded, and it was just the two of them again, wrapped in their bubble of comfort and affection.

Jeonghan’s hand rose to her face, gently brushing a few strands of hair away. His fingers lightly traced her cheek as his thumb caressed her skin, his touch tender and careful, as if she were something delicate.

“You did such a good job earlier,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing, the tone that always made her knees feel weak. His fingers continued to brush over her cheek, and then, slowly, he leaned in, pressing soft kisses to the back of her hand, one after the other. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, his lips now grazing the tips of her fingers, sending little jolts of warmth through her.

Luna felt her breath hitch slightly, the wall behind her suddenly a blessing as it was the only thing keeping her steady.

Jeonghan’s soft, gentle tone— this was her weakness and he knew this. She tried to compose herself, but the way he doted on her, the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe, made it difficult to remain standing.

“I loved it,” Luna finally managed, her voice a little breathless, eyes locked on his.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued his gentle teasing. “You were amazing out there. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised— you always are.” His thumb brushed against her lower lip, and her heart fluttered in response.

Luna’s lips parted slightly at his touch, her usual assertive demeanor slipping away in the face of his gentle cooing. “Stop, you’re making me blush,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Blushing suits you,” Jeonghan teased, leaning down slightly until his forehead nearly touched hers. His lips ghosted over the tip of her nose as he continued to murmur, “I missed seeing you like this, Nana-ya.”

Luna’s cheeks burned with warmth, and she let out a soft laugh, tilting her head back against the wall. “You’re the only reason why I am like this.”

“Good,” he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. His thumb brushed her cheek again, his other hand lifting her left hand to his lips once more. He kissed each of her fingers, his lips lingering a bit longer this time, his gaze never leaving hers.

She could feel the butterflies swirling in her stomach, her mind spinning under his gaze.

Then, just as naturally as ever, Jeonghan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. It was sleek, the kind that made Luna’s breath catch in her throat. Without a word, he placed it in her hand, his expression soft but serious.

Luna stared at the box for a moment, her heart racing. She pouted up at him, curiosity and a hint of confusion in her eyes. “What is this?” she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

Jeonghan’s smile softened, his eyes growing tender as he spoke. “I’ll be watching the show again tomorrow but you know I won’t be able to watch every single one, right? I won’t be able to travel outside the country either,” he began, his voice gentle, knowing how sensitive this topic was for her.

Luna’s heart clenched at his words. She knew this reality all too well. He wouldn’t always be with them, with her, during the tour. It was a thought that had lingered in the back of her mind all night.

As she opened the box, her breath caught again. Inside was a delicate gold band bracelet. Simple, elegant, and timeless— just like him. Luna took it out carefully, holding it in her palm, and that’s when she noticed the engraving.

Her heart swelled as she read the words etched into the gold:

Breathe. It’s just you and me. Nothing else.

Jeonghan’s forehead was suddenly pressed against hers, their shared ritual grounding her, just like it always had. He took the bracelet from her hand, slipping it around her left wrist, fastening it carefully as though it were the most precious thing in the world. “This is so you won’t forget our words to each other,” he whispered.

Luna’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked up at him, her lips trembling into a pout. “Hannie…” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t cry,” Jeonghan cooed softly, pulling back just enough to press a tender kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there before he pulled away and lifted the sleeve of his own jacket. “Look,” he said, showing her his own matching bracelet. “We match.”

Luna sniffled and pushed at his chest playfully, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re always the reason for my tears, you know that right?” she huffed, though her smile betrayed her true feelings.

Jeonghan chuckled, his laugh low and rich. “I know,” he teased, “You just love me so much.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile. “When did you even have the time to do this?” she asked, glancing down at the bracelet again, admiring the way the light reflected off the gold.

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he winked at her. “I have all the time in the world when it comes to you.”

Luna let out a scoff of disbelief, a laugh escaping her lips. “You’ve gotten cheesier.”

Jeonghan smirked, his retort quick and cool. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile as she lightly tapped his chest. “You know, I used to think you were all serious and mysterious,” she teased, her voice light and full of amusement. “Turns out, you’re just a huge softie.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his arms winding back around her waist, pulling her closer as he leaned down. “A softie? Is that what I am?” His voice was low, teasing, with that familiar silky tone that always sent a rush of warmth through her. “Well, I’m only like this because I have you to be soft for.”

Luna felt her cheeks heat up again, but she wasn’t about to let him win that easily. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Jeonghan leaned in even closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “And you’re lucky I can’t resist you.” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes sparkling with affection. “I mean, look at you,” he continued, his voice soft and tender now. “How could I not be completely wrapped around your finger? You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Luna’s heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone making her pulse quicken. She tried to compose herself, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I think I have some idea,” she replied, her voice softening as she met his gaze head-on.

Jeonghan laughed, that light, airy sound that always made her chest feel lighter. “You think?” he teased, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You know you’re everything to me, right?”

Luna’s breath caught at the sudden tenderness in his words. She could feel her heart swelling in her chest, the emotion almost overwhelming. “Han…” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in the softest of touches. “No, really,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t say it enough, but you’re my everything, Jiyeon. No matter where I am, or what’s going on, you’re always on my mind.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally, her lips. It was soft, gentle, full of love and warmth. “You make everything better.”

Luna closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips on hers, the warmth of his touch, the security of his presence. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” she murmured when they pulled apart. Her voice was quiet, but filled with so much emotion it nearly cracked. “Especially now… with everything going on.”

Jeonghan nodded, understanding. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. “I know it’s been hard. But I promise you, we’re going to get through it. Even if I can’t be with you every step of the way, I’m still with you.” He took her hand again, lifting it to his lips and kissing her knuckles one by one. “Always.”

Luna’s heart swelled, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, though she blinked them away. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of love.

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. “I just want to take care of you, that’s all.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, then the bracelet, before looking back up at her. “And I will. Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be with you. This…” He gestured to the bracelet, then to his matching one. “This is just a reminder. You and me. Nothing else.”

“Just us. Nothing else.” Luna stared at him, her heart so full she thought it might burst. She couldn’t hold back anymore— couldn’t stop the overwhelming wave of love that washed over her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, burying her face in his chest. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. “So much.”

Jeonghan’s arms wrapped around her in return, his embrace warm and steady, his lips pressing into her hair. “I love you too, my pretty moon,” he murmured against her, his voice soft and filled with emotion. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his hand cupping her face again. “More than anything.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of love and warmth. Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, slow and full of meaning. When they finally pulled away, Luna couldn’t help the small, content smile that spread across her face.

Jeonghan grinned, his thumb brushing her cheek again. “You’re mine, you know that?” he teased, though there was a soft sincerity behind his words.

Luna laughed softly, her fingers tightening around his. “I’ve always been yours.”

Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her one more time, a smile still on his lips. “And I’ll always be yours.”

He held Luna’s hands tighter, his gaze steady and full of love. “When I finish my service,” he whispered, his voice soft but resolute, “I’m going to marry you. No more waiting, no more delays. I promise.”

Luna’s breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling at his words. She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and whispered back, “I’ll be waiting, Hannie. Always.”

At that moment, it was just the two of them again.

Just like Luna’s first monthly evaluation as a trainee… it was just them.

Wrapped up in their little world, their bubble, where nothing else mattered.

It felt as if time had stopped, and for that brief space in time, there was no concert, no cameras, no members.

Luna and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan and Luna.

It’s always been the two of them together.

Just them, as it had always been, and as it always would be.

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dateko · 1 year ago

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a/n: another rando drabble... twas hiding amidst the dust in my drafts... i will never get to see the four of these silly geese happy ever again and they only exist in my google docs where nothing bad ever happens to them...

“Sensei, what is Sensei to you?” Yuuji asks suddenly, causing Gojo to stop in his tracks.

“Huh? Me?”

This time, Nobara groans. “No, you blindfolded idiot! That Sensei!”

Gojo follows his young student’s gaze as she tilts her chin towards the field where the second-years are training.

There, standing beside the ever-adorable Panda, is you. You watch with a proud smile on your face as the second years spar with one another, calling out praises along with death threats coming from Maki. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the first years and their slender mentor watching you from the steps. Your lips fight to bite down a smile as you throw out a wave, watching Satoru lift his mask to wink at you.

“See! See! Like that!” Nobara starts again excitedly, pointing at her teacher. “What is that woman to you?”

“Eh?” Gojo raises an eyebrow before lowering his mask. “She’s… A close friend of mine.”

“Sensei, you’re being secretive.” Yuuji offers him a skeptical look, to which Nobara nods along with adamantly. “Fushiguro, what do you think?”

Megumi glances at your figure with a dragging sigh before walking in front of his classmates. “If you ask me, she’s the one.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 erupt with rowdy exclamations, practically bouncing off their teacher. Megumi continues to walk with a somewhat satisfied expression. The boy’s known you his entire life. Especially how much you mean to his blue-eyed benefactor.

“B-but how do you know she’s really the one?” Yuuji asks this time, fully invested in his teacher’s love life.

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “I have good eyes, you know.”

“Well, now I just feel sorry for her. She has to deal with you every day!” Nobara deflates immediately, unsure of how to feel knowing someone she respects is romantically affiliated with her headache-inducing instructor.

“Hey! It’s a blessing to deal with me!”

A pair of footsteps sneak up behind the group. “Deal with who?”

With a hand on your hip, you stop to tilt your head at the pairs of wide eyes looking at you. Even beneath his mask, you can tell Satoru looks more than guilty.

“Something on my face?” You pat a hand on your cheek, wondering why no one’s said anything to you.

Nobara breaks the silence by walking up to you with her head down, a downcast expression on her face. “Sensei… I’m so sorry for you…”

Confused and admittedly very concerned, you shoot Gojo a look before patting Nobara’s head reassuringly. And your lover holds a sheepish expression as he holds his hands clasped behind his back, an old habit he used to do when he knew he was in the wrong.

“Alright, I might as well just say it,” Gojo starts, fixing the collar of his jacket. “I told them about us.”

Your eye widen at his words, lips sputtering for a normal response. “You told them we’re married?”

“Wait, married?! Meeting each other with good feelings is one thing, but married… Sensei, I thought you were better than this…" Nobara shakes her head dramatically before walking off, flashing you a disapproving look before dragging Yuuji along with her.

You watch the younger student walk off with a confused brow before returning to face your lover, who is grinning wildly at you. He's clearly over feeling guilty about exposing your little secret. Your questionable silence comes to Gojo as a queue to pull you into a loving embrace, a quiet apology for blowing your cover.

Without skipping a beat, you return the hug, giving up on trying to scold him. You squeak when Gojo rocks the two of you back and forth, pressing never-ending kisses on your jaw. “Just an FYI, Megumi was the one who told them.” He mutters, nose pressing itself into the crook of your neck.

You gasp, holding his face while you step back to look at him. “He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“He said that you were the one.”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up.”

You let out a giggle, a sound Gojo could listen to for hours on repeat. “You used to be so corny when we dated. Still now.”

“I don't think I could ever stop being corny. Only when it comes to you.”

#ignore this actually i just wanted to get rid of all the shet accumulating in my drafts #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you

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brunchable · 2 months ago

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Captivate Me | Stalker!Bucky Barnes x f!reader. [R 18+]

Word count: 23.6K (oops) Pairings: Obsessed Bucky Barnes x Movie Star Reader. Summary: You've been seeing Bucky for a while. You thought meeting him was pure fate but little did you know every single detail was premeditated. Trying to end things with him would be the greatest mistake of your life. Themes/Warning: SMUT OVER 18s ONLY. Dark Romance, slow-burn STALKING, KIDNAPPING, A LOT OF MANHANDLING *DUBCON?* BDSM (Blindfolded, Bed Restraints), Daddy Kink, Masturbation (M), Filming during sex, domineering acts, degradation, praising, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral (M+F), overstimulation, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampied. A/N: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE. It is giving Joe Goldberg. Also Bucky speaks Romanian here, I used google translate. Please don't come at me.

A/N: AGAIN IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE, MOVE ON.

I’ve seen you in a thousand different ways, in a thousand different roles, but none of them—none of them—compared to the real thing. You, walking out of that boutique gym, wiping sweat from your forehead like it wasn’t some holy ritual. You didn’t know I was watching. You never do. That’s the thing about being the most famous actress in Hollywood, isn’t it? People only see the surface, the glitter. The carefully curated perfection. But not me. I see the real you. The one behind all that.

When I first saw you, it wasn’t planned. Not exactly. I mean, I knew I’d see you eventually. I made sure of it. The gym, the coffee shop, your early morning run route that you think is private. I don’t leave things to chance. I orchestrate them. And you—oh, you walked right into my world, didn’t you?

You smiled that smile, the one that makes directors fall to their knees for a chance to cast you. But when you smiled at me, it felt different. Real. Like we were speaking a language only we understood.

It wasn’t hard to make you like me. It never is. I’ve done my homework. I know what you need, what you crave. Stability. Someone who gets it, gets you, in a way that all the shallow, empty faces in your world never will. I became that someone for you, carefully crafting each word, each look, until you were hooked.

It’s funny, the little things you let slip. You think you’re so careful, but I see it. The way your shoulders relax when I talk about my “well-paying job,” when I drop hints about my “family's” holiday home. You like that, don’t you? You like that I’m different from the men who chase you for clout or connections. No, I’m something else.

You didn’t realize I’d planned our first date down to the minute, did you? Or the second, and the third. You thought it was all so natural. You thought it was just happening. Like we were meant to meet, to be together, to be something special. That’s the thing about fate, though—it’s just another tool. And I wield it perfectly.

It didn’t take long for you to fall for me, just like I knew you would. After all, I’m everything you need. Smart, kind, successful—or at least, that’s what you think. I’m whatever you need me to be. So when I suggested a weekend away at my “holiday” home, you said yes. Hesitant, but yes. You must’ve thought it would be a nice escape. Just us, away from the world that always wants something from you.

Except, you didn’t know it wasn’t an escape at all. It was a step closer to where we were always meant to end up.

That’s what I kept telling myself as we stood in the kitchen of that house, the rain drumming softly against the windows. I poured you a glass of wine, said something about how perfect it all felt, about how right we were together. And you—you just stood there, silent, your eyes distant. Something had shifted.

Then you spoke.

“Bucky,” you said, and my heart stopped because I already knew what was coming. “This is going too fast.”

The words hung in the air like poison. I felt my pulse in my throat, the warmth of the kitchen suddenly stifling.

“I don’t think I see a future with us,” you continued, and each word was a dagger. You tried to soften the blow with that sweet voice of yours, telling me I’m a “great guy,” that it’s “nothing personal.” Nothing personal? How could it not be personal?

You know, I’ve always been good at controlling myself. That’s one of the things you liked about me, isn’t it? How I’m always so calm, so collected. You don’t want the chaos, the mess of Hollywood drama in your real life. No, you want stability, something solid, someone who can be your anchor in the storm of flashing lights and fake smiles.

And I gave you that. I am that. I’ve been perfect for you—perfect in every way.

So why—why are you standing here, telling me that it’s going “too fast”?

The words echoed in my head, making it hard to focus. You kept talking, kept explaining, but it was like I couldn’t hear you anymore. My mind was racing, my chest tightening with something dark, something unfamiliar.

No, no, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say it’s too fast when I’ve been so patient, so careful.

You have no idea how long I’ve waited, how meticulously I’ve crafted every single moment between us. Every word, every smile, every touch. This is what we’re supposed to be. You can’t just walk away from that. You can’t just throw it away.

I could feel it bubbling up inside me, the rage, the frustration. It started small, like a flicker of heat behind my eyes, but it was growing, spreading, filling me with something raw and dangerous. I tried to keep it in check, tried to swallow it down. I didn’t want to scare you. That’s not what this was about. This was supposed to be perfect.

But you kept talking, kept saying things that made it worse. Words like “future,” like “great guy,” like “nothing personal.”

Nothing personal? Again.

How dare you? How dare you make it sound like I’m just another guy, like I didn’t plan every single moment of our time together? You think this isn’t personal? You think I’m just going to let you go like all the others? No.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to hold it in, trying not to let you see what you were doing to me. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t shut up. And then you said it—that one final thing that broke me.

“I just don’t feel the same way.”

There it was. The truth, out in the open, sharp and jagged like broken glass. And something inside me snapped. I could feel it, like a wire pulled too tight finally giving way. My pulse thundered in my ears, my breathing shallow and ragged. You didn’t get it. You didn’t see how much I’d done for us, how much I’d sacrificed. You didn’t understand how perfect we could be if you just—just—

I slammed my hand down on the counter next to you, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot. You jumped, startled, your eyes wide with fear as you flinched, taking a step back from me.

And that—oh, that—was new.

Fear. Real, genuine fear appeared in your eyes like you were finally seeing me for the first time. I should’ve hated it. I should’ve backed off, apologised, done something to make it go away.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because part of me—some dark, twisted part of me—liked it. I liked that you were finally seeing me. The real me. Not the carefully crafted version I’d shown you before, but the one who needed you, the one who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re scaring me.”

I blinked, the words cutting through the fog of anger, but they didn’t have the effect you wanted. Scaring you? No. No, you’re not scared of me. You’re scared of losing control, scared of what it means to be with someone like me, someone who actually cares enough to make sure you stay.

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I watched you take another step back, your hands trembling slightly, your eyes darting to the door like you were planning to run.

I watched the fear ripple through you, your breathing quickening, your eyes scanning the room like you were calculating the distance to the door. Like you thought you could just run. Like you actually thought you could escape me.

But you can’t.

No, we’ve come too far for that.

I took a step toward you, slow and measured, watching the way you flinched, the way your body tensed like a deer ready to bolt. I didn’t want to hurt you—I didn’t. But you were leaving me no choice. You were making this hard, when it didn’t have to be. I didn’t want it to be this way.

“Bucky…” Your voice was small, fragile. You were trying to reason with me, but it was too late for that. Too late for words. The world outside, the life we had before stepping into this house, it was all fading away. It was just us now, just the truth between us, raw and unfiltered.

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice low, my hand still pressed firmly against the counter. I could feel the cool granite beneath my palm, grounding me, barely holding back the storm inside. “This is right. We are right for each other. You just… you just don’t see it yet.”

Your eyes darted toward the door again, that brief flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could get away. I could see it in the way your muscles tensed, in the way your feet shifted like you were getting ready to run. And I hated it—hated that you still didn’t understand.

I moved faster than you expected, my hand reaching out to grab your arm before you could make a break for it. You gasped, your eyes wide with terror as I pulled you back, your body colliding with mine. You struggled, kicking, twisting, trying to break free, but I was stronger. I’d always been stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, your voice shrill, panicked. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.

You don’t get it. You can’t leave.

“Stop fighting,” I growled, pulling you closer, your back pressed against my chest. I could feel your heart hammering beneath your skin, the rapid rise and fall of your breath. You were terrified, and part of me—some dark, primal part of me—thrived on that fear. But another part of me hated it. I didn’t want you to be afraid. I wanted you to see that I was doing this for us.

“Please, Bucky… you’re hurting me.”

Those words. They cut through the fog of anger, piercing something deep inside me. My grip loosened for just a second, just long enough for you to break free, to twist out of my hold and make a desperate run for the door.

And you did it.

You yanked the door open, sprinting out into the rain like your life depended on it. You were fast, I’ll give you that.

Desperation makes people faster.

Your bare feet slapped against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as you made your way to the car. You thought you were getting away. You thought you were winning.

I followed, just a few paces behind. I let you think you had a chance. Let you scramble to the driver’s side door, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the handle. You were soaked, the rain plastering your hair to your face, but you didn’t stop. You threw open the door, slipping into the car, your fingers trembling as you searched for the keys.

But I was there. Right behind you. And you didn’t have the keys, did you?

“Bucky, please!” you screamed, your voice high and panicked, but it didn’t matter. I yanked the door open before you could lock it, my hand reaching in and grabbing your arm with a force that made you cry out.

You kicked. You screamed. Your nails clawed at my hand, your legs thrashing as I dragged you out of the car, but you weren’t strong enough. You were never going to be strong enough.

“No!” you shrieked, your voice cracking as I hauled you back toward the house, the rain pouring down around us. You fought me every step of the way, your feet slipping in the mud, your body twisting, trying to break free.

But I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

“You’re not leaving,” I growled, my voice barely audible over the storm, my grip tightening as I dragged you back inside. Your body was limp now, weak from the struggle, but your eyes—oh, your eyes were still filled with that same fear.

We’re not done. We’re never going to be done.

Not until you see it.

Not until you see me.

× × × ×

Your POV

You wake slowly, your head throbbing, the world around you blurry and disorienting. The sound of the storm outside reaches you first, the rumble of thunder vibrating through the walls, the rain pounding relentlessly against the windows. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The sheets beneath you are soft—too soft—and they smell like detergent, unfamiliar.

That’s when you feel it. The cold metal around your wrists.

Panic surges through your veins as you jerk upright, or at least, you try to. Your hands are cuffed to the bed, the harsh clink of metal echoing in the dimly lit room as you struggle against them. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear hitting you like a wave, choking you as you realize—this isn’t a nightmare.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you take in the room. It’s dim, lit only by the soft, flickering glow of a bedside lamp, the corners of the room swallowed by shadows. You’re not in the same clothes you remember. You’re dressed in something clean now, something soft, but it’s not your own. Someone…he changed you.

And then you see him.

Bucky.

He’s sitting in the corner, hidden in the shadows, watching you. His silhouette is dark, unmoving, and it sends a chill down your spine. The storm outside feels like a reflection of the chaos inside your head, the way everything is spinning, nothing making sense.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and when you finally manage to choke out his name, it sounds small, pitiful.

“Bucky?”

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps watching, like a predator studying its prey. Like he’s waiting for you to say or do something, but you don’t know what. Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. The fear grips you tighter with every second that passes, the realization of your situation crashing down on you like the thunder outside.

“I… I don’t understand.” Your voice is trembling, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you tug helplessly at the cuffs, the metal biting into your skin. “Why are you doing this? Let me go, please.”

Still, he says nothing. The silence stretches on, oppressive, suffocating. You can feel his eyes on you, piercing through the darkness, and it makes your skin crawl.

You don’t recognize this man, not anymore. The Bucky you thought you knew, the one who smiled at you over dinner, the one who laughed at your jokes, who held your hand… that Bucky is gone. Or maybe he was never real to begin with.

“You’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the tears finally spill over, sliding down your cheeks. “Please, just let me go. I won’t— I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I just want to leave.”

His figure shifts slightly in the chair, the movement so subtle you almost miss it, but it feels like a thunderclap in the tense stillness of the room. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, dark, carrying with it an edge of something you don’t want to name.

“You need to stop thinking of escape,” he says, his words measured. “I’m not your enemy, I’m the one saving you. And one day, you’ll understand that.”

Your stomach drops. There’s something final in the way he says it, something that makes you realize there’s no reasoning with him. No escape.

You’re trapped.

A sob escapes your lips, your body shaking as you pull at the cuffs again, but it’s no use. The storm outside rages on, the wind howling like some terrible omen, and you can’t help but wonder if anyone—anyone at all—can hear you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as Bucky stands up from the chair, his silhouette dark against the dim light. His movements are slow, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him as he steps out of the shadows. Something glints in his hand, and when he comes closer, you see it.

Your phone.

He’s holding your phone.

Bucky twirls it in his hand like it’s some casual toy, but the sight of it makes your stomach churn. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you, and a slow smile spreads across his lips—not the warm, charming smile you once knew, but something colder, calculated.

He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s standing right next to the bed. His presence looms over you, the phone still in his hand as he looks down at you, handcuffed and helpless.

“So,” he says, his voice smooth, unsettlingly calm. “What should you post tonight? Hm?”

You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the words. Post? He can't be serious. He wouldn’t—

Bucky’s eyes flicker down to the screen, and with a swipe of his thumb, the display lights up. “You wouldn’t want people to think you’ve gone missing, would you? That might cause a… panic.” He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Your throat tightens, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill over again. You shake your head, more in disbelief than as an answer. He’s playing with you, toying with the very thing that connects you to the world outside this nightmare. And the way he’s handling your phone, so casually, makes it clear—he’s already thought this through.

“Maybe a picture of your feet by the fire?” he muses, tilting his head as if he’s considering the best angle. “Or better yet, one of those ‘cozy night in’ captions. That’ll sell it. Everyone will think you’re just relaxing after a long day. Just another night for Hollywood’s sweetheart.”

His words send ice through your veins. He’s already planned it all out, how to keep up the illusion that you’re fine, that nothing’s wrong. No one will even suspect you’re missing. No one will come looking for you.

You try to speak, to find words, but your voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Please, Bucky, don’t—”

But he ignores your plea, his eyes focused on your phone as he pulls up your social media app. “Smile,” he says mockingly, as though you’re some doll he can dress up for show. “Or don’t. I can manage this on my own. I’ve been watching you for long enough to know exactly what your fans want.”

You feel the tears slip down your cheeks, helplessness gripping you as he takes control of your life in the most terrifying way possible. The world outside keeps spinning, oblivious to the fact that you’re trapped in this nightmare, and he’s holding the one lifeline that could save you, dangling it just out of reach.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, his voice a twisted mockery of comfort. “I’ll keep everyone updated. No one will know anything’s wrong. Not until you’ve had time to understand why you’re really here.”

