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kamiversee · 8 months ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 5 || The Date

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & heavy sexual tension. You might feel edged by the end of this chapter. !!Geto is a complete pervert btw!!

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——INSIDE THE LAVISH RESTAURANT that Geto Suguru assures you isn't as expensive as it seems, the two of you are escorted to an awfully private booth.

It's off in the corner, away from everyone else within the restaurant as specifically requested by your date. Your surroundings are dimly lit, with a romantic ambiance that sets the perfect mood for the evening.

Geto pulls your chair out for you and you sit, briefly thanking him for the small gesture as you do so. For a second, as he pushes your chair in and makes his way to the other side of the table, you wonder if you'll have to go on dates like this with the other men you meet. If Geto is considered medium difficulty according to Gojo, what'll happen when you reach someone who's at a higher difficulty level?

Will you have to win a fraction of their heart to sleep with them? Will you have to date them? Shit, you don't want to toy with anyone's emotions. You really hope you'll be able to pull this all off.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice Geto's eyes all over you. He's thinking too, wondering how he should go about messing with you. The man is just as amused as Gojo was with the little challenge you've been given.

Geto wonders if he should drag this out. Maybe a few days, y'know, force you to get to know him more and more. Problem is, even as he looks at you now, he knows damn well that's not going to happen. He wonders if you even realize the effect you have on others without doing anything.

When you first entered the restaurant, Geto noticed that the host had his eyes all over you. The man has been gawking at you as you and Geto were led off to your table but you didn't notice.

A little smirk plays on Geto's lips as he admires you. You're now pretending to look over the menu but he can tell you're still panicking from his earlier words. His eyes dip down to the exposed areas of your skin and he scoffs. If you were his girlfriend, the two of you wouldn't have even made it to the elevator.

Surly he would've turned you right back around and had his way with you without a care in the world for reservations. The male's focus goes to your lips, studying the slight pout you make while you think every now and then.

Like earlier, his mind drifts into places they shouldn't. Your lips look so soft, so delicate, so... kissable. He wonders how the inside of your mouth feels.

How good are you with your tongue? Fuck, the thought alone makes his hips lift as he shifts around in his seat. He needs to stop thinking about you like this. He needs a distraction so he tries to look down at the menu on the table in front of him.

That doesn't work either. Geto isn't craving anything on this damn menu. The very thing he wants to feast on is sitting across the table from him. His eyes flick up to you and instead of looking at your face, he looks at your cleavage-- mentally cursing at himself for his perverted thoughts and glances.

God, even looking at you is torture.

"Suguru," You suddenly call out.

The man flinches at the sound of his name and frantically redirects his gaze upward. "Hm?" He hums in response.

"Y'know I can feel you staring at me, right?" You say to him teasingly.

Truth be told, you've been calming yourself this whole time. Gojo told you Geto was of medium difficulty and if you're interpreting this correctly then, that means you've already got the man attracted to you, all that's left for you to do is to get him to warm up to you. You have to attempt to treat Geto like you know he's going to sleep with you because-- well, you do know.

With the way he was touching you, talking to you, and looking at you now, you could tell you had this in the bag. It just took a few minutes of you gathering yourself before you worked up the confidence to say something to him.

"So?" Geto asks, feeling tense to the way you've noticed his ogling.

You flip the menu up so that his view is obstructed, "So, it's rude to stare. Especially at my tits... pervert." You reply, though, you're words were harmless and he could tell you were teasing him.

Geto suddenly choked on air, "What'd you just call me?"

"A perv." You say cooly.

Due to the menu held up between the two of you, neither of you saw each other's expressions. You've got a cheeky grin on your face, thinking you've managed to fluster him while a slow smirk spreads across Geto's lips.

"A perv?" He repeats, followed by a cocky scoff. Geto's mouth moves on its own and he doesn't even know what came over him as he speaks.

"Darling, if I was a pervert I would've had you in this restaurant with no panties on while explaining the eight different positions I've fantasized fucking you in." He blurts out in a shockingly low tone before leaning over the table a little, "I'd have you on your knees begging for me to touch you right now."

Heat rushes to both your face and in between your legs, causing you to rub your thighs together slightly. Your grip on the menu slips a little but you try to keep your composure.

Dropping your voice to a whisper, you drop the item in your hand and meet the man's all-too-serious gaze. You mimic his motions and lean forward a bit too, "You do realize we're in public... right? Anyone could've heard you just now..."

Geto flashes you a sexy smile, "Keep teasin' me and everyone will hear you moaning my name in a second."

You scoff, waves of confidence shooting through you out of nowhere. "Yeah? What're you gonna do, fuck me over the table?" You whisper-shout to him.

"I might." He hums.

The look in your eyes is full of disbelief. "You wouldn't."

"I would, actually."

"Do it then." You utter challengingly, knowing damn well he doesn't have the balls to actually-

He chuckles deeply, leaning back in his chair and parting his thighs. You notice him shift in his seat, hips once again raising as he moves. "Come bend over in front of me and see what happens." Geto challenges back.

The sexual tension between you and him is at a ridiculous all-time high. You stare at him and he stares back at you.

After a few seconds, Geto clicks his tongue and tips his head to the side, "Well?"

You roll your eyes at him and sit back in your seat, "Never mind."

"That's what the hell I thought." He says confidently, "You'll never be able to win that kinda' contest against me, sweets. I'm a man of my word."

"Seeing as I'm not getting fucked over this table right now, I'm pretty sure that was all just a bluff." You reply. You're still not sure where all this confidence of yours is coming from but the man across the table from you is dangerously attracted to it so, you're trying to drag this out.

"I told you to bend over, you told me never mind." He shrugs.

"Maybe I wanted you to bend me over." You say with emphasis in your voice.

He stares blankly for a minute. Then he laughs, "You... You think I won't do it."

"No, I know you won't-"

Geto pushes his chair back and stands to his feet.

You're throat immediately runs dry. Is it too late to say that maybe you should've shut up a while ago...?

He walks around the table to you and suddenly pulls your chair out. "Y-You're not seriously gonna-"

"Stand up." Geto cuts off.

You peer up at the man, eyes full of worry. Slowly, you raise to your feet and your face comes close with his. Quickly glancing past him, you spot the waitress for your table helping a group of people not too far away. You're pretty sure she's gonna head this way once she's done so your mouth opens to back out of whatever Geto's about to do.

"Suguru, I-"

"Aht aht, none of that. You shouldn't have started this." He interrupts. Geto then moves a hand behind you and your heart sinks to your toes. Again, the table you're at is quite secluded so the only thing others would be able to see currently is Geto standing in front of you.

You flinch when he suddenly grabs a handful of your ass, your eyes frantically switching back and forth between him and the waitress who's set to approach the two of you any minute now. Geto pulls your body up against his and your hands rest on his chest due to the aggressive tug of your body.

You don't even know what to say at first as you feel the male hike up the back of your dress and slip your underwear down off you. "A-Are you fucking crazy?" You whisper shout to him with furrowed brows.

"You're about to find out." He hums simply.

Your undergarment now pools around your ankle and Geto is quick to drop down and work them completely off you. You shift around to pull your dress down, making sure you don't look crazy. The pounding of your heart was so loud that you could feel it in your ears and you're confused and thankful that no one has or can witness what just happened.

Looking up at you, Geto smiles as he wraps his fingers around the fabric in his hands. Then, he shoves the item into his pocket and stands back up. "You can sit now, I don't plan on giving everyone here a show just yet."

You grit your teeth. You're so embarrassed that you don't think you can move. Did you really just let him do that to you? Why? Because it was kinda thrilling and you wanted to see how far he'd really go? Maybe...

"Yet?" You repeat as you finally sit down, feeling exposed for a second before you cross your legs.

Geto casually walks back to his seat and sits as though nothing happened. "I meant what I said."

This time you don't argue with him-- you truly don't know what he'll do next.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

With perfect timing, the waitress approaches your table and takes your orders. You took a second to even remember what the hell you had your eyes on but you figured it out after relooking over the menu. Your heart is still throbbing against your chest and you still can believe no one saw anything that just happened.

You know the table is pretty secluded but you expected someone to see something. Geto knew what he was doing though. Hell, he's all innocent and smiling all lovey-dovey-like at you as the two of you place your orders.

The second the woman had gone off to get your food, you and Geto met eyes.

"So, tell me something... If not for this date, what was your plan for me?" The man asks, breaking the silence.

You glance off to the side. "I didn't have one. I was just gonna meet you and figure things out as I go."

He chuckles, "And how'd that end up working out for ya'?"

"Well, given the fact that I'm sitting in a restaurant with no underwear on," You send him a glare with a fake smile, "Wonderful." You say with sarcasm.

He moves to reach for the item in question, soon pulling it out of his pocket and holding it up so that only you can see it. "Want em' back?" Geto asks tauntingly.

You send him a scowl, one he finds ridiculously sexy. Pissing you off is kinda fun. The fabric in his hand is shifted around a bit and he begins to inspect the item, the sight bringing a deep blush to your face and a rush of embarrassment over you.

"Fucking pervert." You curse, this time genuinely bothered.

A lazy smile spread across Geto's overly attractive face, "I can show you something perverted..."

You're glare at him continues. "Is this how you planned on spending the entire night? By taunting and teasing me?" You ask genuinely.

Geto scoffs at your words, "I'm pretty sure you started this, baby."

"I..." Damn, he's got you there. You did start this sexual flirting vibe with him.

But what else were you supposed to do? Your goal is to fuck him.

"Don't be mad that you can't handle my actions or the words that come out of my mouth." He continues while mocking you with a chuckle. He just finds you oh so amusing.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to be such a perv..." You murmur.

"Satoru didn't tell you that part, huh?"

"No. No he did not." You say, annoyed with the man who really is to blame for all this.

Geto leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, moving to hold your undergarment with one finger and dangling it in front of his face. "I can only imagine how embarrassed you must feel right now." Actually, he could see it.

He's watching the way your eyes widen at him displaying your underwear so openly, the way you look around the area to see if anyone knows what he's doing, and the way you're clearly panicking.

"Can you just put them away already... Taunting me with that is just... weird." You tell the man.

"Yeah? What if I told you what I wanted to do with them?" He asks in return.

Your curiosity piqued and you raised a brow. "What you want to do with them...?" You repeat as you grow confused.

"I wanna wrap em' around my cock. Y'know use it to jerk off." Geto says so casually that you grow awfully concerned if he has any sense of care for being in public.

"You... can get off on that kinda thing?" You question blindly.

He shuts his eyes and inhales a deep breath, "Fuck yes."

"...I'm not one to kink shame but... why is that pleasurable? It's just my underwear...."

He laughs at your cluelessness before finally putting the item away. "The fact that it was pressed against that wet cunt of yours for hours makes my dick throb," Geto utters both filthyly and shamelessly.

Your thighs rub together a bit and a strange wave of arousal thrums through you. "O-Oh..." You chirp.

"I told you, don't be mad that you can't handle what comes out my mouth." He sighs.

You put your hands over your face and sigh, "You're worse than Satoru," You whisper to yourself.

That makes Geto laugh again, "Am I?"

"Yes." You sigh dramatically.

Though, you're not sure if that's true. After all, Gojo did jerk off right in front of you with no shame whatsoever...

"Would you believe me if I said that everything I've said so far is only to tease you?" Geto questions.

You blink. "Meaning...?"

"The real thing will be much worse."

You feel intrigued so you lean in, "How so?"

He smirks, he's got you exactly where he wants you. "I could make you cum without even laying a finger on you," Geto informs you, cockiness embedded into his tone.

You scoff and fold your arms at him, "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and prove it?"

"Right now?" He hums with a tilt of his head.

A gulp is heard from you. "N-Not now, idiot. We're still in public."

"I feel like by now you should know, I don't care if we're in public. That won't stop me from doing or saying anything." Geto says.

"So you're into voyeurism?" You ask in a monotone.

He scoffs, "Exhibitionism is the word you're looking for but yes, that too. Isn't it obvious?"

"Slut."

Geto snickers, "I'm into that too, gorgeous."

"You like being degraded?"

"I don't mind it." He admits with a shrug. "I have a long list of kinks that I'm not sure you want to get into right now."

"Maybe I do." You hum.

Why are you still testing this man? You don't know. Maybe you like his reactions. Maybe something about his responses gives you this churn in your stomach. Maybe you want to keep pushing his buttons until you can't anymore...

Geto leans back and looks up at the ceiling, "Why does this woman continue to tempt me?" He asks as if he's speaking to some higher power. Looking back down to you, "I'd rather show you my kinks. Explaining is boring." He says.

You respond with a nod and after what feels like an eternity, the waitress is spotted approaching your table with your orders in hand.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

After the food, things got worse.

Like, much worse than you could've imagined.

You know Geto said he was a man of his word but fuck is he insane. He was not, in fact, lying when he said he could make you cum without touching you.

He proves that later on in the night, long after the date is over and you've made it back to his apartment.

Geto Suguru has a filthy mouth. He'd break down in innate detail on how exactly he plans on fucking you before actually doing it, leaving your brain all mushy at the imagination alone.

But of course, this was only possible because of the things that led up to it.

After the two of you ate, getting from the dinner table and to an Uber was no easy feat. Especially not with Geto in your ear explaining his fantasies to you.

He told you how he thought about renting out the restaurant for the night just to lay you out on the table and dive nose-deep into your pussy-- not a single word filtered. Geto said into your ear that part of him wanted you bouncing on his cock right there at the table. He wanted people to hear and see the mess he'd make of you.

"God the things I wanna do to you," He uttered desperately into your ear.

By now, you were both back in a vehicle, this time on your way home with him.

Geto smiles against the crown of your ear, "Even right now, if not for the diver, you'd be on my cock right now."

His voice is so low, so seductive, ensuring that only you hear him. You're constantly rubbing your thighs together, still lacking underwear to catch the liquids of arousal seeping from your cunt.

Geto suddenly places a hand high up on your thigh, "Spread your legs f'me, really quickly."

