#when he finally has him free and they can do things together and be happy

[kenzie-ann27]

as much as I'd love a stewy spinoff, I feel like the big problem with that is that we'd need to know what happens to kendall, and I don't know if a lot of us want that answer

[goldsbitch]

monaco kiss .wav

Lando's mildly exhibitionist dreams came true. Due to genius sound engineering, the world can now listen to him and his girlfriend having sex, without a clue it's them.

the track mentioned and referenced (no need to listen to it to get the story, go and be free): French Kiss - The Original Underground Mix, Lil'Louis, The World (credit where credit is due)... 05:30 is the timestamp

word count: 7k

warning: smut, minors DNI, p in v, oral sex, voice notes, colapinto level amount of the word "mate"

PS: i rarely do, but I fuckin love this one

If there was ever a place where Lando could spend hours and hours on end, it was the blue couch at Martin Garrix's personal studio. That piece of furniture was the peak of comfy. He'd asked many times where he got it - if only Martin could remember that.

The whole studio has a cozy vibe around it. A safe space for the F1 star to escape the ever-present eyes of the public, a timeless place where he could wind down and sit passively, while his friend digged notes for hits of the future. They'd often sit for hours in silence, just winding down.

To Lando's joy, the ultimate friend chemistry he had with Martin also worked for him and his, not-so-new-anymore, girlfriend Y/N. In fact, the moment these two met, it was clear that Y/N would quickly become a frequent member of their private recording sessions.

But this time, she had to be in a different city due to work, so it was just the boys, the olden days. Back when Lando would actually dabble in DJ'ing. Those days were long gone, but...It wasn't a rare thing that Lando would help and brainstorm ideas, chord progressions or effects applied to the tracks. What the public didn't know was that he was a loud creative force behind some elements in Martin's recent tracks. Lando had almost threatened him, urging to keep this behind closed door. He wasn't gonna Leclerc this one out.

"You look beat, mate," said Martin finally after nearly two hours of staring into track nods. Lando finally looked up from his phone.

"I'm waiting for you to be done, bro," he replied simply, reffering back to their debate regarding this latest track. A pause. "You know my opinion."

Max turned around to face him, only to find a signature overplayed smirk looking back at him. "You know what, I'm a fucking renowned producer, and you have the decency to come and tell me my track is shit?"

Lando did not flinch. This as a fairly normal way they'd speak together. "Well, someone apparently has to," he shot back, challenging Martin to flip out.

"Screw you," he replied and turned back to face his three monitors. Lando waited patiently, knowing that this was his signature first reaction to criticism. He always came around eventually. Max was his friend. And he would do everything to stop him from releasing crap. "Ok," he heard the DJ say, caving in to his doubts. "I am too deep in this track anyway. Tell me what you think."

"Mate, you said you wanted to do something more experimental. You forgot to add boring," Lando deadpanned.

Martin sighed loudly and leaned back to his chair.

"Don't get me wrong, I fucking love how you go from like - what, 120bpm?-"

"135-"

"Yeah, whatever," Lando said, not happy when Martin used his i-know-music-theory-and-you-don't tone. "As I was gonna say, the come down from the fast tempo to the painfully slow one, in the middle of the track, kind of works. It's certainly nothing like I'd heard play anywhere lately. But like, there is nothing in the production that makes it stand out? Like no real build up or interesting sound."

Lando knew it was brutal from him. But he wasn't there to pat his friend on the back. Just like Martin would never fake compliment his on a bad race. To Lando, this was peak friendship.

Martin hit quick save and closed the file abruptly, startling a minor panic in his friend. Did Lando overstep?

"Come on, mate. Don't copout now."

Martin was visibly startled. "Maybe I just need to put this one down for a moment. Lando did not know what to say to that. He might be right.

"Cig break?"

//

They were standing at the small balcony connected to main entrance to the studio, cigarette smokes mixing together. Yeah, Lando did enjoy an occasional smoke break with his friend. A guilty pleasure one might say.

"So, what was the starting point of the track?" he couldn't help but ask, still not happy to see his friend aborting something he'd spend hours on.

Martin gave him an annoyed look, but did not hesitate to reply. "Remember how the conversation I had about techno tracks being awfully predictable?."

Lando eyes shot up. "Wait, that weird chick you ran into in Germany?"

Rarely would Martin blush, but today was a lucky day apparently. A mocking snort came as a reaction from his friend. "Mate, I don't remember ever seeing you so flustered because of a girl." Few weeks ago, Martin had the fortune of meeting someone who he called "the love of his life" in a random club. And that girl had the audacity to leave him on read for hours. Him, Martin Garrix. Infuriating.

"Yeah, well, fuck you. She was real cool, alternative and reminded me of why I got into music in the first place. Let's revisit how insufferable you were when you met Y/N." Lando exhaled, forever happy anytime anyone ever brought up him and Y/N meeting. If it were up to him, that would be the only thing he's talk about. Getting to know her was like the best kind of drunk one can get. Tipsy enough to make everything fun and perfect, and not too much to get lost in it.

"Fuck off, I was never as insufferable as this," he defended, deep down knowing he might have been even worse. But, he and Y/N ended up dating. Poor Martin was desperate even for a reply.

"Whatever," Martin remarked and put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. This small gesture reminded Lando why he was friends with this guy, the precious safe-space he managed to create. If there was a moment to act as a friend, it was this one.

"Shut up and let's get back to the track. We just gotta let loose a bit, that's all," he said, determined to get Martin out of the rut of his own head.

//

They'd been sitting for another hour, the sun long gone from their sight, two vodka soda's mixed from personal studio bar in, dozens of old tracks analyzed.

Martin played the middle section once again. Lando's head was mindlessly nodding into the beat they'd added and it was starting to look kind of good for the track. But it was not exceptional. And if Lando was trying to help Martin get the attention of some pseudo-pretentious alternative chick, they had to step up their game.

"Can you recall any track which uses the same level of tempo slow down? We could like, I dunno, look into why it works when other people did it and maybe something will come up." Lando often drew inspiration from other artists, something Martin usually hated. But, desperate times.

The racer watched the DJ and suddenly, as it was as if the musical equivalent of the DRS just hit him, his eyes went wide and he stood up.

"Of course!" Martin exclaimed and started pacing around the room. Lando was obviously surprised and kept still, hoping for the best, really. He watched his friend, walking back and forth around the room, deep in his own thoughts and searching for something on his phone.

"Yes! That's it," he finally said happily and put a song up to their loud speakers. The excited look he gave to Lando was almost scary. "You're gonna absolutely love this one," he continued with absolute confidence.

Lando prayed for this to be good, otherwise he was going to have to start getting worried about his friend's sanity, based on the crazy eyes.

The song started with a steady, four-on-the-floor beat (or that was what Lando had assumed). It was a typical 1980's techno track, fast, repetitive with a strong bass line.

But they were almost four minutes in and nothing that would stand out in any way was coming out of this track. Lando could not help but give Martin a doubtful look, not really getting what he was excited about. But Martin was there, nodding his head to the beat, in his own world. He must have sensed Lando's so-far-unimpressed expression, so he shot him a quick smile and gestured for him to wait. Finally, something started to happen and just like in Martin's new track, the music started to slow up on the tempo, quite dramatically. It got Lando somewhat hooked. And then-

And then! He thought he was imagining things. That his mind created sounds in his own head out of boredom.

Instead of a new instrumental added a vocal component was added. The most sensual female moan started to dominate the track, as the tempo kept slowing down. Lando felt his stomach dropped and hair and the back of his neck stand. It was sensual, almost vulgar in fact. Like some sort of elegant porn track playing over the original beat. Unapologetic. And it was increasing. What started as a somewhat socially acceptable sigh, turned into a full on orgasm moan - and as the music almost stopped, the female voice was taking on the main stage, full on peak. Thank God the walls were sound proofed. Lando cock was twitching. He tried to ignore Martin, who was grinning like a school boy first time seeing a porn video. And once the voice finally reached a peak, the music started to pick up, leftover moans cutting through the beat. Only then was Lando able to look Martin in the eye and got out of the semi-trance this track got him into. Finally the tempo fully picked up and the nine minute song was over.

"Uhh..." Lando got his initial reaction out and stared into the screen. Martin was there, unable to contain his laughter.

"You look flushed, mate, you good?" he teased, obviously pleased with himself for getting Lando out of his comfort zone.

Lando was finally getting back to Earth and couldn't help but to release a girl-like giggle. "Yeah, mate...I think if you do something like that, you will break the internet almost definitely."

What Martin could not know, because they did not have that kind of a relationship, was that Lando's phone was full of noise recordings of him and Y/N having sex. She was quite a vocal person. And he was a bit of a naughty boy, asked for a permission to record a sex tape nearly dozens of times. His girlfriend was probably right in refusing to do so, given the fact that if a video got out, it would be a disaster for both of them. But, an audio? One without any names mentioned? That was something she felt comfortable. And it as this thing Lando was using to get himself off when he was traveling alone for the past few months. So yeah, Martin hit the nail on its "head" with this one.

Lando gulped, trying to get himself back in the right headspace and not thinking of all the times Y/N screamed and moaned for him while bent over a table or laying in a silky bed.

"I fuckin' love this idea, mate. I'm gonna check with the lawyer team and see if I can go and sample this or something," Martin said, his tone indicating he was happy and done for the day.

"Yeah. This would work," Lando replied, unable to tone his voice down to his usual octave.

//

It was a surreal plane trip home to Monaco. They'd wrapped at the studio and Lando was headed directly to airport. This was proving to be unfortunate, as there was no time for him to go anywhere and take care of the problem growing in his pants. He had never listened to their voice notes in public, but he could not find any sort of self-restraint not to do so that day. Shamelessly walking around the private lounge area with a ragging boner and sex noises blasting in his headphones. He prayed for no fans showing up. At one point he was debating just beating it off in the airport bathroom. A teenager he had not been for a long time now.

And like a cruel joke, a voice memo landed in his messages from Y/N precisely at the time he as about to board his flight.

A part of him hoped it was a voice note of her jerking off. Sadly, it was not.

"Hey, my love, I hope you're all good and will make the flight. I've had such a boring day and can't wait to see you," she said a tone so sweet Lando felt almost guilty for walking around with thoughts of her on all fours, begging for his cock. It brought him back to normal, which was probably for the better. "Anyway, I'll be at home, let me know when you're coming." He smiled, loving the fact they were there for each other even in the innocent sort of way. "Aaah, what a day," she ended the voice note with a moan. A fucking tired sort of sigh. Normally, it would be a very casual thing for Lando. But did it sound like something out of their sex tapes? Of course it fucking did. "Mmmm.." And with that, the voice memo ended and Lando's boner was right back on.

//

"Hi, my love."

"Hello, sweetheart."

It was something he was proud about. Teaching her to sleep naked. Sleeping in clothes is close to committing a crime when she has a body like that. Clothes were for the outdoors anyway. It was doing something to his ego to see she fully accepted that. To his luck, he found Y/N just like he wanted - bare, snuggled up in their bed under a criminal amount of duvets, but most importantly, given his current state, still somewhat awake. She was giving his the most inviting look he'd ever seen on a human.

"Are you hitting the shower?" Y/N asked, pushing the duvet closer to her neck, as if to cover herself for some reason. Lando found that more than amusing and shook his head.

They'd exchanged few pleasantries, mundane questions while we was undressing and finally crawled into the bed with her. As a natural move, she shifted, letting him to be the big spoon. He caressed her hair before stepping in. Changed his tone from casual to bedroom. Finally.