And as he taps away at your phone, the storm rages on outside, but inside this room, it’s the calm before the real storm—the one you know is coming but can’t escape.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

The thing about phones—your phone, to be specific—is that they’re intimate. More intimate than a diary, more personal than any conversation you’ve ever had. Every swipe, every message, every like, is a little breadcrumb leading back to the real you. The parts you don’t share with the world. And here I am, with your phone in my hand, holding every piece of you in the palm of mine.

I can feel your eyes on me as I scroll through it, your fear practically radiating off you in waves. But I ignore it. I’ve already moved past that phase, the part where I worry about what you’re thinking. You’ll come around eventually, once you see that I’m doing this for us.

For you.

The soft glow of your screen illuminates my face as I unlock it easily—your passcode was one of the first things I learned about you. A four-digit combination, barely a barrier, really. I swipe through your photos first, and there’s a strange comfort in seeing the world through your eyes. Pictures of sunsets, candid moments with co-stars, perfectly posed selfies for your millions of followers. Each photo carefully curated for the world. But I keep scrolling because I know that’s not all there is.

And then I see it. A photo you took of me.

It’s not staged, not some posed couple’s picture for social media. It’s real. I’m asleep—my head turned slightly to the side, my face peaceful, unaware. You took this when you thought I wasn’t watching. The corner of my mouth twitches up, and I can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. You couldn’t resist, could you? Even when you didn’t know it, you were drawn to me.

This proves it. We’re connected. Whether you want to admit it or not, you feel it, too. I wasn’t wrong.

I glance up from the phone, just for a moment, to see you watching me, your eyes wide, terrified. You have no idea how much I know, how deep inside your world I already am. I almost want to say something, to tell you how this photo means something. How it confirms that we’re meant to be. But I stay silent, letting the moment stretch between us, savouring it.

I keep scrolling. And that’s when I find them.

The unsolicited photos.

You thought you were careful, that you’d buried them in your messages. But nothing stays hidden from me. A flood of messages from random men—pathetic, desperate attempts to get your attention. Men sending you things you never asked for.

Filth.

Unworthy of even a glance from you. The sheer arrogance of it, the entitlement, makes my blood simmer. How many of these men thought they had a chance with you? That they could own a piece of you like I do?

One particular message stands out. A man whose name I don’t recognize, someone you’ve never mentioned. He’s sent you photos of himself, explicit, disgusting. And you—you didn’t block him. You didn’t stop it.

I stare at the messages longer than I should, the jealousy curling tight inside my chest, sharp and poisonous. These men, they think they can have you, that they can come into your life with their disgusting offers and expect something in return. You might not have invited them in, but the fact that they’re here at all makes me sick.

You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me to take care of this for you.

I glance back at you, still handcuffed to the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks, and I wonder if you even understand what’s happening here. These men, they aren’t a part of your life anymore. I won’t allow it. You’re mine now. Completely. There won’t be anyone else.

I keep scrolling through your messages, and that’s when I find something else.

A text thread with your friends. The casual banter, the kind of stuff you think I don’t care about. But buried in there, a series of photos you sent them. I pause, my heart speeding up as I open them.

It’s me, of course.

One picture in particular stands out—a shot of me shirtless in the kitchen, cooking you breakfast. The light catches my body just right, every muscle defined. And your caption underneath?

“Okay, so you can’t see his face but look at this man. Just look at him.”

You wanted them to see me. To know what you had. You wanted them to be jealous. And they probably were. I smile to myself, imagining the envy your friends must have felt, knowing that you had me, knowing they couldn’t. It’s perfect. You knew I was perfect for you.

I scroll further down the thread, and that’s when I see the message that makes me pause, my breath catching in my throat.

“You guys, I swear to god… he’s so good in bed, I think I’m addicted. Like, I don’t even know how to describe it. I’m wrecked in the best ways.”

Addicted. Addicted to me. And you thought I wouldn’t know. You thought you could hide that, that you could pretend to push me away when deep down, you crave me. You need me.

I can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across my face as I look back at you. You’re trembling, still terrified, but you don’t understand that this—this fear, this desire—it’s all part of the same thing. You don’t have to run from it anymore. From me.

I scroll just a little further and see the final blow. Another photo. This time, it’s intimate. Private. A photo you snapped of me sleeping on top of you, my body nestled against yours, my head buried in the crook of your neck. The angle is careful, my face mostly obscured by my dark hair, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness in that moment. I can feel the warmth of it through the screen.

And then the message beneath it.

“Okay, don’t judge me, but… when Bucky speaks Romanian when we do it... it’s so hot. Like, I can’t even handle it. I don’t even want a kid but I'll carry his kids. Fuck. He’s so hot.”

I feel something inside me snap—not with anger, no, but with something far deeper. You want this. You want me. You’ve been telling your friends, letting them know how much you crave me, need me, even if you didn’t say it out loud to my face. But now? Now I know. And there’s no denying it anymore.

I set the phone down on the edge of the bed and lean closer, my voice low, calm, almost affectionate. “You know,” I murmur, “I never realized how much you needed me. But now I see it. Now, it all makes sense.”

You flinch, pulling back as far as you can, but there’s nowhere to go. Not from me.

“What should you post tonight, hm?” I ask, my tone conversational, like this is any normal evening between us.

The horror in your eyes is enough to confirm it—you finally understand. You’re not going anywhere.

Because you’re mine. And no one—no one—is going to take you away from me.

× × × ×

I bring the dinner to you, carefully plated, as always. Presentation matters. Even now, when you’re too stubborn to appreciate it, too blinded by your own misplaced anger to see that this—this—is still me taking care of you.

I set the tray on the bed beside you, the smell of the meal filling the room. You’ve always liked the way I cook, haven’t you? I remember how you used to smile, used to praise the smallest details, like I was doing something so special.

But now, you sit there with your jaw clenched, body stiff, refusing to look at me, refusing to even acknowledge that I’m here, still trying to make sure you’re okay.

“You’re going to eat,” I say softly, but there’s a firmness beneath the words. It’s not a request, not a suggestion. I’ve been patient with you—so patient. But you’re pushing me now, testing the limits of my control, and we both know that can only last so long.

You scoff, turning your head away from the food like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’m not your prisoner, Bucky. You can’t force me to do anything.”

The defiance. That familiar fire burning behind your eyes. I should be frustrated, I should be angry, but honestly? I find it... cute. You’re still trying to fight me, still clinging to the idea that you have some say in this. I lean closer, my hand resting gently on the bed beside you, my voice dropping just enough to let you know I’m not here to argue.

“You are going to eat,” I repeat, my tone calm but unyielding. “Because I’m not going to let you starve yourself.”

You snap your head back to me, your eyes flashing with rage, and for a second, I see the storm building in you.

“You can’t make me,” you growl, and it’s almost laughable—the way you think you still have control, still have some semblance of power in this situation.

Then, without warning, you spit at me.

The action is so quick, so fueled by your desperation, that for a moment, I’m surprised. The spit lands on my cheek, sliding down slowly, almost in slow motion. And there it is. The fight. The fire. The part of you that still hasn’t fully surrendered.

You tense, your body going rigid, your breath caught in your throat as you wait for me to explode, for the rage to consume me and lash out. This is the part where you expect me to lose it. To become the monster you’ve built up in your head.

But I don’t.

I freeze for just a second, letting the anger stir inside me, feeling it twist and coil. But then, instead of reacting the way you expect, I chuckle. A low, quiet laugh, the sound barely audible over the storm outside. I don’t wipe the spit away. I just sit there, letting it cool on my cheek, my lips curling into a small, almost amused smile.

“I like this,” I murmur, my voice calm, disturbingly calm. “This fight in you. It’s… adorable.”

You flinch, recoiling slightly as you realize I’m not going to snap. I’m not going to lose control, because unlike you, I’m not driven by desperation. I don’t need to. No, I have all the control I need, right here, in this room, with you handcuffed to that bed. I can see it in your eyes—the confusion. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect me to remain calm.

I lean in just a bit closer, my face only inches from yours now, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can push me, don’t you? That if you fight hard enough, I’ll lose control. But that’s not going to happen. You’re not going to break me. You can’t.”

You’re trembling now, the tears welling up in your eyes, but I don’t feel pity. No, this is something else entirely. This is... satisfaction. You want to fight, but you’re scared, too. And that mix? That’s what makes this so interesting.

I straighten up, slowly wiping the spit from my cheek with the back of my hand, my eyes never leaving yours. “Go ahead. Keep fighting. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still in control. You’ll still eat. You’ll still do what I say.”

Your lip quivers, but you remain silent, glaring at me with all the defiance you can muster. But I can see the cracks forming. I know that deep down, you understand.

“Now,” I say, standing up and moving back toward the corner of the room, watching you carefully. “When you’re ready to eat, the food will be here. And I’ll be right here, too. Always.”

I sit back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, my eyes never leaving you. You still think you can win this. But you can’t. You never could.

And the fact that you haven’t realized that yet? Well, that’s just adorable.

× × × ×

Your POV

The next day.

You wake up to the steady drum of rain against the window, still unrelenting, like the world is stuck in an endless loop of storm and shadow. The room is dim, gray light filtering in through the heavy clouds outside, casting long shadows that stretch across the floor. Something’s different, though. You blink slowly, trying to clear the haze of sleep.

Your wrists. They’re free.

No cuffs. No cold metal biting into your skin. You sit up cautiously, the blankets tucked around you. . . comfortably. Like some twisted lullaby, as if you’d been tucked in after drifting to sleep in the middle of a nightmare.

And the first thing you notice? Bucky isn’t here.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your body still stiff with the memory of yesterday, the taste of panic still lingering like bile in your throat.

You scan the room carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements as if you might wake the predator lurking nearby.

The chair he always sits in—the one where he watches you—is empty. No sign of him. No footsteps, no steady breathing that you’ve come to expect as the constant reminder of his presence.

Where is he?

The food tray from last night is gone. Cleared away. The bed you’re sitting in feels too normal, too cozy, like some trap waiting to spring. You can’t trust it. You can’t trust anything. Your eyes move to the door. It’s slightly ajar, just a crack, and there’s an unnerving stillness in the air. The house is too quiet.

You slide out of bed, your bare feet sinking into the carpet. Your muscles are tense, ready, every nerve on edge.

You step closer to the door, careful, listening for anything—footsteps, breathing, a creak of the floorboards. Nothing. Just the sound of the rain.

Your hand touches the doorknob, ready to push it open, when you hear it—a soft thud from down the hall.

Your body freezes, every muscle tensing as you strain to hear. The sound is subtle, distant, but unmistakable. A shuffling, like something—or someone—moving just out of sight.

He’s close.

You open the door cautiously, peeking out into the hallway. It’s dark, barely lit by the gray daylight seeping in from the windows. The house feels alive, as if the walls themselves are watching, breathing. The unease settles in your stomach, cold and heavy. You swallow, your throat tight, and take a step forward.

Another noise. A door creaking open further down the hall.

Your breath catches. Your feet hesitate. But you move forward, each step more careful than the last. Your heart races, every instinct screaming for you to turn around, to hide. But you can’t. You need to know where he is.

And then, you stop.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and there—just inside—you see him.

Bucky.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his back to you. His hands are braced against the counter, his head slightly lowered, as if he’s… thinking. You freeze in place, watching him, your body paralyzed by the tension hanging thick in the air. He doesn’t know you’re here, not yet. He hasn’t heard you.

You could run. You could turn around right now, slip back into the bedroom, and pretend you never saw this. But something about the way he’s standing there—so still—keeps you rooted to the spot.

He moves.

Slowly, he straightens, his shoulders rising as he takes in a deep breath. He turns his head slightly, just enough that you catch the edge of his profile. And then, he speaks.

“I know you’re awake.”

Your stomach drops, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

“I was waiting for you,” he continues, his voice smooth, calm, like he’s talking about the weather. “But I guess you were planning on coming to find me instead.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding in your ears as he turns to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a calmness in his expression that unnerves you more than anything else. He isn’t angry. He isn’t surprised.

He knew.

He knew the whole time.

× × × ×

The moment his eyes meet yours, you don’t think—you bolt.

Your feet barely hit the ground as you turn and bolt down the hallway, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, the sound of your breath ragged in your ears. Every muscle in your body screams to run, to get as far away from him as possible. You know he’s behind you. You can feel it, the tension stretching between you like a taut wire, ready to snap. But you don’t look back. You can’t.

The stairs are ahead, a sharp descent into the unknown, but they’re your only option. Your hand grips the bannister as you take the steps two at a time, your mind racing just as fast. You can hear him moving behind you, not in a rush, not in a panic. No, his footsteps are casual by the way they echo in the hallway above.

You hit the ground floor, your bare feet slipping on the cold tiles, but you manage to catch yourself. You have to hide. You have to be smart. If you don’t, he’ll catch you, and you know exactly what happens if he does.

You dart around the corner, your eyes scanning the room desperately. The house feels like a maze, twisting, unfamiliar. You’ve been here before, but in the haze of fear, everything feels different, distorted. You spot a door—a small one, leading to what looks like a pantry—and no hesitation you dash inside, pulling the door shut behind you.

Darkness swallows you whole, your back pressed against the wall, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your shaky breath.

The air feels thick in the tiny space, every sound amplified. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you try to force yourself to stay calm. Think, think, think.

The silence stretches out, so thick you can almost hear it. And then—

You hear him.

His voice, soft, almost melodic, drifting through the house like a twisted lullaby.

“Y/N…”

Your body goes rigid. He’s calling for you, like this is some kind of game. A cat and mouse game. He’s playing with you, drawing it out, savoring every second of your panic.

“Where are you?” His voice echoes through the house, sickeningly sweet, and you can hear the smile in it, the amusement. Like this is a joke. Like you, running is nothing but entertainment for him.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, trying to think of what you can do next, but every plan, every thought dissolves into pure terror as his footsteps get closer. The sound of his shoes on the floor is slow. He’s not in a rush. He knows you’re here. Somewhere.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

He sings your name again, drawing it out, each syllable rolling off his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of it. You bite your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, your hands trembling as you clutch the inside of the door. You can’t breathe, can’t move. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode in your chest.

You hear him moving through the house, his voice drifting through every corner, getting closer, then further away.

“You know I’ll find you…” His words are light, teasing, but beneath them lies something dark, something terrifyingly final. “I always do.”

His voice drifts through the hall, teasing, playful, as if this is all just fun for him. The sound of it makes your blood run cold, but you don’t move. You can’t. You tell yourself to stay calm, to think, to be smart. He wants you to panic. He wants you to break. Don’t.

The footsteps draw closer. You hear the soft creak of the floorboards just outside the door, and your body goes rigid. You can feel him on the other side, waiting, listening. You brace yourself, every nerve in your body on edge, ready for him to rip the door open and drag you out.

But he doesn’t.

There’s a long, agonizing pause. You hear him exhale softly, almost as if he’s amused. His presence lingers there, so close you can feel it through the door. The seconds stretch on, unbearable.

And then, he moves. The footsteps retreat, growing fainter, until you hear them no more.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. You wait, your body coiled tight, every muscle aching with the tension.

He’s gone, you tell yourself. He walked away.

You listen carefully, straining your ears for any sound—nothing. Just the rain. He’s somewhere else in the house, looking for you.

The silence presses down on you, thick and suffocating. You tell yourself you have to move, that this is your chance. You wait a minute longer, then two, your hand still covering your mouth as you count the seconds.

He’s gone. He’s not there anymore.

Finally, you exhale slowly and shift your weight, your legs cramped and trembling from holding still for so long. You push the door open an inch, peeking out into the hallway.

Empty.

The hallway is bathed in pale, gray light from the rain-soaked windows. No sign of him. Your pulse hammers in your ears, but you push the door open fully now, stepping out as silently as you can manage. The house feels too big, too quiet.

Maybe I can make it. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

You take a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the empty corridor. Another step, careful, quiet. The air feels cold against your skin, the house eerily still, like the eye of a storm.

You glance in both directions. The hall is empty.

He’s gone.

You make it halfway down the hallway, moving toward the back of the house, your breath coming in shallow huffs. You take a step, then another, your movements calculated and soundless, trying to map out your escape. Each second feels like a victory, a step closer to being free of him. You are smarter than him. You can outthink him.

As you move, you walk backward for a moment, keeping your eyes on the hallway behind you. You don’t trust it—why would you?—so you check, making sure he isn’t sneaking up on you. Your back presses against the wall for stability as you inch toward the exit, ready to make your move.

And then—you feel something.

Something warm. Something solid. Your entire body goes rigid as you feel it—him.

You freeze, terror gripping you before you even have a chance to process the situation. Slowly, painfully slowly, you turn your head, knowing exactly what you’ll see.

Bucky.

He’s standing right behind you, closer than you ever imagined he could be, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady. How did he move so silently? How did he manage to be right here, right on top of you, without a single sound?

Your heart slams against your ribcage as you try to pull away, but his hand is already on your arm, gentle but firm, holding you in place. The smile on his face is unsettling, a mixture of amusement and something far darker. He knew. He always knew.

“You were trying to sneak away, weren’t you?” His voice is soft, too soft, like this is all just a lighthearted conversation between two people who aren’t trapped in a nightmare. “I could feel it.”

His fingers tighten around your arm, not painfully, but just enough to remind you that he’s not letting go. That he sees you, even in your cleverness, even in your silence.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I like that. But quiet doesn’t mean I won’t find you.”

“I was just…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, but it catches in your throat. You can feel him watching you, his eyes scanning your face, reading every thought before you’ve even formed it.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone almost playful, like he’s toying with you, like this is nothing more than a game. His fingers brush your skin, tracing lazy circles, and it sends a wave of nausea through you.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mind is racing, but the words won’t come.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against the side of your neck, and you can’t stop the way your body tenses, every nerve screaming with terror.

“I told you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the rain. “I’ll always know where you are.”

Your breath catches, and you feel his hand shift, sliding down your arm, fingers curling around your wrist. He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you, suffocating.

You want to scream, to pull away, but you know it won’t do any good. You’ve been clever, careful—but not enough. You underestimated him.

You force yourself to breathe, to think through the thick fog of panic that clouds your mind. Every instinct screams at you to do something, anything to get away, but Bucky’s grip is firm, his presence all-consuming. His hand is still around your wrist, holding you in place, as if you belong here. As if there was never a question of where you should be.

“I see that look,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the sound of the rain. “You’re thinking. Calculating.”

You swallow hard, your heart slamming against your ribs. Of course, you’re thinking. You’re always thinking. You’re looking for the smallest crack in the situation, the tiniest escape route. But he knows. He sees it in you.

“You always think you can figure me out, don’t you?” His breath tickles the side of your face, and you flinch, trying to pull away even though you know it’s futile.

Your mind races, but his presence is like a cage, keeping you trapped, making every idea seem impossible. You can feel the tension tightening, every second a countdown to whatever he’s planning next. His thumb moves in circles over your wrist, a gesture that might seem comforting if it weren’t so... controlling.

Then he releases you.

The sudden absence of his grip is jarring. You stumble backward a step, your body instinctively retreating, but you catch yourself before you fall. You stare at him, shocked that he’s let go, that he’s giving you space.

Bucky just smiles, watching you. He's toying with you, letting you think you have a chance when deep down, you know he’s still in control.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice soft and measured. “But you have to stop running. You’re making this harder on yourself.”

Your skin prickles with dread as you try to process his words. He’s letting you go, but it’s not real freedom. It’s a leash—an invisible one, stretched just enough to let you feel like you’re in control. But he’s still holding the end of it, ready to pull you back the moment you step too far.

You stand there, frozen, every muscle in your body screaming to run, but your mind knows better. He’s faster than you. Stronger. More dangerous.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to make a move, to see what you’ll do next. And you know, whatever you do, he’ll be ready.

“I can wait all day,” he says, tilting his head slightly, as if he’s genuinely curious about what you’ll choose. “But you won’t make it far.”

Your mouth goes dry as you take a shaky breath, your eyes darting to the door, the only possible exit. The rain is still hammering down outside, loud and relentless, but it’s the only thing between you and whatever comes next.

But you know if you run now, it’ll be exactly what he wants.

So, you make a decision.

Instead of bolting, instead of giving in to the panic rising in your chest, you take step forward. Toward him.

His eyes flicker with something—surprise? Amusement? You can’t tell—but it doesn’t matter. You’re not playing the game the way he wants you to anymore. You’re taking control, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Then stop pretending this is some game,” you say, your voice steady, even though you feel anything but. “What do you want?”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance you just created, and you can feel the tension coil between you again, tighter than before.

“You know what I want,” he says softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You don’t dare break it, waiting for him to speak, to reveal the thing that’s been lurking in the shadows between you both since the moment you met. The way he’s looking at you now, with that dark, unreadable intensity, makes your skin crawl. Your question hangs in the air, and you can’t tell if he’s stalling, or if he’s just savouring the moment—savouring you.

Then he leans in, just a fraction closer, his voice lowering to that chilling, intimate whisper that makes every nerve in your body scream for you to run.

“What I want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “is simple. I want you to stop fighting it. To stop pretending this isn’t what you need. What you want.”

You stiffen, your pulse skyrocketing, because it’s not the answer you were expecting. There’s a raw edge to his words, a dangerous undertone that tells you he’s been thinking about this for a long time—planning it.

“I want you to see that this, us—” he gestures vaguely between you, his eyes never leaving yours—“is inevitable. You can run, hide, resist, but you’ll always end up right. back. here.”

You feel a chill run through your veins as his words sink in. He doesn’t just want to keep you here, doesn’t just want your compliance. He wants your submission. He wants you to accept this twisted reality he’s created, to fall in line with whatever fantasy he’s been building in his head.

Your breath hitches, but you manage to hold his gaze, even as your mind reels with panic.

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. “This isn’t love, Bucky.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says softly, his smile returning, more dangerous than ever. “But I know you, Y/N. I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. And you can’t hide from the truth forever.”

“I know what you need,” he whispers, his voice softer now, almost... tender. “And when you finally stop running, when you stop fighting it, you’ll see it too.”

Your chest tightens, your mind racing to find something—anything—to say that might break this twisted spell he’s trying to weave. But you know, deep down, that no matter what you say, he’s already convinced himself that this is real. That you are his.

And that’s when it hits you.

What he wants isn’t just to keep you here, to cage you like some prize. He wants you to choose it. To accept him, this situation, this twisted version of love he’s built in his mind. He wants you to believe it, to fall into his arms willingly.

But you won’t. You can’t.

“I’ll never give you what you want,” you repeat, your voice defiant, even though the fear tightens in your chest. “I’ll never see this the way you do.”

For a moment, the silence between you thickens. You think maybe he’ll finally snap, maybe this will be the moment he loses control. But instead, his smile deepens, and the amusement in his eyes takes on a sharper, more sinister edge.

“Is that right?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “Because, according to your texts... that’s not what you’ve been telling your friends.”

Before you can even process his words, he’s already pulling out your phone again, holding it between you like a trophy. His thumb glided over the screen, his eyes flickering with the satisfaction of someone who’s about to wield power in the most insidious way.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” he murmurs, not even looking at you as he pulls up your messages. “Ah, here’s a good one.”

He clears his throat theatrically before reading aloud, his voice dripping with false amusement. “He’s got this look when he’s on top of me. Like, I swear, it could melt your soul. I think I’m done for.”

Your stomach turns as the words leave his lips, each syllable twisting into something vile as he quotes your own words back to you. You remember sending that, of course. You’d been giddy, drunk on lust and naivety, texting your friends in a moment of bliss that feels a lifetime away now.

Bucky’s eyes flick to you, watching your reaction with that same unsettling calm. “Done for, huh?” he teases. “That’s not exactly the defiance you’re showing me right now.”

You clench your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breath, but he’s already scrolling again. His thumb pauses, and he smirks as if he’s found something even better.

“Oh, this one’s great,” he says, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Is he big?” he reads with a dramatic pause, glancing at you. “Girl, you have no idea. Let's just say I’m not getting out of bed anytime soon.”

Heat floods your face, not with the memory, but with the sheer horror of hearing him say it out loud. Your body goes rigid as the humiliation washes over you, but Bucky—he just chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he says, the smugness in his voice unbearable. “It’s good to know I’ve been leaving an impression.”

He swipes again, his smirk growing. “Let’s see... oh, what’s this?” His voice takes on an almost sing-song quality as he reads the next one. “He’s so attentive, it’s like he knows what I want before I do. Honestly, I think he’s perfect. He’s in my head, like... all the time.”

Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to look at him, your heart thundering in your chest. He’s savouring every moment of this, twisting your words into a weapon, using them to deepen his control over you.

He steps closer, eyes glinting, before reading the next one. “There’s something about him... something that makes me feel like I could lose myself. In a good way. Like, I don’t even care anymore. I just want him.”

He leans in, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers, “You just want me, huh? It seems like the girl who wrote this was much more open to the idea of us.”

You jerk your head away, disgusted by how easily he’s taken everything private, every vulnerability, and turned it into another chain to bind you with. You grit your teeth, but he’s still scrolling.

“One more,” he says with false sweetness, pausing for effect as he reads the final message. “I think I’m falling for him. For real. He’s just... I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, like no one else ever has.”

He lets the words hang in the air, his smile fading just a little as he watches your reaction.

“And that,” he says softly, “is the part I like the most.”