You let out a breath of air you weren't aware you'd been holding. "W-Why...?"

"Wanna' check something." He murmurs. You slowly part your thighs and Geto moves to swat two of his thick fingers against your sex. "Mmmh... you're wet..." He whispers as if he isn't aware of the effect his words have on you.

Your legs shut around his hand and Geto drops his head to your shoulder with a chuckle. "What happened to all those little comebacks of yours?" He questions.

"I ran out," You say snarkily.

"Good." Geto hums, raising his hand from in between your legs.

He then grabs a light hold of your face and forces you to look at him. "Cause' if you didn't," The man moves two fingers to your lips and slips them into your mouth. "I'd have to shut you up eventually." He whispers softly.

Your brows furrow at the feeling of his fingers pushing into your mouth but almost reflexively, you suck on his digits gently. The bulge that's been straining against the fabric of Geto's pants for a while now, throbs at the sight and feeling of you.

His cock is just leaking with precum right now, leaving an embarrassing wet spot on his boxers. So badly does he want to get home as quickly as possible and fuck the hell out of you. Your constant words and challenges have had the man erect for a while now.

Hell, maybe he was turned on from the second he laid eyes on you.

He presses down on the back of your tongue and you choke a little-- not that you try to stop his actions at all, leading to him biting his lip. "Satoru told me about you but damn, you really are a slut." Geto purrs.

You hum around his skin but don't stop your sucking motions, leading the man to let a groan leave his lips before finally pulling his hand from you. He couldn't take it anymore. Geto was seconds, literal seconds away from flipping you over and having his way with you.

Luckily for both of you, the driver finally arrived at the apartment and neither of you would have to wait much longer.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ☐

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cherry-leclerc · 7 months ago

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so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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soundslikerains-blog · 28 days ago

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"Once Upon A Dream"

Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character.

Summary: In the glittering world of high society, Belle Cowper has always stood in the shadow of her sister, Cressida—until an unexpected encounter with her nemesis, Benedict Bridgerton, sparks a desire to defy her family's expectations. As the Masquerade Ball approaches, Belle dares to embrace her boldness and seize the freedom she's always longed for.

word count: 4.9k

N/A: hi lol, idk if i should do a second part... lmk if you'd like me to<3

Being the youngest Cowper daughter has certainly more downsides than perks. Was it because of their parents’ lack of humbleness? Their Dad’s thirst for money or Mother’s thirst for success? Probably, but there was a big one on top of Belle’s list on disadvantages, which was having Cressida as an older sister. Naturally the attention wouldn’t go to the second daughter, but having a mean and sharped tongued sibling as a reference didn’t help either. Belle was raised to wait for the spotlight, yet the waiting didn’t stop even after years of her sister debuting in society. She observed as things happened from the outside, talking only when needed, and hiding under her sister’s shadow. Given the predicament Cressida had to endure, by the threat of the Cowper’s downfall, Belle didn’t complain as much for being left behind. The weight of having to marry this season no matter the cost wasn’t hers, and if that meant having to wear the dullest dresses, the same tight bun, and not attracting suitors to overshadow their purpose she had no choice but to comply. It didn’t make it easier though, loneliness can be one of your worst enemies if found in the wrong person.

Apart from not being forced to marry as soon as possible, there were a few advantages of being the neglected daughter. For instance, today, at this hot air balloon event, Belle was allowed to sneak out. Araminta too busy bad mouthing with other ladies to notice, and Cressida probably walking around trying to catch Lord Debling’s attention along with Eloise Bridgerton. She took the chance to wander around the different tents surrounding the event, casually colliding with the presentation of the balloon’s engineer. Hidden in a corner inside the tent, she listened attentively for the first part of it. That until the presence of a hurried man distracted her, making her frown and mentally curse at the sight of Benedict Bridgerton.

“Would you mind not making a fuss? Some of us are actually trying to hear.” Belle said, not in a friendly way. The man turned, taking notice in the owner of the snarky comment, but instead of being annoyed by it he let out a mischievous smirk.

“Miss Cowper, my deepest apologies.” Benedict charismatically put on a hand on his chest, exuding sarcasm from every fiber. “I didn’t know you were capable of taking interest in...”

“Engineering.” She completed for him, crossing her arms in annoyance. “Something you wouldn’t be able to tell since you entered here... let me guess, is it running from Mama’s or their daughters?”

“Both.” He admitted, shamelessly. Belle let out an amused scoff, while denying with her head.

The fact that she was a lonely person didn’t mean Belle was a quiet one. Growing up with Cressida does thing to one’s character, and when given the chance, she wasn’t backing up from speaking her mind. Specifically, with the family that has indirectly tormented hers ever since she can remember: the Bridgerton’s. It wasn’t her parents’ constant dragging that made her feel resent towards them, she formed her own opinion as soon as she gained consciousness of the intricacy of society. She was mature enough to admit it was envy, not because of their money or position, but their perfectly family dynamic and how they managed to be victorious over any difficulty they face. Now, Eloise was a different case, for now she was allowed to be Cressida’s friend, she still gained Belle’s regards for not falling into bad mouthing of other people, and actually acknowledging her existence. At least enough for her to greet each time they saw each other. But the man in front of her, now, was a personal matter. He was also the second son, but in exchange, he had everything she ever wished for; freedom. So, the only way she had to let out her frustration, was to make obvious her aversion towards him.

“You really do owe no heart, Mr. Bridgerton.” She said on a lower tone, as the presentation still took place behind them. “We all know you adore engaging in clandestine relations with God only knows who, but now you are creating hopes on debutantes? That is extremely low, even coming from you.” While hearing her depicting answer, Benedict’s demeanor faltered for a second, for her words caused something within him.

“As you seem so invested in my personal life, here’s an update: I have never shown interest in courtship with any lady. I was merely being polite; the problem was they assumed my intentions.” He answered cooly, throwing away how she did hit a nerve.

“And who is this poor lady, you say?” She skeptically asked.

“Miss Lowell.” By the answer, Belle lout out a mocking chuckle.

“Very well, you have a point. Perhaps she wasn’t aware of your... precedence.” With the tone of the last word, Benedict’s limit reached a certain point.

“Does something about me bother you, Miss Cowper? Or does your tight bun affect your brain like it does to your sister?” He quivered back, knowing the question would get to her.

“I, in exchange for half of the ton, dismiss your charming image.” She spoke, in a more serious tone. “My “tight” bun doesn’t allow me to fathom the idea of someone thinking of you as an eligible suitor. Especially when you are a second son, who quit the Art Academy and also goes from flower to flower like a desperate bee.” The man opened his mouth in shock for a second, as each syllable managed to make him boil in the inside.

“You know what, Miss Cowper?” He threated, as he stepped close to her. “I see it now, you are jealous. I am not the one hiding in corners, living by my annoying sister’s shadow without anyone to care about me. At least people considered me eligible, contrary to you. And I don’t even take interest on it, as I don’t desperately desire to marry.” Once those harsh words were out, there was no turn back. Usually, he let slide most of Belle remarks at events like these. Sometimes he even expected them, but this time, she crossed a line and so did he.

Benedict didn’t take the weight of his words until he caught on the girl visibly gulping and shutting down, making him instantly letting things get this far. He opened his mouth immediately to apologize, but was interrupted by the clapping celebrating the end of the presentation that still happened. He distractedly turned, and when searching back for Belle, she was nowhere to be seen. After many minutes of walking around trying to get a glimpse of her, he failed. Unbeknownst to everyone, the girl was kneeling behind a tent while crying unconsolably. She didn’t blame him, for apart of him just spitting facts and answering to what she provoked, he still had no idea of the reality behind the Cowper Household. The season gets to a point where she can’t stand feeling alone and purposeless. Cressida was more unbearable than ever, even when she had a friend. What about her? Always in her lane, always pleasing everyone but herself. She was tired of counting days until she was free to seek suitors, friends, and show herself without being accused of overshadowing her protagonist sister. Belle has gaslighted her like this her whole life, and once again, it calmed her down enough to stand up again.

As she walked back to where the balloon was being displaced, she expected the spectacle to had started by then, but found a shocking scene instead. The balloon swayed violently in the wind, ropes straining as men fought to keep it grounded. Belle watched, her heart pounding as the balloon threatened to break free. The crowd gasped, hands flying to mouths, and Benedict was right in the middle of the chaos, his muscles taut as he pulled against the wind. For a second, forgotten was their previous encounter as she took in his bravery, and how good he looked pulling from the rope. Belle had to acknowledge there was a good reason for him being so desired, at least the physical part of it. After tense seconds of struggle, she got out of her trance as everyone managed to control the balloon as it safely landed, ending on a celebration from the ton.

“Isabelle Ariadne Cowper!” Her mother called. “Where in heavens were you? Your sister almost gets injured!”

“What does that have to do with me, Mama?” She asks back, annoyed by the whole situation. Araminta frowned, curious of the nature of her attitude, but soon enough her eyes moved back to Cressida.

“Oh, thank the lord. It seems Lord Debling is assisting her.” She smirked, making Belle scoff in disbelief, as she took in the aftermath of the incident. Males involved in pulling the ropes were surrounded by swooning ladies, Benedict of course being amongst them. When her eyes caught on him, he was already staring at her with regret written all over his face as she just eyed back with a weary expression.

“I will wait in the carriage.” Belle said, knowing her Mama wouldn’t mind her absence once again.

As Benedict finally freed himself from his fan club, he was late again to find a glimpse of Belle. Sighing in frustration he came back to his family, as everyone made their way towards the carriages. As usual he stood next to Eloise, who kept on teasing him because of his heroic stance and falling into unwanted ladies' attention.

“Speaking of unwanted attention, I can’t help to wonder how does your friendship with Cressida work?” He mocked back. “I am surprised you’ve endured her this much.”

“She isn’t as difficult as one may think, you know.” Eloise began. “It’s different with me, and by talking to her I’ve learned she endures a different kind of pressure.”

“Doesn’t half of the ton go through marriage pressure?” He asked back, skeptic.

“It’s not just marriage, it’s her family. If she doesn’t marry well by the end of the season, the Cowper’s are most likely to be out of the ton. Cressida told me that even her sister wasn’t allowed to have suitors or friends in order to not take the spotlight.” At the mention of Belle, Benedict’s expression turned from teasing to a more serious one.

“She isn’t?” He asked in disbelief, his sister nodding in response.

“I, for once assumed she hated suitors and marriage mart as much as I do. But after seeing it up close, it’s clear Belle has been secluded for the sake of her sister’s success.” Eloise sight in sympathy, as she crossed her arms. “I wonder what kind of challenges they face behind the walls of their household.”

Benedict’s heart clenched at the thought of it. He always assumed Belle was purposefully a wallflower, hiding behind Cressida. After hearing the truth, the guilt from his previous words towards her increased. As they got in their carriages and went back home, his mind began to slowly connect the dots. Of course, she was always alone and apart in different corners, judged by her sister’s precedence. The slightest hint of attention she received was to be tossed away, for Cressida was to be the one catching people’s eyes instead of her. He gets it now, why each time Belle can, takes it against him, a man who represented everything she couldn’t have. Benedict thought on how Eloise gave Cressida a chance, and he thought that perhaps, he could give Belle one as well.

Two days later, the balloon incident was long forgotten and the Cowper household already prepared for the next event; the Bridgerton’s Masquerade ball. Belle was locked in her room like most of the time, busy cutting some of Cressida’s old dresses to create her own, as she had none. Araminta chose to cut off Belle’s count in the modiste’s, with the excuse of her sister using the credit and having more chances of eliciting a proposal from Lord Debling. In all honesty, she didn’t mind. It gave her an excuse to dig into her interest, and also made her avoid going to the modiste’s. Or so she thought, before her mother forced her to fetch her sister’s clothing.

“But the dress is not even mine.” She complained.

“Take it as a contribution, Isabelle.” Cressida smirked. “After all, it is my sacrifice for our family. Don’t tell me I need to remind it’s your life being potentially saved as well?” Belle rolled her eyes, knowing she was defeated by the irrevocable excuse.

Along with her trusting Lady’s maid Fiona, she made her way towards the modiste. It wasn’t like she hated the place, but it was a reminder of all the dresses she couldn’t have or even the fabrics she couldn’t sew. Still, Madame Delacroix never failed to be extremely kind towards her. Funnily enough, all but people from the ton noticed her struggle. After fetching the dress, she walked around deciding what to do next. The least she could do is using this occasion to her advantage, so after calling off Fiona to fetch other things, she sat at a hidden corner of Gunther’s tea shop to draw a few dress sketches and drink tea.

“Isabelle, is it you?” After hearing her name, she turned and surprisingly found Eloise was the one to call her, accompanied by her own Lady’s maid, seemingly buying catering things for their upcoming ball. She smiled awkwardly, not used to being approached by people.

“Hello. You can call me Belle.” She nervously chuckled, as her full name only reminded her of being nagged by her family.

“Oh, sure, Belle.” She chuckled back. “How are you doing?”

“I am well, thanks. Taking away Cressida’s dress, I imagine you expected her to be here.”

“No, actually. She told me she’d be missing until the Masquerade ball at my home. I just saw you and thought of saying hi.” Eloise nervously said, taking in how weirded out she seemed. “Well, I guess we will see each other then.”

“Sure.” When noticing her intentions were just friendly, she figured out she could be friendly back. “Are you heading out soon? You can sit with me; I ordered too much biscuits anyway.”

“You know what? I accept.” The girl sat. “I was going to join Benedict later, but who in its five senses want to spend time in the bank?” Belle’s smile faltered when hearing his name, but hid it very well.

“No one.” She agreed.

Initially it was a bit odd interacting with her without Cressida’s presence, but they soon learned that they had some common ground. Belle might not be as passionate about books as Eloise, yet still shared plenty of opinions towards society matters. It wasn’t hard for the Bridgerton girl to notice how refreshingly different she was from her sister. After countless minutes of conversation, Benedict walked into the tea shop looking for her, and he was taken aback after seeing Belle deeply engaged with her.