"You and me baby, just us. How it's suppose to be."

Flirting was a second language to Lando and he was not afraid to use it.

"I see you kept the bed warm for us," he said, warmed his hands by blowing his hot breath on both of them. When he was sure that his body adapted from the chilly outdoors air to their hot flat, he started tracing lines on her body and pressed his crotch to her ass, to test her reaction, and see if he got lucky and caught her in the right mood.

He wouldn't be able to see it, due to the fact he was spooning her from behind, but her eyes shot wide open as his ragging boner pressed on her and a cheeky smile crept in. She answered by moving back to him, and arching her back. Loud, horny sighs from Lando followed.

"I see you've been a good boy, am I right?" she whispered sensually.

And fucking yes, he was a good boy. She'd often reward him when he manage to obstain from jerking off when they were suppose to see each other. If he had been hard before, they would need to come up with a new name for what he was experiencing after hearing his hard work being acknowledged.

He gulped, trying to keep his some cool in his voice. "You can guess twice," he challenged and pushed his body towards her, squeezing his dick between their bodies. She giggled and turned on her back to face him. Tried to kiss him slowly, but he was having none of that. Once the door was opened, he took the lead and kissed her with all of his pent up hunger. His hands were holding her jaw in place, as if she was going to slip away - which was the exact opposite of her plans. Soon enough she kissed back with similar urgency, roaming her hands on his chest and pulling his ever-so-curly hair.

"I need you," she whispered when he reached away to take in some air.

He grinned, happy to have some sort of level of upper hand, given how down bad he actually was.

"Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?" he asked, expecting the same answer he gave her. His cheeky fingers started exploring her upper thighs.

She waited a moment. "No, I haven't," bit her lip. This took Lando as a surprise and he opened his mouth in disbelief.

"Well, would you look at that..." he said, secretly loving this side of her. Horny little angel, getting herself off. In his mind, it was like she'd been training for him. He gripped her thigh, making her gasp.

"I think you might still find some evidence on the sheets," she whispered, and it was exactly that sound that was a turning point of Lando. He flipped over to tower her and slammed his lips towards hers. He opened her legs with his hands and started exploring her core - and it was exactly as she said it. Still wet from her on fingers, as he'd imagined.

"Well then, we'll do this on my terms. You understand?" he said in a playful tone. "What are you?"

She knew what answer he was looking for. "Bad girl," she sighed as he fingered her in a way that could not be described as gentle. Soft moans started escaping her mouth and that was the main thing Lando was longing for.

"And what am I? For keeping myself full for you?" he asked, trying to keep her on the edge with his moves.

Her eyes were now shut and her arms locked around his back, same as her legs. "Good boy," she sighed.

"Exactly. So do me a favour," he said, kissing her again, "be loud for me tonight. Make my ears ring and wake up the neighbours. Otherwise I'll make sure you don't get what a good girl gets." Both of them knew there was not a single cell in Lando willing to keep his empty promise. She was going to finish multiple times and he'd work for it the whole night if he had to.

Back arched. Lando's fingers doing the God's work. "Yes," she almost choked on her breath and let out an honest and beautiful sound.

It was already getting too much for Lando, he stroked himself few times and then slid into her wet cunt, as if it was his home.

And boy, was it better than any home he'd ever know. He warm wet, almost dripping cunt welcomed him in the sweetest of ways. Lando waited few seconds for both of them to adjust before he gripped her legs and swung them over his shoulders. It was a dance they'd practiced countless times before. She knew to clench her legs and provide support for him to be able to fully start launching into her.

He gave her one more lustfilled look before he thrusted for the first time. The thing he was specifically looking forward was the way how the breath escaped her throat in almost surprised way - as if she was not expecting this to happen. Pure pleasure overruled any thoughts he was having pretty quickly. The way her walls clenched over him was a sensation very few things could compare to. It was so easy to start moving faster and harder. He lived for the sight of her, lying down beneath him, eyes closed and finally, after few more perfectly placed movements, first moans started to escape her lips. He wanted more, tonight he needed it all. Speeding up, gripping her legs tighter. And with that, he watched as her boobs were bouncing back and forth, a sight so glorious he had to put one of his hands on it. All that she was somehow trying to hide in, started to come out. Face stuck in a scream like position, hands gripping Lando's arms and the most glorious of it all - the silent moans growing into muted screams. And once he added even more speed, those turned into unhinged screaks. He didn't even notice him own mouth stuck open. Breaths were getting heavier and heavier, drops of sweet sweat were falling on her torso and slowly Lando moved his hand over to from her boobs to the crease of her neck and squeezed just a little bit, the way he knew she liked. He didn't mind that the sound she made got a little muffled - he could feel the sound coming from her throat before it left her body.

And then finally, Lando felt almost a hot liquid hit his dick and gradually bounce over to his lower stomach as he moved even quicker than before, knowing well enough that when this happened to her, the incoming orgasm was about to be glorious. He thrusted, fully focused on her expressions and loud screams.

When her release happened seconds later, he nearly came himself. By some miracle, he managed to hold it of for just few more minutes. He kept thrusting, while he felt her body collapse momentarily, complete hard shut down. More liquid came out of her and Lando wished he could fuck and lick her at the same time.

And just like that, she was back again, panting hard and finally, eyes open once again. Her fucked out face challenging him once again. She smirked and tried as much as he could to keep up his tempo. It always took her one orgasm to bounce back and become more active. Lando wished he could go on for hours, but his dick almost begged him to allow the release. He wasn't gonna deny himself pleasure tonight.

"Say my name," she said in a loud demanding tone, stern look on her face. He wanted to chuckle, always finding it amusing how she went from almost a comatose princess to a challenging boss girl in seconds. After he made her come, of course. But Lando's mind was truly getting blurry at that point. He kept saying her name as like some sort of prayer as he carried himself to the heavenly release. It was the ultimate relief, dipping in a hot water, getting charged with electricity, tasting the sweetest drink, stepping into the hottest sunshine. Whatever kind of pleasure Lando could think of, nothing would ever mount to finally releasing it into her, especially after a long, oh so long, build up.

And with that, he fell next to her. Heave panting on both sides of the bed, before either of them spoke.

"All good? Are you ok?" he asked, just like he always did after they'd slept together. The thought of her not having a good time haunted him. He was aware that it sometimes came out more anxiously than he intended to, but who has a proper working brain after a sex session.

Y/N turned at him, blissful smile on her lips. "Oh yeah, baby. Love when you come home like this."

He smirked, getting some of the blood back to his brain. "Hmm, I also love coming home."

Their fucked out minds chuckled at the stupid joke. He gathered all the remaining strenght, got up and cleaned her up.

"Oh God, I've missed you," she complained into the no quiet room, still filled with sex air.

"You have no idea, how much I did, sweetheart."

//

It had been a good few weeks before Lando found himself once again in Martin's studio. This time Y/N was able to join him on the iconic couch. They sat, her legs relaxed over his, Lando's hand stroking her shins innocently. Physical touch boy if there ever was one.

Light banter laced the evening, few sips from Martin's signature vodka sodas and general lightness of the company were bound to end up with Martin sharing his latest relationship news. The alternative girl he met in Germany? Yeah, that was over. However, the track was definitely not.

"Ok, but like, I'd never seen you this anxious about a new track before," Y/N spoke, feeling like there was something these two guys were walking around, somewhat afraid to say hat it was.

Martin and Lando shared a look. There was not a single bone in Lando's body that was afraid of Y/N reaction to this track. He way in fact dying to know what Martin has done with it in the past few weeks. Martin was not allowed by his label to send any demos, only to show them in person. Well, he was not even allowed that, but it's not like they were there with them in the room. Martin raised his brows while looking at Lando, as if to look for a permission. Lando nodded, secretly looking forward to seeing what Y/N had to say about their newest idea.

"Well, I'm actually still working on a track we tried to finish when your boyfriend was here the last time," he said reluctantly.

"Yeah mate, I'm stoked to hear what you recorded," Lando said, trying to add some entusiasm to Martin's speech.

Martin's face formed a small frown. "Well, I'm worried, mate. Listen for yourself, it might be just me hearing this track for too many times. But, I'm afraid it does not work."

This took Lando by surprise - he was full on expecting a hot, sexy banger.

Martin did not add anything and upon Y/N's plea for finally play it and with zero protests on Lando's side, he did just that.

So they listened to the almost six minute track. The instrumentals were basically in the exact same state as when Lando was there for the last time. Intrigue filled his body as the tempo slow down came - it must have been time for the moaning to start. He could not wait to see Y/N's reaction. Was there a chance she would actually be mad and consider it tacky?

He didn't let her out of his sight, no matter how much Martin tried to catch his eye. Y/N sat there, her usual focused face on, as per any other time they'd listen to a new track.

And just like that, it took Lando only few bars of the part with the moans to understand where Martin's disinterest came from. This wasn't the right vibe. There was absolutely no comparison to the original track they'd based this on. It was a weak mockery of that whole idea. Sounded cheap, almost fake and with no atmosphere whatsoever. A face of slight disgust formed on Lando's face and he temporarily forgot he was watching Y/N for her reaction. They finally exchanged a look with Martin, both knowing this was just not working. While the girl moaning into the track had a perfect pitch, something was just not right.

Only when the moans and sighs part of the track ended he noticed the look on his girlfriends face and started actually feeling embarrassed. Will she think this as his idea and that he is a pervy simpleton? That he actually likes this?

He started his defense before she'd have any time for a reaction.

"That's not good, mate," he stated the more than obvious. Martin nodded, his expression hard to decipher. "It was not meant to sound this cheap."

"Yeah, don't know what to tell you. We recorded this with like two other producers in the room, this girl is apparently a good porn actress with a perfect pitch. But it sounds just like that. Like, I wanted to create a hot track, this is just cheap and kind of sad."

Lando gulped, almost fearing Y/N's reaction.

And boy, was she staring at him. It almost caught him of guard. Definitely silenced him. If he had to describe it, it would something along the lines of shooting arrows. Lando felt very small. But then, like by some sort of miracle, the corner of her lip turned up and a cheeky smile started to form. Martin knew more than interfere in their silent conversations and turned around to leave them be. A shot of confidence went though Lando's bloodstream and he gave Y/N a questioning look. Almost wanting to challenge her to say something. She shot her eyebrows up and tried to bite her smile away. Lando played dumb and shook his head, as if he did not understand. With that, she nodded toward his phone that was lying next to his hips. Lando's eyes went wide and his heart rate went up. Is she really suggesting this?

Out of nowhere, her look still firm on Lando - who stopped blinking a long time ago - she spoke, probably more to Martin than her boyfriend.

"I love the idea, and I think it could catch on really well. But like you said. You can't fake that if it's suppose to be good. Any girl will se right through this anyway."

Was Lando about to fall in love all over again?

"So what, am I suppose to pay someone to fuck in the studio?"

The silence that followed was a heavy, awkward, hot and hilarious one. Many looks were exchanged between the three of them before, as they say, all the pennies dropped.

"Oh my God," Martin exclaimed. Neither Lando or Y/N reacted in any verbal way, however Lando did raise his eyebrows in order to stop his smile from growing. Failing at that miserably. Suddenly, he was more than aware of Y/N legs near his crotch.

Martin shook his head, as if he became prudent out of nowhere and spun on his chair few times, most likely thinking it over. Lando was about to step in to ease the tension, but Y/N was faster.