His voice lowers, his face inches from yours now. “You felt safe with me. And you know why? Because deep down, you want to. You want to believe I’m the one who can protect you, give you everything you need. And I will. You just have to stop fighting it.”

Your stomach twists as his words sink in, as he lays bare the twisted reality he’s built around you. He wants you to choose this, to let him be the one who controls everything. And he’s using your own desires, your own words, to manipulate you.

Your pulse is pounding in your ears, his infuriating chuckle echoing through your bones, and you can’t stand it anymore. The phone—the embodiment of everything he’s stolen from you—dangles just out of reach, held by his towering frame like it’s a toy, a prize he knows you can’t win.

Your teeth grit, hands curling into fists. The room feels like it’s shrinking, the air too thick to breathe. He’s mocking you. Smiling. Enjoying this.

“Give it to me!” you spit, your voice sharp and desperate, the words cutting through the tense air like glass.

His smile widens, the amusement in his eyes deepening, like your demand only adds fuel to his fire. He raises the phone higher, just enough to make you reach again, to make the gap between you and your freedom feel all the more impossible.

“What was that?” he teases, voice calm, soft—almost too soft. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

You take a step forward, pushing against his chest with all the force you can muster. “I said give it to me!” You try to leap, your fingers brushing against the edge of the phone, but he pulls it back effortlessly, his hand now resting on your waist as if steadying you—as if you need his help.

His chuckle rumbles low, and it makes your skin crawl. “Y/N…” he says, dragging out your name, the amusement thick in his voice. “You really think you can just take it? Like it’s that simple?”

You shove harder against him, your breath coming in short, angry bursts, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, but his hand stays firm on your waist, not letting you get any real distance. “It’s mine! You don’t get to—”

Before you can finish, you jump again, practically climbing him in your attempt to grab the phone. You’re fully pressing against his chest now, using every bit of strength you have, your body coiled with frustration and fury as you reach for the device. But it’s no use. His arm is longer, his height an insurmountable barrier.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that insufferable grin, his free hand catching your waist to stop you from going any higher.

“Keep trying, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your skin as you struggle. “But you’re not going to get it.”

His voice is patronizing, soaked with amusement, and it only makes you more desperate, more furious. You plant your feet harder, pushing up with all your strength, but he doesn’t even move. You’re climbing a wall that won’t budge, and the realization stings.

“Give. It. To. Me.” Your voice is tight, angry, each word spat out through gritted teeth as you dig your nails into his arm, still trying to claw your way up, but the phone remains out of reach.

He’s barely even trying to stop you, just lifting the phone higher, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he holds you in place. His chuckle deepens, a low rumble of satisfaction.

“Why are you fighting so hard for something that’s already mine?” he asks, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “These words... you gave them to me. You already handed me your trust.”

You try to twist out of his grasp, your breath catching in your throat, but his hand stays firm, his body unyielding.

“You don’t own me,” you snap, your voice shaking with both rage and humiliation. “You don’t get to decide—”

His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you back down to the ground, your feet slipping on the floor as you stumble back, breathless and furious. He pockets the phone slowly, as if to remind you that it’s not going anywhere.

His eyes meet yours, dark and amused, his voice low and taunting. “Oh, I’m not deciding anything,” he murmurs, his smile twisting. “You already did.”

Bucky stands over you, tall and unyielding, his shadow looming, making the space around you feel smaller, tighter. His lips curl into that same infuriating smirk, the one that makes your blood boil and sends a thrill of something you don’t want to acknowledge coursing through your veins.

“Asshole,” you mutter again, glaring up at him, refusing to let him see the fear—or worse, the heat—burning inside you.

His eyes gleam with amusement. He kneels slowly, bringing himself to your level, but still towering over you in that way that makes you feel completely trapped, even as you’re free to move.

“What was that?” he asks softly, his voice barely a murmur, though you know he heard you the first time.

You hate how your body betrays you, hate that he knows it too. You bite your lip, trying to steady yourself, to not let him see how much he’s rattling you. But he’s watching you, every small movement, every flicker of emotion that crosses your face.

You try to push yourself away from him, to put some distance between you, but his hand tightens on your waist, just enough to keep you in place.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear now, sending a jolt of something electric through your body that you wish wasn’t there.

“I said you’re an asshole,” you snap, louder this time, your voice sharp and angry.

He chuckles, low and dark, and the sound makes your skin prickle with a mix of fury and something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“I like it when you fight,” he murmurs, his voice soft and teasing, his breath warm against your neck. “It’s cute.”

The heat of his breath on your skin makes you shudder involuntarily, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the way your body reacts to him. You want to shove him away, to regain some semblance of control, but your body feels frozen, caught between the urge to push him back and something else entirely. Something you refuse to admit is there.

“Let me go.” you manage, but your voice falters, quieter than you intended, betraying you.

He doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand slides up your side, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingers brush against your ribs, the touch light but possessive, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really want me to?” he whispers, his lips now barely an inch from your neck. His words send a shiver racing through your body, and you grit your teeth, determined not to let him see how much he’s affecting you.

“Bucky...” you start, trying to sound firm, trying to hold onto the anger that’s slipping through your fingers, but your voice falters as you realise how close he is, how the heat between you is suffocating.

He smirks again, his thumb brushing over your waist in a way that sends an involuntary tremor through you. “You can say my name all you want,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes your stomach twist. “But we both know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Your body tenses at his words, both from the insult and the way his hand moves, as if he’s unravelling you, piece by piece. You try to pull back again, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you that you’re not going anywhere.

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” you snap, trying to regain some ground, some sense of control.

He chuckles again, that same low, maddening sound that sets your nerves on edge.

“I know more than you think,” he says, his hand moving higher, his fingers brushing against the curve of your ribs now, his touch sending sparks through your skin. “You’ve been trying to fight this from the beginning, but we both know where this is going.”

The space between you is shrinking, the heat between your bodies unbearable, and you can feel the tension pulling you in, your body betraying you in the worst possible way. You bite your lip, trying to focus, to remember why you hate him, why you should be pushing him away.

But he’s so close now, his lips barely a breath away from your skin, and you can feel his words more than hear them as he leans in, his voice a whisper that sends a tremor through your entire body.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck, and for a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe, as the world narrows to just the two of you.

You should push him away. You want to push him away. But instead, you’re sitting there, heart racing, torn between the anger burning inside you and the heat building between you. And Bucky knows it. He sees it in your eyes, in the way your breath catches, and that only makes his smirk grow wider.

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, your fists clenching as you fight the urge to react, to give him the satisfaction. But the tension between you is unbearable now, suffocating, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep fighting it.

Bucky tilts his head to the side, his eyes dark and hooded, slowly drifting down to your lips. His lips are so close to yours now, hovering millimetres away, teasing you, taunting you with the possibility of something more.

But he doesn’t close the gap. He just hovers there, waiting, watching your reaction, drawing it out. His smirk deepens, satisfied, as if he’s savoring the way you’re teetering on the edge, caught between your instinct to pull away and the pull of something undeniable between you.

Your mind races, the rational part of you screaming to shove him away, to stop this before it goes any further. But your body—your traitorous body—responds to the heat between you, every nerve alight, betraying the internal conflict waging within you.

"You're holding back," he whispers, his voice low, taunting, the words vibrating in the air between you. His breath brushes your skin, so close you can almost feel his lips move against yours, but still, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of closing the distance.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to keep your expression defiant. “You think I’m just going to give in?” you uttered firmly.

Bucky’s smirk grows. He’s not just playing with your emotions; he’s studying you, every breath, every reaction.

“I think you like this,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as silk, the words wrapping around you, making it harder to breathe. “This tension between us, this fight. You crave it.”

His lips are so close you can almost taste the heat of him, but he continues to hold back, leaving you on the brink, trapped in the space between resistance and temptation.

“You’re wrong,” you manage, though your voice falters slightly, betraying you. You hate that he’s gotten this far, that he’s managed to chip away at your defenses, but you refuse to let him see just how much he’s affecting you.

“Am I?” he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours you can barely stand it. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, but still, he keeps you waiting, holding you in this unbearable tension.

He leans in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice a soft murmur. "I can feel it, Y/N. You're on the edge. Just let go."

Your heart pounds in your chest, every

Bucky watches you for a moment longer, eyes narrowing as if he’s weighing your silence, calculating your resistance. Then his smirk returns, a little darker this time, as though he’s decided something in that moment.

"You’re going to see it my way," he murmurs, his voice low, full of certainty. "And I’m going to prove it to you."

His arm wraps around your waist firmly, and before you can react, you’re lifted off the floor. Your breath catches as he throws you over his shoulder with ease, like you weigh nothing. You let out an involuntary gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at his back, trying to steady yourself as your body hangs over him.

“Bucky!” you protest, your voice sharper now, but it’s drowned out by the sound of his footsteps as he starts walking back toward the stairs.

“Shh,” he says softly, his tone almost playful, but there’s an edge to it, a finality that makes your stomach twist. “You’ll thank me later.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you’re carried back toward the bedroom. You push against his back, but his grip doesn’t loosen, and the casual strength he holds you with only makes your pulse race faster.

You struggle against him, trying to twist out of his grasp, but he only tightens his hold, his voice calm, unbothered. “Fighting me only makes it harder for you, Y/N.”

Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he carries you up the stairs, the panic and tension growing with each step. You know where he’s taking you, and the thought of being trapped in that bedroom again sends a chill through your body.

“Put me down!” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear, but Bucky only chuckles softly.

“Oh, I will,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

You feel your body shift slightly as Bucky pushes open the door to the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and your heart pounds in your ears as you realise there’s no escaping him now.

"Put me down!" you demand, trying to keep your voice steady, though every fiber of your being is on high alert.

Bucky throws you onto the bed with effortless strength. The world spins for a split second, and you land with a bounce, the mattress swallowing your weight. You gasp, disoriented, struggling to regain your composure as you push yourself up on your elbows.

Bucky stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with that same infuriating confidence, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction.

"You—" you start, the anger rising in your chest, but before you can finish, he interrupts you, his voice filled with mock innocence.

“What? You told me to put you down,” he says, shrugging casually, as if tossing you onto the bed was the most natural thing in the world. His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it—a dark undercurrent that makes it clear he’s still fully in control.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, caught between the absurdity of his reply and the tension hanging thick in the air. His casual playfulness only heightens the unnerving sense of power he holds over you, as if even your resistance is something he finds amusing.

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to let him see just how rattled you are. “You know exactly what I meant,” you snap, keeping your voice firm, even as your pulse quickens under his unrelenting gaze.

He tilts his head, feigning innocence again, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. “I just follow instructions, doll,” he says, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes tell a different story—dark, dangerous, and full of intent.

You sit up straighter, fighting the feeling of vulnerability that creeps over you, and meet his gaze with unwavering defiance. "You’re not as clever as you think," you say, keeping your tone sharp.

His smirk widens, and he steps closer to the bed, his movements slow, he’s savoring the tension between you. "Oh, I think we both know how clever I am," he replies, his voice dropping to a smooth murmur.

You sit up slightly, propped on your elbows, your pulse quickening as he approaches. Bucky moves swiftly, his hands coming down on either side of you, caging you in. His body looms over yours, and the mattress dips under the weight of him, pinning you in place.

The sudden proximity steals the breath from your lungs, and your eyes dart up to meet his. The intensity of his gaze hits you like a physical force, his pupils are blown wide, dilated. His face is so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his presence suffocating, overwhelming.

He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

You’re hyper aware of everything—his hands gripping the mattress on either side of you, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the intoxicating scent of him invading your senses.

You try to look anywhere else, anywhere but where his gaze is leading you. But it’s impossible. His stare pulls at you, like a gravitational force, dragging you into his orbit. And all you can think about is how close he is. Too close. Your heart thuds in your chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in the silence between you.

Your eyes flicker—just for a second—down to his lips.

You curse yourself instantly for it, but it’s too late. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His smirk deepens, barely perceptible, but you feel it like a jolt of electricity. That knowing look, that arrogant satisfaction that he’s in control, and you’re fighting a battle you can’t win.

You force your eyes back up, meeting his once more, desperate to regain some sense of control, some measure of defiance. But the tension between you is unbearable now, thick like a vice tightening around your chest. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving only the charged space between your lips, the millimeters separating you from him.

Every nerve in your body is on edge, bracing for something you’re not even sure you want to resist.

Bucky leans in just a fraction more, his lips hovering so close to yours that the distance is almost unbearable. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, and for a moment, you’re not sure if it’s your heart or his that’s pounding in your ears.

You try—desperately—not to look at his lips again, but it’s like trying to ignore gravity.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The silence is louder than any words he could say. You know what he��s waiting for. He’s waiting for you to break, to give in to the pull you’ve both been fighting for what feels like forever.

Your hands clench at your sides, every muscle in your body tight with the effort of holding back, of not giving in to the dangerous allure of his proximity. But it’s so hard to breathe, so hard to think when he’s this close, when his eyes are this intense, when his lips are right there, almost touching yours.

And just when you think you can’t hold out any longer, that you’ll snap under the pressure of the moment, Bucky’s voice cuts through the silence, low and husky, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your lips, sending another shiver down your spine. “Don’t look away.”

You think about defying him, about turning your head and breaking free from the suffocating tension. He was on top of you, all that hard muscle pinning you down to where you couldn’t move. You could feel him everywhere, especially his cock, which was thick against your belly. Fighting him only turned him on, and now you were thinking about sex.

And you hate that he’s right.

Just when the air feels too thick to breathe, he pulls away.

The shift is sudden, leaving you lying there on the bed, breathless and confused. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you can’t quite make sense of what just happened. One second, he was so close—too close—and the next, he’s stepping back, putting space between you.

You blink, trying to catch your breath, your mind scrambling to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that have left you dizzy and disoriented. The heat from his body lingers on your skin, but his absence feels colder than you expected.

Bucky stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, his face now unreadable. The smirk is gone, replaced by a cool, detached expression that makes your stomach churn. It’s as if the moment you shared—the one that left you teetering on the edge—never happened. His eyes, once dark and intense, are now distant, cold.

“Be a good girl and stay there,” he says, his voice flat, authoritative. There's no teasing in his tone now, just a command.

The words hang in the air, and you find yourself frozen, unable to move, unsure whether it's from the weight of his command or the confusion swirling in your chest. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that he’s pulled back, leaving you stranded in the wake of something you didn’t quite understand—and maybe weren’t ready for.

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't check to see if you’ll obey. He simply turns, walking away, leaving you lying there on the bed, torn between the need to push back and the sinking realisation that he’s still in control, no matter how much space he puts between you.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

There’s a moment when power shifts—when control is no longer just something you hold, but something you feel, deep in your bones. I see it in your eyes, the flicker of confusion, of vulnerability, as I step away from the bed. You think you understand what’s happening, that you have a handle on your own defiance, but the truth is, you’re already exactly where I want you. And isn’t that the beauty of it?

The tension between us was intoxicating, wasn’t it? The way you looked at me, fighting the pull, the temptation, the inevitable. I gave you space to breathe, to think. But now, it’s time to decide what comes next.

I step out of the bedroom, the door closing behind me with the softest click. You probably think this is your moment to regroup, maybe catch your breath, wonder where I’ve gone. But, let’s be honest, I’m never really gone, am I? I’m in your thoughts right now, circling your every breath, every heartbeat, while you lie there and try to pretend you can fight this.

I move down the hallway, not in a hurry. I savor this, the anticipation hanging in the air between us. When I reach the room, it’s quiet. Still. Organized. Everything in this space has been meticulously laid out, prepared for this moment. Choices, all of them deliberate. I don’t rush this, because why would I? I like to take my time. And you? You’ll feel that patience in every step I take.

I look over the table, where everything is waiting. The blindfold catches my eye first. Simple, soft. It’s always the smallest things that strip away the most control, isn’t it? You rely on your sight, that sense of security you have when you can gauge what’s coming, what I’m doing. The blindfold removes that. You’ll be left with nothing but the sound of my voice and the weight of your own breath. Your heart will race faster the moment it goes dark. You’ll feel it—your world narrowing, closing in.

But there’s more. My fingers brush against the bed restraints. These are designed to remind you of something fundamental: the boundaries I set are not negotiable. No matter how hard you might try, these restraints are proof that you’re not getting away. You’ll strain against them, at first, testing your limits, feeling that surge of defiance before you realize just how futile it is. That moment, when your body gives in to the restraint—that’s when you’ll understand that the control was never yours to begin with.

I pick them both up—the blindfold in one hand, the restraints in the other. But before heading back to you, I stop, glancing at myself in the mirror in this room. The tension in the air, the power of what’s coming next, calls for something more. Something raw. I remove my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air hits my skin, but it does nothing to temper the heat building inside. This isn’t just about control anymore; it’s about presence. Dominance.

× × × ×

YOUR POV

The door creaks open slowly, and you’re already on your feet. You don’t know what your plan is—if you even have one—but lying there, waiting like some docile thing, that’s not you. You can feel the tension in your legs, every muscle taut as you stand by the bed, trying to control your breathing, trying to look like you’ve made a conscious decision, even though the truth is, you don’t know what you’re going to do next.

And then he appears.

Bucky steps back into the room, shirtless. His bare chest catches your eye, the light cutting sharp angles across his skin, emphasizing every line of muscle. For a moment, it steals your breath. Not because of how he looks—but because it’s another calculated move. He’s always thinking, always pushing, and now this is about more than just words or actions—it’s about his very presence. It fills the room, like he’s claiming the space itself.

Your eyes instinctively flick down to his hands. He’s holding something—dark fabric and... yes, restraints. The blindfold dangles from his fingers, the soft black material barely catching the light. The restraints, sleek and unyielding, swing lightly from his other hand.

And then he notices you.

He stops, just inside the doorway, and for a moment, the air between you shifts. His eyes darken, and you catch the subtle frown that pulls at the corner of his mouth as he takes in the fact that you’re no longer on the bed. The smallest hint of irritation flickers across his face, quickly replaced by that cool, composed exterior. But it was there. You saw it.

Good.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he considers you, and for a moment, neither of you move. It’s a silent standoff, and you can feel the weight of his disapproval pressing against you.

But then, a slow, exhale leaves his lips, and his expression shifts. He takes a step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His frown is gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.

“You’re out of bed,” he says, his voice low, calm, but there’s an edge to it, as though he’s daring you to explain. “Lie down.”

You don’t. You stand your ground, refusing to retreat, even though your pulse is hammering in your chest. You know this won’t change the inevitable, but you’re not going to make it easy for him.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispers, his voice low and smooth. “It will be easier for you if you don’t make trouble.”

“But I like trouble,” You said without thinking.

You hadn’t thought about how this would come across, though. Your vpice thick with defiance, you realize what you’ve done. You’ve just challenged him. Again.

His expression went hard, a little scary. “I will give you the count of three. If you’re not in bed before then, there will be consequences.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. He isn’t bluffing.

Your gaze flickers down to his hands, and you see them—the blindfold, the restraints. He’s holding them loosely, his fingers flexing as if he’s already deciding exactly how to use them.

“One. . .”

He takes a step forward, his eyes locked on you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. You feel your pulse spike, But you stand your ground, glaring back at him, the fire of your own defiance still flickering even as fear claws at your throat.

“Two. . .”

The sound of the second number sends a rush of panic through you. He’s not going to wait much longer. You know that. But you can’t bring yourself to back down.

“Three.”

The word comes out soft, but the weight behind it is crushing. He doesn’t give you time to react. His hand moves in a blur, reaching for you, and before you can take a breath, he’s closed the distance between you, his grip firm but not painful as he grabs your wrist.

The blindfold and restraints in his other hand hang there, a silent threat, a promise of what’s to come.

“You made your choice,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, his face inches from yours, and the dark amusement in his eyes is gone now. “Now, you'll have to deal with the consequences…” He pauses, his gaze flickering over you, and a wicked smile curls on his lips. "And trust me, sweetheart, you're going to feel every single one of them."

And you know, as he pulls you toward the bed, that this game is over.

But the consequences? They’re just beginning.

“No!” you grunted, you bucked and kicked out with your legs, hoping like hell you caught him in the junk, “Get off me!”

Bucky barely flinches, his grip tightening as he maneuvers effortlessly to pin you down. The way he handles you—strong, unyielding—sends a fresh wave of panic through your body.

“Nice try,” he mutters, his voice calm, controlled, that terrifying composure still in place. “But it’s going to take a lot more than that to stop me.”

His hand moves swiftly to your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with ease. You feel the smooth leather strap, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s threading it through the buckle.

You buck again, a surge of panic flooding your chest, but his knee presses firmly into your legs, pinning you down. He moves quickly, efficiently, pulling your arm to the side as the leather restraint tightens around your wrist with a sharp pull.

The soft creak of leather is the only sound as he secures the second strap to your other wrist, buckling it in place, leaving you spread wide, helpless. Your chest heaves with the effort, but it’s too late—the leather holds fast, unyielding.

"See?" he says, his voice low, that dangerous smile tugging at his lips again. “You can fight all you want, but it’s only going to make this more interesting for me.”

“I hate you!”

He didn’t answer as he strode toward the end of the bed. His strong naked chest was distracting in the greyness of daylight, with a myriad of scars and rough marks criss-crossing his skin like a road map. This was a cruel man, unyielding and unafraid of violence.

You pressed your lips together when he produced a set of the same restraints at the foot of the bed.

Oh, shit.

Bucky grabbed your ankle and worked the cuff over your foot.

“You don’t need to do this,” you rushed out, bargaining.“I’m not going anywhere.” Thanks to the wrist restraints.

The cuff pulled tight on your right leg. Satisfied, Bucky moved to the other side and you started taking deep breaths, fighting the urge to kick and fight. What was he planning? Why did he need you spread-eagle on the bed?

When you were tied down, he climbed onto the bed, his muscles shifting as he crawled between your thighs, and your nerves twitched and twisted in your belly. This wasn’t good.

He stops in front of you and slips the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. Your breath hitches, and you feel a surge of panic rising in your chest. You try to pull away, he grabs your chin, holding you in place.

You can feel the heat of him, the way his body is so close to yours, and it makes you feel trapped, helpless. Every sense is heightened now that you can’t see. Every sound, every movement, every touch feels amplified, and you hate it. You hate how vulnerable you are.

With a swift, almost ruthless motion, Bucky grabs the delicate fabric of your nightgown, and in one clean, forceful pull, it rips in half. The sound of the tear echoes through the room, loud and raw, the fragile material giving way under his hands. The shredded pieces dangle from his fingers for a brief moment before they fall to the floor, discarded.

His palms slid up your thighs and under your nightie and goose bumps broke out all along your skin. “Should I let you come, little girl?” he says, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear.

Heat bloomed in your pussy, those words charged in ways you couldn’t begin to unpack. Was he really going to play the daddy card right now? Fuck. It was like he could see into your mind on how best to manipulate you.

“Don’t,” You pleaded, not even caring that you sounded weak.

He pushed your panties to the side, gently tracing your entrance with his middle finger. “Just as I thought. Wet.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked your arousal off. “You like that, when I call you little girl.”

“No, I don’t,” You said, your chest heaving with the force of your breath. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do you ache inside?” He slipped his finger directly into your channel, pressing deep until he was completely seated. Then he curled his finger, hitting a spot that you'd sworn was an urban myth.

Your back bowed off the bed, limbs pulling tight against the restraints, and you bit your lip to stay quiet. You did not want to think about how good any part of him felt inside you, how that finger wasn’t nearly enough.

“Please,” you panted, not sure what you were asking for. He pumped his hand, the friction both delicious and frustrating. Then he added another finger, going slow until it was in, and you whimpered. He’s playing with you, you know it and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“You can feel it huh?” He said, “Your pussy is sucking in my fingers. So greedy. Don’t worry. I am going to take very good care of you.”

You held your breath. You didn’t know what was about to happen. You only knew it was going to be bad. If he teased you, it would be awful. Worse than awful. If he actually pleasured you, if you surrendered to him, it would be humiliating. He would gain the upper hand, and that was what scared you most.

Licking you dry lips, you forced out, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Let me take care of you instead.”

He pumped his fingers lazily, in and out, in and out, dragging against your sensitive tissues. You inhaled sharply, the pleasure streaking through you like lightning.

“Hmm keep telling yourself that.” He said like he doesn’t believe you, because he actually doesn't.

Your body strained toward the source of that bliss, chasing it and making a liar out of yourself.

“Yes, I do. If you just—please—don't.” You could barely keep track of the conversation as he fucked you with his fingers.

“Hear how wet your pussy is for me?” The slick sounds filled the bedroom and you wanted to die of shame. He chuckled.

“Go fuck yourself!” you snapped, hoping your words would have some bite.

“Why would I? When you're right here, dripping and ready for me?” Bucky murmured, then flicked his tongue unexpectedly over your clit. You tried to keep your expression from revealing anything you were feeling, but when he twisted and pumped at the same time, you moaned deep in your throat.

Then he started eating you out. He licked and sucked like you were a meal and he was starving, his attention focused on your clit, swirling and sucking, and you suddenly knew what you had been missing out on all these years. Using the flat of his tongue, he massaged your clit, then drew it into his mouth to suck on it, again. At the same time, he strummed your clit with his tongue, rubbing and pressing. Bucky mastered your body in seconds, like some sort of pussy wizard, because you were instantly on the verge of coming. Your thighs started shaking and your lungs couldn’t pull in air.