“Oh! Nice to see you are back, brother.” Eloise took no time in spotting him.

“Uhm, yes. Your maid said something about the bookstore closing soon, I think?” He tilted his head, making the girl gasp in horror.

“My books! I’m so sorry Belle, I forgot. We can continue talking at the Masquerade ball! Benedict, you stay here. The biscuits Mama asked for are yet to be ready. I must make haste.” She hurriedly said, not giving the girl time to even answer or react properly. Soon enough, they were left alone.

“I shall be leaving as well.” Belle quickly took her notebook and stood up.

“Miss Cowper,” He began, stepping in her way “I was expecting to talk to you after... the balloon incident.”

“There is nothing to be said, Mr. Bridgerton.” She answered with a neutral tone. “I don’t hold anything against you, if that’s your concern.”

“No, there is, because-” Benedict stopped himself as he stared around, noting it wasn’t the best space to talk before people take in their interaction. “Do you mind going somewhere more private?” She considered it, given the fact that if her family managed to find out she would be dead by the morning for being seen with a man in public. She nodded, and after taking her things they moved towards the back of the store where no one was around. He took no time on speaking again. “I am deeply regretful of how I treated you.”

“I had it coming, I wasn’t the nicest person in the world either.” She said back, making him frown.

“But you don’t deserve such treatment, no one does. Even if your words were hurtful, I should have known better.” Benedict’s words took her aback, not used to people being considered towards her feelings. She cleared her throat as she nervously moved on her feet.

“In that case, I appreciate your apologies, even if not needed. Perhaps, I shall be sorry as well.” Her eyes wandered everywhere to not meet his.

“For which charge?” He asked with a smile, trying to lift the mood. “Calling me out on my libertine encounters, or my lack of compromise when deciding what to do with my life?” If Belle wasn’t nervous before, she indeed was now.

“Both.” She expressed with her lips pressed. “Though I don’t regret the first one.” Benedict deliberately laughed at that comment.

“Fair enough Miss Cowper, I’ll take it.” He grinned. “I do take back my remarks against you, for now I find myself rather intrigued by your persona instead.”

“Intrigued?” Belle chuckled in disbelief. “What could be intriguing about me?”

“Well, not so many have the will to call on me the way you did that day. I misjudged your quiet presence, and find myself wondering if there is more to those witty comments.” He said, expecting a reaction, but heard a person softly clearing her throat behind them. It was Belle’s maid.

“I must leave.” She said, nodding at Fiona.

“It appears so.” He said, looking back at her. “But think of my words Miss Cowper, I know there is more to you and I bet good things can come from it. Perhaps getting out of your shell can be a starter.”

“My context doesn’t allow it.” She slowly walked towards the servant.

“I may seem like a libertine rake, but trust me, when you have a taste of freedom you will thank me.” He lifted his tone. “Remember, you can be bold and still not surpass the limits of proper.” Belle gave him one last look and walked far from him, though his words still resounded in her brain.

When getting back to the safeness of her bedroom, Belle stare at her unfinished dress and thought of the man’s words. She knew she wished nothing but to be as rebellious as him, but her circumstances were different. Perhaps... she could be bold in a smooth way. For starters, she stared at her reflection and paid attention to the tight bun she got to hate, freeing it with one swift movement. Then, the hidden design in her notebook caught her attention and the idea finally stroke her brain. A Masquerade ball was good to get a taste of freedom. So, for the following two days, she worked day and night on her dress. Even Cressida noted her absence, used to Belle being there for her fittings to take note on how she should not look.

“Isabelle?” She asked, entering her room unannounced, her sister nowhere to be found. “She is probably spending time with that annoying maid of hers.” She muttered to herself as she walked around. Near Belle’s bed, there was a stray sheet of paper she didn’t doubt to collect, and by doing so, she noticed a hidden dress below. It was a gorgeous pink customed made dress, pretty enough to outshine everyone at the ball. “For me? Ah, dear sister, you shouldn’t have.” She smirked while hugging it.

“Cressida.” Belle called sternly from the door. “That is not yours.”

“Oh, is it yours then? Are you planning on using it and stealing the spotlight? Hijacking my chances of finally making Lord Debling ask for my hand?” A classic manipulation tactic.

“You have yours! I picked it up from the modiste myself!” She insisted.

“Ah, that one can be used for the next event. But this one, will steal glances.” Cressida softly traced the fabrics of it.

“Then what will I wear? The ball is tomorrow.” Belle tried reasoning, but it wouldn't work. Not with her.

“Is it?” Cressida fake pouted, putting a hypocrite hand on her shoulder. “I guess you won’t be able to attend then, Isabelle.” She let an evil chuckle. “Now that you have free time, why don’t you go to the modiste? And find me a mask that goes along with my new dress.”

Belle’s eyes watered with rage as Cressida left the room with her clothes. She felt so dumb, for even trying to do something different. If it wasn’t her sister, probably her parents would have found a way to ruin this for her. Angrily, she reunited all of her designs and tossed them to the chimney, waiting to be incinerated when the night came. It took all her willpower to not explode, but soon the anger turned into sadness making her take one step back from her impulsive thoughts. She was hopeless.

“Miss?” Fiona softly called, entering the room and knowing exactly what happened.

“Yes?” She turned, while cleaning the single tear on her face.

“Do you need anything?” Belle let out a defeated sigh.

“A long walk to the modiste.” Fiona nodded, loyally accompanying her. Both were quiet all the way there, the first noise in many minutes being the bell on Madame Delacroix’s store.

“Bonsour, Miss Cowper. Is there something wrong with your sister’s dress?” The Lady with the thick accent asked.

“No.” Belle answered, without being able to hide her demeanor. “I wonder if you have a pink mask with beads around?”

“Sure, wait for me here. Perhaps your maid can help?” Fiona nodded without a doubt, and they both disappeared behind the counter as Belle walked around. When they came back, both shared an indecipherable expression on their faces. “It must be a pretty dress the one you have, to be searching for this mask.”

“Had.” She corrected bitterly. “I can’t have pretty things so it was taken away from me.” Madame Delacroix gave a sympathetic smile as she stepped behind the counter.

“Whoever took it from you feels threatened, probably knows the second you bloom all eyes will turn to you.” Belle chuckled.

“Maybe, but tomorrow it’s not that day.” Fiona shared an evil smile with the modiste, making the girl suspect of them.

“The other day, Miss Belle, something fell off from your belongings.” The woman gave Belle an old piece of paper she recognized as her most precious design. Her eyes lightened immediately.

“My dress! Good God, I’ve been looking everywhere for it.” A genuine smile spread on her face. “I tried to recreate it so many times but it was never like this one. Thank you for keeping it.”

“Thank you for inspiring me.” Delacroix smirked. “You have got a special talent Miss, and a little bird told me you are as equally as good to create them.” She stared at Fiona.

“Ah, I do what I can with what I got.” She dismissed, but when taking in the woman’s words, she turned back at her. “Wait, what do you mean by inspiring you?” Without saying a word, the modiste walked to a curtain and opened it, revealing Belle’s design of her dreams put to reality. The girl gasped as she slowly walked to it, her eyes never shone as bright as now. “Madame, this is gorgeous...” She breathlessly said.

“It’s yours.” Belle quickly turned at her and chuckled nervously.

“What do you mean by mine?” Fiona suppressed a laugh at her miss's reaction.

“Well, I made it for you. Technically, you made it for yourself.” She explained, signing Belle to walk closer to it.

“But I can’t afford it, and how will I even hide it from my family? There is no way-” Her Lady’s maid interrupted.

“Miss, you deserve this.” Fiona held her hands. “You deserve this night.”

“And we already have half a plan created for this. The payment is no matter, as long as you keep sharing those designs with me. As for the ball, tomorrow you will sneak here and prepare to go.”

“I am speechless.” Belle said as she stared at the modiste and squeezed the maid’s hands. “But deeply grateful.”

“You went through enough with your sister’s antics. It is time for you to be you genuinely, at least for the night. Now go home and plan for tomorrow, because it is your big day.” Delacroix stated, and this time the girl agreed without doubt.

Unlike most of balls, Benedict was genuinely expecting the Masquerade ball his mother planned. He wore one of his most elegant pieces and a dark mask compelling to the theme. As he walked along his family through the guests they stole many glances, because even with their masks on, it was impossible to not recognize a Bridgerton.

After settling on a corner while everyone kept on getting to the ballroom, Cressida made her appearance and everyone froze at the sight of her dress. Even Benedict found the attire oddly different for her, yet beautiful. The girl, with a smug smile, took no time on getting near to literally fetch her sister away.

“Guess the dress made its job.” She said as a greet.

“Indeed.” Eloise agreed. “Did Madame Delacroix do it?”

“Oh, no. It’s from an undiscovered designer.” She lifted her brows with airs of superiority.

“I see. Well, what about your Mama, is she with your sister?” Eloise asked, and Benedict thanked on her insides because he didn’t have the guts to do so.

“My mother is with Miss Lowell, and poor little Isabelle was feeling under the weather tonight. Her absence is not missed anyway.” Benedict was amused, as the girl didn’t even hide her arrogance. He would lie if he said he wasn’t disappointed towards the girl’s not attendance, and quickly drifted away from their conversation as there was no point getting involved in it. As he took the ambiance of the ballroom trying to see a friendly face, his eyes met a person who was already staring at him. The sight was to be put in a museum; her blue dress with glittery details had a pattern no one had seen before, and her long hair cascaded down her shoulders with such grace no one could imitate. Before even realizing his body naturally moved towards the mystery girl he couldn’t recognize because of the mask, but the second she smiled at him Benedict knew he was already sold to it. When near enough to hear her, his gut tried to tell him something about this gorgeous girl.

“Is it me, or haven’t we met before?” He asks while tilting his head, owned by mere curiousness. “If we haven’t that needs to be fixed at this instant.” The man added, with his characteristic lopsided grin.

“We have, but the context is so different it is like we are meeting all over again.” Benedict’s smile widened when recognizing it was Belle’s voice, making him take a second to stare up and down at her impeccable appearance adorned by the most charming smile he ever saw. The blue she wore that night was definitely becoming her favorite color.

“Them I’m pleased to introduce myself, my Lady.” He softly grabbed her gloved hand and kissed it while making eye contact. “Benedict Bridgerton at your service.”

“Tell me, Mr. Bridgerton. How can a lady have fun in this night? I’m afraid I’m new to the intricacies of a Masquerade ball.” She asked with a smile, trying to calm herself from his touch.

“Ah, you’ve met the indicated for that. For starters, you must allow me your first dance.” He said, without letting go of her hand. Belle nodded, and didn’t miss a second by softly leading her to the dancefloor.

“Were you expecting seeing someone in particular tonight?” She asked, as they began softly moving.

“Well,” Benedict began, while securing his grip on her waist. “I was expecting for a certain lady to show, but her sister mentioned something about her being under the weather.” Belle chuckled, of course Cressida would say so.

“Poor lady, if only she had sneaked out in a secret dance, she would be enjoying being bold without surpassing the limits of proper.” She quoted, making him smirk. “And, dancing with one of the most desire gentleman of the ton.” After hearing that, in one swift movement Benedict changed his grip from her hip to her back.

“Careful there, Miss.” He softly said as they twirled. “You here with that dress and attitude, make me feel things that don’t address me as a gentleman.”

She let out a nervous chuckle as they swirled around the ballroom, all eyes on the mysterious woman who got Benedict Bridgerton, the Eternal Bachelor, finally dancing with someone who wasn’t his family. And Belle? Enjoying not having a name, defying her family’s pressure, dancing with someone she genuinely wanted to dance. She wishes the night would never end, but she knew very well she had an expiration date.

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seineko · 10 months ago

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minors do not interact!

warning(s): the usual smut warning, and also diluc just ruining me for everyone else cause he's sending my standards up to heaven.

well, it took over my mind and i decided to write it down.

it's just expanding on something i've already said before.

diluc's biggest strength with it comes to you (or more specifically when it comes to use against you) is his perception.

he was just as - if not more - inexperienced than you when you got into a relationship; especially the physical aspect of it.

and honestly, it was kind of mind-boggling how fast he had become so good.

so good that he completely ruined you for any other human being that existed in teyvat. (not that you were planning on leaving him for the next few lives, so it's a total win-win situation.)

he somehow becomes a bit more better - at everything from holding hands to fucking you (or, as he likes to call it, loving you) - each time he does it.

the slightest of shift in your fingers has him adjust his palm around yours that makes it so comfortable and warm. he gets it right down to the centimetre.

in the same aspect, the smallest of shift in your body has him move around his arms and chest to wrap himself around you - or you, him - that makes you feel like you are in the safest possible bubble teyvat has to offer. all the while being able to breathe.

the way you move your lips when he so eagerly, and lovingly, kisses you traces out a map for him to move his mouth and tongue in the exact way which makes you weak in the knees.

even the almost inaudible gasp you let out when his mouth makes it way down from your neck to kiss - and sometimes bite - each spot lets him know where his tongue should spend much longer on.

your fingers digging into his scalp while he has his tongue and fingers in you guides him to find the best spot, either to spend hours on it or completely avoid it to frustrate you further, depending on the day.

the hitching of your breath and the whimpers combined, when he pushes himself inside you, has him know exactly which spot to concentrate upon and how to do so; slower and much more sweet or rougher and very demanding. both of them render you boneless and mindless under him.

the cry you let out as the orgasm hits you lets him know if or not you can continue for much longer and many more times.

and, finally, the tone with which you tell him that you love him after climbing down from the feeling of euphoria is how he knows if to bring a washcloth to clean you up or carry you to the bath.

diluc has never appreciated his perception more.