"It would be the easiest way to test if the track works, just saying," she commented and Lando tried to stay as still as possible, almost worried that if he moves to much, he might wake up.

To potentially have his girlfriends orgasm voice blasted anonymously in clubs all around the world was doing some thing to his semi-exhibicionist persona, which he had to keep buried deep down. Things he had a lot of trouble admitting to outloud.

The conversation was continuing, no matter how spaced out and horny Lando became.

"Ok, say it works. Are you ok with this staying on the track?" Martin asked Y/N only. He knew his mate well enough to figure he'd be more than fine with it.

Y/N seemed to think about it, in a serious way, for few moments. The air felt oh-so-heavy to Lando. Please, say yes. Both of you.

"As long as it stays anonymous and nobody else, not even your label ever finds out, I say we go and give it a try," she answered and turned over to her boyfriend. He knew the look she had on her face more than well. It was the same one she'd have after agreeing to press record on their personal sex voice memos. And it was doing things to him.

It looked like Martin was coming around with the idea.

"Fuck it, ok then. I guess, I'll just press the button and give you guys some space in the recording room. But like, bare in mind I only need her, not you," he hinted over to Lando, "and for the sake of our friendship, I'd really appreciate if you kept it clean in terms of dirty talk. I don't want this to be the reason I died. Also no...mess please. Ugh."

Lando downed his drink, still unable to believe this was happening, and finally spoke again. "I'm sure there is a way to make sure we get only Y/N's voice."

Images flooded their heads - for Y/N very much wanted, to perfectly contrast Martin's reaction, who was sitting on the complete opposite of the excitement spectrum.

"Ok, let's go with it before I change my mind," Martin said and began prepping the recording room.

Lando squeezed his girlfriends hand, to make sure she was really ok with it.

"I love you," he whispered, unable to hold it in.

"Me too. I'm happy you don't think of me as slutty or perverted," she replied, hint of shame for the first in a long time creeping on her face.

"I would never....We can stop whenever, if you stop feeling it, ok? Please promise you'll let me know."

There was a look on her face he couldn't put a name on. "Thank you."

Martin coughed demonstrateively. "Lando, come over. I'll tell you what to do." Lando eyebrows shot up once again. "Not like that, with the recording, you weirdo," Martin exhaled, already regretting the decision.

//

"So, the recording is on, have a good one, I guess," were Martin's last words before Y/N was about to have a series of little deaths.

And with the click of the door, they were alone. Deep dark silence. Never before has she seen Lando stare at her this much like a hunter would at his prey. His good name was on the line. Maybe not for the whole world, but he had to show his best bud he can make his girl come. And perhaps something more than that.

The room was small, light dimmed out.

"So, what do you have in mind?" she asked softy, still not quite in the same feral mood Lando was in. He crossed over the distance between them slowly to put a finger on her mouth.

"No words, remember?" he reminded himself probably more than her. His plan was never to fuck her here. She'd soon find that out.

With ease and confidence only those who kissed each other countless of times, he locked his lips with hers. His hand in the back of her hair, pulling, not gently. Her tongue rolled over his and she bit his upper lip, to return the favor perhaps. Her head bent back and he follow the train to her collarbone with pecks. With ease, he started walking her over to the chair here the recording artist would usually sit. Today, she'd be the main act and he her muse. She was regretting not wearing a skirt that day. He saw no issue when he pulled her jeans down. He was already hard and just had to squeeze himself for few times, a mindless action. No doubt in his mind that before the night calls quits that day, he'd see his own release. She noticed his moves and tried to get in on the action, only to somewhat wake him up from his own selfishness as he stopped her hands reaching his crotch. Another head shake - hopefully, this time she'd get the hint.

Her eyes were filled with hot wanderlust and with that, she gave up on trying to take the lead. He smiled and got rid of her panties as well.

Two strong hands popped her up on the round chair with no back rest. One last kiss on the lips before he knelt down. Stomach tingled with anticipation. Lando was taking his time, slowly kissing his way up her legs. The ever so blue, green and whatever colored eyes glowing with lust. He stopped at the spot where thighs and knees bend, his tongue finally out, as if for a practice run. Only recently he found out about her secret soft spot. He watched her face relax and give in, first pleasure arriving. He was the moon and her body a shore, waiting for the waves.

Long heavy breath. Lando wanted, needed more. He progressed further and further, until the only place left to go were her folds and wet core. But before that, he didn't for get to leave few bite marks on her upper thighs. Quick catch of breath and her hands buried in his curls. Watching him as if the gods had sent him to ruin her.

And they might have. Normally, he's utter few cheeky lines before dipping his tongue deep into her, but the looks were all he could use this time.

Relaxed and come for me, baby. Drip all over this chair and make them know I can make you scream.

His tongue could as well be completely dry and it would not matter. They way how he was all over her got her wet anyway. His moves were never the same, yet they always worked like magic. He twisted, pulled in and out and all over. Slight bite at her less sensitive folds. Clit suck. And then he called upon his fingers to assist. She was barely sitting on the chair, legs fully rested on his shoulders, priorities loud and clear. As were her moans she didn't notice at first. She had to support herself with her arm, squeezing the weak leather top of the chair. Her other hand was busy with pushing Lando's face towards her. First tide started to arrive. Lando drew his head back to catch some breath - and she let him, because his fingers became the main act. He made sure to hold the tempo, knowing that would work like volume increase button. Was there a more beautiful sight than watching a woman you love hit the highs of life? Lando very much doubted. Judging by the way her face clenched, she must have forgotten the why and where. Her throat served like a gateway to pleasure sounds. And she screamed, more and even more once he sucked her clit again.

They call it little deaths because it might just be the only accurate description of what washed over her. If wasn't often he'd go down on and not fuck her shortly afterwards. Since that was out of the picture, she focused fully on his moves, knowing this was the peak.

He felt her relax after a particularly loud scream. Coming down to Earth once again. She opened her eyes and he smirked. He knew, by the way she tried to steady his breath and the slight movement of her supporting hand that she considered it "job done". She nodded and head and he shook his once again. Her puzzling look quickly replaced by a lip bite as his mouth traveled back to her core.

One more round, one could say Lando's ego was becoming the main hero of this story. The thought of somebody having to go and listen to another round of him destroying his girl with pleasure was an intoxicating one.

//

Martin's track was an instant hit and minor shock to the public. Never before has he released something so explicit. Y/N's screams were out for the whole world to listen and it did a wonder to their sex life. It was something else to fuck and blast your own love soundtrack on.

There were two main versions release, one less explicit, for the DJ's to play around the radio during the day and for club goers to party to during the night.

Lando stopped counting how many times it happened that in the middle of the day he'd hear this song around the paddock radio. Whenever he did, he would send Y/N a photo with a cheeky wink, and she'd do the same when she had the luck of listening to her own voice in public like that. A nice, somewhat innocent tradition for them only to understand.

//

Keep you friends close and rivals closer. That's how Lando ended up at one of the many celebrations of Max Verstappen's title celebrations. Little did he mind, secretly loving the fact the pressure was off him for a moment. Expensive alcohol flowing freely also helped.

He found himself sitting in a VIP booth across from Max, by some stroke of luck, alone. And of course, that was the first time he slipped up. Somehow he managed to avoid a situation when someone who knew him well was around when Martin's monaco kiss came up.

"the recording is on, have a good one, I guess"

Martin decided to keep his own line in the intro, only later admitting he'd re-recorded it out of his own insecurity. Which Lando found very amusing, given the fact him and Y/N only needed one take to get it right perfectly.

His stomach dropped a bit when he heard the now iconic opening line. Shifted a bit to regain some composure. Sipping a drink might help to hide his slight panic and lack of any real light did not allow his blushed cheeks to go noticed.

Across from him, Max was nodding his feet to the beat of the track. The conversation grew stale a moment while, so Max's complimentary comment on Lando's friend's track must have been intended as an innocent ice-breaker.

"what do you have in mind"

Another line kept in from the recording. Y/N's real voice hidden under many layers of autotune to keep her identity anonymous. As per her wish and Lando's secret regret.

The tempo started to slow down. Anyone would remember the track by heart if they'd listened to it the same amount of times as Lando had. Words were lost on him and he did not find a response to Max's comment. Very unusual from Lando. He sipped his now empty drink, hoping more liquid had magically appeared. Max noticed something was off. And then the key jump, straight out the book Diet Pepsi took inspiration from. Followed by the peak moan, or maybe a scream, from his girl for everyone to hear. It was not supposed to be this arousing. Max tilted his head and after another few beats, his intense stare aimed at his rival/friends went wide.

Lando tried to stop his smirk. He really did.

Max's mouth went open and he stopped his breath before uttering a simply lovely, slightly astonished: "No way."

Lando averted his gaze to the crowd below in order to avoid Max, who chuckled and took a big gulp of his not-empty glass.

If the lights went on, everybody would be able to see a bright red Lando. He was never going to break his promise about keeping this a secret, so he did not comment. But he grinned at Max's nod of approval.

He excused himself as went to the bar. Searching for his girl.

Light brush on her waist made her turn, wonder in her eyes easing when she saw it was him. They were both in the same horny headspace.

He leaned in and whispered, as much as one can whisper in a club, the last few beats of their track playing. "You sound so hot, baby. I'm so down bad for you."

Tipsy, she shot him a wide smile and mouthed a silent "i love you".

[gremlingottoosilly]

Monster!König whose first course of action after the monster uprising was to find his missing bunny wife!Reader who has no idea he even considered them married in the first place. König who is clueless when it comes to societal norms or concepts and learns about marriage through picking up conversations from scientists back when he was locked up. (Still doesn’t have the greatest grasp on it even after getting his hands on human books and media) Reader is just happy to be free from being used as a breeding machine and had no idea her cell?mate thought their relationship ran that deep and wants to get legally married now. :/

Some of the scientists laughed, calling you Konig's little bunny wife. A packmate, someone to get his stress dumped in so their captive monster could be less of a killing machine and more of someone who can actually be controlled and sated. Throw him a bitch with a leaky hole and whiny voice, and he'd be satisfied until the end of time. Konig doesn't like the sound of laughter that comes from the scientists, but he likes the word "wife" forced on you. Wife. Pretty, cute, adorable, small, and fragile thing that needs him to survive - it's basic biology. Needy bunnies like you can't survive in a world filled with humans and certainly can't do it in the new reality, where the strongest are getting all the cards. When Konig eventually gets out, he reads - to his surprise, really, and to the surprise of all of his comrades who would much rather burn everything the old rulers of their world have left. But Konig reads - romance novels, human courting rituals, the true meaning of the word wife and the word husband. He thinks of ways he can put together a wedding worthy of his precious little bunny - when he would finally get her with him, of course. He finds you, of course - it's not that hard to find a bunny in this shrunken world when he has almost all of the power he could have. A colonel in the monster forces, somewhat of a hero waiting for his mate to arrive - you're given to him as a gift from his comrades, a pack of soldiers eager to please their commander. Yes, the little bunny was crying and squirming in his grasp when she was delivered, but it's hardly his fault, is it? Konig just isn't quite sure on how to go about this whole marriage thing and what to do when your pretty wifey is desperately trying to get out of his grasp. He squeezes your throat a bit until you stop trashing in his hold and then spends the rest of the evening exploring your precious needy holes with his tentacles and his hands. God, he missed the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock, desperate for him to release his seed. You're a bad little thing for denying him, but it's okay, he can work with that. He doesn't care if you're dumb or ungrateful - he will just press further, push his cock as deep into you as possible, squeezing your soft breasts until he swears the milk will come. He will have to breed you for this, of course - as thoroughly as possible until you can't help but cry and moan in his hold. Scientists never allowed him to actually dump his eggs in you, always afraid that he would get too possessive and territorial protecting his clutch and the pregnant mate - but oh, no one is there to stop him now. You would forget all about resisting in a bit - it would be much easier to push you around once you're getting the role of his pretty little wife, just like you were intended to.