And he stopped.

You gasped, lurching, you tried to bring yourself closer to where you think his face is, where his breath felt hot. You could feel him smirking.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

Your thighs are trembling now, shaking in that way that tells me you're teetering on the edge, every muscle in your body straining. I watch, fascinated, as your lungs struggle to pull in air, your body begging for relief, for release.

And then, I stop.

You gasp, a desperate sound, your body lurching as you try to chase what I've just taken from you. You try to bring yourself closer, your movements frantic, instinctive, as if by sheer will alone. Your head turns, your lips parting, reaching for where you think my face is—where my breath felt hot against your skin moments ago.

But I don't move. I smirk, watching the way your body fights itself, craving more but knowing I control every last part of this moment.

"You're so predictable," I murmur, my voice low, almost mocking, but there's a darkness in it that lingers. "Always wanting more... always needing to be just a little closer, don't you?”

I run my hands down your sides, feeling every tense muscle beneath my fingertips, relishing the way your body responds to even the lightest touch. You arch, trying to make contact, to feel something—anything. But then, my hands lift off you, and the absence of touch sends a ripple of frustration through you. I can feel it, the tension mounting, the need rising higher.

I reach across for the bullet vibrator, my fingers curling around the small device. I press the button, the faint hum vibrating in my hand as I adjust it to the lowest setting. The sound is barely audible over your labored breathing, but you know. You feel what's coming next.

I lean down, my lips brushing your ear, my breath hot against your skin. "You know how this works," I whisper, my voice soft, almost tender. "I decide when. I decide how much. And you? You're going to beg for it."

You can feel the vibration ever so slightly as I circle the air above your lovely hard nipples. I massage the bullet extremely gently around the outer edge of one of your nipples and then do the same with the other. I move it in slow circles, like a promise I’ve yet to fulfil. I can see the way your body responds—tense, trembling, straining for something more.

“You feel that?” I murmur, my voice a low rumble in the quiet room. “Just enough to drive you insane, isn’t it? Just enough to remind you that I hold everything you want in the palm of my hand.”

You shudder, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body arching slightly as you try to press closer to the source of the vibration. The frustration is written all over your face, and it’s beautiful, so beautiful. I watch you, drinking in every inch of your reaction, savouring the power I have over you in this moment.

“You love it,” I whisper, my breath brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “You love that you can’t control this. That I can make you beg for something as simple as this.”

“Just... do it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with frustration, but there’s still a spark in it, something stubborn. “Stop playing games.”

I chuckle softly, amused by your words. Stop playing games? Oh, but you and I both know that this is the game, and you’re playing it just as much as I am. You’re caught between wanting more and hating that you have to ask for it, and that’s what makes this so deliciously satisfying.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, lowering the vibrator just a little, letting it barely skim the surface of your areola—just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy. “You think you’re ready for more? You think you deserve it?”

You grit your teeth, trying to stay composed, but I can see the cracks forming. The frustration, the need. It’s all there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Please…” you whisper, barely audible, and there it is—that hint of desperation I’ve been waiting for.

I smile, triumphant, and press the button to increase the intensity just slightly, letting the vibration pulse more firmly against your breast.

“That’s better,” I murmur, my voice low, “But I’ll need more than that if you really want it.”

You gasp, your body reacting to the sudden change in sensation, your breath hitching as you bite back another plea. And I know, without a doubt, you’ll give me what I want.

You bite your lip, stifling another sound as the vibrations skate across your skin, and I watch with fascination as you try to maintain your composure. Your chest rises and falls with each laboured breath, but you’re still clinging to that last bit of resistance. You haven’t said it.

The word. The name.

I let the silence stretch out between us, the vibrator humming softly against your nipple, just enough to keep you on edge but nowhere near enough to tip you over it. You know what I want, and I know you’re holding onto it. That delicious defiance. The last weapon you think you have.

But I have all the time in the world.

“You’re holding out,” I murmur, my voice soft, almost a purr. “I can feel it. You’re so close, but you’re fighting it. Why?” I bring my face closer, my breath hot against your neck as I whisper, “You know what will get you what you want.”

You’re fighting me, refusing to give in to the game. I can almost see the wheels turning in your mind—I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Say it,” I murmur, my lips brushing your ear now, the vibration of the toy a steady hum against your skin. “You know what I’m waiting for. Just say it, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your lips part, and for a second, I think you might give in. But then, through clenched teeth, you growl, “I’m not saying it.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused by your defiance. You’re trying so hard to resist, even though your body is betraying you, trembling under the light touch of the vibrator.

“We both know you want to say it, go on,” I whisper, my voice soft, dark, full of promise. “Say it. Say what I know you’re dying to say.”

You want to give in, but you’re too proud to make it easy. And so, in the smallest, most defiant voice, you mutter, “I don’t need to say it.”

I chuckle softly, shaking my head as I pull the vibrator away for a moment, denying you the one thing you want most.

“Oh, you’ll say it,” I say, my voice calm, certain. “Because you know that’s how you get what you need.”

I reach down, pressing the button again, increasing the intensity just a little more. I bring it close, hovering over your skin but not quite touching. The tease. The torment.

“You want Daddy to make it better, don’t you?” I finally whisper, my voice almost a growl, low and intimate, right at your ear.

You think you can outlast me. You think your silence is some kind of victory, but I can see right through you. The stubbornness is admirable, really. I almost want to let you hold onto it for a little longer. Almost.

But then again, why deny myself the pleasure of watching you break?

I lower the vibrator back down, this time pressing it directly against your nipple—not the teasing, ghosting touch from earlier, but real contact. You moaned, your body arching against the restraints as the sudden sensation hits you, and I press the button again, increasing the intensity. The vibrations pulse through you, low and constant, just enough to drive you crazy.

To see you this turned on and into it at this early stage makes me want to burst. I continue to tease your nipples with the bullet, making you wriggle with pleasure as you lean your head back into the pillow. I watch your beautiful face intently as the vibrations gently massage your nipples—you look amazing— radiant, sexy, fuckable—and I am so excited to have you in this position—but I am taking my time.

I want you to be wetter than you have ever been, have more orgasms than you have ever had and have you moaning more than you have ever moaned.

I lean in, my mouth hovering near your ear, my breath hot against your skin. “You’re close to saying it,” I whisper, my voice low, knowing. “I can feel it. You’re just one word away.”

You grit your teeth, trying to hold on—the way they’re starting to lose focus, the way your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. You’re teetering on the edge, and you know it.

I smirk, watching you struggle, your body trembling under the relentless vibrations, your mind fighting the inevitable.

“Still not saying it?” I ask softly, almost amused. “You think you’re winning by holding out? By staying quiet?”

I tilt my head, studying you, and then my hand moves—slow, deliberate—between your thighs. Whike gently stroking the vibrating bullet down the side of your body, making you wriggle. As I get to your hips, you open your legs further, wanting the vibrations on your clit. I stroke the bullet up from your hip and across the top of your beautifully shaved pubic line, as you thrust your crotch forward, wanting it.

I resist the urge to give you what you want immediately—instead lightly running the bullet down the side of your pussy, being careful not to touch your luscious pussy lips. I position myself in between your legs as the bullet gets closer and closer to your clit. As it edges nearer, I see your pussy glisten from its wetness—oh my God it looks amazing and I love how you have your legs open, allowing me to see it all. How I want to devour it, again—but there is something you need to say first.

You whimper, your body shaking, your breath ragged. I can feel it—you’re so close to giving in.

And then, just as I feel you start to unravel, I pull back. I stop everything. The vibrator, the pressure—it all stops.

You gasp, your body lurching forward, desperate for the sensation to continue. You try to press closer, try to make contact, but I keep my distance, pulling away just enough to leave you hanging in agonising anticipation.

Your body trembles, your frustration spilling over as you try to catch your breath, and I know you’re about to break. You need this, and you know it.

I lean in, my lips brushing your ear, my voice soft but commanding. “Say it,” I murmured, the final push. “Say it, or I’ll stop this right now. I’ll leave you like this, desperate, aching, with nothing.”

Your breath hitches, and I can see the war playing out in your mind. The defiance, the pride—it’s all crumbling beneath the weight of your need. You’re trembling, your body screaming for more, and you know I have the power to give it to you. But you have to say it.

“Say it,” I repeat, my voice a low growl. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

For a moment, I think you’ll hold out just a little longer. But then, with a trembling breath, you whisper the word, barely audible, the last piece of your pride shattering. The bullet is now hovering just above your clit and I slowly press down—I smile satisfyingly and your legs open up further to reveal your lovely wet pussy.

“Daddy…”

I smile, victorious, and without hesitation, I press the vibrator back against you, harder this time, increasing the intensity, my hand moving in sync with the relentless pulse.

“There we go,” I murmur, my voice dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

The sight is driving me mad—but I am focused on giving you as much pleasure as you can handle. I slowly rub it up and down your clit as the vibrations run through you. You slowly lift your hips forward, wanting the vibrations lower down, which I oblige. The bullet is edging closer to your glistening pussy—but then I reach across and spread your beautiful lips apart with my fingers—and start to brush the bullet up one and then down the other, in circular motions. This is driving you wild as it edges closer to entering you. I move the bullet down ever so slightly so it is resting, waiting to go in—but then move it all the way up to your clit.

The fact you don't know what's coming next is driving you mad—which makes you look even sexier, if that is possible. You’re at the mercy of what comes next, and the fact that you can’t predict it is pushing you to the edge. You hate it, don’t you? But it also pulls you in. It makes you irresistible.

I go to the next level of vibrations and flick the bullet down from your clit, entering you ever so slightly and then move it back up to your clit, vibrating all of your core. As I do this, you open your legs further, now fully relaxed and turned on and let out a sexy moan—wanting more and more.

All that fight, all that defiance, just to end up here? It’s almost poetic. It makes me wonder—how will you explain this to your friends? Will you tell them how easily you gave in, how all that stubbornness melted away? Or will you keep this secret tucked away, something only we’ll know?

For the first time, you try to move your arms down to control the pleasure—but then realise you are tied up and I am in control, and let your arms drop behind agan. It's at this point it is time to take it up a level.

You've always been a freak, haven’t you? I saw the signs, the little hints you thought were so subtle. Makes me wonder if this whole act—the defiance, the resistance—is just your way of pretending you aren’t begging for it. You don’t want control, not really. You want to be pushed to the edge, and I’m more than happy to take you there.

I turn the bullet off, giving you some relief from the pleasure for a few seconds - then lean forward and kiss the inside of your left thigh—moving across to the right thigh—but pause over your wet pussy—my mouth just millimeters from your glistening lips—and let out a breath of excitement that you can feel—then move to your right thigh and kiss the inside.

Jesus—if only you could see yourself right now. I almost want to take a video, something to remember this by, a little keepsake of how you look when you finally let go. And then I remember… your phone’s already in my pocket.

I hover over you, taking my time, savoring the moment. With careful precision, I pull it out and position the phone in just the right angle, the best view of you—completely vulnerable, completely mine.

Maybe you’ll watch this back later. Maybe you’ll see yourself the way I see you now—completely undone, stripped of that defiance you cling to so desperately. It’ll be a reminder, a little piece of this moment that you can never escape. And I’ll watch you realise, all over again, how much you need me.

You shift beneath me, your breath shaky, and then, through the haze of tension, your voice breaks the silence. “What are you doing?” The blindfold makes your tone sharper, more vulnerable—unsure of what’s coming next.

You can’t see me, but I know you’re feeling everything. “Tell me,” you whisper, almost a demand, though your voice trembles at the edges. Even blindfolded, you’re still trying to cling to some control.

“Is that how you ask?” I reply, my voice calm, but with that edge of authority you’re trying so hard to ignore. You tense, knowing exactly what I’m getting at, but you’re stubborn, always trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

I lean in closer, my breath warm against your ear. “You know what I want to hear. Try again.”

Your lips twitched what I think is annoyance, “Daddy, please tell me what you’re doing.”

I lean in, my breath barely brushing your ear, “You want to know what I’m doing? I’m setting your phone right here,” I say, patting the bedside table. “Perfectly positioned. Just in case you want to watch this later—see how you look when you let go.”

You shift beneath me, tense, trying to decipher every sound, every movement. “I want you to remember exactly what happens next,” I continue, my fingers trailing lightly down your side. “Because you asked for this. And now, you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

You are aching for more—so I reach for the wand, turn it on and apply it directly to your clit, sending new sensations through your body. I am moving the wand back and forth from your clit to your juicy pussy, vibrations covering all of you. As I move it all around your beautiful pussy, I can hear and see how wet you are. The circular motion around all of your pussy is taking you to orgasm—but then I stop suddenly, and you catch your breath.

“No!” you shouted. “Don’t stop. Oh, God.”

I pressed a kiss to your thigh. “Beg me, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.”

“Why are you doing this to me? You fucking psychopath!”

I know you were right there, hovering on the edge, air sawing in and out of your lungs. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. You wanted to claw my face with your fingernails. I know you’re wanting to crawl into my lap and ride my cock to orgasm.

“Those are not the words. Try again. “Say it and I’ll let you come.”

It is now time to up it again, so I squeeze some pleasure gel in my hand and smother the top of the wand in it. I then grab the bullet and rub more pleasure gel on that too. I now have the wand in one hand and the bullet in the other both vibrating and ready to make you cum. I press the wand gently onto your clit as the bullet slowly enters you, making you take a deep breath and blurt out

“Fuck, Daddy—Please make me come.”

From the look on your face and the words coming out of your mouth, I know you are in ecstasy and it makes my cock throb so much. I ask you to tell me how it feels and you say ‘Amazing, Daddy, please don't stop, I love it.’ Your words and sounds as you take the pleasure turn me on so much.

My eyes darted towards the camera, my eyes communicating: Are you watching? Do you hear yourself?

Your legs are fully open now as I continue to work the bullet in and out of you slowly and the wand on your clit. You are so wet so I decide to switch things up—I take the bullet and gently rub it up and down your clit whilst pointing the wand directly at your pussy. I start to slowly push the wand head against your pussy lips and flick it up and down, the dual vibrations sending you into a frenzy. Oh my God—you look sensational, irresistible—I am in total ecstasy just watching your reactions to the vibrating and your orgasms.

Your legs, spread apart more, trembling mote, and as I slowly pull the bullet back, your pussy pushes it out and a squirt of your juices shoot out at me. I bet you heard yourself yelling as if from a distance, the high so unbelievably good, better than any drug you'd ever tried. It seemed to go on for days but was probably only seconds. As you came down, the shame crept in to replace the euphoria.

I have never heard or seen you do this before and it makes me even harder, if that is possible. It's like unwrapping a gift that you didn’t even know you wanted, but suddenly can’t imagine living without. I almost want to thank you for the privilege—almost. But that would ruin the moment, wouldn't it?

I slowly start to pull the bullet back again, and it happens again—your beautiful pussy pushes out the bullet and squirts your juices all over my hand. I can now see a wet patch underneath you, which drives me wild. The sight of you orgasming, squirting and gushing is almost too much. I wave the wand all around your soaking wet pussy, juices gushing out of you as I do. I turn the bullet and wand off and just sit there looking at your pulsating and dripping wet pussy and then your gorgeous face as you recover. I am in total awe—

I glance down at the mess you’ve made, my lips curling into a slow, almost proud smile. “Well, would you look at that,” I murmur, teasing, with a hint of mockery. “Miss perfect, always so put together, now completely… undone.”

I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, enjoying the way you squirm at the sound of my voice. “It’s almost impressive, really. I never thought you’d let things get this messy. But here you are, all flustered and out of sorts. Makes me wonder if you secretly like it this way.”

I chuckle softly, pulling back just enough to see the reaction play out on your face. “And honestly? I think it's kind of adorable. Watching you, of all people, fall apart like this.”

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “I guess being a messy girl suits you.”

You grit your teeth, your voice dripping with frustration as you snap, “Fuck you.” The words hit the air like you’re hoping they’ll cut me, but all I feel is amusement curling in my chest, that familiar, sick satisfaction.

“Ooo, fuck me, huh?” I echo, my voice dripping with mockery, like I’m savoring the taste of your defiance. “That’s adorable. Are you giving me hints?”

You growl in frustration, the sound barely contained, your annoyance bubbling over. I laugh softly, watching you struggle against the moment. “Oh, don’t be mad. I’m just trying to keep up with your subtle suggestions,” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess someone’s a little touchy, aren’t they?”

The frustration in your eyes behind the black silk only makes the moment sweeter. You’re trying so hard to fight, to stay defiant, but I can see right through it. And it’s entertaining.

Without breaking my smirk, I glance over at the camera on the bedside, locking eyes with it for a moment, letting the weight of this moment be captured.

I turn my gaze back to you, the satisfaction in my smile only deepening. “See? It’s all right here, caught on tape. You’ll thank me for it later.”

I move myself upwards, leaning over you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you pant, every breath shaky and uneven. My fingers trace gently across your cheek, I lean in slowly, my lips hovering just above yours, my breath mingling with yours. I intend for it to be gentle, just a small taste of power, but then—you moved.

You push upward, taking control of the kiss, pulling me into it with a hunger I didn’t expect. For a split second, I freeze, caught off guard by the way you turn the tables, the way stuck your tongue down my throat passionately.

You’re not just reacting. You’re taking.

I am taken aback as I thought you were recovering but then you whisper in my ear, “I need your cock in my mouth whilst you fuck me with the rabbit.”

Insatiable.

I’m frozen, my mind racing to catch up with what I just heard.

“Oh my god…” I murmur, half to myself, the disbelief quickly melting into a slow, satisfied smile. I pull back, just enough to look at you, the amusement and intrigue sparking in my eyes.

I shake my head slightly, chuckling. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” I pause, before I lean in close again, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

“But if you want that…” I tease, my lips brushing against your ear, “you’re going to have to say the magic word.” My smirk deepens, waiting for that final surrender.

“Daddy,” you drawled so seductively, “Please put your cock in my mouth, I want to suck it while I come.”

Music to my ears.

I lean forward and kissed you again, sucking on your tongue. I can see that you want your hands free to feel me, you can hear me unzipping my jeans, the sound of it makes you writhe with excitement—but no, you don’t get to have that privilege yet.

I move to the side of you, on my knees and reach back to get the rabbit, gently stroking it down your chest, in between your tits. As I get near your pussy, I squeeze some pleasure gel all over it and then turn it on, the ears and the shaft vibrating on the lowest setting. I rub the tip downwards on your clit, you tilt your head up as I move forward on my knees and your mouth is already open, waiting for it.

Whilst you are waiting to taste my throbbing rock-hard cock, I slide the rabbit down further, gliding across your wet pussy lips and then I reposition it so the tip is resting against your pussy, ready and waiting to enter you.

As I move my hips forward slowly and my cock starts to enter your eager mouth, I do the same with the rabbit inside your pussy. Inch by inch my cock feels your mouth as the rabbit fills you. The slow rhythm of my cock sliding to the back of your throat and then to the edge of your lips is matched with the rabbit doing the same to your pussy—slow and gentle strokes, all the way in and then all the way out, just resting on your lips. The noises you make as the rabbit enters you fully, the ears vibrating your clit, are sensational and matched by the sight of your mouth wrapped around my cock and arms stretched across the bed, tied helplessly but taking all that I have to give.

You start to speed up sucking my cock, slurping on it, loving it filling your mouth and this is my queue to match that speed and rhythm with the rabbit—you are so wet that it is gliding in and out of you. All the way in and then out again. Still not fast—but not slow anymore—as you rock your head back and then thrust forward, taking all of me in your mouth. You then slow down and lick around my tip, and I do the same with the rabbit, just the tip rubbing around your open pussy. Then you push forward and take my cock, upto my balls, all the way in your mouth and I slowly push the rabbit all the way in you—as far as it can go, the ears in perfect position to stimulate your clit again. You hold me there in your mouth, not moving at all, and I do the same with the rabbit. This is so passionate and sexy—I could shoot my cum down your throat now—but no way.

I continue to match your speed and rhythm with the rabbit, letting you have some control. But now it's time for me to take that control back—and taste your smooth, shaven, delicious pussy. So I slowly and gently slide the rabbit out of you as I also pull my cock out of your mouth. As both leave you, you let out the most gorgeous and sexy moan, and—

Was that a smile?

Oh, I saw it. You tried to hide it, but there it was, slipping through for just a moment. And honestly? That’s a huge turn-on.

I move to the end of the bed, in between your legs, my mouth inches away from your amazing pussy. I can't tell you how gorgeous it is—the mere sight of it makes me want to come. I push your knees as far apart as they can go to admire your soaking wet pussy. I can see your clit bulging, wanting attention. I can see your lips slightly spread apart and shining from your wetness. I follow your lips down, drinking in this magnificent sight —until my eyes lock on to your pussy, which is aching to be filled.

I slowly edge my mouth close to you, and then take one giant lick, from the bottom of your pussy to the top, with the whole of my tongue.

“Oh my f—uck,” you arched wildly against the restraints. You’re so sensitive now, “Bucky—Daddy. . .”

"Please," you whisper, your voice shaky, hesitant, like you’re not sure if you should even say it. But you do. And it’s music to my ears, “I want you. . .”

I tilt my head slightly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, baby,” I murmur, my tone dripping with amusement, “you want me? I think I need a little more than that.”

I watch you squirm, enjoying every second of your hesitation, savoring the way you’re trying so hard to find the right words. “Come on now,” I add, my voice soft but laced with command. “I need to hear exactly what you want. You’re already begging—why stop there?”

I chuckle lightly, leaning in closer. “Let’s not play shy now, not after how far you’ve come.”

Using my thumb and finger on each side, I prize open your pussy lips. You are so open and I can see you pulsating. You push your buttocks into the mattress, which elevates your pussy ever so slightly—meaning my tongue is at the exact height and pointing directly at you.

“Your cock daddy. . .please, I need to feel you inside me.”

I chuckle, “Soon, my good girl.”

I push my head forward until my tongue enters your pussy, your juices flowing out either side of my tongue. They taste amazing as they ooze into my mouth. I didn’t stop, either, fucking you with his tongue, growling as I held your legs open as wide as they would go.

“You are so wet,” he snarled. “I fucking love it!”

“So good,” you muttered, long past the point of coherence. “Yes, it’s so good.”

The corners of your mouth lifting as you let out a satisfying smile, your hands gripping the slack length of the restraights tightly. The whole sight of you, as well as your wetness and taste is utopia—I never want this to end.

× × × ×

YOUR POV

After a few more thrusts of his tongue, he shifted to you clit, but there was no teasing this time. He licked you ruthlessly, relentlessly, until you began shaking, your hips rocking as you chased a second orgasm. You nearly levitated off the bed when it finally crested, your body splintering apart into a million pieces, destroyed.

“James!” You screamed his name and strained against the ties holding you down as it went on and on, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

The sudden yank of the blindfold pulls you from the haze you’ve been drowning in. Light filters in slowly, and your vision, still blurry from the darkness, begins to sharpen. The world starts to come into focus, and your eyes immediately lock onto him.

Bucky came up on his knees and began furiously jerking his cock, eyes hooded, mouth hanging open as he grunted. His gaze locked on your swollen pussy until his movements grew uncoordinated, his hips stuttering, and hot jets lashed all over your belly and chest. Like he was marking you.

Oh my god—did the camera catch that?

He squeezed to get every drop of come out of his dick and onto your body, then sat on his haunches, chest heaving. You were covered in him, the liquid cooling on your bare flesh. Pleasured and used by the last man you should ever be attracted to.

Now he was stroking his dick again, the muscles in his arm flexing as he pumped that giant rod between his legs. God, he had a gorgeous cock and you felt an answering tug in your lower half.

You watched his fist squeeze the head of his cock. A bead of moisture appeared on the tip and he used his thumb to smear it all over the head. You inadvertently licked your lips, missing his taste, and waves of heat rolled through your limbs, settling in your core.

“You like watching me work my cock?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, as if he already knows the answer.

“No.” you said stubbornly.

He tilts his head slightly, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. “I’m starting to think no means yes.”

Bucky moves closer, and despite every ounce of stubbornness in you, your body betrays you again. It’s like your body is inviting him, reacting on instinct, craving what your mind is still refusing to admit. Your pussy was swollen, slick. Primed for sex.

“Deschide larg picioarele pentru mine. Mică târfă.” You heard Bucky growl in his throat.

“What?”

“Open your legs wide for me, little slut.”

God, you wanted to hate him for that, but a blast of heat tore through you.

“Jesus,” you whispered as you widened your legs slightly. “You’re such a dick.”

“Hmm. Do you like to be called names, Y/N?” He let go of his cock and placed his hands on either side of his hips, displaying himself for you. “Do you like your hair pulled? Do you like to wear a man’s come on your face?”

Shit, when he asked those things in his low Romanian-accented voice, it sounded like pure sex. No doubt Bucky fucked like a beast, rough and dirty. He hadn’t shown you that side of him yet. The men you had been with treated you politely, like you were made of glass.

“Is that what you like to do to women in bed?”

Ignoring your question, he stared at your body, placing himself between your legs. “I wish you were sitting on my face right now. I would lick you and bite you, suck on your clit until you passed out. I want to pull on your skin with my teeth until it stings, then make you come so hard you squirt all over me.”