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littlespacecadets · 1 year ago

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🌟 Pacifiers 101 🌟

✨ Whether you call it a pacifier, soother, dummy, paci, or any other name, many cadets aboard the little space station enjoy them! Here's the rundown of things you should know about them before you buy one! ✨

🌠 An adult sized pacifier is the safe and best choice. 🌠

While baby pacifiers are more easily accessible, they aren't meant for people with bigger mouths/teeth. Baby pacis are too short and are only able to reach just past your teeth. Pacifiers are supposed to end up at the roof of your mouth, which is why different sizes exist in the first place. If a paci is too short/small, then there are two outcomes:

Instead of your tongue keeping your paci from slipping out, you would bite down on it to keep it in place. Clenching your jaw shut for too long can cause aches and pain in both your jawline and your teeth.

If you attempt to suck your baby paci, your tongue will push itself against your front teeth repeatedly. This repeated force from your tongue is strong enough to push your teeth forward, which, if done excessively and over a long enough time frame, can lead to either an overbite or underbite. Long before that happens however, your front teeth will ache.

Adult pacifiers should not cause these problems. There are only a very few exceptions where they would not help, and I'll list them:

You have barely lost your front teeth. Teeth and genetics are weird, and while the majority of people will have lost their front teeth when they were 6 or 7, some people lose their baby teeth later than that. Some individuals even get an entire second set of adult teeth! If any of these situations apply to you, then using any pacifier (but especially a too small one) after your new teeth have grown in is an unwise idea. There are gaps in the bone underneath your gumline, which means your teeth are especially sensitive to any type of pressure and are highly susceptible to shifting out of alignment. It typically takes a year for the bone underneath to solidify, in which case you should wait to use a paci until then.

You have braces/have barely gotten your braces removed. Similar to the circumstances above, if your teeth have recently been purposefully shifted into alignment, using a pacifier can cause aches and movement in your teeth. This can be prevented with the very important tool your dentist gave you: a retainer! Adult pacifiers fit perfectly behind your retainers, which will prevent any movement and/or pressure on your teeth. I would recommend not using your pacifier without a retainer until: you are instructed to stop using a retainer altogether or a year after you are instructed to use your retainer only while you're sleeping. These times are greater than if you had new teeth because the older you are, the longer your body takes to grow - this includes bone. The older you have dental work done, the longer it'll take for this bone to fully fill the space your teeth have vacated; if your dentist has instructed you to use your retainer for the rest of your life, I do not recommend using a pacifier for long periods of time without a retainer in place, as you have an increased risk of developing an overbite.

Your mouth is too small. The question is in which way your mouth too small? For example, if your teeth are too big for your mouth (and you may have even had some of them removed to make space/have straight teeth) then chances are that you would have to use an adult paci. However, if your teeth are short and otherwise child-sized, then you may instead find that the largest baby paci (36 months) will suit you fine and cause no pain. In this very specific circumstance, a baby pacifier may suit your needs better, as, to reiterate, as long as the paci ends at the roof of your mouth then you shouldn't have any problems.

🌠 The Care and Cleaning of Your Pacifier 🌠

All pacifiers should be properly cleaned and sanitized when you first get one. Afterwards, they should be routinely cleaned to prevent bacteria and germs from growing and entering your mouth, even if they don't seem dirty.

Wash it with warm water and dish soap. Take a clean cloth or towel, damp it with warm water, add a squirt of dish soap, and carefully clean the nipple and the back of the shield. Other soaps may not be food safe - as in, suitable for something you're going to be putting in your mouth - so it's best to be careful.

Use pacifier wipes. In stores, there exist specific wipes to clean pacifiers with! Some are vaguely flavored, so even if you might pop your paci in right after cleaning, it won't leave a chemical taste in your mouth.

In the event that your pacifier needs to be completely sanitized (such as dropped on the ground or other unsanitary place or if used during an illness) your options are:

If you have an undecorated pacifier, as in one without any added embellishments, then you can bring some water to a boil, disassemble and toss the paci in there, stir it around for 2-5 minutes, remove it, and allow it to cool completely before putting it back together and placing it in your mouth.

If you have a decorated pacifer, check with the seller to see if there are any specific cleaning instructions.

After using your pacifier, make sure it is dry before putting it in storage to prevent the development of germs and bacteria - if possible, cleaning it after usage is recommended for long term storage.

Storage can be any container or location that is clean and dry: an old lunch box, a new pencil case/box/bag, a new make-up bag, a tin container, a tupperware container, a mason jar, a Halloween pail, an Easter basket, a Valentine's Day box/tin/mailbox, and even a drawer are all examples of what you can use. If your pacifier storage can be easily cleaned, then feel free to use it!

🌠 Pacifier Usage 🌠

While using your pacifier, it's best to avoid the practices that can lead to aches and pain, as previously mentioned.

Your tongue should not be touching or pushing against your front teeth at any point in the process, as this is what commonly leads to teeth aches and teeth shifting out of alignment. On top of this, you run the risk of becoming comfortable resting your tongue against your teeth even when you aren't using your pacifier, which can also lead to your teeth shifting out of alignment.

Instead, your tongue should be resting along the bulb of the nipple, which should be right below your hard or soft pallet. Suckling may push the bulb towards the back of the mouth (or, your tongue moves along the stem of the nipple), but as long as your tongue doesn't brace the nipple against any teeth, you shouldn't experience any discomfort.

You may be tempted to bite down on your pacifier to keep it in your mouth, but as long as it's properly sized, that's not necessary. In fact, biting down on it can strain your jaw, similar to how teeth grinding can do the same. If you find yourself doing this often, with the jaw pain to go along with it, you may find it better to buy a mouth guard - some models even have a pacifier-like exterior, and you can view them as a more teether-like alternative.

When using your pacifier for long periods of time, you may begin to notice discoloration alongside the corners/edges of your mouth. This is common for people who use pacifiers, people who have retainers, or people who produce more saliva/drool more than average.

Don't fret! Lip balms that promise "lip repair", "intense therapy", and "skin protecting" can be used at the corners of your mouth to soothe any irritation and prevent future discoloration from occurring again. If these are unavailable, petroleum jelly may help.

✨ Class dismissed - now go ahead and get the pacifier of your dreams, cadet!✨

#greetings and salutations cadets! just popping in again to drop this and nothing else #let's all ignore that this post has been in my drafts for 2 years 😅#saw a post and it made me realize i probably should've posted this a while ago whoops #agere #age regression #age regressor #babyre #totre #lsc post #tips

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heavenlyraindrops · 5 months ago

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♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty Three♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Three Warnings: profanity, Alastor is an asshole Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty Three]

“He’s planning to what?”

You stared at Velvette and Valentino in shock. Valentino groaned, readjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the couch. Velvette rolled her eyes.

“What? It’s not really a big deal.”

“It sure fuckin’ is if he’s gonna probably tear down the princesses hotel in the process,” you spluttered.

“Well, you knew this would happen if Alastor pissed him off again,” Velvette sighed, exasperated. You were almost shaking with frustration at their dismissive behaviour.

“What did that red… twink even do this time?” No, I need Alastor alive. You shook the thought away. Hah, like Vox’ll kill him anyways. You turned to look outside the large red windows, scratching at your arms. Could he?

“Uh, nothing, Vox just woke up today and was probably on his period or something,” Velvette said, not looking up from her phone. Your eye twitched.

“There has to be a reason.”

Velvette rolled her eyes, slamming the phone down. “Look, babes, he’ll be fine.”

Your mind flashed to Charlie and Vaggie, Lucifer, even though you didn’t want it to, and unwelcome concern swelled in your chest. “It’s not him I’m worried about.”

Valentino and Velvette both quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, whether it was out of disinterest or that they were simply too intimidated to ask, watching you pace around the room clawing at your hair, you didn’t know. And weren’t specifically bothered to try and find out.

“The princesa could probably take care of herself,” Valentino scoffed. “And she has her daddy too, doesn’t she?”

You flinched, then scowled. “Ugh, shut your fat mouth. Your breath smells like all those cocks you suck.” The constant stress had turned your tongue sharp.

Valentino threw his hands in the air. “Uh, for your information, I’m the one getting sucked,” he retorted, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, so you’re a whore, nice to know.”

Velvette stood up, sighing as she patted down her hair. “Babes, Val was right. For the uh,” she side eyed him. “First bit. It’s not likely Vox will be able to land a single dent on the princesses little passion project.”

You swallowed your formulating words, retorts, arguments, like pills, using Valentino and Velvette’s logic as the water to make it go down. They were right. But then-

“Well, aren’t you concerned about Vox?”

Velvette shrugged. “He’ll be fine. He’ll realize he’s out of his depth and come crawling back. Or, he doesn’t and we’ll just bail him out. Now sit down and shut up.”

You licked your lips nervously, but didn’t say anything, instead crossing your arms and squeezing into the couch next to Vel. Everything fell quiet.

“But there has to be a reason,” you said finally.

Velvette and Valentino groaned.

“Listen ángel, Voxxy gets pissed over nothing all the time. Just wait for him to come back soon or go get him if you’re so worried.”

You chewed your lip, worried about running into Lucifer at the hotel, yet- maybe you wanted that. You let out a frustrated groan, grating at the back of your throat.

“Ugh fuck you,” you muttered to no one in particular as you burrowed your way deeper into the couch cushions. Velvette rolled her eyes and turned back to her phone.

Ping.

“Oh, lovely.” She rolled her eyes. You stood up.

“What is it? It’s him, isn’t it?”

She pursed her lips.

“Isn’t it?”

“I- yeah. Maybe we should go to-“

You were already out the door.

Alastor chuckled, tapping the top of his microphone with a clawed finger. A small buzz emitted from it.

“Why the fuck would you provoke an overlord and bring them to our doorstep?” Vaggie snarled, running her hands through her hair. Charlie looked stricken. Alastor sighed, readjusting his gloves as he peered out through the window.

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take care of it,” he snapped, smile strained. Vaggie’s voice grated along his ears- could she be more irritating?

The TV played on in the background. Your face flashed on the screen, smiling contentedly as you held a phone to your ear.

Voxtech- it’s angel approved!

You turned to look straight at the camera, and winked, speaking: “Trust us!”

Alastor’s jaw clenched.

Lucifer stared at your face wordlessly, enraptured for a split second, then turned to Alastor. “He sounded pretty riled up when he, uh-“ he pointed at the screen- “showed up on our fucking TV and started cursing you out!”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “He’ll most likely show up by himself in a fit of anger-“

“What did you say to him?” Charlie groaned.

He flexed his fingers. “It’s not my fault I simply wanted to address his obsession with me. How was I meant to know I’d strike a nerve?” His smile widened.

Truth be told, he did know it would strike a nerve. He’d lure you to the hotel directly, but had no means of contacting you- he just counted on you showing up as Vox’s backup should things go south for the flatscreen TV. And if that meant slagging Vox using his heartbreak and trauma as a basis, how could he refuse? It was two birds with one stone.

And as for toying with Vox’s feelings- well. Alastor adjusted his bow tie. Romantic feelings were unfathomable, and therefore, not his problem- especially if they belonged to Vox.

As for his motivations?

He took a single glance at Lucifer’s face, the shadows under his eyes, the lines of stress, the way he longingly looked at your face on the television, and the satisfaction that stirred in the Radio Demon’s chest said more than enough. Not only that, but if he could use your emotions to his advantage, he could even lay claim to your soul. Imagine the things he could do with an angel by his side, at his beck and call… his mouth watered at just the thought-

“Alastor…” Vaggie’s voice was a low warning.

“What if he’s angry enough to bring [name] along with him?” Charlie wailed, then froze. “What if she smites us?”

Lucifer groaned. “Charlie, [name] isn’t that powerful.” His throat clenched up. “You have me, I’ll just…”

“What? Kill her?” Alastor suggested. Lucifer flinched, hard.

“I’ll kill you first, Bambi,” he hissed. Alastor laughed.

“Still can’t believe you’d rile up another overlord on purpose,” Vaggie snapped. Alastor rolled his eyes, a dull ache forming in the back of his head.

“It will be completely fine,” he drawled. “Vox can hardly lay a finger on this place.”

“He better not,” Vaggie spat.

Something crashed outside, accompanied by a shout and then: “Come out, you red fucker!” Causing everyone to look at each other simultaneously.

“That’s your cue,” Lucifer snapped, flicking his head at the door. Alastor’s lip curled wryly.

He stepped outside.

Vox clutched his arm where he had tripped and fallen, from spontaneously shooting out of a street lamp- charming, sure. Alastor tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “May I help you?”

“You know what the fuck you did,” Vox snarled. “Sometimes, you bastard, you just take things too far.”

“So what? Everything I said was true. Plus, are three rejections not enough for you to take the hint?” He smirked, tapping his cane on the ground.

“Rejections from what?” Vox hissed, eyes narrowing. “Stop making it out like I fucking asked you out or something.”

“Oh, but you wanted me, didn’t you?” Alastor taunted. “Shame that disappearing for seven years couldn’t shake you off- you are quite clingy.” Twisted versions of the truth spilled from his lips, woven as quickly as they were spoken. “I wonder how Valentino feels.” He sighed. “Shame he still indulges in all those other… people, despite your obvious attempts to make a true connection- it seems he simply doesn’t want to commit. Although, is it to you specifically, or…?”

“Oh, piss off. Stop stalking my sex life.” Vox’s voice wavered. “And Valentino doesn’t make commitments.”

Alastor snapped his fingers. “So it is that.”

Vox almost short circuited, and without thinking, he threw himself at Alastor, who pulled away before Vox could touch him.

“Oh, you wanna dance?” Vox spat.

Alastor’s shoulders tensed. Vox’s face split into a pissed grin.

“Let’s fucking dance.”

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yey56 · 2 months ago

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HOME

Thorin Oakshield x Modern reader. (Implied to be Spanish)

You've been 10 years in middle earth, at first you were confused and lost, the language everyone talked was what you knew as English or as they referred to, common tongue. Even though you didn't knew what happened and where were you, you tried to adapt as quickly as possible. You cut your hair short pretending to be a young boy and enlisted yourself in a monastery as an scribe.