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run

Pt 3

At some point, Soap and Gaz fall asleep on the couch, sprawled across one another. Ghost is laid back in one of the recliners, struggling to keep his eyes open as Price’s voice lulls him to sleep from the kitchen.

You're not sure how long the two of you have sat here. It took Price an hour to finally open his mouth. He has hardly met your eye since he’s started talking, hands clasped together on top of the table.

The ache you felt in your chest for these men worsened the longer Price spoke. Proud military men, tired of seeing the monsters they hunted get slaps on the wrist for atrocious crimes. Making plea deals with lawyers, getting one way tickets into luxury cells when they should be six feet underground.

You don’t realise Price has stopped talking till Soap snores, causing Dixon to shuffle at your feet, all four dogs scattered around the kitchen floor. You look him over, taking in the man now that all his bravado has been drained, leaving only the raw human underneath. Blue eyes darkened by years on the force and then years behind bars, forced into proximity with the very animals he and his team longed to put down. You’re looking at a man who fought for what was right and when justice wasn’t served in a way he deemed fit, he settled it.

Price is staring down at his hands, and you’re worried he’s going to hurt himself with how vigorously he rubs his hands together. You don’t think, reaching across the table and grasping one of his hands in yours, running your thumb across scarred knuckles. “Don’t do that.” You scold, and his head whips up to stare at you, eyes wide, hopeful but hesitant.

He looks down at your hand holding his, then back at you. “You’re not…?” He trails off, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter, letting your palm slip into his. You’re not sure what word he was going to use, but you shake your head.

“I’m… I’m sorry you all had to…” You don’t finish your sentence, letting it hang in the air between you. You’re shocked to see tears pool at the corner of his eyes but he’s quick to blink them away.

“You’re not horrified by us?” He asks, and you can tell he’s trying to fight his voice from shaking. You clear your throat, but gently squeeze his hand when his grip loosens.

“You have done… horrible things. Inhumane things.” You start, trying to pick your words carefully as you scoot your chair closer to his. He watches you warily, but there is no denying the growing hope in those eyes. “But I couldn’t imagine seeing what you saw everyday. Hearing the things you’ve heard, having to keep that all to yourself. Seeing… monsters you’ve spent years tracking get served the minimum sentence with a cozy cell waiting for them.” His hand starts to shake, and your heart breaks seeing how hard he’s fighting back the tears pooling in his eyes. “We never would have actually hurt you, I swear on my life. We just… Fuck we had been running for fucking hours through those god damn trees and-“ His voice cracks, and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand. “Why are you being so nice?” He almost spits the word, but his grip on your hand tightens.

Grounding.

“You did as I asked. You told me the truth.” You mirror his words from the barn, and he barks out a wet sounding laugh before covering his face with his free hand. “And you’re happy with that truth?”

“I’m happy you decided you could trust me enough with it.” You admit softly, and he stares into your eyes, and you don’t feel the need to look away this time. “Anyone else would have gone running for the hills.” He whispers, and you can’t help but smile.

“Not many places to run to, and if I’m telling the honest truth, there are worse things than killing human filth.” You shrug, and he lets out a bewildered laugh. “You can’t mean-“

“I do though. There are people in this world that don’t deserve the freedom they have, that have ripped apart the lives of others and continue living like they didn’t single-handedly ruin someone’s entire foundation.” Your words are a little more forceful than you intended, raw. And Price catches it, sitting up a little straighter, tugging your hand closer.

“You have your own monster, don’t you pretty?” He asks seriously, and you swallow, lowering your gaze to your clasped hands.

“I think that’s a story for another night.” You whisper, and you see him nod, before realization hits, and his eyes widen.

“You’re going to let us-“

“You are going to have to show me that I am not making a mistake by letting four wanted men stay in my house.” You interrupt him, but there’s a smile on your face. The next seconds are a blur and you suddenly find this giant of a man at your feet, kneeling in front of you and holding both your hands in his. His shoulders are shaking, head bent but you hear the hitch in his breath.

“Price..” You murmur, a little nervous but you slip your hands free, slowly running your fingers through his hair, and you hear the sob that leaves him. He bunches up the loose fabric of your sweats in his fist, and you can feel his tears starting to soak through.

“You are a good person.” He chokes out, looking up at you and the look on his face has tears of your own threatening to spill. He looks exhausted, like every ounce of his energy has finally been drained, years of enduring visceral human indecency ingrained into every part of his being. And yet he is gazing at you like you are the first glimpse of the sun after week long rainstorms, constant flooding and devastation, the light breaking through the clouds to spread warmth on a new day.

“You’re still a good person too.”

Those words linger in the air.

You lose track of time as you sit there, running your fingers through his hair, this man who you’ve never met, who invited himself into your home, but has bared the darkest corners of his soul to you all in one night. Grimes had made his way over at some point, staring at Price with a concerned tilt of his head. He never did like when you cried, and you can tell he’s desperate to try and comfort this strange man in his home. He lays besides him, paws outstretched, inching forward ever so slowly.

“He doesn’t like that you’re upset.” You mumble, watching the way his eyes snap over to Grimes. “Even though I terribly upset his mama earlier?” He mutters, he and Grimes staring at one another.

“Grimes has always been a big softy. Dixon is the one who’s gonna hold a grudge.” An answering ‘boof’ comes from beside you, Dixon plopping his head back on his paws after making his stance known.

Grimes scoots forward until he can rest his big head on Price’s lap, nuzzling down and looking up at him expectantly, and Price gives you a hesitant look. You just nod, smiling gently. “You’re gonna be staying with four of them, better get yourselves acquainted.”

“What in the bloody fuck did I miss?” A drowsy voice mutters from the doorway, and Ghost stands there, taking in the sight of Price kneeling before you, still clutching your sweatpants, and you can see the downturn of his lips through his mask when he notices the dried tears on Price’s cheek.

You gently pull Price’s hands off your sweats, and he looks as though you just took away his favorite treat. “I’ll go grab some fresh blankets.” You hum, face warming when you can feel both of their gazes on your back as you walk up the stairs.

“Wait, does that mean-“ You hear Ghost start, and you’re shocked to hear it so soft, but their words are lost as you turn down the hallway. You slip into the bedroom at the end of the hall, making quick work of dusting off the dresser and small TV, gently stacking a pile of clean sheets and towels. This room already had two beds, you just hoped they were big enough for these giant oafs.

You just about scream when a pair of hands grip your waist, and you whirl around. “Price you have got to stop grabbing me now- Oh.”

It was Ghost, eyes unreadable as he stares you down, and you clear your throat, loosening your grasp just a bit but still attempting to push him off.

“You scared me, you need to stop-“

“Thank you.” He interrupts, and your eyes widen as he pulls you closer.

“I- Well you’re welcome, I couldn’t just-“

“Yes you could. You could send out right back outside, hell you could get a goddamn brigade of officers here and you would be justified for it.” He shrugs, but you frown, shaking your head.

“No. From… from what Price told me, you all made your own choices to help those the governments deem lesser than them. You helped people who have watched law officials let them down again and again.” You state firmly, wincing slightly as you feel Ghost dig his fingers into your hips. “Easy.” You scold, and he immediately eases up, but doesn’t let go of you, keeping you pressed to him and your heart skips.

“I’ll just finish-“

“Whoever divorces such a sweet little bird must have absolute shit for brains.” Ghost states, quite confidently, and you can’t stop the shocked giggle that slips past. “Absolute fuckin idiot.”

“You can’t win me over with flattery you know.” You huff, but he sees right through you, dark eyes taking in your flustered expression, and you feel heat burn your cheeks as you avoid meeting his eye.

“Mmm, we’ll see about that. Think it’ll get me pretty damn far.” He grins, and you smack his hands before pausing.

“Wait.” You mutter, prying his right hand off of you and lifting it up, inspecting.

Your teeth made a pretty gnarly imprint, already scabbing. “Ah don’t worry about that. I deserved it.”

“C’mon you big idiot, before you let that thing get infected.” You order, pushing him towards the bathroom and he lets out a loud laugh, the sound causing butterflies to seize your stomach.

“Yes ma’am.”

[quarterlifekitty]

can you write out or create the hardest fuck konig has ever given reader when they first move in together???

❤️❤️❤️

make it nasty if possible, thank you so much for everything you put out 🫶

so I started this about a million years ago, and it's not really what I'd call done, but I just wanted to get it posted lol

König loves coming home knowing that you’re already there. It just makes him feel so warm inside— to turn onto the street and see the lights on already. Sometimes he waits at the door for a moment before coming in because he likes to hear the tap of your footsteps coming his way— he knows you listen for his car, you like to come to meet him at the door. When he does open the door, he barely crosses the threshold before you’re jumping into his arms. 

“Happy that I’m home, honigbiene?” He can feel you nod, lifting his hood to kiss his neck. He finally sets you down so he can take a look at you. He’s pleased to find you freshly showered, sweet-smelling, and wearing one of his shirts as a nightie. “And what did my darling do all day today?”

“I waited for you to come home.” And suddenly you’re back in his arms, being swept away to your room upstairs. He’s almost trembling with how much he needs you. 

“Do you have any idea what it does to a man? To hear his woman say things like that, schatz?” He’s almost panting, his heart in his throat from how raw and scorching your words make him feel. He thinks about tossing you onto the bed for just a moment, but he decides he doesn’t want to be separated from your warmth for even that long, and neither would you. 

He wrenches his hood off so he can kiss you like he’s trying to eat you alive, his tongue stroking into your mouth. He wants you so bad he doesn’t even care to be self conscious about all of his scars on display. 

König pulls at his belt, though he’s tempted to just rip everything down and deal with the chafe later. He lays you down and parts just enough to push your shirt up, moaning at the sight of your cunt getting your panties so wet that they’re almost see through. He’ll pull those off— but leave his shirt on you. He can swear he sees strings of your wetness clinging to the cotton. 

“How long have you been wet like this, meine liebe? Since I came through the door?” He doesn’t pause his motions for you to answer, pulling his cock free and smacking it against your mound. 

“I dunno… maybe.” The smile on your face isn’t quite temptuous, but it certainly isn’t innocent either. He leans down to kiss it clean off of your face.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

[eatfishies]

let's drown in this ecstasy together | 🔞

summary: Sylus has been relentlessly working hard these past few days.

or

You gave Sylus a helping hand, ensuring that he sleeps soundly tonight.

word count: 2.9k words tags: NSFW, sylus x reader (afab), porn without plot (super filthy ngl), oral sex (blowjob, deepthroat), HEAVY dirty talk, clit play, swearing, vaginal sex (rough sex), pet names, breeding kink, creampie, choking, nipple play, established relationship fish notes: uwah ..! i wrote this w my dick n it's very Very self-indulgent hehe :3 also inspired by the pic above ^^ hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

It was a quiet, tiring day for Sylus. Being the leader of Onychinus comes with a load of responsibilities and duties that he must oblige. Still, he’s relieved to finally get a breather and unwind from his long day. He leaned back on the sofa, lazily unbuttoning his shirt, leaving his chest slightly bare. 