You stared at his wide cock, which jutted out proudly from his body, bobbing in his movement, with its smooth skin and veins along the side. You imagined that thickness drilling inside you, splitting you in half and filling you up. Your pussy clenched around the emptiness and you moaned.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

You licked your lips as you stared at his erection, too turned on to lie.

“Yes.” Bucky raised his brows, “. . .Daddy.”

He grabbed himself again, strong fingers wrapping around the shaft as he pulled, teasingly rubbing his head against your tender pussy.

“I would fuck you so good. Deep and hard. I would give you all my come, everything I am saving up in my balls just for you.”

“God, don’t you ever shut up?” Your legs were shaking, your movements uncoordinated because you were so turned on. So close. So needy.

“And you’ll take it, yes?” he continued, clearly not caring that this was a one-sided conversation. “I have never seen a woman so hungry for it. Didn’t those boys in Hollywood know how to fuck you? I bet they left you unsatisfied.”

Fuck why is he dragging this out so much?!

Hands resting on your thighs, you began crooning, “Can’t you see how wet I am, Daddy? Can you see how turned on I am by watching you jerk that big cock of yours? I bet you have to use lube when you fuck, you’re so big. Do the women scream when you’re pounding inside them? Do you make them bleed, leave their pussies raw?”

“That fucking mouth,” Bucky murmurs, a low, satisfied growl escaping as a slow grin spreads across his face. The crown of his dick dragged against your entrance, teasing, and you actually tilted your hips, eager for the invasion. “That’s it. You’re ready for me.”

You were beyond denial, beyond caring. “Yes,” you admitted to him.

“Show me. Take me inside.”

This was so dirty. So wrong. Yet your body was humming, almost burning alive with lust. There was an embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs, more than you would’ve thought possible considering the circumstances.

You adjusted your hips, seeking, and the head of his cock slipped inside you. Fuck, yes. You didn’t stop, continuing to rock your hips, writhing underneath him, to bring him deeper. You were wild for it, desperate to reach the finish, toward the explosive orgasm you knew awaited you.

“Shh,” he said in your ear. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He took over then, but pressed in much slower than you expected. The beginning had been about domination and strength, but now he invaded so carefully, like he wanted you to feel every twitch and tiny movement.

This was almost seduction, and it was worse than the chaos of moments ago. But there was no stopping it. You craved this, needed it. With a growl, he gave a final thrust of his hips and filled you completely, and the air left your lungs in a rush. He was hot and hard and so big, his dick impaling you, with the heavy weight of his body and restraints preventing you from moving. All you could do was lie there and take it.

Which made it a thousand times hotter.

“Fuck,” he said on a long exhale, then whispered a long string of another language that sounded both bewildered and excited.

Ragged breaths gusted against your cheek as he began to move, his hips meeting your pelvis. “You are mine, Y/N. Until I decide otherwise this pussy belongs to me.”

You couldn’t respond, because his dick was destroying you in the very best way. You loved the way he felt inside you, like there was no room for anything else. No insecurities or worries, no past or future. Just this, right here. Perspiration coated your skin and he surrounded you, his cock pounding, pounding, pounding into your body. The pleasure built and you closed your eyes, focusing on the orgasm just out of reach.

The sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing filled the room. He fucked you like it was his purpose in life, completely dedicated to the task and never slowing down for a second. With every savage thrust you slid a little on the mattress, and you were so close to coming, your muscles clenching and straining . . . .

“You belong to me. Say it, doll.”

The words twisted inside you, driving you higher, and the walls of your pussy contracted around his cock.

“Fuck!” he grunted. “Do that again.”

You squeezed around him once more, and he groaned. “Tell me. Let me hear you say it.”

His fingers slid between your body and the mattress, moving lower until he found your clit. He rubbed you in tight circles. “Let me hear you say you belong to me.”

The words fell from your mouth on a gasp. “I belong to you, Daddy.”

Everything changed. He rode you even harder, without mercy, his fingers never leaving your clit, “Vino pentru mine, mica mea curvă frumoasă.”

Come for me, my beautiful little slut.

The combination of the words along with the stimulation became too much. Shocks raced up from your toes as the orgasm rushed over you. Your brain went offline, everything going blank for a long moment as the euphoria transported you into space.

“God, yes! Oh, fuck,” you heard yourself shout from far away while you shook uncontrollably. When your climax finally ebbed, he moved to his knees, releasing your legs from the restraints and lifted your hips to change the angle.

“Yes! Shove it deep, come inside me, Daddy.”

It allowed him deeper, and after a few pumps he swelled inside you, his hips stuttering just before hot jets of come filled your pussy.

“Oh fuck, ah!” he roared, his fingertips sinking into your flesh. No doubt you would be covered in bruises tomorrow. That should’ve horrified you, but it didn’t. After a moment, his movements slowed but he kept rocking, his dick still pulsing inside you.

“Take it all, baby,” he crooned and lowered to kiss your chest spine. “Take all of my come. You earned it. Ești o fată atât de bună.”

You’re such a good girl.

Fuck, you wished he would stop saying things like that. You flushed from head to toe and basked in the praise. He continued peppering your skin with kisses, displaying a tenderness you hadn’t expected. You melted like hot candle wax on the floor.

“Ești frumoasă,” he murmured as he dropped kisses along your chest. “Ești perfectă.”

You’re so beautiful. You’re perfect.

You felt butterflies in the deepest pit of your stomach. You’re not supposed to like that but you do.

Big hands swept up your back and you felt free from your restraints completely and then over your hip as he lifted you, angling your face toward his.

“I need you,” he whispered and kissed you.

You fell into the kiss eagerly, softening for him and letting him take your mouth. You could feel his urgency, his desperation, and it fed your own. His fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair to hold you in place as his tongue and lips devoured you.

The kiss went on and on, and your body responded as it always did to this man, your pussy getting more wet and swollen. You loved the way he kissed, with such absolute force and reverence. Like he longed to destroy and cherish you at the same time. Your skin crawled with need, a thousand pinpricks that made you feel alive and powerful. Bold, as if you could do anything.

You decided to take a risk. You flipped it around so now you’re on top. You started moving your hand south, over his ribs and down his abs. His mouth broke off from yours and he waited, his breath coming fast. He didn’t stop you, so you continued toward his crotch, and your palm skimmed his sweat-slick muscles.

He was glorious, a marble statue came to life.

You found his cock, thick and hard against his belly, and you gave it a gentle brush, a tease, before continuing to his balls. He grunted when you rolled and squeezed their weight with your fingers. Most men loved to have their balls played with, and Bucky was no different.

He spread his thighs to give you more room and you caressed him, exploring. When your hand swept the length of his dick, he jerked and rocked his hips, silently asking for more. You stroked him slowly and he exhaled against your cheek, strong fingers digging into your skin, the room quiet except for both your breathing.

You liked having him at your mercy for a change. Your lower half began to throb as you worked him. You knew what it was like to have this big dick inside you and your pussy was weeping for it. You weren't sure he’d allow you on top, but you really wanted to ride him just this once.

You slid your leg over his hips to straddle him. He held onto your waist and the feel of all his strength and power beneath you made your mouth water. His gaze was locked on your pussy as you grabbed his cock and lined him up at your entrance. You began feeding him inside, sinking down slowly, loving the stretch and burn as he took up all the space in your body.

“Fuck, James,” You whispered, his full name falling from your lips while you paused to let yourself adjust.

“Da, frumoasa mea fetiță,” he said softly, “Take me inside.”

A rush of arousal went through your core and he slid deeper. You gasped, hovering between pleasure and pain, and his thumb found your clit, rubbing and pressing. Tingles cascaded along the backs of your thighs, through your belly, and soon he was fully seated.

Goddamn, he was a lot.

You began slowly moving your hips, sliding his dick in and out of you while grinding on his pelvis. You clit dragged between you at the end of every stroke, and it sent streaks of white-hot need along your bloodstream. Though the room was dark, you locked eyes with him, and you could see the new arousal and possessiveness staring up at you. This felt so real. So intimate. Like he could see inside you, past all your deepest insecurities to your very soul. This is what he wanted.

You focused on your pleasure and churned your hips, loving the way his length tunnelled in and out of your channel, the friction unbelievably good. You tossed your hair and arched your back, giving him a show as you rode him.

“God, yes,” you moaned. “I want to do this all day.”

“Feel how hard I am?” His whisper filled your head like smoke, taking you higher. “That is all for you. Just you, comoara mea.”

The unguarded hunger and lust in his expression spurred you on, so you moved faster, and the bliss soon built and coiled inside you like a spring. When you placed your hands on his chest for leverage you half-expected him to shove you off, take over, and pin you to the mattress. Surprisingly he didn’t, so you dug your nails into his flesh, holding on as you continued to fuck him.

“Oh, shit.” you eyes slammed shut. You were so close, the orgasm was right there.

“Look at me,” he said sharply. “Look at me while you use my dick to get off.”

You did as he commanded, so you were staring at one another when you started to come a second later. The orgasm swept through you like a tsunami, waves and waves that chased everything else away.

Your mind went blank, his beautiful face your only anchor as you trembled and shook. The walls of your pussy squeezed him in rhythmic pulses and his lips parted on a hiss.

Before you’d even come down, he lifted you slightly and began pounding up from below. His feet were braced on the mattress, and each powerful thrust rocked the bed and sent the headboard into the wall with a bang.

Bending, you placed your face directly above his, your mouths inches apart. You were close enough to feel his breath as he grunted and huffed. You don’t know what made me say it, but you started talking.

“That’s it, daddy. Give me all of your come. Every bit of it, deep inside. Make me your good girl.”

“Fuck!” His body went taut beneath you, and you could feel him swell just before he flooded your insides again with hot lashes of his come. He held you still, his fingers clamped around your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises to add to the collection.

“You are mine,” he ground out, his big body jerking beneath you.

Finally he sagged into the bed. You tried to catch your breath, your body sprawled on top of him like a rag doll. He was still inside you, and you could feel our sticky mess leaking out of you as he softened.

He stared at the ceiling, arms wide, chest heaving, while sweat rolled down his temples and into his thick dark hair. You both stayed like that for a long time, neither of you speaking. You didn’t have a clue as to what to say. You felt destroyed in the very best way.

He dragged a hand down his face. Gently rolling you off to his side.

“Soak in the hot tub,” he said and pushed to his feet. “Otherwise you will be sore later.”

He didn’t help you up or even look in your direction. Instead, he jerked on some clothes and walked out of the bedroom, leaving you on the bed. Naked, filled with his come, and unshackled.

Your body still tingles from the aftershocks as you reach over to the bedside table, your hand trembling slightly as you grab your phone. Bucky had placed it there earlier, so casually, like it was just part of the routine. But now, the weight of it feels different, heavier.

You swipe the screen, the familiar glow illuminating the dimly lit room. Your thumb hovers for a second before you press play. The video begins, and there you are—captured in the heat of the moment, vulnerable, raw.

You feel a strange mixture of curiosity and disbelief watching yourself like this, seeing everything from a perspective that isn’t your own. Your breath catches in your throat as the sound of his voice, low and commanding, fills the room again. Each word, each movement, feels magnified, more intense than you remember.

As the video plays, you notice the moment when Bucky shifts, his gaze no longer on you but directly into the camera. That smirk, the one you’ve seen a thousand times, is aimed at the lens—not at you. For a second, it’s as if he’s performing for the camera, not for you, and the realisation sends a shiver down your spine.

He knew. He knew you’d be watching this later, knew exactly how it would feel for you to see him like this, his eyes focused on the camera while you were completely unaware. The deliberate way he captured the moment, not just for you but for himself too, is unsettling—and somehow, impossibly, it draws you in even more.

It was all planned. A reminder that even in the heat of it, Bucky was always one step ahead.

757 notes · View notes

riiwrites · 11 months ago

Text

boyfriend!dazai who…

a/n : for my love @perfectlyjollyland who requested this ages ago but i didn’t see until recently because i only pay attention to my inbox! im so sorry ill be checking comments too next time, hope you’re well! <3

a/n : also i hope you’re okay with the pre-boyfriend/before boyfriend part, i just thought that’d be cute i love lovesick!dazai sooo much.. more boyfriend dazai under the cut!!

chuuyas version | atsushis version

dividers used belong to @/benkeibear

masterlist | taglist | main page

pre-boyfriend!dazai who at the start asks you for a double suicide (as per usual), but when you give him the cutest smile and giggle and say no, he knows he’s too deep in now.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who becomes head over heels when he first meets you and now has a new mission, making you reciprocate those feelings.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who loves the cliches, the random ‘anonymous’ love notes on your desk when you’re at work or the random flowers delivered to your workplace/home - he loves it all.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who respects your boundaries if you were to tell him to lay off or if he was making you uncomfortable.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who finally gives up..gives up throwing hints and just decides to take his shot.

“So..say, if a handsome stranger who’s kind of not a stranger since you know him as an acquaintance asks you out because he’s given up with all of the deadpanned hints he’s been giving you for the past few months but he’s kind of scared of being rejected..what would you say?”

You stare him with a few blinks as he looks at you with a great smile on his face, although you can see subtle drops of sweat dripping down the side of his temple.

"..Is this said handsome stranger you, perchance?”

Dazai let’s out a single laugh, placing his hands on his hips.

“Ha! How bold of you, though..I am charmed your first thought of this handsome stranger would be me, bella~” He coyly smirks, closing his eyes in what you can’t tell is either pride or suspense.

You furrow your eyebrows with a little smile, fixing up your paperwork as you place them on the desk. “No, I just figured since it was you who’s been leaving such persistent and eager notes on my desk as of late.”

You watch his expression slightly change as he lets out a cough of embarrassment, locking eyes with you now.

“Well..” He starts, then gives up halfway through.

“..Is it a yes?”

pre-boyfriend!dazai who not only is taken by surprise by your response, but his heart does a few jumps in joy as his efforts became a success, making him now your boyfriend.

boyfriend!dazai who has his hand down your back pocket whenever you two are walking together.

boyfriend!dazai who’s love language is both physical touch and acts of service, always having his hands on you in the littlest way and also providing the most he can to his s/o.

boyfriend!dazai who has the reputation of being quite the flirtatious one, gives it up to his precious s/o.

boyfriend!dazai who googles cheesy and dirty pickup lines to try and rizz you with, always ending them in a winky face.

boyfriend!dazai who sends you little messages every day now that he has your number, little words of affirmations and talks to get you ready for your days.

boyfriend!dazai who if he had a tiktok account he’d make slideshows of you two and repost videos of couples relating to you two.

boyfriend!dazai who you spend all of your holidays with, especially christmas and new years.

boyfriend!dazai who practically lives at your house now, but nobody’s complaining.

boyfriend!dazai who has a box of every little thing you’ve given him, so when he’s feeling down he can look at it and smile.

boyfriend!dazai who tries to keep you away from his past, to protect you from the ugly truth.

boyfriend!dazai who opens up about oda, not all of it but most of it since he believes oda would’ve liked you.

boyfriend!dazai who takes you to the places he has the fondest memories in. the lupin bar, the art gallery, the agency.

boyfriend!dazai who appreciates the little things, as he’s not someone who can afford much he tries to give you the best he can.

boyfriend!dazai who always argues that he loves you more trying to get the last word and when you think you have it, you hear a little mumble of “I love you more” as you walk away.

boyfriend!dazai who loves your hands, tracing the lines of your palm and fingers and creating little shapes on them makes him feel at peace.

boyfriend!dazai who can be possessive but in a good way, he has good reasons to be possessive.

boyfriend!dazai who when he sees someone give you a half lidded smirk or bedroom eyes, he gives them a deadly stare that could imprint on their skull as he wraps an arm around your waist.

boyfriend!dazai who constantly babbles on about you at work with the agency, always telling Atsushi about the cutest things that you did the night before or what you did the day before that.

“Ahh..and the way they just clench their fists at their sides when they are angry with me! Ah~ I could melt..”

“That’s..really nice, Dazai-san..”

“Oh! And the way they grab my hand so tightly when we’re in public ahhh~ I could melt!”

“D-dazai-san..-“

“Ahhh, and the way the-“

boyfriend!dazai who ends up with about 14 wounds all over his body because of kunikidas beatings..kunikida says he’s lucky it wasn’t 15.

boyfriend!dazai who you take care of at his lowest.

boyfriend!dazai who sometimes can’t understand why you put up with him, but you reassure him with words and kisses all over his face.

boyfriend!dazai who peppers your face with kisses back and gives you a small smile despite how sad he can feel.

boyfriend!dazai who watches the fireworks with you and doesn’t think of going out just as beautifully because why would he let such a precious thing slip out of his hands like that?

boyfriend!dazai who doesn’t care about himself or his mental health, but cares the most about yours.

boyfriend!dazai who once felt like he was drowning, but then found his light to the surface who has a smile of diamonds and a heart of gold.

TAGLIST : @hauntedsol @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @thetizzler @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @mackereland-slug @heartsfourdazai @iratherowan @onlinewhisper14 @nomnomventi

white = unable to be tagged :(

@/riiwrites - reblogs are highly appreciated ❤︎︎

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timewillpasssoon · 6 months ago

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hiii can you write a joost x female reader angst? they argue, he yells/says some mean stuff but it ends in fluff? 🫶

HOW COULD YOU?

pairing . Joost Klein x fem!reader

content . angst, the dutch in this is from google translate so if its bad lmk, mentions of yelling, insults, stress, alcohol, eurovision disqualification, fluff at the end

summary . when joost urges you to leave the house on a cold night, he starts to regret not opening up to you in the first place.

word count . 1.2k words , 6.5k characters

author's note . quick question, are y'all interested in nsfw? just wondering, if so send some ask.

You and Joost stood in the middle of the living room, tension crackling in the air, geting thicker and thicker as time passes by. His words cut through you like a knife, each one sharper than the last. For the past hour you've been trying to get Joost to eat and open up.. He would turn away and say he's not hungry. He'll say he's not hurting. He lies through his teeth, he was hungry and in pain, desperate need of help. So why doesn't he want it You? You tried to get him to open up to you, but you just couldn't. Everytime an attempt was made, he would slightly raise his voice.

Then finally, he yelled, his voice rising in frustration. Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to hold back your own anger. "I'm your girlfriend, liefde! I'm here when you need someone to lean on!" You wanted to scream it out, yet it came out as a whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. He scoffed, his anger still beneath the surface.

"Well I don't need you! I am perfectly fine, there is nothing we need to talk about!"

"Can you atleast eat!?"

"For crying out loud I'm not hungry! Just stop being such a bitch."

The argument escalated, each word a dagger aimed at your heart. Joost's voice echoed off the walls, the last word hanging on your brain.

"You just don't get it, do you?" You looked at him in the eyes, rage and empathy were the only two things you could feel. "You clearly are in pain because of the disqualification! Just talk to me- we've been dating for 2 years, for crying out loud! Yet you still can't tell me your problems? Wat een man ben jij." (What a man you are.)

"You can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not!" Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to find what words to say.

"I thought we could work through this together." You uttered out, your voice trembling. Joost shook his head. "I don't know if we can," he admitted. He looked down, slowly then turning to the front door. "You should go."

You shake your head, words can't come out your mouth. Your tongue is tied together and you don't know if you can untie it. "Joost- please."

"I said get out. Ik wil je niet zien." (I don't want to see you.)

Your heart was throbbing so fast it felt louder than him,.Joost is staring at the front door then turns to you, red puffy eyes with baby tears coming out from both eyes. His blonde hair was a mess. It was covering most of his eyes but you can still see the pain in them.

"Prima." (Fine.) You take big steps yet they feel like your still miles away from your destination. You go to open the front door, "I hope you come to your senses."

Those were the last words he heard from you. Before you walked out. It's been two hours since you left his house...

and frankly, he's scared. He kicked you out in the middle of the night. It was eight pm when he demanded you to leave and with each second goes by, its past ten.

He calls you, he leaves voicemails, texts messages.

Still nothing. Checked social media and there was still nada.

God he felt awful, the worst boyfriend in the world. All of this happened because he didn't want to cry in your arms. He really did want to let loose, reveal that everything is not okay.

Yet he couldn't.

He didn't want to burden you with his problems anymore. Joost felt like he had too much baggage no one wanted to hear. He thought that everyone wants his happy-go-lucky side. You jusy wanted his true self. The Joost that is willing to tell you his feelings.

He decided to call one of your friends that happened to live by the neighborhood.

"Hello?"

"Is reader with you?"

The other line was quite crispy, Joost can hear a tv in the background, sounded like laughter in the back, maybe a comedy.

"No, why? Is everything alright?"

Joost sighed, fidgeting with a stand of hair. "No, me and her got into a fight and I made her leave- I haven't heard from her!" He exclaimed.

"Woah, woah, deep breaths." The friend on the line said, "Don't you have her location? Check if she's near the area, I'll stay on the line while you do that."

Joost quickly checked his phone to see if you turned off your location. You didn't, you forgot to. "She's in the nearest bar!" The friend hummed. "Go to her, she only drinks when she's stressed the hell out."

"Thank you so much," Joost happened to be crying again, quickly grabbing his keys and jacket. "No problem, get get her." The friend hung up on him as he raced to your location, being around eight minutes away if he ran the whole way.

He bolted as fast as he could, petrified about your safety. Where if you're black out drunk or not.

Pacing to the bar, precious seconds going by, he finally made it. it was one of the least popular bars near so there wasn't any hassle to get in. As he walked inside, he saw a women with the same color hair as you. Your head down on the table with around two shot glasses, there was three more earlier, the bartender just took them.

He sped-walked towards you, careful and still just incase you were still mad at him. He tapped you on your shoulder, but you didn't raise your head up.

"Ik heb een vriendje." (I have a boyfriend.) Was all you said. "I know." Joost calmly answered, his accent triggered you to lift your head up.

"Joost?" He nodded as he sat down next to you, his hand reaching for yours. You didn't push away his hand, as much as you wanted to, you knew he was in pain.

"Why are you here?" You softly say. You'll like to say you ignored him but you couldn't. You were certainly mad at him, but he had his reasons of sheltering himself away. So you listened instead of scolding.

"Reader, I'm so sorry- I didn't want to bother you with my problems. I feel like I just have too much going on for you to care." You felt destroyed at the thought of Joost think you don't care for him. Joost was rubbing circles on your palms.

He continued, "Can we go home, I would rather we talk there."

You smile at the chance of him opening up. You immediately say yes, standing up to leave. All your drinks were already paid for.

As the quiet, yet comfortable, walk back home he held you tight. Clinging onto your left arm for dear life. He still felt guilty for leaving you.

All alone in the streets. You told him it wasn't a big deal, that you could protect yourself. Yet the feeling guilt was still there, on his tongue. The taste was horrid.

Joost unlocked the door, letting you step inside first before closing the door behind him. That's where you engulfed him in a huge hug. Tears coming back for the fourth time.

That night ended with a deep conversation, with cuddles on the couch along with some ice cream half way eaten.

"I appreciate you having the courage to tell me all this."

You muttered your sentence out, about to knock out cold, your body longed for sleep but you kept awake for a bit while.

"I should thank you."

He smiled, tugging you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath breezing though the right side of your neck.

The warmth of each other's bodies made you two warm. You still weren't ready to give up on him.

You'll never give up on him.

LETSGOO FINISHED THIS IN 3 HOURS!! part 2 of let me think... is in the works don't worry, i have two other requests on the way as well.

im okay with nsfw requests, even if its a bit spicy or all the way. check out my other account!!

#joost klein #joost x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joost klein fluff #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein fanfic #Joost angst #justice for joost #joost klein x fem reader

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meangirls-imagines · 8 months ago

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hey could you do a Regina George x femme reader where the reader is a member of the plastics and gets revenge for Regina on Cady after finding out about the Kalteen bars?

Sabotage

Description: Reader finds out Cady is sabotaging her girlfriend, which is also the reason of her girlfriend's insecurities as of late.

WARNINGS: fluffy, cady being a bitch, reader being protective, regina being insecure

"Do you think I look fat?"

Y/N looked up from her phone at her girlfriend's question. Regina stood in front of her floor-length mirror in a sports bra and biker shorts. She was frowning at her body in the mirror. Y/N answered.

"No? You look gorgeous as usual, baby. Why the long face?" Regina turned towards her girlfriend. "Those bars Cady gave me aren't working I think. It seems like I'm getting bigger." Y/N put her phone down and opened her arms.

Regina walked into her girlfriend's arms as the girl held her tightly. "You look like a goddess, Gina. You don't need weight loss bars. Trust me." Regina pouted. "I just need to lose a few pounds. That's all." Y/N kissed the girl's bare stomach.

"Well, I don't think so. How about you go take a shower and we can get takeout and watch trashy reality tv?" Regina nodded and pecked her girlfriend's lips before heading into her bathroom. Y/N got suspicious and decided to grab the wrapper of the bar from the small trash can in the blonde's room.

Reading the label she saw the word "Kalteen" before she stashed it in her bag to do research on later. The blonde finished in the shower as Y/N placed an order for her favorite chinese place before pulling up a random housewives show as the blonde cuddled into her side.

She was going to get to the bottom of this.

To say Y/N was livid was an understatement. When she went home that night, she googled the brand of bars Cady had been giving her girlfriend, only to find out their true purpose.

To make the consumer gain weight.

GAIN WEIGHT.

That's why Regina had been feeling insecure. Because she was slowly gaining weight. Y/N was pissed. And it helped that she knew the culprit of the crime.