One day, after running away from that monastery you met Gandalf, after one week of traveling together (because he insisted that it was not save for a young boy to wander alone) you confessed to him your situation and that you were actually {gender}

He took you to Rivendell and after a lot of prove Gandalf improvising and convincing, you proved your situation to the elves who decided to let you stay. You read and studied magic and became really eager to learn more and more, you hunger for knowledge only growing each day; after years of trying you finally managed to perform magic even though you were human.

You became a good sorcerer, exploring the world to find old scriptures, runes and other magical things.

After 12 years in middle earth and already settled in a place you could call home; out of the blue you received a visit from Gandalf who wanted you to join with him as extra magic assistance to some dwarfs quest to regain their home, at the start things were tense you were only talking to Gandalf, Bilbo and occasionally the Durin brothers, but after multiple near death experiences you were able to make good friends with most of the group.

Of course some dwarfs were slower to warm up to you, like Dwalin, who unlike his brother Balin (God bless his soul) took a long time, but nonetheless you established a mutual respect with each other that was near friendship, and of course Thorin. What is there to say about him? You guys do not get along, well sometimes you do but that's the exception not the norm.

You're both very demanding and authoritative so of course whenever he order something and you do not agree with it, the dwarfs and Bilbo already expect a war between you two.

You don't like how he expects you and Bilbo to just agree blindly with everything insult he throws your way and he doesn't like how you are always questioning him like a freaking philosopher.

Whenever the company wasn't sure what the right direction was:"are you sure we're heading east?"

Every time he insulted you and Bilbo: "you think you are oh so high and mighty but you got lost more than once heading to Bilbo's home."

When all of you got lost AGAIN: "Don't blame me, if you were able to get lost in the shire what should I expect?"-yeah, you LOVED to remind him of his lack of sense of direction.

Oh and his favourite: "quit you're grumpy ass, you undermine the morale" THE AUDACITY!

No one ever has had the courage to talk that way to him, and every time you opened you mouth to answer him everything he received was sass.

He didn't even comprehend why would you help them, neither you or the hobbit had nothing to do with Erebor and yet here you were, helping them to regain they're home.

And of course asking you was not an option since your conversations were based on mutual roasting.

But he wasn't blind either, even though you were known for being always joking and with a really cheerful behaviour he had observed you while you were on watch or when you were riding your horse.

I'm those specific moments you seem to space out for a while and your face turned into a melancholic gaze, almost longing. You seem to be remembering something that brings you pain.

Like tonight for example. You were on watch with him since you both tended to sleep less, it wasn't uncommon for you to not talk during these watches. But this time Thorin was trying to mentally prepare himself to ask you the question which answer that had him so impatient.

Again you were with that relaxed yet perturbed face, looking at the fire as if it had all of the answers in the world.

Finally he managed to murmur something: "(y/n), why are you helping us retake Erebor. What do you seek to find in this quest"- the question came more harshly than he intended.

This was the first time he referred to you by your name, usually he would talk to you without saying your name or referring to you as human or woman. You knew this was a serious question and not just another way to start a fight.

You looked away from the fire and directed your eyes towards his blue ones. You stayed like that for a moment until you finally responded

(Y/n): Thorin, you know that I am not from. This world right?- he looked at you and nodded- well, I cannot go back home, I'm trapped here.- you voice trembled a little, not enough for it to be noticeable- probably forever.

Another silence was formed, he though he had make you uncomfortable and was going to apologise, but you continued talking.

(y/n): I don't have a chance to go back home, but you do. All of you do, you have a chance- (a low one)- you mumbled.- but a chance after all.

Thorin: (y/n)- he started not knowing how to react to that, he knew the feeling very well, to crave a home. Before he could continue you interrupted him.

(y/n):that's the reason I want to help you Thorin, I want to help you achieve what I cannot- you said, now the tremble of your voice being noticeable, you were smiling calmly at him but in your eyes there was a deep hurt, a pain he could identify in himself.

He then noticed that you were in similar situations, you've mentioned before how you appeared here unwillingly and how you didn't know your way back, now he new there was no way back for you.

That was the root of that glance, all of that pain. In your world you probably had friends, family; maybe the reason of your lack of sleep was because you dreamed about you homeland and yet you couldn't reach it. Just like him.

Before he could try to apologise or offer words of confort you had already went to your bedroll.

Now he understood, you were just as homeless as they were, and even though you were still willing to help others who were in a situation like yours.

After that night in which you opened to him he started to be a little more soft with you. Hell he even started to make small chat with you. At first there just things about your time in middle earth: places you visited, the experiences you had, in what you has worked all this time, what made you so attracted to magic. And of course you also question him about his life

You started to enjoy a lot more his company and also you started changing your opinion on him, now he was only half an asshole :)

But as time passed you conversations started to get a little more personal, he started to get curious about your home.

The improvement of your relationship with the leader of the company didn't go unnoticed. Fili and Kili were the first to notice, you both changed from fighting like sworn enemies to chatting like old friends. Also Balin, who was very observant, noticed how Thorin's gaze was softer whenever he talked to you, relaxed even.

One night he asked you a question about your world when all of you were eating, this obviously caught the attention of the others who stared bombarding you with questions about it. Your culture, gastronomy, customs, language, religion...

You spend all that night telling them about you world and most specific, your country.

You teach them simple words and expressions like:

Joder, hola, madre mía, adiós, amigo, montaña, flauta ...

Dwalin was the one who started implementing your insults to his vocabulary, and his brother, Balin sometimes greeted you in your native tongue.

Since you had shared so much about your culture with them, the dwarfs and the hobbit also started expressing more about their own cultures. Little words un Kuzdul were teached to you and Bilbo by Balin and Ori.

Bofur Kili and Fili teached you about some songs they liked to sing.

Thorin looked at the scene with happiness in his eyes, you were besides Ori, he was the one that got most involved with your language and was determined to learn it. His nephew's and Bilbo were beside you, hearing everything you were explaining about grammar.

He felt his heart warming, your melancholic glances were less and less each day and his ability to takes his eyes off you was weaker each passing day.

That night the both of you had to stay on watch again, the difference was that, unlike 6 moths ago the atmosphere was no longer tense. You had share a lot of yourself with him, the longing for your family, for the landscapes of your city for the feeling of a home. And he had reciprocated your trust with his own.

He got lost in your concentrated face as you draw some simple runes to show him how they worked, it was there when he realised he loved you, he loved your dedication, he loved you strengt, he loves your sarcastic comments, your witty tongue and overall you will power.

He could not replace your home but he wished that once he Erebor was retaken he could offer you one, with him in the mountain.

#thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #x reader #x yn

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mellowswriting · 2 years ago

Note

Can we see soft Ghost? nothing specific, I trust your judgment!!!😉

let me take care of you

pairing || Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

word count || 1.8k

summary || Simon can’t bring himself to leave your side after a mission gone sideways.

content || fluff, hurt/comfort, Simon is so in love it HURTS, injured!Reader (but it isn’t too serious), vague descriptions of injury

a/n || I loved writing this so much 😤 thank you for the request!!!

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Simon’s brain screams at him to turn back with every single step he takes. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. A thousand reasons run through his mind - it’s late, you should be resting, he hasn’t even debriefed yet. All of that is drowned out by one thought that plays on repeat. He needs to see you. Now.

The medical bay is practically deserted and Simon is grateful. He isn’t supposed to be here at this hour and doesn’t have the energy to argue or strongarm his way into your room. The harsh echo of his boots against the linoleum sounds impossibly loud but he can’t bother to walk with caution. It’s been four days since he loaded you up on that evac chopper with a tourniquet cinched on your thigh. The time for poise has long since passed. He won’t be able to breathe freely until he can see you with his own eyes, alive and well and giving him that smile that makes him melt. If only he could fucking find you.

A nurse rounds the corner and Simon tenses as her eyes fall on him. He expects annoyance, maybe an admonishment - but she just smiles knowingly.

“She’s in bed six.” She nods toward a curtain-covered corner hidden away in the far back of the room. “She wanted the most isolated space for when you all got back. That one’s hard to argue with, you know that?”

“Better than most,” Simon murmurs. “Thank you.”

The sight of you makes his chest tighten. You’re awake, much to his dismay, but you look surprisingly well-rested for someone covered in injuries - some of which he didn’t even know you had. The bruises along your side and stitches in your upper arm throw him off. It kills him how good you are at shaking off the pain. You can hide the blood and damage better than most and he hates it. All of it looks like hell but despite it all, you still smile at him like he hung the moon and stars in your sky.

“Don’t even give me that look. I’m fine.” You reassure him. The shock must have been obvious on his face.

“You got shot, Sargeant. There is nothing fine about that.” Simon sighs as he tugs the curtain closed. Just having you in his sight has him aching to touch you but he’s terrified that he could hurt you even more. Guilt already eats away at him for not keeping you safe to begin with.

“C’mon, don’t ‘Sargeant’ me.” You give him that pout that never fails to weaken his resolve. Fuck, you know him too well. He’s wrapped around your pretty little finger and he wouldn’t have it any other way. You toss your hands up in faux exasperation and drag yourself into a cross-legged position. “Do I have to get out of this bed and show you just how fine I am? Or can I give you the welcome back kiss I had planned?”

“Don’t be dramatic.” As much as he grouses, Simon still comes right to you nonetheless.

He had the foresight to clean himself up before coming to you. All the dirt and grime from the field wouldn’t be good for you, he reasoned. No need to put you at more risk. His hair is still damp beneath the plain black balaclava he opted for and the taste of his tooth past still lingers in his mouth. All in the hopes of this moment. The air stretches thin between you as you tug the mask up enough to expose his mouth. Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips and Simon doesn’t even bother to hold himself back. Need crashes through him in harsh waves that drag all reason into the undertow to be lost forever.

Moments like these are the closest he has ever felt to peace.

Your relieved sigh against his lips is a salve to his aching, weary soul. Simon can feel it in the way your fingers fan out against his cheek, in every brush of your tongue against his lower lip - you needed this just as much as he did. His hand settles firmly at the back of your neck, holding you so close to him that you can barely escape him to draw in a breath. The last line of tension eases at the feeling of your heartbeat pounding beneath his fingertips. You’re here. You’re okay. You haven’t left him.

Simon presses his forehead to yours and draws in a deep breath. Your thumb brushes his cheekbone in slow, soothing circles and he can’t help but lean into your touch. He swore to himself that he was only going to check on you for a few moments and leave you to rest, but he can’t quite bring himself to draw away from you.

“Can… Can I, uh… stay?” Simon dies a little on the inside from just how awkward he sounds, but it doesn’t even phase you.

You just smile and scoot over to make space for him, because you know. You feel it, too. Fitting a man of his stature on such a small cot is a tight squeeze, but that only makes it better. He prefers holding you this way, with his body pressed so close to yours that he can’t tell where you end and he begins. Simon can’t rest until his face is tucked away in the crook of your neck and his arm is slung over your belly. His fingertips explore the bare skin exposed to him by your sports bra and lounge shorts, drifting carefully around the bruises and cuts. So soft, so warm.

“I kept lookin’ for you, y’know.” Simon mumbles into your throat. “Didn’t feel right, not havin’ you on my six.”

“I missed you, too, Si’.” You whisper, your voice already growing sleepier now that he’s wrapped around you. His mouth goes dry at your response. It never fails to punch him in the chest, how well you can par down to the meaning he can’t quite voice yet. Your hand settles on the back of his head and Simon aches for the privacy of his own room, just to take off his mask and feel your fingers in his hair. “I know how much you hate the whole mandatory leave thing, but I’m glad I’ll have you here for the next month.”

Simon hums a sound of agreement. You are the only thing that makes it all bearable, without even trying. Just sitting in each other’s presence as you both do paperwork, arguing over whose place to sneak off to for the night, dragging each other around mats for some sparring practice. Nothing else matters as long as you’re in his sight. The closest he has ever been to domestic bliss is the moments he spent with you on leave. Those are the memories he holds most fondly. You, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts as you patter about his kitchen making coffee. Watching you drool against his chest as you finally get to sleep in for the first time in weeks. Half carrying you back to bed after one too many drinks with Johnny.

“They’re finally letting me out of here tomorrow morning.” You sigh a moment later. “I’ll get to stare at the ceiling of my own room for a few weeks, then desk duty for a few more. Yay.”

The sarcasm in your voice is palpable, but he can hear the undercurrent of loneliness that you try to hide from him. Not one of Task Force 141 likes being sidelined while everyone else takes on the dirty work, but you’ve always taken it harder than the others. You’ve dealt with people underestimating your abilities for your entire career and that old wound has never had the chance to heal. Being left out, even for good reason, feels like digging fingers into a bruise. Of course, you also worry after the team - your boys, as you call them. They tend to be a little too off-kilter without you there to balance everything out and you know it, too. Simon hates the idea of you stuck here alone, chewing your nails down to the quick as you conjure up worst cases and what-ifs.

An old urge rears its head, one that becomes harder to stifle as the intimacy you share flourishes. His resolve weakens with every moment spent with you. Whether you’re asleep in his arms or saving his ass in the middle of a firefight, it has never mattered. Wherever he is, he wants you there with him - no matter the circumstances. He doesn’t want to fight this anymore. It’s exhausting to constantly deny himself something he craves so deeply. The idea of relenting to his desires has been forgone for so long that anything beyond his basic needs feels selfish.

Simon leans back to look at you suddenly enough that you meet his eyes inquisitively. Your eyebrows quirk as you chuckle, “What?”

“Come stay with me. Not just until you get better. For good.” Simon’s voice is steely as he spits out the words that force him into the abyss of uncertainty. Vulnerability has never been his strong suit but the way you look at him, eyes glittering with affection and surprise, make it all so goddamn worth it. He forces his tone to soften. “Just… let me take care of you, yeah?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. A soft, bright smile curls your lips, crinkles the corners of your eyes.

“Yeah,” You whisper. “I would love that.”