He closed his eyes and tried to take a nap. That was until, a soft creak came from the door. He fluttered his eyes open, a small smile crept on his lips as he saw her walking towards him. Without hesitation, he extends his arms, inviting her into an embrace, to which she lets him. She gently stroked his white hair, the action making Sylus relax from all the tension he’s been feeling. 

“Didn’t expect I’d get to see my kitten today. I thought we agreed to meet on Friday.” He spoke as he hugged her tight, yet he was undoubtedly happy that she showed up today rather than their fixed date. 

She smiled as she gazed down at Sylus, still carding her fingers through his hair. “There were no sightings of wanderers lately so we were told to take it easy in the meantime.” She pulled away slightly to cup his face. “Besides, I miss you.” 

Sylus felt his heart swell with affection at her declaration. He looked up at her fondly, “I missed you too, sweetheart. This was certainly a pleasant surprise.” 

“Anything for you, Sy.” She said as she climbed onto his lap. “You look so tired… have you not been sleeping well?” There was a disapproving look on her features which made Sylus chuckle lightly. She looks so cute, he thought. 

“I think you already know the answer to that, kitten.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, “You know how work has been for me.” 

She frowned, “I do and I don’t approve of it! You already have bad sleeping habits and now you’re neglecting your own sleep. Must I watch over you and ensure you get enough rest?” 

A deep chuckle emitted from Sylus. “Hmmm… I wouldn’t mind that at all. My little hunter wants to be my sleeping aid? How sweet of you.” 

“Sylus, I’m serious! I will really nurse you to sleep if I have to.” 

Hearing her say that made Sylus excited. “Oh? And how exactly will you put me to sleep, sweetie?” He said in an amused tone. She stared at him, a flash of hunger in her eyes, “I can think of a thing or two to help you relax and sleep.” 

Despite the fatigue weighing heavily on Sylus’ shoulders, his desire for her is far greater than any other hurdle. He smirked, “Really? Enlighten me then.” 

Suddenly, he can see the clear signs of lust etched on her face. She licked her lips, “With pleasure.” 

Without warning, she closed the distance between them. Their lips met each other in a tantalizing dance as Sylus’ hands roamed all over her body, feeling her curves and groping her ass. When they pulled away, Sylus immediately began to press kisses on her neck, eliciting whimpers. 

It was addicting, listening to her moans and debauched cries. Sylus could get lost in it, all he can think about is her and making her feel good. But, she gently pulled him away and got off of his lap, kneeling down before him. 

That action alone made Sylus’ breath hitch in his throat as she swiftly unzipped his pants and tugs it down, freeing his hard cock, which stood tall and proud. 

She licked the precum from his tip, her tongue swirling around the head as she gazed up at him. “Relax for me, okay?” She spoke breathlessly before skillfully swallowing him in one-go, making Sylus curse loudly. 

The sensation of being inside her hot, wet mouth only intensified his arousal. He groaned as she fervently sucked and bobbed her head around his shaft. Sylus’ eyes fluttering shut, savoring the feeling of her tongue, pleasure coursing through his veins. 

His hands find their way to grab onto her hair, gripping it tightly and pushing his thick cock deeper inside her mouth. “Such a good little cockslut for me.” He moaned out as her throat constricts against his member.

“Remember to breathe, sweetie.” He said hoarsely, forcing it deeper and deeper until it hits the back of her throat. “That’s a good girl.” The encouragement only further strengthened her resolve to please Sylus, letting him use her completely. 

Sylus sets a brutal pace, fucking her throat with long, powerful strokes. The sounds of her moans and whimpers as he continued to deepthroat her were like music to his ears. He tilted her head back, pushing further deep inside to take more of his thick, pulsing shaft. A single tear streamed down her cheek, it was a pretty sight to see and it fueled his need to cum by a tenfold. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at this, kitten. You love my cock, don’t you? Always so eager to please me and make me feel good.” He can feel the head of his dick nudging against her throat. She whimpered, staring up at him with teary eyes as she humped the floor, desperate for any sort of friction against her needy cunt. 

It’s always a major turn-on to see Sylus like this. To let him dominate her and make a mess out of her, reducing her into a dumb slut who can’t think of anything other than his cock. The vibrations of her moans and whimpers only increased his pace, relentlessly ramming her throat as he feels it convulse around his throbbing cock. 

Each thrust and sound she makes sends a jolt of intense pleasure through his hardened member. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “My pretty cocksleeve. Doing so well for me, hm? Taking me like a champ.” 

She preened at his praise, eagerly sucking him with vigor. The grip on her hair tightened as Sylus continued to ram his throbbing cock into her throat, chasing his release. 

“Gonna cum in your mouth just the way you like, hm? Drink all my seed up, my sweet slut.” Sylus growled, the rough thrust makes her flutter her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

With a deep groan, Sylus cums deep in her convulsing throat. His cock pulsing and throbbing, flooding her mouth with thick, hot cum. He leaned his head back, panting as his release started to subside from the intense orgasm. She pulls away from his softening member with a wet pop. A strand of cum and saliva connects the tip of her swollen lips for a moment before breaking. 

A wave of satisfaction spread through her as she stared up at Sylus, enjoying his debauched state and feeling an immense amount of pride at being able to make the all-mighty feared leader of Onychinus like this. Sylus’ gaze falls onto her, watching with renewed lust as she lolled her tongue out, displaying the lewd puddle of his cum before swallowing it whole.

The action made Sylus’ cock twitch and harden again at the erotic sight before him. “That’s my good cumslut.” His voice is rough with desire for more — to completely devour her until she’s a sobbing mess. 

He tilts her chin, meeting her needy expression that is just begging for more. “My little hunter is such a good girl. Swallowing my cum like that… let me reward you for your hard work. How does that sound, kitten?” 

She nodded her head, her eyes lightning up at the prospect of getting utterly ruined by him. A smirk curled on his lips as he effortlessly picked her up and carried her over to his massive king-sized bed. Sylus laid her down gently and swiftly took off her clothes. 

Both of their clothes scattered onto the floor, leaving each other bare. “You’re perfect, kitten. My beautiful girl… my whole treasure.” He spoke softly, his voice filled with affection before he captured her lips in a searing kiss. 

Pouring every ounce of his passion and devotion into it. A kiss that promises a lifetime of love and happiness together. His hands roam her curves with urgency, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that buzzed through her skin whenever he caresses. 

His fingers trailed lower, cupping the soft swell of her breasts. Sylus groaned against her lips, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her as he felt her own desire rising to meet his. His tongue delved into the sweet cavern of her mouth. It’s intoxicating and he can’t seem to get enough of it, no matter how many times they’ve done this. 

When they pulled away, Sylus wasted no time and leaned down to capture her perky nipple between his lips. His tongue swirling around her hardened bud before sucking on it fervently. His other hand moved to pinch and roll her neglected nipple.

A small puddle of slick started to leak out of her cunt and onto Sylus’ expensive, silk sheets. “Sy… please… I want you.” She whimpered as he greedily suckled on her breast, feeling her arousal soar.

Sylus pulled away slightly, “Beg for it, kitten. I want to hear how much you want my fat cock inside you.” His hand slides down between her thighs, rubbing her clit languidly , “You’re so wet for me. So eager, aren’t you, my little slut.” 

“F- fuck…! Ah… feels so good, Sy.” She drawled out, biting her lip as his fingers stroked her folds, coating his digits with each rub. “So ready for me, so eager to be filled by my cock. Tell me what you want, sweetie.” He murmured against her skin.

Not a single thought nor feeling could describe the pleasure she was experiencing. Only Sylus could reduce her to such a state. Whatever troubles she had all vanished the moment Sylus touch her. It was electrifying and addicting, she can no longer live without him. A soothing balm to her rough days and the one who makes her feel the most alive. 

His crimson eyes burned with a feverish light, his expression morphed into one of pure, unadulterated lust. Sylus waited patiently for her command, ready to fulfill every single wish and desire, to worship her. To him, she is everything. Nothing else mattered except her. 

“Want your cock! Please! I want you inside me… need it so bad.” She squirmed beneath his skillful fingers. The heat in her core grew every second, it was maddening and she wanted him now. 

“As you wish, my love.” He rasped, his voice low and rough with raw need. “I’m going to fuck you now, kitten. I’m going to fill you up, claim you, make you scream my name until it’s the only word you remember.” 

He loomed over her, his large frame making her feel small. His gaze burned with deep intensity, like a predator waiting to devour his prey. Sylus’ body is a work of art, his chiseled muscles and scars of his past battles makes him look breathtaking. 

Slowly, he spread her legs wide open. The thick length of his cock pressing against her slick folds. He reached down to grasp his shaft, stroking and coating it with her arousal. 

“Look at me, kitten.” He gazed down at her, “I want to see your face when I enter you, want to watch your expression as I claim you, body and soul.” 

He nudged the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, the pressure building, the anticipation was almost too much to bear. Then, with a single, powerful thrust of his hips, Sylus sheaths himself inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke.

“Fuck… you feel so good.” Sylus moaned out, his head falling back and his eyes squeezed shut as her tight walls clench around him, gripping him like a vice. “You feel incredible, sweetie. Like you were just made for me.”

Wanton moans and cries falls from her lips, lost in the clouds of pleasure as Sylus rocks his hips. Each thrust is deep and hard, to make her feel every inch of him with every throb and pulse of his thick shaft as it stretches her, filling her completely.

“That’s it… that’s my good little cockslut. Take all of me.” He panted, his breath coming in fast as he lost himself in the sensation. 

The room is filled with the sounds of skin-slapping and moans, spurring Sylus on, driving him to take her with newfound ferocity. Her hands scrambled to purchase, gripping the sheets tightly as he pounds her dripping wet pussy.

“More… Ah..! Please, more! I want it.” She writhed, tears falling freely down her cheeks, letting herself drown in ecstasy. 

Something snapped inside Sylus as he heard her desperate pleas. “More? My, you’re so greedy.” He snarled, hooking her knees over his elbows, nearly bending her in half as he loomed over her, his ruby eyes ablaze with a hunger that consumed him utterly. “You want more of my cock? Want me to fuck you harder, deeper, until the only thing you can do is scream my name and beg for more?”

Relentlessly, Sylus slammed his hips with a rapid pace, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed beneath you. The obscene sound of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with her debased cries and his animalistic grunts. It was erotic and it makes her feel dizzy with how overwhelming the whole experience is.

Sylus hissed, “Your cunt is gripping me so tightly, sweetie. Like it never wants to let me go. Do you like it that much, hm, my dumb slut?” To further punctuate his filthy words, Sylus rammed inside her wet cunt.

Whatever words she wanted to say died down in her throat with how brutal Sylus’ fucking is. He leaned down, “Let’s stay like this. I want to stay buried inside you forever. You’d like that, don’t you?” 

He wrapped his hand around her throat, applying just the lightest pressure. It’s a dominant, possessive gesture, a silent declaration of his ownership to you, body and soul. “My pathetic little cockslut. Always begging for cock, hm? Let me fill you up full until all you can think about is me fucking you.” 

As if it wasn’t possible enough, she feels the pit of her stomach coiled with arousal. Her pussy spasmed and clenched around his enormous shaft, Sylus’ hips never faltering in their ferocious rhythm.