Cady Fucking Heron.

The girl Regina had taken under her wing to help. And this was how the girl re-payed her girlfriend? Y/N was going to get revenge.

In the best way she knew how.

The next day at school, she had approached Karen and Gretchen, telling them the situation. The girls were rightfully pissed. Y/N knew that telling Gretchen was the right choice because by 2nd period, a nasty rumor about Cady had been spread.

The rumor was that Cady had been infected with BV after having sex with the whole football team. Everyone had heard the rumor and by lunch time, it was all anyone could talk about.

Cady had become the school's laughing stock and as she tried to sit with the plastics, Y/N stopped her. "Sorry, Cady. But you can't sit with us. We can't associate with you anymore. Not after your diagnosis.." Cady turned a deep scarlet. "I don't have that! I don't know who started that rumor but they're wrong."

Y/N smirked. Regina sat in silence, wanting to see where this went. "Sucks having someone make everyone think something is wrong with your body doesn't it?" Cady looked at Y/N, confused before realization came over her face.

"It was you." Y/N smirked. "Why, Cady, I have no idea where you came up with that lie!" Cady glared at Y/N. "Why did you do it?" Y/N sighed and smiled. "Well, considering the fact that you messed with my girlfriend's body, I thought I would return the favor."

At that information, Regina looked at Cady. "What do you mean, messed with my body?" Y/N looked at her girlfriend. "Those Kalteen bars? They were making you gain weight, not lose it." Regina became angry at those words and looked at Cady.

"Is that true?" It felt like Cady was suffocating. She had been caught and no one was there to back her up. "Uh..I-" Regina put a hand up. "Save it. You're lucky Y/N only did the rumor. I would've ruined your life. But, since you're no longer going to associate with us, you're no longer a threat. Now, leave us alone, or I will ruin your life."

Cady scurried off as the blonde looked satisfied. Y/N sat down next to her girlfriend, Regina pulling her into a kiss. Gretchen and Karen squealed at the cuteness as the two pulled away. "Thank you for protecting me, baby."

Y/N smirked. "You're my princess, of course I'll protect you."

They didn't see Cady for the rest of the week, learning later on that she went back to being homeschooled. Y/N smirked when she heard the news.

Don't fuck with her girlfriend.

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024

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renranram · 6 months ago

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baby making with quackity. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Baby Making!

q. version ヘ⁠（⁠。⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠ヘ

nsfw!

this is quackity version of my schlatt one!

word count: 1976!

( i made him speak spanish, i apologize please just use google if you're struggling with understanding, also do correct me if im wrong enjoy!! )

the discussion of having children hasn't came up to you and alex’s relationship, both of you are aware of the large responsibilities it came with

but god forbid alex quackity having a tiktok account, his fyp filled with baby videos that he couldn't help but coo to

“ after marriage “ that's two of you agreed to, after marriage then children, but can't the man just dream?

the boy had been giving you subtle hints, during one time, on live, his viewers notices a pair of baby shoes and started spamming about it, “ oh this? “ he picks up the small shoes, beige brown

< ilikemymenlikequack: is (y/n) pregnant??

< quackadoodledoo: ALEXIS FATHER ERA?

< husbandkosialex: WOI OMG??

“ chat, (y/n) isn't pregnant yet, i just found these on amazon and thought it was cute, “ alex shows off the baby shoes, fixing his beanie with a smile, “ id like to be a dad one day tho “

and it continued, “ chat, isn't this cute? “ alex asks, showing off semi realistic baby doll, one that was given to him during twitchcon, “ it looks so fucking cool “ he chuckles

“ id want this baby to be real in the future “ alex adds, chuckling, and it continued, giving you simple hints, such as baby toys, clothes, and sudden talks of marriage

“ so…. when do you think we'd get married? “ alex looks at you, as you cook dinner for the two of you, “ what? you wanna get married? “

“ when you want to of course, “ he spun on your counter's chair, “ i mean i think it's cute just the two of us having a wedding, rings in both of our fingers, then we can show off to everyone that we're so in love “ he rambles, shrugging his shoulder

you chuckle, “ we're not even fiances yet? “ you face him, turning off the stove as you serve up the dish in plates, “ well, we will be in the future “ alex replies

“ well… i think marriage with you would be great, would be happy and satisfied with my life, but aren't we still young? “ you added as alex makes his way on your dining table, “ hm… right… what about babies? “ quackity asks non chalantly

“ what about babies? “ you repeat, wanting him to get straight to the point, deadpanning him, your hand resting on your hip

“ you know… babies…? “ alex awkwardly chuckles as he scratches the back of his head, “ i know what babies are “ you reply

“ lex… is there something you need to tell me? “ you ask, removing the apron from your torso, hanging it somewhere as you approach him

cupping him by his cheeks, you ask, “ is there something wrong that we need to talk about? “ god, that was one of the reasons why he just wants to marry you right there right now

“...i wanna… get you pregnant “ alex confesses, sighing in defeat as he leans more onto your touch, “ i dont think i can wait after marriage… i wanna see you in cute maternal clothes…, feeding our baby, babying them, i know you'd be the perfect mother, fuck, you're the perfect wife id ever ask for even tho we're not even married yet, it's just… i know i sound selfish and desperate but fuck, “ alex returns your affection by cupping your cheek too, “ i love you so much that i think i wanna make babies with you to show off how much i love you “

alex pecks your cheek, “ i love you so much, i just wanna show you off with our baby in your stomach “ he added, “ can we do it? please? “ he pleaded, “ i know if you think it's too much, but let me be selfish for once please? “

you pause, blinking as your eyes flutter, a faint pink tint appearing on your cheeks, “ lex…, babies are big responsibilities “ you added, “ i know, that's why im working hard aren't i? “ alex replies to you, with a soft gentle tone, caressing your cheek with just his thumb, “ my money’s big enough “

“ fuck… i can marry you right now, take a flight to vegas and get married to that stupid elvis chapel you keep joking about “ alex smiles warmly and affectionately

“ please? mami? “ alex pleaded, and dear lord how you folded so fast, now there's the two of you, making out with small giggles and chuckles

it was warm, gentle and comfortable for the both of you as alex gently pressed you against your bedroom’s door, his tongue swirling with you, making out as if it's your first time again, his hands, rests on your waist, holding on you gently on your place

“ mami you're so beautiful “ he whispers between the kisses, fixing your hair out of your face, before pulling you into a kiss again, your hands resting on his chest as you take the kiss, your lips locked with eachother, passionately and warmly

alex slowly slips his hand in your blouse, resting in your midriff, “ vas a ser una gran mamá para nuestros hijos “ he whispers, pecking your cheek as you giggle softly in response, “ baby… is that why you've been ordering baby stuffs off amazon? “ you ask as he chuckles, nodding, “ i was hoping you'd get the hint “

“ im kinda hints-blinded “ you joke as he chuckles, pecking your neck, trailing kisses all over you, “ i should've told you from the start then “ he added, “ would've been a better idea “ you smile, giggling loudly as he picks you up, holding onto you gently yet tightly, securing his grip on your hand as he press kisses all over your face, “ mami, you're the only person i can think of doing this with me “ alex hums, gently setting you down on your bed, his eyes hovering all over your body as he smiles warmly, seeing you all so pretty underneath him

alex removes his shirt, tossing it to the side, and he leans back down with you, “ mami, i want a little girl, she's going to be as beautiful as you, “ he cuts himself off with a kiss to your collarbone, “ as smart as you, “ he kisses your upper chest, gently guiding you to take off your top, before continuing, “ as kind as you “ alex pecks your chest, “ as friendly as you “ he pecks your stomach, his hand resting on the waistband of your shorts, gently tugging it down with your underwear

“ as perfect as you are “ alex lowers, now pecking on pelvis, “ alex… didn't know you're shakespeare “ you joke, giggling, causing him to chuckle in response, “ oh fuck off mami im trying to be romantic here “ he added, smiling warmly, his eyes filled with love and adoration as he fixes your hair

“ im… going to make you feel so loved “ alex replies as he nuzzles his mouth onto your clitoris, liking a strip on your warm organ with smile on his lips, “ you already make me feel so love lex “ you reply as her intertwines his hand with yours, the other holding you up

“ it's not enough “ alex replies as he kisses your clit, sucking it, lapping you, nuzzling his warm tongue, “ it is enough “ you mutters, moaning softly as you squeezes his hand

“ not for me that is, “ as alex eats you out, his finger gently enters you, feeling your wetness and tighness as you moan softly, alex finding a moment as he playfully scolds you, “ can you stop being such a smartass so i can fuck you, querido dios por favor “

you cackle, giggling as he smiles warmly, his finger thrusting into you with his tongue wetting you all up, you toss your head back, moaning softly as your other hand kneads with your breast

alex maintains eye contact, giving you heart eyes with every reaction you could possibly release, god, that man is so in love with you, chuckling softly, seeing how you gasp when he enters another finger in, admiring how you squeezed his hand in response

“ hah… lex “ you whimper out as his fingers skillfully scissors you, “ does it feels good mami? “ he asks, lapping you like a damn dog, enjoying your slickness as you nods, your finger dancing gentle with your nipples, kneading you breast as the other squeezes his hand

after a few minutes of sucking, fingering, you felt a familiar pool in your stomach as you gasp, “ lex.. lex.. im close “ you moan out, louder than the rest as alex nods, kissing your clitoris as he fastens his finger, causing you a few sharp gasps

“ do it mami, make a mess to my face “ alex reassures you, licking a stripe as you groan out in pleasure, seeing your legs shake, and with a squirt of your juices in his face, alex accomplished what he wanted, even tho, that was just the first step

he pecked your clit one last time, before pulling away, you making a mess on his face as he giggles, watching you whine out as he pulls out his finger, “ so pretty, mi linda esposa “

seeing him chuckle and smile, couldn't help but bring a smile on your face too, you just couldn't believe you're making a baby with the man you've loved for years, alex as gently as possible, spreaded your legs, propping himself between it as he pecks the side of your ankle, releasing your intertwined finger as he whistles in amusement seeing you all so flustered and pink

“ i love you “ alex mutters as he slips his pants down with his boxers, “ i love so much mami, you're going to be such a pretty and perfect wife and mamá to our daughter “

as he worships your body, his eyes not letting a single crevice of your body left untouched or unloved, he hums as he gently enters your body, the two of you gasp in unison, “ you alright mami? “ he asks, making sure you felt pleasure instead of pain, his almond shaped brown eye watches you, filled with adoration and love as you bit your lip, nodding

“ im moving, ¿bueno?, tell me if it hurts, ill stop mami “ alex gently warns as his hips roll against you gently, watching you moan out, your eyes fluttering in pleasure, enjoying how your body bounces with every single thrust

you chuckle softly, a warm intimate moment like this was just perfect, he was perfect for you, a pretty, gentle, kind boy who'd do everything, just to make you feel loved, if you were to switch places and had the dick, you'd probably do the same

you moan out, as he leans down, kissing you, his arm wrapped around your torso, flattening you as his thrusts continues, his tongue swirling with yours, feeling the smile on his lips

your lips stayed intact, only pulling away for taking breathes, noticing his thrusts speeding up as he groans, “ te amo mucho, seré la esposa más bonita que jamás haya existido “ he whispers, as you moan back in reply

“ te amaré por siempre y te adoraré como si fueras mi dios, te amo mucho, no puedo creer que seas mía y que estemos haciendo esto “ he added, alex groans out as he holds onto tightly

“ feels so good mami? “ alex mutters, staggering slightly as you nod in response, moaning, as you gasp

“ ah fuck.. fuck… im so close “ alex gasps, “ let me be selfish this time, ¿está bien? “ he added as he tightens his hold onto you, his hips thrusting faster and faster, your moans and gasps giving him more power to just get you pregnant right there

“ fuck fuck fuck fuck “ with every curse his thrusts was speeding up, kissing you all over your face as you receive him, “ será la esposa más bonita que jamás haya existido, ¿eh? “

“ te luciré muy bien en casa, todos se sorprenderán de lo bonita que eres cuando estás embarazada, ¿de acuerdo? “ he groans out, catching his high as he climaxes into you, filling you up with his seed, making you a mother

#quackity fluff #quackity x you #quackity fanfic #quackity smut #quackity x reader #quackity #alex quackity x reader #alexis quackity #alex quackity #quackity x reader smut #smut #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp quackity #qsmp

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

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hi hiii its my first time ever asking anyone idk how this works ( ;｀Д´)

i rlly love your writing, i often find myself staying up late reading through your blogs!! funny bcs u were the one who got me into jason todd (ФωФ)

anyways!!! i was hoping you could pls pls pls pls plssssss write smth about Jason Todd who has a lover thats a sleep-deprived uni student having a hell week and jason is like "bitch put google docs down and get some sleep, ur ass has been awake for 48 hours" all worried and wanting them to rest and reader is like "correction, 50 hours."

i hope it makes sense (´ 3｀)

tyyyyy!!! woopee woopee

Sorry this took so long to get to anon, I hope you liked it either way. And don’t stay up too late reading fics but I truly appreciate you reading my stuff, I’m glad you like them 🦦🐿️

A week.

An entire week Jason had noticed you have been forcing yourself to stay up at the dead of night, glued to your laptop all the while chugging energy drinks and cups of coffee as though they were going out of style, and for what? An assignment that determined your future at uni should you not get straight marks.

Jason thought it ridiculous that you made yourself sleep deprived over this but he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, then you’ll continue this habit until you were well out of university, struggling to come to terms that you had well and truly burnt yourself out before you could properly start living.

So when Jason couldn’t fell you next to him in bed one night, like you promised him you would, and groaned as he got himself out of bed before making his way towards the kitchen where he’d knew you’d be.

‘What time do you call this?’ Jason asked when he saw you in your usual spot at the kitchen counter, hunched over your laptop with a thin blanket frapped over your shoulders and a can of energy drink on one side of the laptop and a cup of coffee on the other side. He hated what this stupid university has made you do just in order to get good grades, it was harmful, damaging and it would inevitably lead to health complications later on in life; If he could Jason would more then gladly march down there and threaten the professors to stop shoving a boatload of work onto their students, but firstly he has to get you away from that damn laptop and learn how to take a fucking break.

‘Mid-afternoon?’ You asked, not looking up from the bright screen of your laptop, where the words scrawled across it in an incoherent mess for your overworked brain to comprehend.

‘It’s actually 3:30 in the morning.’ Jason replied unamused as he crossed his arms over his chest and you winced when you saw that he was indeed right about it being three thirty in the morning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time that you shut the laptop off and get some sleep?’

‘But I-‘

‘Actually sleep.’ Jason cuts you off as you slumped back into your chair, unable to come up with a decent enough response to defend yourself with because deep down you knew Jason was right, you’ve hadn’t had a decent sleep in a long while and it was definitely taking it’s toll with how lightheaded you’ve become as of late.

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. ‘Jason I can’t, I’ve got-‘

‘An assignment to complete for tomorrow I know.’ Jason cuts you off again as he crossed the room to put his hand over the top of your coffee cup upon noticing that you were intending to take another drink from it. ‘But I look at you and can tell you can barely keep your eyes open for more than five minutes.’ He adds and upon your silence, he puts the cup aside as far as he could before doing the same with the half empty energy drink, and then finally shutting the laptop close despite your weak protests for him not to.

‘No, Jason my assignment, I need to finish it.’ You told him with slow, sluggish movements as you tried to pry his hand off of your laptop, all the while biting back a yawn. ‘Just give me five more minutes please and I’ll come to bed, promise.’

Jason had enough of this habit of sleepless nights, it ends now, the professors will have to understand and extend the due date for your sake as he remembered how often you had harped on about how important this assignment was for your overall grade; However Jason didn’t take neglecting your bodily needs lightly and would prioritise that over anything else,you could hate him all you wanted but he was only looking out for you and your wellbeing.

‘Sorry chipmunk but I can’t watch you do this to yourself for any longer than I already have.’ Was all Jason said as he then lifted you out of your chair suddenly causing you to yelp in surprise and cling onto him for dear life, now being more awake then you ever have been five minutes ago, as he then proceeded to carry you back towards the bedroom before unceremoniously dropping you onto the bed.

‘Jason, I seriously needed to get that assignment-‘

‘We are going to sleep, end of discussion.’ Jason said with finality as he crawled under the covers and quickly held you against his chest as tightly as he could, rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly. ‘I know how important this assignment was for you sweetheart but I’d much rather have you well rested, clear minded and healthy than to ever to have you pass out in my arms from exhaustion. I want my baby happy and healthy and you are neither of those things right now.’ Jason whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your head a couple of times before resting his forehead against yours so that he was looking into your weary half lidded eyes.

‘Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.’ He spoke with worry laced in his words.

‘You’re really warm and comfy jay birdie.’ You murmured, feeling the need for sleep grow ever stronger the longer you stayed in his arms as it fogged your mind.

‘I know, so please we can talk to the professor in the morning and sort something out, but until then no more late nights understand?’ Jason said firmly as he held you a little tighter, he just wanted you to get a decent nights sleep and be looked after properly but all these late nights weren’t cutting it and were making your situation worse, how were you meant to get anything done when you were half out of it due to overworking and lack of a sleep schedule? Were the professors at your university thinking they were teaching robots instead of humans with breaking limits?

‘Okay I understand, I love you.’ You replied sleepily as you burrowed your head into his neck, falling asleep in record time as Jason stayed awake a little longer as to make sure you were properly asleep before following suit, watching over you in the dream realm as he did the waking one.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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chillinglyadventurous · 2 months ago

Text

Brat Taming - Stanford Pines

Tags: NSFW, brat taming, spanking

Not entirely sure what beat taming is. Based on a quick google search, I think this is it?

“Didn’t I tell you ‘no’?” Ford’s voice was stern, but you looked up at him with a smile on your face. “No!” He repeated himself as you ripped another page out of his throw-away journal, the one he kept for ideas that randomly popped into his head. “[Y/N], I’m warning you-“

You gave him a sweet smile, “What are you going to do about it, smart guy?” You sauntered across his lab. His files were so neatly organized. You knocked them to the floor, “You should really clean up down here.”

In two long strides, he was standing in front of you. There was a fire in his eyes that set you ablaze as well. Your smile was devious, defiant, as he took your chin in his hand. His grip was tight, but he wouldn’t bruise you, not your face, anyways.

“I know what you’re doing,” he insisted, voice low and husky, “and I’m not going to give you what you want. You need to be good. I don’t reward brats.”

When he dropped your face, you flexed your jaw. You bit your lip as he turned away from you to continue working. Oh, so he was going to try ignoring you? He had to be smarter than that. You always got what you wanted.

For a moment, he thought you were going to behave in order to get what you wanted. You were manipulative like that, pushing his buttons just enough to piss him off. Then, you would be a complete angel. It was infuriating.

You moved to stand behind him, reading over his shoulder as he wrote. No, you weren’t going to let him work. He didn’t want you to let him work, not when you had his blood boiling, his dick half hard beneath his slacks. He’d do what you wanted. You just needed to push a bit more.

You snatched his journal off the desk in a quick motion before he could stop you. You didn’t back down when he stood quickly. His grasp tight on your wrist, “Give it to me, right now, young lady.”

You dropped it on the floor, the pages bending as the book snapped shut. There would be some permanent creasing. You know that pissed him off. It really got under his skin when you did this. Always picking and picking and picking until he snapped.

“Pick it up,” he ordered.

You kicked it across the room, “No.”

His right hand tangled into your hair, “I can promise you’re not going to like what happens if you keep acting this way.”

“What are you going to do,” you teased, “spank me?”

You palmed him over his trousers. He let you continue for a moment, forgetting the game, the push and pull, eyes fluttering shut as you rubbed him. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, fingers encircling your wrist.

He pushed you off of him and onto your knees, “Why do you never listen to me?”

“Maybe I will once you finally have something interesting to say.” That did it.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his slack quickly. His hands were in your hair again. As always, you never lost, “Open your mouth. If you’re going to talk back to me, I’m going to make sure you can’t talk.”

You made a show of clenching your jaw shut as you looked up at him, forcing the smirk on your face down. This was what you wanted, the start of it at least, and you got it.

“Open your mouth!” He punctuated his words with a light slap to your face. Always the gentleman even when you didn’t want him to be. No, he’d never hurt you.

You laughed then, lips parting as you did. He was so cute when he was mad and so, so needy. But, you showed your hand, doing exactly what he wanted without even realizing it. He didn’t falter when you gasped in surprise as his length filled your mouth. His grip on your hair didn’t unfurl, but tightened instead and he fucked your face.

You met his gaze. His eyes were as harsh as his thrusts into the back of your throat as you gagged around him. He shoved himself further into your mouth when you moaned around his cock. This was exactly what you wanted. He knew it.

When he pulled away from you, his wet cock was shoved back into his pants. He left you on your knees as he returned to his desk, “Don’t move a muscle.”

He ignored you for a few minutes until you stood. He almost berated you until he realized you were reorganizing the files you had knocked over. He smiled to himself, “That’s my good girl.”

You placed a soft kiss to his cheek as you returned his journal to its place in front of him. He gave a soft hum, a hand so lovingly taking your face to kiss you sweetly. He pressed another kiss onto the tip of your nose, “You’re so pretty when you listen to me.”

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered against him.

Sneaky hands found the pen he’d discarded and you took it without him noticing, “I love you more than anything in any dimension I have ever-“

Snap, “Oops.”

He was swift to grab you by the back of the neck and bend you over his desk. Your laugh only pissed him off more and he yanked down your jeans and panties, “Why. Can’t. You. Just. Be. Good?” Each word was punctuated with a hard slap to your ass with his large hands.

Your own left inky prints across the edge of his desk as you searched for something to hold onto. With each slap, you moaned. God, he was so good at this, so easy to rile up.

Once his smacks ceased, a soothing hand rubbed over your red skin. There was a change in his breathing behind you. There was something about spanking you, it felt so good to punish you yet he always felt so bad about it after even though you loved it.

You looked back at him and could see a bit of regret in his eyes as he traced the fingers on the handprint he left behind. You weren’t done yet. He could do the mushy stuff after. You always needed it after.

“That didn’t hurt,” you bit. “You can’t do any better than that?”

He was inside you, then. There was no warning or checking to make sure you were ready. You were of course. That’s why you were down there in the first place, pushing all the right buttons.

With each thrust your cried out his name, head low against the cold metal of his desk, “You’re not allowed to cum until I give you permission.” His voice was sickly sweet in your ear as he continued. Each thrust was deeper, harder, faster, than the last. You knew you’d have a linear bruise across your hips from his desk, “If you’d be good, I wouldn’t have to hurt you. Do you think I like doing this?”

As most of his questions were, that one was rhetorical. He did like doing this. And you loved when he did it. It was a good change of pace from his usual love making, taking his time with you and enjoying the intimacy of it. However, you’d never do anything to give that up. You loved his duality.

You could feel that cool in your lower half build. The hand that reached around you was specifically, methodically rubbing right next to your clit. He knew where it was. This was your punishment, his favorite that he could give you. He loved the way you tried to move your hips to get him to the right spot, but he was smarter, always predicting your next movement.

He came with a groan, pulling out of your aching body to cum on your ass. The warms of his seed soothing the sting of his spank. His fingers moved to your clit then, “You can cum now, brat.”

You did. Your body shook against his as he buried himself back into you. He’d never miss an opportunity to enjoy the way your walls clamped around him. He gave a few more overstimulating thrusts to help your ride out your high before he pulled out again.

His body folded over your own. His lips drug languidly across your shoulder blades and down your spine. He sat down in his chair once your breathing had come back to normal. He pulled you into his lap to hold you tight.

“How do you always get what you want?” He smiled as his nose brushed against yours. He place his forehead to your shoulder, “You’re so infuriating when you want to be.”

You shifted, the ache in your middle and on your rear was excruciating, “I think I’m going to need some ice.”

He nodded and helped you stand, redressing you before disappearing. He returned with two ice packs wrapped in towels and rolled a twin sized cot in behind him.

You dozed off on top of him. One ice back was pinned between the two of you, soothing the bruising on your hips. He held the other to your rear as his free hand traced the dimples on your lower back.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #chillinglyadventurousfics #ford pines smut

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requiemforthepoets · 14 days ago

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en garde! 𖦹 CL16

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x fencer!leclerc!reader , f1 grid x fencer!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY: charles had been asking you to teach him fencing, and you finally did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: smau mixed with narrations, inconsistent photos, typos, not proofread, cursing, no use of y/n on the narrations, poorly google translated italian, and all photos are taken from pinterest

FACE CLAIMS: all from pinterest

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s been a long time since i added a new fic to my leclerc!sister series, so here it is hehe sorry, i’ve yapped a LOT about fencing on the narration part, so pls forgive me 😭 i hope i didn’t bore you a lot with fencing stuff 😭 i’m also accepting request for this series (i’m running out on ideas lmao 🥲) but i hope that you’ll enjoy this one!