The relief that washes over him is nothing less than divine. Simon pulls the mask out of his way just enough to kiss you, a soft yet earnest brush of his lips against yours. All he wants is to pull you beneath him and engrave his love into your skin with every touch. You pull him closer with a honeyed sigh, your sweetness spreading across his tongue and down into his very core. Simon loses himself in your touch, in the peace your presence brings him. His fingertips dig into your jaw to hold you still as he takes in the sight of you. Your lips all spit slick and a little puffy from his attention, your eyes half-lidded but so bright and happy.

You smile up at him as you tug his mask back into place and shove his head back onto your shoulder. “No more dropping big things on me in my sickbed, Lieutenant. We both need sleep.”

Simon may be the superior officer in the room but he follows your orders like a good soldier. You’re right, as always. He’s fucking exhausted. Sleep hasn’t been easy to find in the last few days with all of the uncertainty but now that he’s back in your arms, it comes with ease. He takes in the warmth of your body as he settles in, his fabric-covered nose brushing along your throat.

He falls asleep to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat fluttering beneath his fingertips.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfic

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seokka0o · 2 years ago

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ɪ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ

Goo Gunil ♡ Afab!reader

Synopsis: You fell into his trap. easy, fast, so trying to invent your quick escape seemed like the solution, somehow coming out on top, which causes your first mistake. being so strongly attracted to gunil certainly wouldn't work, you have to imagine that all that hate would go somewhere and it landed you in the seat of gunil's car.

Description: Band!au ; enemies to enemies that fuck :)

Warning: smut; manipulation; fingering, making out, protected sex, masturbation ; car sex ; strength kink

5.3k

Author: I suffered, but there's the first chapter. I think the hardest part was actually starting, I kind of didn't know where to go and that left me stuck on this chapter for a long time, so I believe the next ones come out better, I hope at least. About updating each one, I intend to do a cap per month, so I can focus on writing some other things as well.

Prologue | Moodboard

Not fully proofread

To read and understand this chapter, read the previous one

"wait!" you called before the door gave its ultimatum and closed. gunil looked at you over his shoulder, practically cutting you in half, his hands closed into a fist and you sighed deeply. maybe you were feeling too ripped off to quote the part where you were giving in to gunil's antics.

"Do you really think they'll believe you?" you snatched. gunil smiled mischievously and stepped inside, closing the door behind him again.

"I'm not sure... maybe" Gunil shrugged and walked back towards you, stopping again in front of you

“come on y/n, you won't need to try too hard…” gunil brushed your hair, dark eyes towards you, and then the beautiful smile broke out again “just one way on your people and I won't do anything… .well, nothing you don't want me to do ”

gunil had a very specific voice melody , it felt like hypnosis, the worst kind of man by far, you should have known from the start this wasn't going to end well, but it took until the last second, his speech silenced you, you maintained intense eye contact before he cut and trimmed his head on the side of your face, sighing the warm air close to your ears and smiling right away.

"Cat got your tongue?" He whispered bringing a warm shiver to your skin, your eyes fixed on the living room wall and your lips tingling from missing his kiss.

You stammered, not out of fear, but anger mingled inside you and became a bone-shaking, intense tangle. Gunil cast a sideways glance and noticed the tears that were gathering in your eyes and with an utterly boastful air he grabbed you by the chin and made you look into your eyes.

"You're an asshole" you said tearfully, still trying to demonstrate something that would be able to keep the gunil away from you, even if at that point you didn't know if you really wanted him away.

"Yeah, I know that" he replied with a pride stamped on his chest, he demonstrated the kind of person that made you attracted and then he took your lips as if minutes ago he hadn't threatened you in some way. "And you like it" he whispered.

You followed the fine line, you tended to fall into crazy talk easily, but you attest to that when you promptly received his lips, with a certain abstinence, but you accepted it willingly.

The sigh escaped your lips when you felt him using the strength he had to sit you down on the teacher's desk, that was the beginning of your headache, when you murmured as he pulled your lower lips and deepened the kiss in a way solid, grabbing you and squeezing your thigh over your pants.

Your hand traveling on the chest guarded by the tight t-shirt and you proclaimed that you would somehow make that place your fun spot, without thinking about the consequences of it, feeling the pressure of his body on yours firmly, eliciting a considerable moan from your lips.

The sassy hand traveling your spaces, the tongue invading your mouth in a wet, sexy kiss, gunil wanted to ensure your doom before the sun went down, or you even had time to think about the shit he were doing.

The pressure of the touch of the lips changing the measure of his good will; gunil took the necessary time, you felt like it wasn't something that grew just because of the alcohol itself, you could clearly say that you've never felt a kiss like that in your life.

When he felt it was time, gunil guided you to lie down on the table and broke the kiss to run his seals down your neck, making his breath warm over your skin to feel it.

"What's the good, kitten " whispered gunil against your skin and then he stood up to watch you, sly smile on his lips and he goes back to keeping his hands on your thighs, opening them for him little by little, pressing himself in the middle moving your bodie in a harmony of his, his awakened member touching your covered intimacy with such precision it made you roll your eyes "will you cooperate?"

Being too honest, you didn't give a shit, the clouded mind took you out of any condition to take in, the sight of him between your legs made you drip, the need for gunil inside you was overwhelming. Then you thought: "fuck it, he's already lying anyway, with some reason and some pleasure in it"

"I-I will" you stammered, feeling stupid, uncontrollably horny, a cornered animal

"Very well" he smiled again, leaned towards you, leaving a seal on the corner of your lips "see you around"

He whispered leaving you confused and then he left, definitively, your stagnant body only returned to reality when the door slammed deep, leaving you together with your thoughts, and your wet panties. It was something unavoidable to feel, you waited for the heat to subside and twisted your leg before getting ready to go outside.

Coming home was never so torturous in your entire life, nothing seemed to resolve your situation, so you thought a shower would help, wash your soul of all tension and go back to bed and rest. It seemed like it was too much for your body to take in so clearly, you still felt numb, neglected by the sense of the pleasure you'd been denied.

At that moment you were already under the covers, watching a movie trying to distract when you found yourself slipping your hand inside your pajamas. it wasn't all that intentional, you were full of the feel of his hand on your body in such an uncompromising way, and the tension he created didn't seem to match the things that came out of his pert mouth. what was it? you had no idea what you were getting into.

Your head was full of thoughts about him, good or bad you found yourself in continual despair. The moan carefully escaped your lips, you were so wet it was almost deplorable; it was inevitable not to think about the sensation of his covered member touching you, the sensation of the touch of tongues, the message of him descending your body in kisses to your wet intimacy.

There was no need for any visual or auditory stimulus, you had the image of gunil clear in your head, as if he were there to somehow touch you and take away all that despair that wanted to consume your body at any cost.

"Bastard" you whimper, part your lips with your fingers and start exploring. Touching sensitive points before reaching the destination. Your hips moving in tandem with his audacious hand, you moaned once more, remembering the arms adorned and protruding from the gym, clearly remembering the strength he used each time to hold you close, the firmness he used to open your legs for him. Your eyes close and you start circling, moaning in sync, feeling everything tense, you were in a deep rage, the feeling of emptiness grew, your head flooding again, I wish he would have done the favor of fucking you in that damn room .

You started to circle faster, using your other hand to caress your own body, your back bending in a moment of pure despair and the damn gunil smile being the only thing you could visualize with the arrival of your limit, still an immense void to the end, but still an extreme desire to eliminate the drummer's life.

you didn't know what the hell you could do to get around that situation, even if inside you knew well that Gunil hadn't opened his mouth, the paranoia consumed you at gigantic levels and it's not because you were forbidden to talk about it or anything like that. you only had a problem with wanting to handle everything yourself, it seemed absurd to want to put the board in a situation where you clearly shouldn't be.

The fraternity still seemed reluctant, you presented articles and more articles about why not to close the club and even so they wanted to keep the final decision, for a deadline that was getting shorter and shorter and definitely! that was far from not being your problem, from what it seems Gaon has a beautiful photo of the day of the night that you and Gunil are kissing like a crazy, where supposedly you should already be in charge of the club, a photo that he made it clear that if by chance everything went wrong he was going to do it all under the pretense of informing all the type of harassers you are trying to take advantage of your position by threatening them and the club's security for favors

a pack and motherfuckers who now had a gun over your head

setting up facades on top of facades and so you're the damn band went on a warpath.

the chaotic practices were the worst, you and gunil got into a few arguments throughout the week, the kind of nerves getting heated while the others watched the circus burn with delight, maybe it was too late to back out? no, you could get a big problem with being accused of abuse of power if by chance all this fell apart, so you shut up, you would have to deal with it yourself, there was no point in so much headache, that would have to be resolved as soon as possible.

“It's been quite a week for you, I've barely seen you during breaks” you sighed in agreement and laid down on the cafeteria table, closing your eyes so you could have some mental rest even if it was just for a few seconds.

“The end of the month is near, besides the exams I have to deal with this damn club” you replied to your friend with some disgust, making her laugh poking your arm, calling your attention to drink the coffee you had ordered earlier

“I thought it was going to be easier, because your making out with gunil seemed to pay off” you felt the twinge coming from the back of your neck, you cursed to the winds and picked up your coffee cup, taking a good drink

"don't remind me of that, i hate to say i regret doing things" you muttered in displeasure making your friend laugh

“there are certain evils that come to the good, he shouldn't be so difficult to deal with if you use the right words y/n” she definitely didn't know what she was talking about, not even remotely, the whole situation made you nauseous and you didn't even have the desire to reveal such an atrocity in your friend's presence, is liable to bring the entire campus down and you are trying to maintain subtlety.

“I don't even know how to answer that, the occasion just drives me to despair, I can't let the fraternity close this club for anything on this earth” You finished your coffee, depositing it on the table

“I can try to help in some way and fit them into the closing event of the semester, but you'll need to convince the them to hold the club it until then… I think it can generate a good profit for the campus” you felt like a kind of nanny. it was as if everything in the lives of those blessed boys was now completely their business and that certainly wasn't in the plans. But that it was an idea to consider you wouldn't deny.

“I can see” you replied still lying on the table, keeping your eyes closed for your rest. "I need to go now"

you muttered under your breath getting up from your chair and pulling your backpack, it was time to go to that damn club and face the weirdos for a few more hours, hoping to keep your composure

“good luck” said your friend with a kind smile and you just waved your hand as you walked out of the cafeteria.

making your morbid way through the halls, pondering your attitudes and sighing heavily at the lack of encouragement, when did staying around become life's biggest current problem? maybe you should have stayed home that fateful night, but decided it would be a good idea to open the doors to a life full of adventure and now you had an unfortunate bastard threatening your reputation for nothing, you should have thought twice about considering that one Such a handsome guy would want something with you, because even if gunil says it was just a coincidence, you don't believe it, under those conditions everything should make you doubt it.

when entering the room you didn't look to the side, so you didn't notice who was there, or if there was even someone, you took your destination to your desk and sat down, lying on the table uninterested, a little frustrated in general terms.

you didn't want to have to deal with anything other than your persistent sleep, real life problems didn't need to be solved in your dreams, so you tried to try to get some sleep.

at least you were what I expected

"How rude of you not to say good morning" the drumsticks hit the drum hard, you felt that you were close to your end, maybe it was even a sign that you would finally be collected from this world to be able to have a good rest. But no, it was just Gunil, the damn drummer.

"Why should I if you don't care either?" You didn't look at him, you kept your head on the table and your eyes tightly closed, you felt like you might feel less scared that way.

" why should I care? You're going to be rude anyway, I just expected some minimal politeness at the very least." He objected.

You rolled your to gunil as if he had any right to demand some closeness from you, or to question your character in any way.

Obviously you pondered a lot what you should say at times like this, but nothing that came out of your lips seemed more effective, it was like fighting a wall.

"I don't want to fight with you today" you avoided looking at gunil quite often, the issues of that day seemed to stick in your throat every time "leave me alone for a while"

His drama time distracted your head, gunil was sitting right beside you when you jumped at his touch on your hair.

"What's the matter, honey? Are you still sad about that day?" Questioned Gunil, laughing at the not-so-gentle slap you gave over his hand

"No" you objected

"It's not what it seems, you barely challenge me now" gunil countered "I'm offended"

“Gunil, I'm not your kitten for you to be playing around like that” you said at last, without moving.

gunil was silent for a while and then he smiled without saying anything for a short period of time, you for a moment felt that he would have peace, but he was wrong again in an idea where he only did that out of desperation, not out of pure evil.

"Not really, but it's still interesting to see how you react to everything" gunil shrugged, it was an honorable way of demonstrating that at least he teased you that way because he liked it too.

"You're a fucking sadist" you mumbled and then exhaled through your lips. You held the silence without contesting, shrugged your shoulders and then moved your body to stand up "I'm leaving now, I don't want to deal with you for now"

You shouldered your backpack, looking at the gunil below you, with twinkling eyes in your direction and then you smiled in advance, as if he were a mutual friend of yours.

"I hear they are going to allow a new story in the newspaper, please be kind and give good feedback" said gunil one last time, smiling kindly. You cursed in response and quickly made your way outside. You didn't like the feeling of being alone with Gunill, or having to talk to him, even though the goofs in the rest of the club didn't offer you any security, it was better than being alone.

Outside the room, your legs felt a little wobbly, you had to lean against the wall cautiously and then get some air before walking back out of there, maybe having another coffee to take care of your own club later.

The remaining days lasted too long for your liking, you weren't sure if it was because of any situation you had seen, but some rumors already started to grow, soon towards the end of the day you heard that some people were saying that you used the club to have some privileges with some guys, fuck with them necessarily saying.

You ignored it as far as you could, you didn't want to make a fuss about anything, but the chill in your spine ran in a way that already indicated the end result of this joke, you were confident, little by little you were managing to get around the situation, it could be that they would be accepted for play at the end-of-semester festival, but gunil's recurring fear and hatred wanted to make you trip over your own feet and fuck with everything you were entitled to.