“You’re such a good girl.” He rasped, his fingers curling around her neck with more pressure. “Take my cock like the good slut that you are. Milk me with your greedy cunt. I’m going to breed you, pump you full of my seed until it’s dripping out of you. Until everyone knows who you belong to.” 

Hearing him say such filthy words with ease pushed her to the edge. The head of his cock kissing her cervix repeatedly, eliciting a plethora of moans and cries. “Cum for me. Cum around my cock like the good girl you are.” 

His other hand slides down, finding her clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in circles. “Come on. I want to feel this greedy pussy spasm around me as I breed you. Want to feel you shaking and quivering and screaming my name. Give it to me, slut. You can do it.” 

That alone was enough to make her scream aloud. “I’m cumming, Sy! Fuck!” Her pussy spasmed and throbbed around his cock as she arched her back, her body shaking from the intensity of it all.

“Fuck, I’m close, kitten.” Sylus pants, his pace unfaltering, “Gonna fill this cunt up…!” With a final harsh thrust, Sylus releases his load deep into her core. He grinds against her, ensuring that every last drop of his seed is pumped directly into her womb. 

For a while, the both of them stayed still and panted from their vigorous activity. She feels Sylus’ cock softening inside her as he collapses onto her, burying his face on her neck, inhaling her scent.

“You’re… you’re out of this world, sweetie.” Sylus said breathlessly. She chuckled lightly as she cupped his face, pulling him away from her neck and staring deep into his eyes.

“I should be saying that to you. You’re too good at this.” A sense of pride washed over Sylus at her words. He smiled at her softly, “And you’re my everything.” 

After basking in the afterglow, Sylus pulled out and watched in fascination as the cum leaked and dripped out of her sopping pussy. It stirred a primal feeling inside of him. 

Once they were all cleaned up, the both of them laid in each other’s arms, tucked in the covers as the signs of sleepiness made their way to their body. 

She snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat as his arm wrapped around her. “You won, kitten. I’ll admit, I feel like I’m about to doze off in a sec.” He spoke after a minute of comfortable silence.

Her gaze shifted towards him, smiling, “See? I told you. My method to put you to sleep always works.” She remarked smugly, to which, Sylus had no choice but to chuckle at her cuteness. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I never doubted you, sweetie. I’ve always known you are incredible at anything you do.” 

Those words made her heart warm, to know that her lover feels as deeply as she does. She embraced him tightly, “I love you, Sy.” She muttered softly. 

“I love you too, my love. More than everything and anything else. You are my whole world.” 

Sylus then fell asleep, listening to the sounds of her breathing and basking in her warmth. He no longer dreams of bloodshed and pain with her in his arms.

[woniedarlin]

Two of a Kind

pairing: Soft! Jungwon x Soft fem! reader

synopsis: Everyone knows that Jungwon has a pure and innocent heart. So, when he’s seen with a female version of himself—everyone’s left wondering how the universe can handle two of them.

author's note: This was never planned to be written, but here we are! Happy reading ✨

caution: They cry over EVERYTHING. Cute moments? Tears. Sweet gestures? More tears. If you’re not ready for this emotional overload, proceed with caution!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

Sequel

Jungwon was already known as the school’s most admired guy. He is polite, sweet, and with a smile that could melt hearts. But when you entered his life, everything changed. You were his perfect match: just as adorable, just as innocent, and just as over-the-top with emotions.

Your relationship quickly became legendary—not because of drama or fights, but because of how unapologetically cute you were together…. and perhaps a little dramatic… or maybe a lot…

One day during lunch, you sat across from Jungwon, absentmindedly tying your hair into a loose ponytail. Jungwon, however, had gone completely still. He sat with his spoon mid-air, staring at you like he’d just seen the most astonishing sight in the world. His eyes grew wide, his lips parted slightly, and his cheeks flushed pink.

Finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze. “What?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion.

Jungwon’s lips quivered as he let out the softest sniffle. “You’re… you’re so beautiful, it hurts,” he said, his voice cracking.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you noticed his eyes glistening.

Actual tears. Forming.

“Jungwon!” you gasped, setting down your chopsticks and reaching across the table to grab his hand. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t deserve you!” he wailed, covering his face with his free hand. His shoulders shook dramatically as he buried his head in his arms. “You’re too perfect!”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing in disbelief. For a moment, you were too stunned to react, but then it hit you—his words, tears, ridiculous sincerity.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, feeling your own emotions welling up. “You’re so adorable, I can’t handle this!’’ To Jungwon’s shock, tears began streaming down your face, too. You clutched his hand tighter and sniffled loudly. “How are you even real? It’s not fair!”

Now, the two of you were full-on crying in the middle of the cafeteria, heads bowed and hands clasped together. Jungwon suddenly wiped his eyes and stood up. “I love you so much, I just—” His voice cracked, and he sat down again, clutching his chest dramatically like he couldn’t handle his emotions anymore.

You hiccupped through your tears, nodding at him. “Me too. I can’t—how are you so sweet?!”

The two of you returned to crying, oblivious to the whispers and amused stares around you. Your untouched plates of food sat forgotten on the table.

When the moment passed, and you finally calmed down, your eyes were red and puffy, and your hands were still clasped tightly together. Jungwon sniffled one last time, giving you a watery smile. “I just… I love you.”

You giggled through your sniffles, squeezing his hand. “I love you too.”

“They’re either the cutest couple ever or just plain insane,” someone whispered.

“Yeah, they’re definitely insane.”

But neither of you noticed—or cared.

🌷

One afternoon, your best friend floated an idea to have a double date with her boyfriend. You and Jungwon were immediately on board—how hard could it be? Except…neither of you realized that a double date was required…

Actual planning.

When the four of you arrived at the amusement park, things fell apart almost instantly. “Wait, you didn’t bring the tickets?” your friend’s boyfriend asked, his tone hovering between exasperation and disbelief.

Jungwon scratched the back of his neck, his sheepish smile doing nothing to hide the truth. “Uh… I thought you’d bring them,” he mumbled, glancing at you for backup.

You gasped, your eyes wide. “Me? I thought you’d bring them!”

The two of you exchanged horrified looks, realizing you had managed to mess up before the date even began. Your best friend sighed and pulled her wallet from her bag. “You two are so lucky you’re cute, or I’d leave you outside,” she muttered, going to the ticket booth to purchase tickets. Again.

🌷

After the amusement park fun, you and Jungwon found yourselves in an unexpectedly quiet corner of the park, your friends nowhere in sight. The two of you blinked around at the crowd, completely lost.

“Uh, where’d they go?” you asked, your voice confused.

Jungwon looked around, his eyes wide and innocent. “I thought we were just following them…”

You both turned in a full circle, eyes darting around as if someone might suddenly emerge from the crowd with a map or a sign that said, “This way to your friends!”

“I think… we might be lost,” you said, peering over at Jungwon, your brows furrowing.

Jungwon blinked back at you, his expression clueless. He had those big, boba eyes, “You think so?”

The two of you continued to look around, but it felt like the world was spinning in a dizzying blur, making it impossible to tell where anyone had gone. You caught sight of a hot dog cart and paused.

“Maybe we should just… get some snacks?” you suggested, still feeling a little lost but okay with it.

Jungwon’s eyes lit up at the mention of food. “Good idea! You know, I read somewhere that getting snacks makes everything better.”

You grinned at his enthusiasm, and together, you walked over to the cart, still holding hands. “Do you think we’ll ever find them?” you asked, tilting your head.

He nodded confidently (even though he had no idea where they were.) “Of course! We have snacks now. We’ll be okay.”

You both nodded as you shared a bite of your snack, still standing in the middle of a busy crowd, clueless but happy to be lost together. As you were about to ask him if he thought your friends would ever return, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“There you are!” Your best friend waved at you both, laughing.

You and Jungwon turned around, blinking like two confused children, both of you still holding hands.

“Did you guys seriously just get lost?” she teased, looking between you two.

You both looked at each other, “I think so,” Jungwon said with a little shrug.

You then showed the food. “But we found snacks!”

Your friends laughed, but the two of you didn’t mind. Being lost wasn’t so bad when you had each other.

🌷

As you and Jungwon continued walking through the amusement park, your attention was momentarily caught by a man who passed by, looking incredibly well put together.

You glanced at him, a little shocked by how tall he was. Woah ( •͈૦•͈ )

Before you could say anything, Jungwon suddenly stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened as he quickly turned toward you, a flustered expression spreading across his face.

“W-what’s wrong?” you asked, slightly concerned.

Then…with no warning….

Jungwon spread his arms in front of you, practically blocking your view. “Don’t look! Don’t look at him!” he said, his arms wide as if trying to block out the entire world—especially the man walking ahead.

You blinked, completely confused at first. “What? Why? He’s just a guy…”

“No!” Jungwon’s face turned a bright shade of red. “He’s a man! A man! And you… you can’t look at him!”

“But Jungwon, it’s not like I—”

“No!” Jungwon interrupted, his eyes still fixed on you. “I’m the only man you should look at!” He pointed to himself dramatically, puffing out his chest

ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

“Are you seriously…?” you started to say, but then Jungwon’s expression made it even harder to stay serious.

“I’m serious!” he said with an exaggerated nod, keeping his arms outstretched. “I will protect you from all other men! You have no reason to look at anyone else!”

You giggled and stepped forward, warmly hugging him, “Only you.”

Jungwon smiled shyly, his arms slowly lowering as he hugged you back. “I’m just trying to protect my pretty girl.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” you said, grinning. “But I think I’m fine.”

He gave you a bashful smile. “I’ll be your shield forever.” Oh, Jungwon…

🌷

The only time you and Jungwon ever argued was over the silliest things.

Case in point: your 1st anniversary.

Jungwon showed up at your door, practically bouncing on his heels, his hands hidden behind his back. “Close your eyes!” he said, barely containing his excitement.

You laughed but did as you were told. “Okay, okay. They’re closed!”

After a moment of shuffling, he whispered, “Open them!”

When you did, your eyes fell on the cutest handmade pottery mug you’d ever seen!! (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

“Surprise!” Jungwon said, grinning from ear to ear. “I made it myself in pottery class. See? It even has little hearts on it!” He held it out, his eyes shining with pride.

Your jaw dropped, your heart instantly melting at his effort. “You’re kidding,” you whispered, taking the mug from him. “You made this for me?”

Jungwon nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! I wanted to make something special for you.”

You stared at the mug. Then, with a gasp, you set it down and reached behind you. “But I was going to surprise you first!”

From your bag, you pulled out your gift: a scrapbook stuffed with pictures of the two of you, each page decorated with stickers, doodles, and handwritten notes. It was a labor of love you’d poured hours into creating.

Jungwon blinked at the scrapbook, then at you. His expression shifted from pride to confusion. “Wait…what?”

You crossed your arms. “I spent weeks working on this! I was supposed to surprise you!”

“But, baby,” Jungwon whined, “you can’t just out-surprise my surprise!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? You’ll find that my scrapbook beats your wobbly little mug any day!”

“Wobbly?” Jungwon gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “How dare you insult my craftsmanship! Do you know how hard it was to make that? I burned my hand on the kiln for you!”

You snorted. “Well, I stayed up three nights in a row cutting and pasting pictures, thank you very much!”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed. “Alright, then. Let’s settle this. Who’s the better gift-giver? Me, with my heartfelt mug of love, or you, with your scrapbook of sentimental memories?”

“Obviously me,” you said, pointing your tongue at him.