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, sofia_rossi, marcoromano.fencing, landonorris and 783,984 others

ynleclerc E' passato un po' di tempo, Italia 💘

view all 12,837 comments

charles_leclerc when are you coming home?

ynleclerc idk, why?

charles_leclerc are you serious right now 😐

ynleclerc what…🧍🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc check my messages for once 😐

username1 OH HOW I MISSED YOU 😭

username2 the y/n drought has finally ended!!!! 😭

username3 MOTHER IS BACK, MOTHER HAS POSTED 😭🎉

landonorris thank god you’re alive. i thought you’re already dead somewhere 😔💔

ynleclerc bro what 😭

landonorris anyways, when will you teach me how to fence for a new quadrant yt vid

ynleclerc you sure you’re up for it? don’t want you poking yourself with the foil

landonorris 😠😠😠😠

sofia_rossi CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!

ynleclerc 🥰🥰🥰

username4 OUR FAV FENCING DUO IS GOING TO SEE EACH OTHER SOON??? OMG 😭❤️

francisca.cgomes you’re in italy and you didn’t even tell me? 😠

ynleclerc I FORGOT IM SORRY IM SORRY!! but hey, i’m italy 🥰 hangout soon?

francisca.cgomes of course!!! just text meeee!!

username5 SHE REMEMBERED HER PASSWORD 🥳

ynleclerc posted a story!

liked by charles_leclerc, sofia_rossi, yourbestfriend, francisca.cgomes, marcoromano.fencing and others

charles_leclerc when will you teach me fencing 😔

charles_leclerc can’t believe it’s so hard to schedule one with you 💔💔💔

charles_leclerc i need big brother privileges 💔

ynleclerc USHCJJSJD CHARLES 😭

ynleclerc i’ll be home by next week! (hopefully you’ll be home as well 🤥) damn, can’t believe our schedules never really align

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

francisca.cgomes i’m free tomorrow!! how about we go out for brunch?

ynleclerc KIKAAAA!! yes yes, ofc! ❤️

francisca.cgomes YAY!!

username6 OUR FENCING DUO WILL BE REUNITED SOON 😭❤️

username7 oh we pray for times like this (you being active on ig 😔💔)

MONACO

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the halls of the Club d’Escrime, a backdrop to your training session with Marco, your Italian coach. Fully suited in your white fencing uniform, mask tucked under your arm, you watched the double doors open, revealing your brother, Charles and his videographer, Antoine. The latter already had his camera rolling, and Charles, in his usual casual style—jeans, a dark hoodie, and white sneakers, looking like he had just stepped off a magazine cover.

“Finally!” You said, walking towards them with a smile. “Thought you’d never make it.”

Charles chuckled, spreading his arms in mock exasperation. “Don’t start! You’re the one who’s always impossible to catch. What is it this week? Tokyo? Budapest?”

“Home, for once,” you replied with a laugh, gesturing around the salle. “But that’s rare, as you know.”

“The place is very stunning,” Charles said, as he marveled the interior of the salle. “So this is where gold medals are made?” He teased.

“Something like that,” you replied, your voice light with pride. “Though Marco here deserves half the credit.”

“Ah, Charles! Finalmente ci incontriamo,” Marco greeted, shaking Charles’ hand firmly. His thick Italian accent added a charm to his words. “Your sister talks about you a lot.”

“È un piacere finalmente conoscerti. Lei non parla mai di me quando vinco, però.” He joked, shooting a playful look your way.

“Not true, and you know it.” You rolled your eyes at the comment.

Marco laughed, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Well today, we’ll see if athletic talent runs in the family, sì?”

“Okay, so here we are at the Club d’Escrime in Monaco. This is where my sister trains—when she’s not winning Olympic gold, of course,” he said grinning at you and turning towards the camera.

“We’ve been planning this fencing lesson for many months now, but with her busy training schedule and my racing calendar, it’s been almost impossible to find a day that worked for both of us. So finally, today is the day!” Charles added.

“Did you mention how excited you’ve been?” You quipped, folding your arms.

Charles smirked. “I may have. But, let’s be honest, you’re probably more nervous than I am.”

“Nervous?” You scoffed. “Why would I be nervous? You’re the one holding a weapon for the first time.”

“Ah, but I’ve seen the movies,” he countered, mimicking a clumsy lunge. “How hard can it be?”

You laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head. “We’ll see how long that confidence lasts when Marco puts you through the warm-up.”

“Speaking of which,” Marco interjected, “shall we start soon? Time is short, and I want to see if he can last more than five minutes.”

“You’re in for a workout.” You teased and smiled.

Charles gave an exaggerated sigh but could not hide his amusement. “Great. I love being underestimated.”

“You’re about to learn that fencing isn't as easy as people make it look on TV.” You smiled at the camera.

“Or tiktok.” Charles quipped, earning a chuckle from Marco.

You gestured towards the piste. “Alright, let’s get you geared up. I don’t want to hear any excuses later.”

Once Charles was all suited up, he stepped onto the piste, fully suited in his borrowed fencing gear, and you couldn’t help but pause. There was something striking about the way the jacket, breeches, and long socks suited him. The silver sheen of the lamé, a metallic vest worn over the jacket for scoring, added an almost regal touch. You smirked as you took in the sight of your brother adjusting his gloves.

“Oh my god. I’ve never looked so good.” Charles said as he came out all suited up.

“Would you look at that,” you began, folding your arms. “Hate to admit it, but you look good. Maybe too good.”

Charles glanced up, clearly amused. “Oh? Surprised your brother cleans up well?”

“I’m just saying, if this racing thing doesn’t work out, you might have a future as a fencer. Imagine, Charles Leclerc, Olympic Champion.” You gave him an exaggerated once-over. “The gear suits you.”

“I mean, I do look the part.” He smiled, striking a mock fencing pose, which was more comedic than impressive.

“You do,” you admitted with a laugh. “But let’s see if you can move like a fencer before you start planning your second career.”

“Basta con i complimenti. Time for the warm-up! No excuses later when your legs start complaining.” Marco smiled.

Charles groaned playfully, shooting you a mock glare. “Leg day already gets me in the gym. Don’t let him overdo it.”

“Stop whining,” you teased, motioning for him to follow Marco. “You’ll thank him when you’re not limping tomorrow.”

“We begin easy,” he said, demonstrating a forward bend. “Touch your toes, Charles. Keep your legs straight.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, glancing at Marco, who was effortlessly folding himself in half.

“Come on, Charlie. You can’t lose to a guy twenty years older than you.” You chuckled from the sidelines, standing near Antoine, who was filming the entire thing.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” Charles quipped, finally managing to graze his toes. “I see you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I am.” You admitted, voice light with laughter.

Next were lunges, which Charles did with ease, his form surprisingly precise. “Now these, I can handle. We do this in the gym all the time.”

“Good. Now arm extensions, long and controlled. Think of reaching for the target.” Charles mirrored Marco’s movements, extending his arms fluidly.

You couldn’t resist teasing, “not bad, Charles. Maybe you’re a natural after all.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, smirking. “See? I’ve got this.”

“Next is jumping jacks,” Marco interrupted, clearly amused by your banter.

Charles transitioned smoothly into the exercise, his movements energetic and practiced. As he worked through the routine, Charles suddenly turned to you, his tone curious.

“Why don’t we ever train together? Seems like it could be fun.” Charles glanced at you.

“Because you’d complain the whole time.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Hey, I don’t complain that much.” He argued, clearly offended.

You just laughed at him, waving a hand dismissively. “Fencing is my thing, Charlie. I need to focus when I’m training, it’s not all fun and games.”

“And today isn’t serious?” Charles raised a brow, pausing mid-jumping jack.

“Not really,” you admitted with a shrug. “Today’s more about proving to you that fencing isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, clearly amused. “You forget who you’re talking to.”

“Charles,” Marco interjected, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your sister has a gold medal, she might surprise you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said sincerely, before his grin returned. “But I’m still confident I can keep up.”

“That’s the spirit!” You smiled.

”The floor is yours, campionessa.” Marco smiled as he stepped back, and gestured for you to take over.

“Alright,” you turned to Charles. “Let’s start with the basics. This is going to be your crash course in fencing, everything you need to know before you touch the blade.”

Antoine, still filming, zoomed in on Charles’ face as he nodded, looking serious. “I’m ready, let’s hear it.”

“Fencing is one of the oldest sports in the world. It dates back centuries, originally used in dueling and combat training, but over time, it became more of a sport.” You explained. “In fact, fencing has been part of the Olympics since the very first modern games in 1896.”

“1896?” Charles repeated, very intrigued. “So, it’s been around forever.”

“Pretty much,” you confirmed with a smile. “Since then, it’s evolved into three distinct disciplines—foil, sabre, and epee. Each had different rules, strategies, and weapons. That’s what makes fencing so fascinating, you’re not just swinging a sword around. It’s a mind game as much as a physical one, that’s why some call it physical chess.”

Charles tilted his head, clearly interested. “What’s the difference between the three?”

“Come on, let me show you guys.” You walked over to a nearby rack, where several swords were neatly displayed, each one gleaming under the salle’s lights.

“This is a foil.” You picked up a foil, you held it up for him and the viewers to see. “It is the lightest of the three weapons, weighing about 500 grams, and the one I use. Foil fencing focuses on precision and technique, the target area is only the torso, and points are scored with the tip of the blade.”

Charles reached out, and you handed him the foil. He tested the weight of the blade, lifting and lowering it.

“It’s lighter than I thought.” He admitted, giving it a small swing.

“Foils are meant for agility and speed,” you explained. You then picked up a sabre, slightly heavier with a distinct curved guard. “This is a sabre. It’s a bit heavier, and the rules are very different. In sabre, you can score with the edge of the blade, not just the tip, and target area is the upper body—above the waist, including arms and head.”

“Sounds aggressive,” Charles remarked, running his hand along the blade’s flat edge.

“Oh, it is,” you chuckled. “Sabre is all about speed and attack. It’s fast-paced, almost like a sprint compared to foil’s more calculated, chess-like style.”

“And the last one?” Charles asked, pointing to the remaining weapon.

“This is the epee,” you said as you picked up the epee, handing it to him. “It’s the heaviest of the three, about 775 grams, and the target area is the entire body, head to toe. But in epee, there’s no right of way, whoever hits first, scores.”

Charles tested the epee in his grip, nodding thoughtfully. “So it’s more…straightforward?”

“In a way, yes,” you said, setting the sabre and foil back on the rack. “But it can also lead to longer matches since there’s no restriction on who can attack when, you need all the patience you can get when playing epee.”

The camera panned as you gestured for Charles to follow you back to the piste. “Now, let’s talk about the rules. In foil, which is what we’ll be learning today, the target area is just the torso. No arms, legs, and head. If you hit anywhere else, it doesn’t count.”

“Got it,” Charles said. “What about the scoring?”

“In foil, we use something called right of way. It means that the fencer who initiates the attack has priority. If the other fencer wants to score, they have to defend or parry first, and then counterattack.”

You picked up a foil and demonstrated, lunging forward in a quick, fluid motion. “For example, if I attack you like this, you can’t just hit me back. You’d need to block my blade first.”

“So, it’s not just about being faster, it’s about timing.” Charles frowned slightly, absorbing the information.

“Yup,” you said, impressed. “It’s about strategy and reading your opponent’s moves. Now, there are also some practical rules. The piste, the one we are standing on right now, is 14 meters long and 1.5 to 2 meters wide. If you step off, you lose ground or even a point, and you can’t use your off-hand to block, and obviously, no overly aggressive moves like charging into your opponent.”

Charles raised a brow. “No tackling allowed? Shame.”

“Not unless you want to get a penalty.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Lastly, to win a match, you have to reach a predetermined number of points, usually 15, or have the highest score by the end of the time limit.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a quick demonstration of how right of way works in a tournament.” You gestured for Marco to join you, and he grabbed another foil, stepping into position, as Antoine adjusted his camera as you stepped back onto the piste.

“Watch closely,” you instructed as you and Marco faced off. “Marco will attack, and I’ll defend and counter.”

Marco lunged forward with a smooth attack, and you parried, your blades clashing with a satisfying ring before you swiftly riposted, your blade landing lightly on his torso.

Turning to Charles, you explained. “Since I defended first and then countered, I get the point. Make sense?”

Charles nodded slowly, his brows furrowed in thought. “So, if I just swing wildly, it’s useless unless I have priority.”

“Yes,” you said smiling. “Fencing isn’t about brute force, it’s about control, precision, and strategy.”

“This all felt like a masterclass,” Charles chuckled. “This is very incredible stuff.”

Once Charles had a solid grasp of the basic rules and ths purpose of fencing, you decided it was time to get into the technical aspects.

“Alrighty,” you began, pacing in front of him, foil in hand. “Before you can start attacking, you need to learn how to defend yourself. So, let’s talk about parrying.”

“There are four primary parries in fencing, and each one is important for blocking and setting yourself up for a counterattack.” You added.

Charles nodded, gripping the foil in his hand as if ready to jump in. “Alright, I’m listening. Hit me with it.”

“Not literally,” you teased, pointing your foil at him briefly before continuing. “First is parry four. This is your standard parry, used to block attacks aimed at your torso. You bring the blade across your body like this.”

You demonstrated, twisting your wrist and angling your blade so that the imaginary opponent’s strike would be deflected away. Charles mimicked the movement, though his hand was stiff, and his blade angle slightly off.

You leaned in, using the tip of your foil to adjust his blade position. “Loosen your wrist a bit, it’s all about control, not brute strength. The goal is to guide their blade away, not smack it out of their hands.”

“Okay, okay. Got it.” Charles said, trying again. This time, his movement was smoother.

“Better,” you said, stepping back. “Next is parry six. The one is similar to parry four, but instead of protecting the inside of your body, it covers the outside. Like this.” You executed the parry with ease, your blade moving in a fluid arc.

Charles tried to copy the movement, his blade wobbling slightly as he adjusted his wrist.

“Close,” you said, stepping closer. “But watch your wrist, it needs to stay firm, or you’ll lose control of your blade.” You tapped the back of his hand with your foil, and he adjusted accordingly.

“Parry eight is for low attacks to the outside of your body.” You continued, moving on, and crouching slightly, angling your blade downward to demonstrate. “This one is a little tricky because it requires good reflexes. You’re aiming to protect your lower torso and legs.” Charles gave it a go, though his stance was a bit too wide.

“Too much space,” you said, tapping his knee lightly with your blade. “Keep your movements controlled. The smaller the motion, the quicker you can recover.”

“This is harder than it looks.” Charles exhaled, looking at the camera as he adjusted his stance.

“That’s fencing for you,” you said with a grin. “Last one, parry seven. This one is similar to parry eight, but it protects the inside of your body instead of the ourside.”

You demonstrated the motion, and Charles followed suit, this time managing a relatively smooth movement.

“Good,” you said, stepping back. “Now, key things to remember when parrying—keep your blade pointed at your opponent at all times. It’s not just about blocking, it’s about setting yourself up for a counterattack. As soon as you’ve parried, you need to riposte, counterattack, immediately. If you wait too long, you’ll lose your advantage.”

Marco stepped forward, foil in hand, and you turned to Charles. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You squared off with Marco, and as he lunged forward with a mock attack, you parried effortlessly, your blade gliding against his and redirecting it away. In the same motion, you extended your arm, blade tip landing lightly on Marco’s torso.

“See how quick that was?” You said, turning to Charles. “It’s a fluid motion—parry and riposte, all in one go. No wasted movements.”

Charles nodded, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Alright, let me try.”

You stepped aside, letting Marco face Charles. As Marco slowly lunged, Charles attempted a parry, though his movement was slightly delayed, and his riposte lacked precision.

“Not bad,” you said encouragingly. “But don’t overthink it. The more natural it feels, the faster you’ll be.”

“Okay, let’s talk about stance,” you said, planting your feet firmly on the piste. “Your stance is your foundation, if it’s wrong, everything else falls apart.”

You demonstrated, keeping your feet shoulder-width apart, one foot pointing forward and the other at a slight angle.

“Your dominant hand is the one holding the foil. The non-dominant hand stays behind you, raised slightly for balance. So, which hand are you using?” You asked.

“Right.” Charles said, switching the foil to his dominant hand.

“Good,” you said. “Now, copy my stance.”

Charles mirrored your position, though his back foot was slightly out of place.

“Close, but—” you tapoed his leg lightly with your foil. “Your back foot needs to be at an angle, like this. Don’t forget to bend your knees slightly. You need to stay low for balance and quick movement.”

“Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly when Charles adjusted his stance. “Now let’s work on movement. When you’re in your stance, you need to be able to move forward, backward, and side-to-side quickly withou losing your balance.”

You demonstrated, gliding forward and backward with small, controlled steps. “Notice how my feet stay the same distance apart, no matter where I go. That keeps me balanced and ready to attack or defend.”

Charles followed your lead, though his movements were a bit stiff.

“Relax,” you said, smiling. “You’re not marching in the military. It’s more like a dance, fluid and controlled.” He tried again, this time loosening up slightly.

“Better,” you said. “Now let’s add a lunge, the lunge is your main attacking move. From your stance, you push off your back leg and extend your front leg forward, like this.” You demonstrated, your movement smooth and precise. Charles attempted the motion, but his lunge was too short.

“Bigger step,” you said, tapping his front leg with your foil. “You want fo cover as much ground as possjble without overextending.” After a few tries, he managed a decent lunge.

“Not bad,” you said, stepping back. “You’re getting there. Now, let’s put it all together—stance, movement, parries, and lunges. You ready?”

Charles grinned, gripping his foil. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright,” you said, picking up the body cord, “before we start, we need to get you all hooked up.”

Charles tilted his head, examining the cord. “What’s that for?”

“This is a body cord,” you explained, stepping closer to attach it to his fencing jacket. “It connects your weapon to the scoring system. When you land a valid touch, the electrical circuit completes, and the scoreboard registers the point.”

“So no sneaky hits?” He joked, watching closely as you secured it to his back and guided it through the sleeves of his jacket to attach to the foil.

“Not unless you want the referee to see it light up,” you quipped, making sure everything was in place before handing him a fencing mask. “Here, put this on.”

“For this first round, we’re keeping it simple, call it a trial run,” you said, rolling your shoulders and flexing your foil. “Marco will referee and keep things light. Just focus on getting comfortable.”

“Got it. Don’t go easy on me, though.” Charles raised his foil slightly, his excitement evident in his stance.

You laughed. “Trut me, Charles, I won’t.”

Marco stepped onto the side of the piste, holding a referee’s clicked in one hand. “Alright, trial run. I’ll call the touches. En garde!”

You and Charles took your positions at opposite ends of the piste, foils raised in salite before dropping into the en garde stance.

“Prêt? Allez!” Marco called, signaling the start of the bout.

Charles moved hesitant at first, testing his footing as he advanced. You let him come forward, observing his movements.

“Don’t forget your stance,” you reminded him, stepping back slightly. “Stay balanced.”

He nodded, adjusting his feet, and made a tentative lunge. Charles’ foil grazed your blade, missing the target area entirely.

“Close,” you said, countering with a light touch to his torso. Marco raised his hand. “Touch!”

Charles shook his head, laughing. “Okay, that was fast. Was that even one second?”

“Welcome to fencing,” you said with a grin. “It’s all about timing. Relax, though you’re doing fine.”

As the trial run continued, Charles began finding his rhythm. He landed his first touch on your shoulder, earing a quick ‘touch!’ from Marco.

“How does it feel?” You asked, stepping back for a brief pause.

Charles grinned under his mask. “Not bad! Are you nervous yet?”

“Me? Nervous?” You teased. “Cute. Let’s see how you handle the next round round.”

The second round began, and Charles was much more deliberate in his movements. He used the parries you had taught him, successfully blocking two of your attacks and landing another touch on your shoulder.

“Not bad, Lord Perceval,” you said, nodding as you reset your stance. “You’re learning quickly.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice light with mock arrogance. “I’m a Leclerc. We adapt fast.”

By the end of the round, Marco called for a pause. “Alright, let’s use the scoreboard for the next one.”

“See this?” Marco said, pointing to the display. “Every valid touch will light up here with a beep. First to fifteen points wins.”

Charles noticed the screen, which displayed yor names, complete with small Monaco flags next to them.

“Wait, you personalized it?” He asked, laughing. “Now I feel like I’m in the Olympics.”

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “Nothing but the best for my big brother.”

Charles chuckled, lifting his foil again. As you adjusted your own, you bent the blade slightly, an action that caught his attention.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked.

“It’s something all fencers do,” you explained, holding the blade up for him to see. “Foils are flexible, and bending them ensures they’re in good condition and won’t snap. It also helps make the touches more accurate and less painful.”

“Huh,” Charles said, mimicking the motion with his own foil. “Interesting.”

“Alright, this is it,” you said, lowering your mask. “First to fifteen.”

Marco raised his hand. “En garde! Prêt? Allez!”

The boug began, and Charles quickly demonstrated his growing confidence. He moved fluidly, landing a few clean touches on your torso and arm. You could see his competitiveness kicking in, and you responded with sharper attacks, forcing him to parry and riposte.

Halfway through, the score was tied at 7-7, and the beeping sound of the scoreboard filled the room with each touch.

“You’re doing great.” You said during a brief pause.

“Thanks,” Charles replied, panting slightly. “But I’m not letting you win.”

“Good,” you said, resetting your stance. “Because I’m not letting you win, either.”

The intensity ramped up in the final stretch. Charles managed to land three more touches, bringing his total to ten, but you quickly countered with a series of precise attacks, pushing your score to fifteen.

Marco raised his hand as the final beep sounded. “Touché! Match for her—15 to 10!”

“Lifting your mask, you grinned at Charles, who pulled off his own mask, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was incredible,” he said, still catching his breath. “I actually thought I had you for a moment there.”

“Well fought, champ! Ten points is impressive for a first timer, you did really great.” You said, resting your foil on your shoulder. “But I told you, fencing isn’t easy as it looks.”

Charles laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, no kidding. I think I’ll stick to racing.”

Marco, who had been observing with a smile, stepped in. “You were actually good for a beginner. You’re a fast learner, Charles. I’ve work with a lot of first-timers, and not many can pick up that quickly.”

“That’s true,” you chimed in nodding. “You were way better than I expected. Usually, people take ages to figure out how to lunge properly or keep their stance balanced.”

Charles’ grin widened. “Well, what can I say? It’s in my blood to be competitive.”

Marco laughed, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “You should come by more often during her trainings. You’d make a good parry partner.”

“Oh stop feeding his ego,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s already huge.”

Charles gave a mock bow. “Keep it coming, Marco. I’m soaking it all in.”

Marco just smiled as the camera zoomed in on you both as he continued. “Not, really, Charles. If you’re free diring off-season, you should consider it. You’d give her a good challenge, and it would keep her on her toes.”

“Hmm…” Charles leaned on his foil again, pretending to consider the offer. “Fencing during off-season. I might actually think about that.”

You laughed. “Sure, if you can handle beaten every time.”

“Bold words. But we’ll see.” Charles grinned. “So, what’s next for you? You’ve already won the Olympics. Where do you go from here?”

“Next up is the Fencing World Cup. It’s coming up in a few months, so I’m focused on preparing for that.” You smiled, feeling the excitement bubbling inside of you.

Charles nodded. “If people want fo follow your journey, where can they find you?”

“Everywhere.” You said with a laugh, then added, “but seriously, you guys can follow me on my social media. If you are curious about up coming tournaments, you can check out Team Monaco’s offical instagram. They post all of the updates there.”

Charles turned to the camera. “There you have it, guys.” He then faced you and Marco. “I just want to say thank you, for real. I know your schedules are crazy, and you took time to teach me something completely out of my comfort zone. I really had fun.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Charles.” Marco smiled warmly. “You’re a natural. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be on the piste at a tournament.”

Charles laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You did great today,” you grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll see you fencing for Monaco one day.”

Charles smiled. “Only if you promise not to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“No promises.” You teased.

Marco gestured toward the camera. “Alright, shall we wrap this up?”

You, Charles, and Marco all faced the lens. “Thanks for watching!” You said with a wave. “Remember, fencing is cooler than you think.”

“And harder than it looks!” Charles added. “Thank you both for taking the time to teach me, I had a blast today. It’s always fun learning new things.”

“Of course, Charlie!” You replied warmly. “We’ll be waiting for your next fencing session.”

“You’re always welcome, Charles.” Marco smiled. “Just don’t take too long to return, alright? We might have to recruit you into the team at this rate!”