You were in the hallway, near the door of your office, your deep circles said how exhausted you looked. Your friend was talking about the seminar for the next few weeks when he walked by, across the hall, he didn't even hesitate to look at you, but you didn't miss a frame, damn you gunil and your good looks; he looked real when he disappeared down the hall, you gurgled and cut the subject at once

"I'm going, see you later" you said without waiting for answers, questions.

The footsteps became restless, you stomped so hard on the ground you thought you might break the second floor, your eyes glanced catching the last gunil step before disappearing down the hall, it ended in the parking lot, the car whistled and as soon as he put his hand to open it you practically ran to meet him.

"Hey" you said firmly. He glanced at you over his shoulder and smiled as he contemplated who he was dealing with. "We can talk?"

"Sure, but do you want to do it here?" He asked with his hand still on the car doorknob. You looked sideways and shrugged "come in"

He dictated, opening the door and then getting in the car, you stood on the outside, and then he looked at you as if waiting: "Fuck it" you thought before looking around and going around the vehicle, opening the door and getting in at once, feeling the car smell invade your nostrils.

"And then?" He asked

"Y-you haven't been saying anything around right?" You asked "we have an agreement and I'm doing what I can to resolve it"

You didn't want to believe you were being made an idiot of, even though it had been a long time. Even if the neutral expression on his face made you want to die for not being able to predict the answer.

"Me? Not necessarily, but you have to consider that there are six of us, the problem is not just me" gunil smiled, leaning back on the car seat.

"Don't come with that shit now, you have full control over them, just your guidance" you ended up losing a bit of your control in this situation, hated this suggestive form of gunil, as he was always very evasive. It made you want to punch him in the face until you didn't have any remnants of that pretty face to make fun of you anyway, it didn't seem to be anywhere near over and you already felt at your wits end, exhaustion taking everything you had. has, both physically and psychologically.

"Calm down kitten, I already told you, the problem is not just me, do you realize how popular jiseok is? It wouldn't take long to deduce that anyway" he completed, looking at the parking lot in a relaxed way.

"Your lack of concern gets on my nerves" you silently cursed

"But only because I know you'll give your all to save our club," he replied.

"I should throw it all on the fire honestly, you are a bunch of bastards" you shook your head, seeing gunil tilt his head to the side and then lean on the bench you were sitting on.

"Would you have that courage? Now that we were creating a good relationship" he said with a certain authority, deep down you felt that he was trying to make something clear between the lines, almost a way of coercing your exorbitant idea to try to get out of the corner.

"Good for who? Sometimes I think you're seriously crazy" it took you to believe that crazy for too long, now you had about thirty thousand obstacles in your way.

"You need to relax a bit, y/n, I feel bad about the last event" gunil started, his palm landed on your leg in a very comfortable way, as if he was used to practice.

"What are you doing?" You asked and he sighed in a way of shutting you up.

"See?! You're so rude...just like I was saying. I think it wasn't fair the way I treated you, even if it wasn't a big deal it still doesn't seem like the most Courteous way to treat someone" he began a caress Subtly on your thigh, he rose and fell as he kept his eyes on yours, a form of hypnosis that already seemed too repetitive.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about" you got around

"You know, look how nervous your body gets…" he whispered, forcing his fingers against your flesh, making a snarl leave your lips without warning "I'm sorry, should I redeem myself? Did you happen to touch yourself thinking about me? Or slept sad about what happened "

Damn his ability to read your mind, you didn't want to feel guilty but your mind took you back to the night you played with your body thinking about the atrocities he could have done to you and didn't.

"Your silence says a lot my dear, please let's play a little, it wouldn't be any fun if you gave up so soon." He completed, using the hand that was on the bench support to hold your chin, lifting your jaw, you took a deep breath, each time it was as if your senses disappeared and then you fell again, in the warm sensation of his lips touching yours, in an explosion of feelings you murmured returning with the need of a million years.

His hand started to move more intensely and then everything started to heat up. He kisses you passionately, between his lips the taste of lip balm and the coffee he drank every day, the touch of tongues unifying and tumbling excessively, making you mumble and sigh in despair. The palm of his hand sliding towards your inner thigh where he left a strong grip, pulling open and your stubborn moan that came out between the kiss making a smile on Gunil's lips. You can feel and there was no greater anger in your being at that moment.

The car was a little further away in the parking lot, facing the wall, which got rid of your fear a little and certainly that would be your problem since gunil suddenly took the audacity to insert his hand in the pants you were wearing, in a hurry that only he felt, because at that moment he already knew that he shouldn't pass from there, having so many wasted opportunities made him go crazy.

His hand slid gently, you freely allowing access by opening your legs a little more, releasing the access that jeans would not give so easily, with that signal he just continued, entering your intimate piece, right after. Gunil's fingers had a unique feeling of longing, even if in this situation you never knew from intercourse, you were psychologically exhausted by abstinence from touching each other, maybe you more than him, but you couldn't deny that it was a situation that started from both.

You moaned at the touch of his index finger against your entrance, you still weren't exactly wet but he explored anyway, tracing his finger between your lips until he reached your clit, which he began to circle with mercy. You lost the rhythm of the kiss when the nerve was touched, everything in you trembled and you began to moan more consistently, Gunil's other hand went down to the back of your neck and there he held it, keeping you close.

When the air was lacking he released the kiss in a snap, his eyes in an intense glow and you could notice the way his arm made a certain strength to move the fingers inside your pants. You moaned low and released one of the buttons on your pants to relieve the pressure, your body leaned over the car seat and then the waves of pleasure began to emerge.

"It's cute how you get into a string of mistakes, y/n" the clear objective would be for you to avoid fucking or having any kind of contact with them, however it seemed that you were unable to keep your game, gunil had an exceptional lip and you couldn't keep up for long. You lose.

"I hate you" you mumbled, biting your lower lip to contain the noise, your right hand entered your blouse and then you started touching your own breast, trying to relieve of tension and touch yourself a little

"Oh dear, show me, don't be selfish" gunil asked lovingly as he stroked your hair. You gave him a friendly look and then pulled your shirt up, revealing the bare breast which was twisting the nipple, gently "you're so hot"

He growled and without prior notice he penetrated one of his fingers, starting to fingering your very wet intimacy, even though it was a little uncomfortable there was nothing to do, you pushed yout hips and fucked with his fingers for a while, moaning softly avoiding fuss of people passing by the parking lot and the feeling of the body gradually losing strength.

"Please Gunil, I-I'm almost there" you didn't want to have to be pushed to an extreme without getting what you wanted, the clear objective was to get him inside you as soon as possible and the way he moved his fingers so patiently inside you made you squirm to the core, the force with which you bit your lips almost tearing them to hold back your own orgasm when he finally stopped.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked as he withdrew his fingers from inside you, feeling the texture of your liquid tasting him right after. You growled low and nodded in a desperate act.

"Please…" you begged containing the anger inside you and watched him smile smugly. Gunil lowered the car seat a little and hit his thigh

"as you wish"

He held the pants up by the drawstring, you could notice the bulge marked by the pants, however watching them pop out made butterflies bubble, your mouth watered at the mention and from the urgency you started to remove your bottoms.

Opening the glove box from inside gunil takes out a condom which he uses. In a short time you turn over on his lap, careful to snuggle both bodies and then he fits over your entrance, a moment of pleasurable pain as you slide down feeling all the volume fill you and there you are, you exchange a kiss. measly eye contact, the eyes bright of empty gunil your body trembles and almost instinctively you bring your hand to cup his jaw.

"Don't look at me with that face" you complained, keeping your body still over his "you've done too much, now at least fuck me properly"

A bold statement like that was like music, gunil let out a genuine laugh in response to your understandable anger, not least because he wasn't going to deny his share of guilt and it just happened to be convenient to use this whole situation to get a good fuck with you.

When you started riding he came to the aid, he held you by the hip and started to lift, the hot car started to muffle the windows which little by little gave you freedom too, moaning in a still restrained way, but in moments rocking on top of his dick and closely watched everything he could, inside that car he didn't have much freedom but the little that was given to him he used to climb his hip towards your , getting as deep as he could.

You in this out of control state, you were losing track, you wanted more and more while your moans rose in pitch. In a flash you felt the gunil's firm hand touch your neck, cutting off your breath and stopping your promiscuous sounds for him.

"Want to make a fuss? If you're going to act like a slut and swing on my dick, do it in silence" gunil growled, panting, sweat taking over his body and the gym days being put to the test for that whole insane process. You rolled your eyes in pure desire, your insides without any containment, you reached your limit for the first time, but still not feeling that it was enough, you continued to move, now making low sounds, with your hands on gunil's shoulders and his now on your ass, pulling and releasing still aiding in the movements.

The sounds of gunil came straight to your ear, low melodious sighs, nothing too fancy but you've been dreaming about it for so long you felt it on the edge of the abyss, the butterflies in your stomach and his cock punching as deep as it could inside from you, far from being friendly, it was a consensus, you were far from liking each other in any other way.

You felt his body tense below yours, the panting getting louder, Gunil punched harder this time, went up strong thrusts putting the bodies in impact, you ended up reaching your second limit first than him and right after the calm came up, you were huddled over him trying to come to your senses.

"I wish I wasn't in your shoes" gunil laughed, and you with no time for jokes got off him

"Shut the fuck up for God's sake" you said while getting dressed, already realizing your mistake but not regretting it one bit

"are you going?" He asks

"What? Want to take me out to dinner?" You ask as you finish getting dressed

"No thanks" he replied "I hope you are aware of what you just did"

"You won't say anything to anyone, you need me, I just wanted to make sure the sex was good" you dictated, watching him get rid of that disgusting condom and get dressed again

"I expected no less from you" said gunil

"Really, now use this favor as an incentive to keep those imbeciles' mouths shut, I'm going to settle this guild thing" you commented

"It won't come out that cheap you know that right?"

"I know I know, but at least for now do it there, like you said yourself, we have a deal" you pull the car handle and get out, making your way out of that parking lot as fast as possible.

Taglist : @tentenharuno

#xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard hours #gunil smut #gunil hard hours #kpop hard hours #kpop smut

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slimeknight899 · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 8: It could always be worse!

It would be a few weeks before Reno fully regained consciousness again.

And it would be even more time before he finally regained the ability to hear.

His ability to speak, rather unfortunately, was still robbed of him. A fuzzy feeling –like his mouth was full of cotton– permeated and lingered on his tongue longer than he would have liked.

That is to say it lasted longer than a few minutes.

For a time he was confident in the thought that he was in some form of purgatory. Everything around him was too bright –to the point he couldn’t make out any of the details around him–, and the constant ringing in his ears drowned out any and all sounds around him too.

Frequent visits from Dawn, Cynthia, and the Professor squashed those thoughts about purgatory with each small amount of time he got to “spend” with them.

He used the word “spend” EXTREMELY loosely. A lot of one-sided conversations had been had; Most of which just involved talking about how he was feeling (a specific type of question he couldn’t even begin to answer in his current state), and the latter of which described what life had been like for his two colleagues in his absence.

Oshawott was fine (thank God), and was choosing to spend most of his time with Reno whilst he recovered. Reno didn’t want to admit it, but he had grown surprisingly attached to Oshawott in the less than 24 hours he had known the thing.

Despite him being KO’d by a Shinx (a fact he felt he was never going to live down), they still passed, so, uh, yay…?

Dawn had confided in him that she was the one who caught the Shinx in his place, and she just told a little white lie to the Professor as their test hadn’t been monitored by him and they were far enough away from the camp they were brought to to be out of ear and eye shot.

She stressed that, even though, by all technicalities of course, it was a white lie, it was more of a half truth if you wanted to look at it that way: Reno had been attacked by a Shinx and said Shinx had been caught in the aftermath. All the girl did was just… gloss over some of the finer details.

And a little glossing never hurt anyone!

Speaking of being hurt though…

The searing pain that was branded on Reno’s back continued to return in small, almost rhythmic, flashes. Some days he was without back pain, and others it was so unbearable all he could do was scream.

The bandages that were wrapped around his torso did little to ease the pain; Depending on how he shifted his body they actually enhanced the amount of pain he was feeling.

“Alright, it’s been more than enough time you should be all clear to go and be back on your feet!” Pesselle, the leader of the village's resident Medical Corps said with a bit of a sigh, though a smile was still painted on her face. Her hands gently undid the bandages around Reno’s body, and she did one final check of the damage that had been done.

A majority of the wound had healed, leaving only a large, smooth scar in its place. This was partly thanks to the medicine that was a special remedy made by combining a medicinal leek and a few rawst berries.

Normally cheri berries would be used for wounds dealt by electric type pokémon, but seeing as how most of the damage had already been done –and most of the back on Reno’s flesh had been singed by the electricity– a rawst berry would assist with any of the residual burns.

“I must say you aren’t the first person to have a run in with a pokémon as dangerous as Shinx, so you can consider yourself lucky we were able to treat the wound with the medicine we had on hand!” Pesselle said with a smile, pulling a small bottle from one of the many cabinets surrounding the room. The bottle held what looked to be a light blue ointment.

She placed the bottle in his hand, clasping her fingers over his until he was gripping it tightly.