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. But I hope you know I’m keeping this scrapbook because it’s adorable.”

“And I’m keeping the mug because it’s precious,” you replied, softening as you placed it on the table.

Jungwon dramatically sighed and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you. “I guess we both won.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, smiling into his chest. “But next time, let’s coordinate surprises. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, leaning back to look at you. Then he grinned. “But you have to admit—my mug is better.”

You swatted his shoulder. “Don’t push your luck, pottery boy.”

🌷

For Jungwon’s birthday, you decided to bake him chocolate cake all by yourself, even though baking wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

When you arrived at his house, you held the cake box before you. Jungwon opened the door with a bright grin, but his expression softened into something almost reverent when he saw the box. “You… you made me a cake?” he asked, his voice soft with awe.

You nodded, suddenly shy. “It’s not perfect, but—”

“Let me see it!” He eagerly took the box, carefully opening it. His mouth dropped open when he laid eyes on the slightly uneven yet undeniably adorable cake.

“It’s so cute,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

You blinked, worried. “You think so? I know it’s a little messy, but—”

“It’s perfect,” Jungwon cut you off, his bottom lip trembling. “You made this for me. With your own hands. For me.” He looked at you, his eyes glistening like he was about to cry. Before you could react, he gently set the cake down on the table and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder.

“It’s perfect because you made it,” he murmured, his voice muffled and shaky.

“Wonie, don’t cry,” you said, laughing softly, even as you felt your own eyes start to sting. “It’s just a cake.”

“But you’re so thoughtful, and I don’t deserve you,” he said dramatically, pulling back just enough to look at you with tear-filled eyes.

That was it. Your heart couldn’t take it. He was too adorable and too sweet.

Before you knew it, tears were welling up in your eyes, too.

“You don’t deserve me?” you countered, sniffling. “What about you? You’re the sweetest, most precious person ever! How are you real?”

Jungwon blinked at you, his eyes wide and shiny. “Are you crying now?”

“I can’t help it!” you wailed softly. “You’re too cute!”

The two of you ended up crying (again) in his kitchen, this time over a cake. His mom walked in, looked at the scene, and sighed. “You two are hopelessly adorable,” she said, shaking her head and walking away. Her son really found his match.

🌷

Days later, as you and Jungwon walked home together, he suddenly stopped and turned to you. His expression was serious. “I have something to tell you,” he said, trembling.

You immediately panicked. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “It’s just… I love you so much, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough for you.”

Your heart melted instantly. “wonie, don’t be silly. I love you more than anything.”

He blinked at you, his cheeks flushing. “You mean it?”

“Of course!” you said. “But wait—did you stop me just to tell me that?”

Jungwon scratched his head sheepishly. “Well, I was also going to ask if you wanted to go to the new ice cream shop with me. But it sounded more romantic in my head.”

Laughing, you grabbed his hand. “Yes, dummy. I’ll go with you.”

Later, as you both shared a giant ice cream sundae, Jungwon suddenly sniffled and started tearing up again.

“wonie, now what?” you asked, half-laughing as you handed him a napkin.

“I’m just so happy,” he sniffled, his big boba eyes shining with tears. “You’re too perfect, it’s unfair.”

You blinked at him, your heart swelling. “Why are you crying?!”

“I don’t deserve you!” he wailed, covering his face with his hands, shoulders trembling slightly.

That’s when your tears started to form. “No, stop—don’t cry!”

“But—”

“Now you’re making me cry!” you interrupted, wiping your eyes with your sleeves as tears spilled over.

Jungwon peeked at you through his fingers, looking genuinely alarmed. “Wait, why are you crying?”

“Because you’re crying!” you sniffled. “And you’re too adorable; it’s not fair.”

Jungwon, despite his tears, suddenly let out a soft laugh. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, reaching for another napkin and gently dabbing at your tears.

You hiccupped through your giggles, overseeing him dry your cheeks, only for him to realize he was still crying. “We’re hopeless,” you whispered, sniffling again.

Jungwon nodded solemnly. “Hopelessly in love.”

Jungwon paused, looked at you with that soft, adorable gaze, and leaned closer.

“Come here,” he murmured.

Before you could say anything, he pressed a long, gentle kiss to your lips. It was so soft and sweet that it fluttered your heart wildly in your chest.

You pulled back, wide-eyed, but grinning like an idiot. “wonie, you have ice cream on your lips.”

“Do I?” he asked innocently, licking his lips. “Must be from you then.”

You gasped, smacking his arm lightly as he laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

Who knew that two people so alike could be this cute together?

[steviesbicrisis]

A Barbie AU where the Kens decide, in order to get some recognition, to get individual names.

Steve, who’s just a Ken very good with kids, is having an identity crisis after his Barbie, journalist Barbie, broke up with him.

Not even picking a name as unique and special as Steve, so much different than Ken, managed to cheer him up.

Everyone keeps saying he should be happy about the change, and discover who he is outside of Barbie’s orbit, but he can’t see what was so wrong in their relationship. He loved waiting all day for Barbie to look at him, even if it was for a brief second.

As if going through an existential crisis wasn't enough, he has to do it under the constant mocking of his archnemesis, Ke- Eddie.

Eddie, with his long curly and annoyingly gorgeous hair, who has a sense of style he would give all of his rollerblades for, and who's always there to notice whenever Steve makes a mistake.

Eddie even has his Barbie still by his side, cheerleader Barbie, and every time Steve sees them together he gets a sick feeling in his stomach, like a tummy ache. Doctor Barbie visited him a couple of times and found nothing wrong with him, he imagines he's a little jealous of Eddie for being with a Barbie.

Steve talks about this with Polyglot Barbie, his best friend, annoying her to death.

"Why are we talking about Ken, again?" she interrupts Steve's retelling of his last encounter with Eddie.

"It's Eddie" Steve corrects her.

"Right," she nods. She's very supportive of their silly-name-thing (how most Barbies call it), but she still has trouble remembering all the names, "why are we still talking about him?"

They're hanging out at the park, sitting under a tree, Barbie's leg on top of his, and they're holding hands. It's nice. Steve is happy to have a best friend like Barbie.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie's gaze. He's sitting at one of the picnic tables not far away from them, doing nothing besides glaring at Steve.

Barbie squeezes his hand to get his attention back, and Steve looks away.

"Because he keeps tormenting me! he's even glaring at me right now, I'm gonna get stress wrinkles!" Steve finally replies, in a distressed tone.

"You're being dramatic," she says, matter-of-factly, "Eddie isn't so bad with you. You know, he kinda treats you like his Barbie."

If Steve had a beating heart, it probably would've stopped right at this second.

"What?"

"You know, he's always looking for you, he is always giddy whenever you give him a crumble of attention. He hangs out where you hang out... why do you think he's sitting all alone at a picnic table, just staring at you?"

"Maybe he's waiting for his girlfriend" he suggests.

"Are you talking about Cheerleader Barbie?" she giggles, "she's not his girlfriend, trust me."

"But he picks on me! all the time! Like this morning, I tripped and he made a comment about my legs!" He gestures at his legs with his free hand.

Barbie tilts her head to the side "you mean this morning at the beach when he held you in his arms for ten minutes to prevent you from falling and Barbie had to tell him to let you go?"

"… yeah” he manages to say. He hadn’t realized how long Eddie held him in his arms, he was upset about almost falling in front of him, but he also liked the feeling of his arms around him.

Everything feels different now.

Barbie's look softens "How does this make you feel?"

"I don't know" he answers, honestly "I just can't stop thinking about him."

A loud noise at their right startles them off of their conversation. They turn around to see Eddie lying on the floor, a trash can at his feet.

Steve doesn't give himself the time to realize that Eddie has probably heard their entire conversation and has tripped on that trash can because of it, he just rushes to Eddie's side to help him out.

Eddie stammers while Steve pulls him back up, not making much sense.

Steve is used to see Eddie as an intimidating guy, someone to compete with for Barbie’s attention. He never realized how much he liked to have Eddie’s attention instead, nor how he loved to give that attention back in equal amount.

“Nice legs” he tells him, repeating the same words Eddie told him that morning.

Eddie stops his incoherent stream of words when he hears him “what?”

“You heard me” Steve says.

“I did” Eddie admits. He pulls the trash can back up, to have an excuse to not look at Steve when he asks “you can’t stop thinking about me?”

For some reason, that’s the easiest question Steve has ever had to answer to “yes, I can’t.”

Eddie jolts back up startling Steve, the trash can falling out of his hands and hitting the ground once again.

“Cool” he says, using all of his willpower to hide his excitement by keeping a relaxed face, failing miserably.

“I guess” Steve grins. Knowing he has that effect on Eddie is making him the most confident he has ever felt in his life.

“So, since you can’t stop thinking about me…” Eddie repeats, in a tone that Steve would’ve mistaken for a mocking one until few hours ago “…we could hang out on the beach later. I’ll bring my guitar.”

“I’ll bring mine too then” Steve replies immediately.

Eddie panics “We can’t both have a guitar!”

Steve crosses his arms on his chest “who says that?”

Eddie opens and closes his mouth a couple of times then mutters, defeated, “fine.”

“Great!” Steve takes a step forward and gives Eddie a peck on his cheek “I’ll see you later.”

Eddie, who makes a face again trying to hide his excitement, nods and turns away “cool.”

He walks away slowly, towards the park’s exit. Right by the gate, he throws himself into an hedge. Steve can clearly hear him when he screams words along the lines of “FINALLY”, “I HAVE A DATE” and “SUBLIME”.

Steve turns to Robin who has witnessed the whole thing, while Eddie is still screaming random words from the bushes.

“I think I’m in love.”

[emchante]

Divorced dad!Daniel + “Sighing softly at the shell of your ear so you can hear how much you affect them” -> imagine you’re the first person he’s with after a long time and he’s so vocal when you palm him through his boxers 🙏🏼

~🫠

sweet temptations | d. ricciardo

summary: daniel had been relieved from dad duties for the weekend, so he invited you over for dinner. not long after, you’re on top of him and helping him get off— something he hasn’t experienced in a while.

prompt: “sighing softly at the shell of your ear so you can hear how much you affect them” + divorced dad!daniel

warnings: 18+ content, post-divorce daniel, handjob through clothing, dirty talk.

w.c. 1.3k+

masterlist | requesting rules

a/n hello lovelies! divorced dad!daniel series finally has it’s first official blurb and i’m so happy with it. thank you to my wonderful anon for requesting, i loved writing this. please let me guys know what you think, i would love to hear your thoughts and would be honoured if anyone wanted to drop into my inbox so we can explore this series together <3

the night was cool, the streetlights of the neighborhood glowing dimly through the thin curtains of daniel’s living room. you could count how many times you had been round at his place on a single hand, as he often came to your house, whether that be with or without his kids.

this weekend he was free from dad duties, and he had invited you to his house for dinner. this.. thing you both had going on was still new. it was more than a casual fling, but nothing had been set in stone or defined as of yet.

that didn’t matter currently, not when you found yourselves entangled on his sofa, the fingers of your right hand tracing lines up his exposed chest.

daniel’s breathing was heavy, his rose-inked hand was firm on your waist, pulling you closer. your left hand trailed down his body, brushing over the hardness straining against his trousers. a shudder ripples through daniel’s body, a low groan erupting from him.