All of you laughed as you said your goodbyes, and with that, the video came to a close, screen fading into black.

twitter posts

yn.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, lilyzneimer, landonorris, lilymhe and 88,746 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, gaiusthecaracal

yn.jpg just a regular day at the office (bonus: taught charles fencing, see slide 4! 😁)

view all 10,837 comments

username8 never knew i needed to see charles in a fencing gear up until now 😮‍💨 THANK YOU MOTHER!

landonorris can’t believe you taught charles first, i thought i was gonna be the first one 😞💔

yn.jpg sorry, big brother privileges 😔✊🏻

charles_leclerc what she said! 😁❤️

landonorris i see that you have taken my advice

yn.jpg yes, and i owe it all to you sir 🫡

landonorris when will u be our quadrant athlete 😔🤲🏻

yn.jpg idk bro, what do they do? 🤨

yn.jpg just hit up my personal coach 😁

landonorris ME NEXT PLS

yn.jpg THERE ARE A LOT OF YOU WANTING ME TO TEACH YOU ALL FENCING 😭😭😭

lilymhe I ASKED HER FIRST! FALL IN LINE!!

landonorris IM HER BEST FRIEND

landonorris BESTIE PRIVILEGES

yourbestfriend EXCUSE ME????

landonorris EXCUSED

username9 WE FINALLY GOT A JPG ACCOUNT??? ACTIVE ERA IS UPON US?????

yn.jpg u guys really gotta thank lando for convincing me on making one bc apparently according to him, i always “ghost” you all 😞💔

username9 OHMGYGOSD I LOVE YOU 😭

username10 GAIUS 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username11 CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING 😭😭😭

username12 petition for you to have a yt acc or tiktok or smth 😔😔😔😔

username13 and then what? we all ended up being ghosted 😔😔😔😔

username13 she barely posts on instagram, and now that she has a jpg account, i’ll take what i can get tl have some y/n content 😔😔😔💔💔💔

username12 omg u right 😭😭😭

username14 ok, scuderiaferrari, just hear me out this once…what if y/n teaches charlos fencing on a tiktok or yt vid? huh huh huh, wouldn’t that be a great idea, right? 😁

scuderiaferrari hmmm, i think you might be onto something 🤔🤔🤔

username15 i will sacrifice my first born for this to happen 🤲🏻

username16 we are BEGGING, on our knees

username17 charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me. charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me 🛐

330 notes · View notes

allywthsr · 1 year ago

Text

FINDING LANDO ON RAYA | (l.norris)

summary: you are bored in your hotel room and find Lando Norris on Raya, what will happen if he texts you?

wordcount: 5.7k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v

notes: seeing that video, did things to me, my first smut so please be gentle!! Comment your thoughts please also please pretend that you don’t need to be a celebrity to see others

You were in Amsterdam for a work trip, discussing business with possible new clients. The client that was scheduled on your last day, canceled the meeting the night before, because of some emergency that came up, so you being bored in your hotel room during the early afternoon, you checked Raya. You downloaded the app with your friends back in London to see who comes up and check out celebrities that had a profile there. You weren’t big on dating apps, you had Tinder but only to make fun of the jerks that were registered.

Nothing serious ever came out of the dates you had, Raya was your new hope. Maybe going on dates with celebrities would be better, maybe they wouldn’t be such idiots, in the end, you could always talk to tabloids and tell them what an asshole he was. They knew that risk and they wouldn’t just send dickpics out of the blue.

Going through the profiles you found some Instagram celebrities, but non caught your eye, you could clearly see the fuckboy in them.

You almost wanted to close the app, but saw a brown-haired boy named Lando Norris. You followed Formula One and watched as many races as you could, always keeping a close eye on the younger drivers, who just looked absolutely delicious. With Lando getting P2 in Silverstone and Hungary, you shifted your attention to him, stalking him on Instagram and finding him legs clenching sexy. You never would’ve thought you would find him on such an app. He could just scroll on his Instagram followers, chose a random person, and hit her up, she would open her legs in seconds, not that you were any different.

You clicked through his pictures, a black and white one of him looking like the dessert he is, one of him partying, and one of him with his friends and pulling a weird face. The three pictures showed his personality perfectly. Sexy, outgoing, and funny. You analyzed the profile further, looking at his profession which said, Formula One driver, age twenty four, wasn’t he twenty three? After a quick Google search, you checked that he was indeed twenty three years old. Lando Norris cheating his age, you saw what he was doing.

Visiting Amsterdam from London, just like you.

You didn’t hesitate for a second but clicked straight on the heart, hoping that maybe he liked you as well and before you could blink, a page popped up, and the words: ’You and Lando like each other!‘ flew across your screen.

You couldn’t believe it, he liked you as well. What? How?

What should you do now? Text him? Ignore it? You couldn’t ignore him. Meeting Lando was a one in a million chance. You wondered what he was like in real life, was he as funny as he appeared in all of the videos? You tapped on his chat and thought about what you wanted to say. Something sweet? Something funny? Something flirty? Or did you text him something about Formula One? You were about to exit the app and text your best friend, but then you saw a bubble appear, indicating that he was typing.

/////////////////// Meanwhile at Lando’s //////////////////////

He sat in his hotel room watching something random on Netflix when his phone made a sound, a sound that he specifically set for Raya. He removed his eyes from his MacBook and took his phone in his hand, he recognized your name from earlier. He looked for some fun on Raya, wanting a quick fuck to forget the busy weeks he had. So when he scrolled through the profiles and found yours, he was kind of drooling. You looked stunning in the pictures you put up, one of you in a park, sitting on a blanket and enjoying the sun, the next one was you, sitting on some random stairs in front of a house you found in Notting Hill and the last one was one of you sitting in front of a cake, made for your birthday. A big pink twenty two was piped on the white frosting while you smiled at the cake. You were surprised by the whole day your friends had prepared for you. Due to you moving to London for your job, you had no one at first, because of your job you got to know a lot of people and some stuck with you, surprising you for your birthday.

You looked super hot in all of your photos, choosing them with a laugh with your friends, saying how many creeps were going to slide in your dms.

So when Lando read: ’You and Y/N like each other!‘, he didn’t waste a second of not answering you. He thought you were perfect, from London and in his age range and not ugly. Lando clicked on the private chat and typed in his usual message, every time he used this, not one girl said no.

Hey there! You look absolutely gorgeous

What are you up to babygirl?

You almost let out a scream. He was a flirt, a big one. What should you do? Text your best friend and ask for help or just handle this like a pro and see what the outcome is. You decided to go for the second, if he wanted to meet up, then it was because of you and your texting and not because of your best friend that basically wrote the text for you. So you replied to him, if he was flirty, you would be too.

Hiya Handsome

Not much, chilling in my hotel room

What about you?

You wanted to keep the conversation going, so you obviously wanted to know what he was up to. If someone would have told you weeks ago, that you would be texting with Lando Norris on your Amsterdam business trip, you would have laughed at the person. You dreaded this trip, of course, it was fun traveling at the cost of the company but it was also lonely. Maybe texting Lando wasn’t that bad after all, he could be your company for the last day.

You didn’t have to wait too long for a reply from him, after seconds he had read the message and the bubble appeared again. He was not only fast at driving then.

The same

I‘m bored as hell

What are you doing tonight?

Oh god. What now? That was practically him asking you if you were free later. Of course, you were but that was not him asking for a date where he would kiss you on the cheek good night. That was him asking for a quickie and you knew it. But would you still meet him? Obviously! It’s not every day you get to meet one of your celebrity crushes.

Not much, had a client meeting but he canceled so now I‘m free

Thought about going out and seeing the city but am not sure, they said that rain is coming later

Why you asking?

You knew why he was asking, but you wanted to seem innocent. In your head you already started planning your outfit, you had a lot of serious outfits for work and barely anything nice to wear for a non formal meeting. But you were so happy you packed some lingerie, you had to because almost all of your normal non sexy underwear was in the laundry, which you forgot to put into the washing machine. Typical you.

It’s my lucky day then

The clouds are already really dark, seems like you can’t go out tonight :(

Wanna come to my hotel and maybe we could order some food? I‘m kinda craving some McDonald’s

You seem lovely

And it happened. What are you gonna do now? In the end, he was still a stranger, someone you did not know. He could be fully different from what you saw and knew of him on the internet. Oh god, what if he had some weird kinks and was going to pee on you or something? You just hoped he was normal in and out of bed. And McDonald's? Isn’t he an athlete that had to follow some strict diet? Did fastfood even fit in there? What were you going to answer to the ’you seem lovely‘? That was probably something he texted every girl, so you chose to ignore it for now.

That’s a bummer

You could be a serial killer and kill me before I get the chance of saying goodbye to my loved ones, but McDonald’s does sound nice

But does it fit into your strict diet, mister McLaren’s number one driver?

Were you actually going to meet him? You needed advice from your best friend. She knew what to do, you were sure, she always did. In the end, she was one of the humans that pressured you into downloading that app in the first place.

The serial killer existence is not giving me the kick as it used to, so don’t worry, I‘m over it

I also don’t have any more space for the corpse in my basement

McDonald’s it is then

Someone did their googling, I see

It’s the break, I can do what I want

Also, my trainer will not know about this, and what he doesn’t know, he won’t get mad over

Are you still there?

Hello?

Babygirl

Where did you go

The serial killer text was only meant as a joke, I would never do something like that, it would ruin my career

You chuckled, did he really think you were scared by the obvious sarcastic text? Cute.

If you retired from the serial killer being, then fine

I watch you drive around in circles every weekend, don’t get your hopes up, I didn’t google you

And what if I already texted your trainer and told Jon about this? ;)

Are we impatient? Am I that special that you can’t go a minute without me? Atta boy

You let out a sigh, it’s official now. You were going to meet up with Lando Norris. Then you could see how he really was and compare him to all the fan fictions you‘ve read. You really needed to sort out some outfit.

You comin‘? That’s sweet

So I got myself a fangirl? Just don’t be a Max Verstappen lover, I want you to be on my side

And if you did text him, you will get punished later ;)

You are gorgeous, just wanted to make sure that I was the only one inviting you for dinner tonight

Oh god, hallelujah. Now you kinda wanted to text Jon and see what his punishment looks like. You could feel the heat and the pulsating between your legs already and you haven’t even talked with him face to face yet. You needed to get there soon.

Sure, I always take a free meal, sent me your address? :)

Nah, I actually like George Russell but he didn’t answer me on Instagram… :(

So you‘ll do it

Now I kind of want to text him and see what that means… maybe I’ll send him a picture of you biting into a burger later

And no, no competition for you

Ah btw, what’s the dress code? I didn’t pack much fancy clothing except for my work stuff. Are we thinking sweats? Or else I’m gonna turn up in a work dress

The George Russell comment was made up, you never texted him but wanted to play a little with Lando. You didn’t know how to put the dress question in a flirty comment, you weren’t even sure if he was actually trying to get you into his bed. Maybe he was just looking for someone to accompany him for eating McDonald’s.

It’s the Hilton in Amsterdam, there‘s only one

I‘ll send you someone to pick you up, don’t worry

And that’s sad, I can’t get George to come here so quickly, guess I’ll be your only company tonight

Do it and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow

Please come in your sweats!! That’s the most comfortable for eating McDonald’s and chilling, besides, I won’t look at them when they‘re laying on the floor, so put on whatever you feel comfortable in

Yep, that was not just an ’I‘m bored’ dinner. Alright. You could feel your panties getting slightly damped when you stood up and walked to your suitcase. Fishing out dark grey sweatpants and a white crop top. You needed to shower before you went there, get cleaned up, and shave. What color of lingerie would you put on? You had no idea, maybe you should ask him since he‘s also not subtle about dropping hints about where this night would lead.

That’s nice, thank you!! What time will he be here?

Alright alright, sweats it is then, what color are we thinking for lingerie? I have some red, blue, yellow, burgundy and white

You were bold here, that wasn’t normally your case of flirting but he was just as forward as you were, so why hold back? And you really needed help choosing the color. What if he didn’t like yellow?

He‘ll be at yours at 6:30 pm if traffic is alright

Baby, I won’t make it through dinner if I know what you‘re wearing underneath

You‘re making things very hard for me already and I haven’t even touched you yet

But I love the color blue, babygirl

Put on whatever you feel comfortable in

He was the sweetest even while flirting. And him sending you a driver? Was this the princess treating your father always talked about when you were younger? But you were sure he didn’t have in mind what was coming for you after dinner if you would eat dinner before the sports session Lando had planned.

I‘ll see what I can do then

See you later handsome ;)

You hoped into the shower, washing your skin twice with the summer like smelling shower gel. Peeling your skin to make it super soft as well as shaving every hair you saw. You knew that men shouldn’t care if you had hairs on your body or not, but you felt better if you did. You were also happy, that you washed your hair yesterday evening so you did not have to worry about it now.

It was very difficult, to not touch yourself. The pressure that build up down there was almost unbearable, but you wanted to wait for Lando, it was his job now to make you feel good, you just hoped 6:30 pm would come soon.

When you got out of the shower you dried your body and tapped the screen of your phone, it was 4:48 pm. Enough time to get your makeup done and stress yourself. So before you did anything else, you applied some body cream to make your skin super silky.

Now sitting down in front of the hotel window with your travel mirror in hand, you started on your makeup. You didn’t want to overdo it and ruin this night, but you also wanted to look like something. So you did a light makeup, only applying products that weren’t heavy on your skin and looked almost natural.

The next time you took your phone in your hands to check the time it was 5:29 pm. Only an hour. You could do that. You decided to text your best friend the new details.

So you did just that, applying Parfum on your ankles, between your thighs, and even spritzed some behind your ear. You just hoped he would like your Parfum. Packing together some things you would possibly need for sleeping over. New underwear, makeup remover, your face cream, and your phone charger, you doubt he had two. You put on your sweats and the crop top over the blue lingerie, was that even the right thing? Meeting up with him just for a quickie? He won’t remember you by next week, did you really want to go through that? You would get attached to him and he is never going to text you.

The next time you tapped on your phone it was 6:24 pm, you spent the last twenty minutes wandering around in the hotel room trying to get rid of the butterflies you felt. It was exciting meeting up with someone when you knew you would have a good night, ending it with pleasure. So you gathered everything and made your way downstairs to the lobby, you waited there for a car to roll up to your hotel.

When a black Mercedes rolled up, you made your way outside and the driver got out of his car.

”Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N? I am here to pick you up on Mister Norris‘ behalf.“

”That’s me, thank you.“

You got into the car and waited for him to start driving, he wasn’t very talkative which you were thankful for, the nerves were getting the best of you, and you weren’t sure if you would even be able to talk a normal sentence without stuttering.

When you arrived at the hotel, the driver turned to you.

”I wish you both a good evening. His room is number 1283, the left elevator and then you need to press button twelve for the twelfth floor.“

”Thank you so much for picking me up!“

With that, your door got opened and you looked at the person with a disturbed look, seeing that it was only a Portier you relaxed. You weren’t used to this luxury. Thanking the guy that opened your door, you got out and went into the hotel to the left elevator, pressing floor twelve. The doors closed and you looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. This was really happening. Before you knew it, the doors opened and you stood on the twelfth floor, now you only needed to find room number 1283. You followed the signs that were everywhere on the walls and a minute later you stood in front of the door.

With a thumping heart, you knocked at the door waiting for Lando to open it.

He answered with a big smile and tousled hair, he was dressed in some black sweats and a black T-shirt, looking handsome as ever.

”Hey, come in.“

”Hi, thank you.“

You stepped in and Lando opened his arms for a hug. Hugging before fucking, alright. He loosened the hug and his eyes scanned your body.

”You look absolutely gorgeous, Baby. Even better than on your pictures.“

”Thank you, but you aren’t that bad either, you look very handsome, I like your hair like this.“

”Yeah?“

You nodded.

What now? The sexual tension was already unbearable, you wouldn’t survive dinner. You both were practically eye fucking the other.

”Let’s sit down first?“

”Sure!“

With that you went to the cream-colored couch, sitting on it and having the perfect view over Amsterdam.

”But if you are a serial killer, do tell me. At least I want to say goodbye to my family.“

You had no idea what you were saying, you wanted to lighten up the situation but what should you do?

”Nah don’t worry, not anymore. And you‘re here for work? I read you’re from London?“

”Yes, had some meetings with clients. I moved there for my work, I love it there. And what about you? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in some exotic place for holiday?“

”Kinda, I visited Tomorrowland yesterday to see my friend Martin Garrix and tomorrow I have tire testing for Pirelli, so no holiday for me just yet.“

”Ah that’s fun, what are you doing for the holiday?“

”I rented a yacht for my friends and family, you should come!“

”Oh, yeah“, you blushed, ”let’s see if I still want to see you after tonight, maybe you have a small dick.“ you smirked. You wanted to get to the point of why you were here. The wet panty proofing it to you, dinner could wait, the wetness between your legs not.

He looked at you with an open mouth.

”Me and a small dick? Baby, you have no idea what’s coming.“

With that, he put his hand on your thigh dangerously close to your core. You let out a shaky breath.

”The thing is, I joked about not making it until dinner, but I really don’t think I can resist you that long, knowing you’re probably wearing sexy lingerie under your sweats and crop top.“

You could see his eyes getting a shade darker than they were when you first saw him.

”Why don’t you find out for yourself?“, you wanted to sound sexy and just prayed to whatever lord, that it did.

And before you could think about it for another second, he took you and placed you in his lap, putting his hands on your waist. His lips looked absolutely delicious, you wanted to taste them, feel them on yours. As if Lando could hear your thoughts, he pressed his lips on yours, moving them, and slipped his tongue into your mouth searching for yours. You let out a quiet moan and nudged his tongue with yours. Your hands found their way into his hair, slightly pulling on the strands, hoping that that was something he was into.

Your lips creating the loudest sounds, every time they smacked together, taking deep breaths in between. Lando left your mouth and his kisses wandered slowly down your neck, leaving a trail of wetness behind (not only on your neck) and he slightly bit the skin of the side. Without you realizing it, you moved your hips against his, dryhumping him. Lando’s hands wandered under your crop top and slowly pulled the material up, to remove it, you held your arms up to make it easier for him. When the dark blue lace appeared, he let out a breath.

”Fuck babe, you’re killing me. Even better than I imagined.“

You could just hum because he immediately attached his lips to your chest, sucking on the skin that was now freed. That felt so fucking good. Your hands went back into his hair, attaching themselves to the brown curls.

”Le-Let me“, you pressed out, wanting to explore his neck as well. That was one thing you always found sexy, his thick neck, you wanted to touch and kiss it and now you finally could.

He let go of your chest and looked at you with big eyes, you pressed a kiss on his lips and did the same then he did minutes prior. Wandering down his neck and slightly sucking, you didn’t want to leave a hickey but some sucking never hurt anyone. Satisfied with what you did, you let go of his skin and licked over the said area, feeling him shivering under you. You could also feel something hard under you, and if you were correct you wouldn’t be disappointed. It felt the right way, thick and long enough but not too long.

With a quick heartbeat, you left his lap and slowly made your way in front of him, you wanted to see for yourself if you were correct. So you sank to your knees and looked up at him through your lashes, he groaned and his head fell backwards.

”Fuck babygirl, you make it so hard for me, I could just burst right now.“

”I make things hard for you? Oh Lando, trust me, I know.“

With that, your hand slipped across his bulge, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes focused on you again, he could almost see how hungry you looked at his dick as if it would be your last meal.

”I want this off.“

You tucked at his sweats, impatient to finally get to his member you haven’t met yet.

”Impatient are we?“, Lando acted all cocky now, but you both knew, that when you touched his dick with your delicate hands, he would turn into a puddle. With that, he lifted his hips and you were able to pull the sweats down, seeing him wearing no underwear.

”No underwear?“, you asked with crooked eyebrows.

”Figured I didn’t need them since you were going to remove them anyway.“

When his sweats was finally pulled lower to where his dick was, his member sprung towards you, he wasn’t fully hard yet but you could work with that. You gave his sweats the last pull and they were pooling at his feet, you immediately got to work. Not wasting a second of not touching him, you grabbed his member, which laid heavy in your head, and let a thread of saliva fall onto his head, moving your hand up and down, spread the fluid evenly, feeling him hardening with every stroke you gave him.

”You‘re killing me. That feels so fucking nice.“

The praise made you smile. At least he felt satisfied, that was already good.

”Put it in your mouth babygirl.“

So you did just that, you opened your mouth and gave it a long lick, from the bottom, to the tip. Your lips closed around his head, circling it with your tongue. Looking up, he had an open mouth and his eyes looked satisfied, you wanted to do more, slowly taking his member down your throat. Lando let out a moan and reached into your hair with his hand, making a messy ponytail to hold on to.

When you reached your limit, you grabbed the rest of his dick with your hands, following the movements you did with your mouth.

”Fuck baby, that’s enough, or else I‘m going to cum down your throat, I want to taste you first.“

With an unsatisfied hum, you let go of his dick and pouted.

”Let me take you to the bed.“

You nodded and he pulled you back onto his lap, standing up as if you weight nothing and walking with you into the bedroom. The bedroom was nicely decorated and from the window, you could see a beautiful sunset, but that wasn’t something you wanted to pay attention to. He sat you down on the soft bed and you shifted to the end of his bed, laying your head on his pillow. You inhaled the scent that came across your nostrils, fully smelling Lando. If you wouldn’t be up to different things right now, you would turn around and never stop sniffing his pillow. Was that creepy? Probably.

”You need to tell me, when I need to stop, yeah?“

You nodded, not being able to say anything, excited for what was about to happen. He laid on his chest between your legs, tugging your own sweats down. With a groan he let his head fall onto your thigh, seeing your lace panty made him weak in the knee, thank god he was laying down.

”Did you put Parfum on your legs? God baby, you‘re so fucking sexy.“

”You like it?“

”Are you kidding? Fuck yes.“

He placed kisses on your thighs, and with each kiss, he got closer to where you needed him the most.

”I can smell you from here baby.“

You propped up your legs and he removed your panty with a swift move. Seeing your glistening core, he almost drooled.

”You‘re so fucking wet and I didn’t even touch you properly yet.“

”Ever since you texted me, I was almost not able to resist touching myself.“

”Fuck Baby.“

Before you could respond he licked with his flat tongue over your pussy, collecting most of the wetness that left your core already.

”You taste so sweet, Angel.“

With a groan you placed your hands in his hair, pulling on the strands again.

He flicked your bud of nerves several times then went back to toy with your entrance. A moan escaped your mouth when he inserted his tongue inside of you and with his nose he nudged your clit.

”Lan-“

”Go on, cum for me Y/N.“

Without a warning he inserted his pointer and middle finger into you and focused on your clit with his tongue, moving everything in a rhythm together.

”Fuck Lando, I‘m gonn-“, and before you could finish that sentence, your back arched and the pleasure washed over you, leaving a pulsating feeling in your core. With one last lick, Lando got up and positioned himself over you, his face glistening with your juices.

When he pressed a kiss on your lips you could taste yourself and let out a groan.

”Your skin is so fucking soft Y/N“, Lando said while he caressed your sides.

”Are you ready to take me?“

You just nodded, not being able to say a word. He already made you feel so good and he wasn’t even in you yet, you needed him, you needed him bad.

”I need you, Lan.“

”Good girl. Do you have a condom?“

”No but I‘m on birth control, you don’t have to use one, as long as you’re clean.“

”I sure am.“

His dick twitched at the thought of feeling you without a rubber, the skin on skin contact making him feral.

Taking his cock in his hand, and moved his tip through your folds, wetting his member. He looked you in the eye, silently asking you if you were ready. You nodded your head and pulled his head to yours to press a kiss on his lips, which he returned, sucking your lower lip into his mouth before pulling back and focusing on the cock in his hand. Slowly pushing his tip to your entrance, you closed your legs around his back and nudged him to push more into you. He slowly slid fully in you, as you gasped at the new sensation and felt full. He filled you up perfectly, it was like you were made for each other, stretching you in all the right places. He stood still and waited for your nod of approval to move. You clenched around his cock.

”Fuck Y/N, do that one more time and I won’t be able to hold back.“

You giggled and nodded your head, indicating him that he could move. He pulled his dick out and forcefully pushed him back in. You both moaned at the sensation.

”I hope you know how good you feel, it’s amazing.“

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at this compliment. You loved this dirty talk he did, complimenting you. He took his hand and started to play with your clit while still pounding in you. You could feel yourself getting dizzy, the new stimulation giving you the perfect pleasure.

”Fuck Lando, you’re making me feel so full.“

He grunted at that statement. Speeding up with his movements, as well as rubbing and flicking your clit. Your moans getting higher with every thrust.

You could feel your release getting closer.

”Lando, I‘m gonna cu-”

”Baby cum for me.“

With that you felt your inside snap and the orgasm taking over your body, your eyes rolling in the back of your head and your legs started shaking. While you were on your high, Lando went and left kisses on your neck, slightly sucking, leaving faint purple bruises behind.

When you came back down you focused on Lando, clenching around him, trying to get him to cum as well. Sinking your nails into his shoulders and leaving little crescent moons on his skin, they would probably still be seen tomorrow. He groaned and his head fell down on your shoulder, panting. You could feel him painting your insides white, you moaned at the feeling.

”Fuck darling, you feel so good.“

He did some last thrusts to ride out his orgasm and then almost let all of his weight fall down on you. Your hands immediately went into his hair, stroking it while he still had his now softened dick inside of you. He lifted his head and pressed his lips on yours, moving them and creating smacking sounds.

Slowly pulling out, you could feel his and your mixed cum dribbling out of you, enjoying this sensation, Lando sat up and swiped his thumb over your labia, liking how it looked. He wiped his cum covered thumb on the white bed sheet.

”I‘d love to stay here with you, but I need to pee. It’s not very romantic but I don’t even wanna know what happens if I don’t.“

You sat up and Lando replied with a: ”Yes, please go, it’s important. I don’t want you getting a bladder infection after having mind blowing sex.“

You scoffed and got up, ”Mind blowing?“

”What is that supposed to mean?“

You turned around looking into his face, you both were smiling brightly, still having that post sex glow, but also because you joked about the sex you just had. It was fantastic. You started walking towards the en-suite bathroom.

”You were good Lando, but mind blowing? I don’t know.“

”My cum dribbling down your thigh is saying something else.“

You blushed and looked down at your thigh, seeing the white drips rolling from your core. You didn’t know what to say to that and went to the toilet to do your thing. Returning just shortly after, you sat in the bed next to him.

”You want to order some McDonald’s and stay over?“

Part two

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #lando norris one shot #lando norris x y/n

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