“Make sure to apply this on the scar until the bottle is completely run out. Just for safekeeping.”

~~~

Reno rolled out his shoulders and stretched his arms as high above his head as he could as he stepped out of the Galaxy Hall. He’d been immobile for so long he forgot how good it felt to be on his own two feet again; and the new set of clothes he was given by Laventon –and Cyllene too apparently?– only further enhanced this comforting sensation.

He had to admit, at first he was worried about pulling off the look. Years upon years –decades even– of primarily just wearing t-shirts and shorts made wearing any other article of clothing… unusual to him. Yet a black and white kimono with some fancy new trousers and sandals felt way better than they looked.

The single black glove was a bit of an odd addition, he thought, but he just assumed it was similar to artist and sports gloves? He would be using his right hand a lot, chucking pokéballs and whatnot.

The outfit fit so well in the back of his mind he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Dawn, Cynthia, and/or Laventon had taken his measurements while he was out cold.

That would have been weird.

Surely they had some form of common decency, right?

“There he is!”

Speak of the devil.

“Look at you in the fancy new duds! We got some too, in case it wasn’t obvious~!” Dawn pulled at the nonexistent strings of what he could only guess was supposed to be a pair of overalls? Suspenders? Either way she was pulling at something that didn’t exist, that’s what he was getting at.

But, the girl was right, both her and Cynthia were decked out in clothes that much more suited their current predicaments: A set of kimonos followed by the same style of trousers and sandals he was wearing. The stark differences in their attire came in the form of the coloring and how they chose to style their hair.

Dawn was wearing primarily blue, her hair now tied up into a ponytail partially covered by a white headdress.

Cynthia was wearing a mixture of a more purplish (or blueish?) color, with an orange and yellow pattern thrown around the kimono as well. She described it as being similar in appearance and style to a pokémon she was partnered with back home: Garchomp. Sounded scary. Sounded chompy.

What really impressed Reno was how Cynthia was able to tie up all of that hair into a ponytail that rested neatly on top of her head. Did she cut most of it during his mini coma there? Or was he just losing his marbles? Either option was completely viable, if he was being truthful.

“Yes, these will be one of our many styles of uniforms we’ll be wearing as official members of the Galaxy Team Survey Corps. I hope you don’t mind. I picked out most of your outfits.” Cynthia rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Clearly she wished she would’ve had a totally conscious Reno to discuss his fashion sense with, “I wasn’t sure what style you prefer, so I just went with simple colors for now. If you want to expand your wardrobe you will, unfortunately, have to work for it. As will the rest of us.”

“Have to pay for our own uniforms? What is this a boarding school or something?” Reno shook his head. Not the end of the world to have to spend whatever hard earned cash they got on clothes. It was like that back home for him too.

He was still going to be sour about it though.

He liked to complain.

It was fun.

A small series of chirp-like sounds pulled him out of his negative headspace. The familiar sight of a white and blue otter producing itself from out behind Cynthia’s legs greeted him: Oshawott.

The pokémon was displaying a level of… positivity Reno had never seen before up until now. Oshawott danced around his legs, patting his small paws against them every now and then, a cheery smile on his face all the while.

“This little one was waiting with bated breath for you. It was a miracle we were able to pry him away from your bed to eat and sleep back home with us from time to time.” Cynthia gingerly wrapped her hands around Oshawott, scooping him off the ground and bringing him closer to Reno’s face, giggling as the pokémon began smooshing his paws up against his new –and probably his first– trainer's nose.

“I wish Rana was more affectionate like your Oshawott… All she likes to do is sleep. She uses smokescreen on me when I try to cuddle her though.” Dawn kind of mumbles that last part, watching Oshawott fawn over Reno with noticeable jealousy.

It was criminal a pokémon as cute as her new Cyndaquil wouldn’t even let her cuddle her as she slept. If she wanted her personal space why did she have to be so darn cute? Did she ever think of that? Probably not.

“Who?” Reno took Oshawott out of Cynthia’s hands and into his own, trying to conceal the look of pure excitement he had as the pokémon began nuzzling into him. God he never thought he’d get this attached to an animal this fast.

“Rana! My Cyndaquil! I named her during the downtime we had. Cynthia named her Rowlet too!”

“He was so adorable I couldn’t just not name him… I will admit it took longer than I would have hoped, but I settled on the name Hawthorn.”

“A bit lengthy for an owl don’t you think?” Reno raised an eyebrow. Not a name he would have picked, that was for sure.

“Nonsense! My Grandma’s Garchomp is named Pretty Boy!” Cynthia waved her hand.

“And I assume he’s pretty?��

“Oh, no, he’s utterly terrifying. Probably one of the scariest Garchomp I’ve seen in my entire life.”

“So then why is he called Pretty Boy instead of Scary Boy?”

“Because that would be rude, Reno.”

“Ah. Yeah. I suppose so.”

~~~

Now that the house they had stayed in was truly theirs, Reno felt much more at ease on the futon, and all it took was almost biting the dust and having to write “Death by electric cat” on his tombstone!

Yay!

In the time he was away, however, it looked like Cynthia and Dawn had been keeping themselves busy.

Their small, one room house had gotten a little bit of a redesign. Most of the preexisting furniture was still there, just rearranged in a way that gave their futons more space in how they were laid out. From the looks of it no longer was the looming threat of being kicked and punched in his sleep going to be on the horizon, and he could finally rest peacefully.

New additions to the space included a desk, a pot with a small tree sticking out of it –which Cynthia’s Rowlet Hawthorn was using to sleep right now– a mobile bulletin board, and numerous stacks of papers, writing materials, and other miscellaneous items lining the floors and walls of the small back area of the property. The words written on the papers were all but lost to him –as he still had no idea what any of the alphabet here even said– but from what he could gather everything that was on the bulletin board was interlocked in some way?

The more he stared at it the more it reminded him of one of those conspiracy theory boards. The ones where you had a bunch of pictures and stuff loosely connected by string or rubber bands.

That kind of stuff!

As Reno readjusted his position on the futon, trying to make himself and Oshawott comfortable –as the pokémon was content to sit in his lap–, Cynthia brought him a glass of tea from the kettle in the center of the room. The drink being speedily and expertly heated by Rana, who was snoozing underneath it, the flames rising from her back burning steadily.

“So! Here’s what we know so far.” Cynthia produced a long, thin, wand-like stick from one of the stacks that were populating their house. She would dramatically whip and whoosh the wand as she spoke, pointing to various documents on the board whenever she brought up a specific topic.

“After some research during your recovery period, Dawn and I have concluded we are, indeed, about 300 to 500 years in the past. Give or take. I would place us in a nice middle ground and eyeball it around the 400 year mark. The primary foundations of the common language is spoken, but modern slang is, unsurprisingly, not well known yet.”

She brings her wand to a poorly drawn picture of what looked to be Cyllene.

Reno could only make that guess because of the exaggerated frowny face that was given to her.

“The Captain looks to be an ancestor of a man Dawn and I know as Cyrus. The modern day leader of an organization called Team Galactic. This further supports and solidifies the fact we’re in the past.” “Team Galactic? What, they some kinda space organization? Like, they use rockets and stuff?” Reno took a sip of his tea. Man it was good. What kind was it? Green tea? It tasted like it.

Anyways.

He was absorbing as much of this information as he could, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing a LOT of context here.

“Bombs, mostly.” Cynthia turned her head to face Reno, her wand still pointing at the drawing of Cyllene.

“And the personification of space, time, and antimatter.” Dawn chimed in, taking a sip of her own tea. She seemed surprisingly astute in this situation.

“Ah. Yeah. That’ll do it.” Reno nodded in understanding. He had no fucking idea what they were talking about. Personifications of space, time, and antimatter? Huh??

“So if the Captain is related to this Cyrus guy, does that mean the Galaxy Hall guys are related to the Team Galactic people too?”

“Excellent question! We posed the same hypothesis to each other as well. Nothing is concrete yet, as even in the present day with my extensive library of historical literature the names Galaxy Hall and Galaxy Team hadn’t shown up at all. I may have overlooked them.” Cynthia tapped her chin with her wand. She hoped that was the case and that the earlier iterations of Team Galactic hadn’t found a way to alter history in some way.

“I’m glad you’re picking up on things! Good job!”

Reno smiled.

He felt smart.

That was nice.

“Less important, but, I also pose the theory that Jubilife Village ends up as Canalave City in the future.” Cynthia brings her wand back to the bulletin board, placing it on a small cut out of a map, showing the village, which he picked up because of the giant red circle that was encapsulating it.

“Discussing historical geography is an entire lecture in it of itself so I won’t bore you with the details.” Cynthia waved her hand dismissively, whipping the wand back to the board, slamming it against the next piece of paper with such ferocity that she almost made him spill his tea. The pokémon had all woken up as well.

They didn’t look too particularly happy about that.

“Back to important topics: Your phone!” A crudely drawn picture of his phone was presented next. Was Cynthia the one drawing these? Or was Dawn the artist behind it all?

“Attempts to reach out to our mysterious benefactor have yielded no fruits. But the initial mission of seek all pokémon still remains in the notification center.”

“That Angry Birds game you have on there is fun too!” Dawn chimed in with a smile. That information wasn’t important in the slightest. Cynthia still gave her a reassuring smile nonetheless. Best to not break the poor girl's spirits.

“We’re still trying to figure out more, but we'll just put that on the sideline for now… Our last topic to present to you is… You!” Last –but certainly not least– an extremely crude picture of him was presented. Reno didn’t even get the luxury of having a semi detailed portrait. It was just a stick figure of him with the >:P expression drawn on it.

Peh. As if he looked like that.

He thought, as he made practically the same expression in real time.

Sometimes life really did imitate art.

(art provided by @cecilioque!)

“Ignoring artistic interpretations of each other, we know nothing about you outside of the following information: You don’t know what pokémon are, you look like Dawn’s older brother Lucas –a mutual friend of mine too–, and… you have a sweating problem?” Cynthia read off the notes they had taken about him, looking confused by that last part.

“I wrote that one too!” Dawn raised her hand with a shit eating grin. “I felt it was very important to include.”

“Ok. Wow. Rude. I do NOT have a sweating problem.” Reno folded his arms across his chest (mostly to hide any underarm sweat stains that may have formed). Unbelievable. He didn’t work his ass off back home to get where he was now and be called sweaty by some teenager.

If he wanted that he would have just visited his grandparents house. One of his cousins would have said that to him for sure.

“You do get pretty sweaty sometimes from what we’ve noticed… You kinda sweat a lot when you were with the Medical Corps…” Cynthia averted her gaze a bit, her cheeks flushing red.

UNBELIEVABLE.

WAS HE GETTING DOUBLE TEAMED?

“Even if I was –and I’m certainly not saying I did– that doesn’t count because I was dying.”

“Perspiration problems aside, it has come to our attention that the two of us know nothing about you! We know about each other, as we’re already familiar. We think it would be best for all of us to get better acquainted with one another! Seeing as how, for the foreseeable future, we’ll be living under one roof and working together.”

Reno blinked a few times, arm folded across his chest, his body noticeably loosening. The tension he originally had as a byproduct of his sour mood –induced by Dawn– fizzling out of him like a balloon. He was not expecting that statement from Cynthia. From either one of them, actually.

His mind had been so laser focused on trying to figure out where he was, what was going on, and trying to get home that the idea of bonding with Cynthia and Dawn didn’t even cross his radar. It made sense. All three of them were stuck in the same situation and, whether they liked it or not, that united them for the foreseeable future.

The big glaring question now was: How could he talk about himself without trauma dumping on them?

Talking with people –believe it or not– had never been his forte.

He’d always had friends growing up –his parents made sure of that–, but taking a two year long gap year after high school kind of stunted most of his social development and overall conversational skills; It was hard to talk to people your age when you spent a majority of the day by yourself and only had brief 10-20 minute conversations with your parents every day at dinner.

Even now that he was in college he still found it hard to relate to his peers and hang out with them outside of usual class hours.

Now he was expected to try and relate to two people that lived entirely different lives than him?

That was going to be next to impossible.

“Ah. Uhm… Where do you even want me to start? It’s not like I do anything particularly interesting.” Reno scratched the back of his head, “I’m in college, so I guess that’s something.”

“That’s a good start! What do you study?” Cynthia clapped her hands together excitedly.

Dawn didn’t look too thrilled to be talking about anything school related. She grimaced a bit and went back to drinking her tea, averting her gaze from Reno and Cynthia as they spoke.

“International and Global Studies, or Global Relations if you wanna call it that.” Reno also averted his gaze from Cynthia. Not because he didn’t want to talk about this particular side of him—well, maybe that too—but because ever since he picked the darn major in the first place, he’d been bombarded with questions from his extended family about the usage he could even get out of that degree.

He was never one to particularly find enjoyment or understanding in the field of STEM, and the field of business only made his brain feel like it was ready to explode. His power, as he saw it, was always in people and subjects related to it. A bit of an ironic thing considering his social graces –or lack thereof– but sometimes you didn’t need to be good at talking to people to want to help them.

The field of humanities was his bread and butter. Plain and simple.

People, while still difficult in their own ways, were much easier to figure out and comprehend than, say, the sciences and economics.

So it was heartbreaking to learn that, despite his chosen major, he still had to take at least one economics class.

What was even more heartbreaking was hearing he wasted his money on a major that would yield him no job opportunities upon graduation from his own family.

The fact most of those comments came from one of his uncles who was still living with his parents at age 40 didn’t help either.

Needless to say, even just uttering the name of his major made his cheeks flush a bit. The sweating problem he so furiously denied had begun to flare up. Sweat began to accumulate on the back of his neck.

Cynthia, however, didn’t look at him with the same, shame-filled, judgment-laced looks his family normally gave him. In fact she seemed weirdly… invested? Interested? She didn’t look at him like he was stupid. That was what he was getting at.

“Fascinating! What do you intend to do with that major? Are there any particular jobs you’re interested in? I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been told I write stellar recommendation letters!” Cynthia smiled with a triumphant huff. She looked at Dawn, that same smile still on her face. “I can write recommendation letters for you, too! It’s never too late to start looking at good universities!”

Oh, thank God the focus moved away from him and onto Dawn. Reno felt butterflies beginning to dance around the pit of his gut. He hated being asked about what he was going to do with that major because, truthfully, he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do after college.

He knew he wanted his work to help people and make a positive impact –who wouldn’t?–but the vagueness of that desire left little space for ironing out the finer details.

(Mostly) Everyone liked to help people.

Ugh…

Now he wished he was back in the Medical Corps room.

At least he didn’t have to think about the future while he was unconscious.

Sure, he would have been in pain, but it was physical instead of mental.

And THAT he could handle...

#ao3 fanfic #cynthia pokemon #dawn pokemon #hisui #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon oc #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction

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