“god,” he breathes as his head falls back, sunken eyes dark and hooded as he gazes up at you, full of need. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

you smirk at his words, giving him another gentle squeeze. his response is immediate— a long-drawn moan, his hips shifting toward your touch, craving more. “i think i have a small idea,” you tease, winking as your thumb circles over his hardening cock.

you relish in the whimper that escapes him at the small movement, enjoying the jerking of his hips at any touch. your eyes trailed over him, taking in the sight in front of you. the older, handsome and —quite frankly— powerful man that everyone seemed to fawn over, was currently beneath you on his worn down sofa, cock straining as he moans for your touch.

you lean on your right hand, using it to ground yourself as you move closer to daniel’s face. you place a line of soft kisses from his chin, up his jaw and one final kiss on top of the freckle that resides under his ear, before moving your lips up.

“but still, tell me,” you whisper, biting on the bottom of his earlobe and gaining a soft gasp from him before continuing. “tell me what i do to you, daniel.”

a deep flush creeps over daniel’s cheeks, but he doesn’t shy away. instead, his right hand moves to your face, nudging it until you’re both eye-to-eye. his dark eyes were clouded with desire and need, staring deeply into you.

“every time you touch me, it’s like— i don’t know,” he stammers, voice quiet as he tries to gather his thoughts. “it’s been so long since someone made me feel like this. it’s like im re-experiencing everything all over again, like this is all new to me,” he explains, licking his lips as he stares at you, waiting.

you lean down and press your lips into his, capturing him in a slow kiss as you let your fingers work him slowly; palming him through the fabric of his trousers. his reaction was instant, another low, guttural moan erupting against your lips; and it sent heat pooling in your belly.

“god, you’re so sensitive,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back and pointing your head down to watch. you press your hand a little harder, and are rewarded with a twitch beneath your palm.

daniel nods quickly, head tilting to the side so his lips are against your ear. you bite your lip while he pants into your ear, swallowing thickly before sighing softly. “yeah, you— you have no idea,” he stammers, hips bucking up into your hand again desperately. “please.. don’t stop.”

your fingers found the button of his jeans, and another shaky breath escaped him. you tilt your head back up to look at him, and his eyes meet yours with a look was half-desperation, half-anticipation.

“is this okay?” you whisper, wanting to double-check he really was okay with this. despite his eagerness, you wanted to make sure.

any doubts you had were shut down in an instant as his hand grabbed your face, pulling you closer to capture your lips in a fervent kiss. “more than okay.”

your hand makes its way into daniel’s jeans, cupping his straining cock through his boxers. you give him another squeeze, enjoying the warmth in your hand now you were closer to his cock than before. the sound that escapes daniel can only be described as pure, unfiltered relief. “oh— oh my god,” he chokes out, his voice straining as he stretches his head back against the couch.

you could feel him pulsing beneath your hand, the heat building as you continued. you were drawing needy sounds from him that made your own heart race, desperate to hear more. the sight before you was one you wanted to memorize, so you kept your eyes trained on his body the entire time.

as you kept stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers, you bit your lip as you listened to the string of soft moans fall from his lips. his head was writhing from side to side, hips shaking and jerking almost uncontrollably as the pleasure started to truly overtake him.

he tried to get into somewhat of a rhythm, focusing on trying to grind his aching cock against the palm of your hand. another deep groan escaped him as his body started to tighten, and you knew he was nearing the edge.

you move your face closer to daniel’s again as your lips ghost his own, his eyes opening as he tries to keep them trained on you. you can tell that daniel wants you to lean in that inch closer, connect your lips and kiss him hungrily again.

but you don’t.

you keep your lips brushing his own as you continue to stroke him, eyes boring into his own. daniel gets bored of your little game fast, and leans forward to capture you in another kiss. he kisses you like his life depends on it, tongue grazing your bottom lip slowly before slipping it into your mouth. his hips continue to buck into your hand, thrusts becoming more hurried.

“come on, daniel,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back. you lick your lips before taking you bottom lip between your teeth, squeezing his aching cock and sighing. you move to his ear again, kissing just behind it before whispering to him. “let go for me.”

daniel’s body shuddered, his breath hitching as his whole body went rigid, and with a final strangled moan, he did as you said. you could feel the heat and dampness through the fabric as daniel finished, his head falling back against the couch while squeezing his eyes shut, riding out the waves of pleasure as small whimpers and groans escaped him.

you continued to cup him through his boxers, your thumb slowly rubbing against his softening dick through his boxers. when his breathing was starting to even out, his eyes opened slowly and he lifted his head to look at you. you slide your hand out from his unbothered jeans. you wink at him, licking the slight wetness off your thumb which causes a low groan to come from daniel.

daniel uses his hands to push himself up, back resting against the armchair before moving one of his hands onto your waist, and pulling you into him. you rest your forehead against his own, and daniel takes it upon himself to place a soft kiss onto your lips.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy the fic? come chat to me through my ask box, publicly or on anon! i’d love to talk to you and hear your thoughts about it <3

[envy-of-the-apple]

A Mutual Hatred

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

finally kicking out the fic that’s been a draft for three years:) ahaha...aha...ha if its obvious this was written for another character...no it wasn’t

(Warnings: implied non-con, implied drugging, college!AU, dark content)

Gojo Satoru did not like you. 

He didn’t make it obvious. But, you could see the way he slowly inched away from you. And the fake fake smile he stretched on his lips anytime he was forced to talk to you. 

It was a little offensive. You never obsessed about people liking you, but the fact that someone super popular would rather not exist when you were around...well, it stung. 

It could’ve been worse. At least he didn’t openly admit his hatred of you. It was just the tiny, little things he did that made you know there were boundaries. 

But you weren’t Gojo’s friend, you were Geto’s friend. Which meant, as much as you’d rather not to go the party celebrating their latest win, you were still dragged anyway. 

A loud cheer erupted across from the room. Still nursing your drink, you gave Geto a look. 

“The baseball team,” He sighed, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know they were gonna be here. I know they’re fucking crazy but they won’t bother you. I promise.” 

You have to laugh at his genuinely apologetic look. You wave him away. 

“It’s fine,” You say, “I don’t mind, Besides, they look....fun.” 

Your words come a bit too late as you spot the team captain trying to do a handstand on top of an extremely fragile vase. That would end well. 

“I’m glad they’re supportive of you, at the very least,” 

Geto is sighing, ready to apologize again. He promised you this would be low-key, just the basketball team and a few mutual friends. 

Now it’s just the basketball team, along with a hundred other people. 

If anything you’re impressed at how quickly the numbers formed. The music was loud, booming, nearly blowing out your ears. People were dancing, at the very least, moving together in disjointed clumps because you are pretty sure alcohol doesn’t help you with dancing. 

Voices tear you away from the scene, and your gaze settles on Geto’s volleyball squad. They eagerly start to wave him over. He shakes his head. You frown. 

“Don’t babysit me,” You tell him, “Go. Have fun.” 

He gives you a look. You roll your eyes. 

“I promise I’ll be fine. The only reason I’m here is for the free beer.” 

You’re planning on throwing your cup of cheap booze away the second you can, but you don’t want him to think he has to guard you for the night. That’s who Geto is, a self-proclaimed protector. You don’t even know him all that well but he’s still more than happy to forfeit hanging out with his friends to sit here with you. He’s a good person. 

You still can’t understand why a guy like him would ever be friends with Gojo. 

They had been childhood friends. Best friends. Stayed together until college. Maybe it was just proximity that kept them so close, because you couldn’t imagine it were their personalities. 

Geto sighs, reluctantly slipping away. 

“If you need anything, lemme know.” You nod, keeping your smile on as he gives you one last look before joining his friends. 

Finally alone, you drop the cup in the trash as soon as you can.

At least, you thought you were alone. 

“Too strong?” 

You jump at his voice. Gojo tilts his head, gazing at you with pretty blue eyes. His glasses are off tonight. 

“I-” you stumble, not really sure what to say. He was going out of his way to talk to you? “I was just-” 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he laughs, light and airy and you’re starting to get why he has a fanclub, “Nazumaki has shitty tastes. Wanna try what I’m having?” 

He hands you an opened can. Still a bit confused, you accept. It’s slightly better. With a fruity aftertaste. When you go to hand it back, he waves you off. 

“Take it, I gotta’ drive home.” He reasons. 

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you accept. This was...weird. Really really weird. Gojo Satoru didn’t like you. Not even the slightest. Then, why was he being so...nice?

Or maybe you had it all wrong? You were overreacting? 

“Congrats on winning your game.” You tell him, when the silence stretches on for far too long.

“Yeah,” he responds, “you went?” 

You shake your hade. 

“Too busy,” you responded sheepishly, “but I watched the highlights. You guys were awesome.” 

“A huge improvement from fall semester.” he agrees. “Fuck, you should’ve seen us those first couple of weeks. Like a bunch of....coked up squirrels or something. Horrible passes, jumping all over the place, just-” 

He’s cut off by your laugh. “I’m sorry...coked up squirrels?” 

“You didn’t see our freshmen,” he argues, “It’s a great analogy.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” You smile.

 It’s definitely the alcohol. On his part too. But conversation flows like you are two old friends. It’s so easy to talk to him. Laugh with him. For a moment, you almost forgotten how much disdain Gojo Satoru used to show you. 

Almost.

“You know....for a while, I thought you hated me.” You confessed, because you had to bring it up eventually. The suspense was killing you, eating you alive.

“What?” 

“I mean.” The floor looks weird. You don’t like the carpet. “On campus, you were always so stand-offish. Like you were mad at me.” 

He shoots you an amused look. “I didn’t hate you. I guess I was kinda’ just pissed.” 

You scrunch your forehead, “Oh, you were? Why?” 

“’Cuz you had a nice ass and I wasn’t allowed to touch it.” 

You blink. And then the world tilts sideways. 

What?

Hands grip your shoulders, holding you upright. 

“Woah, baby. I think you had a bit too much. Let’s go lay down.” Gojo purrs into your ear, as he starts leading you away. 

You weren’t drunk. You knew that. You barely had anything. You make a meager struggle against his unwavering body as your dazed mind starts to piece what’s happening. 

You nearly stumble into another group of people. Gojo takes the reigns immediately, apologizing on behalf of his ‘drunk friend who doesn’t know limits’. It’s so deranged that at one point you’re convinced you’re having an out-of-body experience. That this isn’t real. A dream. A nightmare. 

But this is real. He shows you the moment he shoves you into a closet, shutting the door behind him.

“Wh-what are you doing-” your pleas are interrupted by soft lips. You’ve never once thought about kissing Gojo but his lips are like pillows. It’s his strength that suffocates you. Biting and licking up your blood. 

“Would’ve done this sooner, but your bodyguard would never leave you alone for long. The bastard. Keeping you all to himself.” 

Bodyguard? He’s kissing you again, groping you through your clothes and you can’t stand to even think. Geto, it eventually clicks. His helpful protectiveness. You-you thought he was like that with everyone. 

Something, a second wind maybe, kicks up at you. You struggle against his large hands. Gojo grunts, as though your desperation was a minor inconvenience for him. 

“Stop it, fucking stop.” He hisses, pulling at your hair. You yelp. “Stop fighting this when we both know you-” 

The door opens, swinging in blaring light and the sounds of the party with it. Satoru stills, blinking up at the newcomer. You look up too, heart crackling with relief. 

Geto stands there, chest heaving, and it takes a minute for you to realize he must have ran here. You open your mouth, nothing but a warbled plea comes out. 

You expect him to do something. To grab Gojo by the hair and pull. To save you. 

But he doesn’t. He just stands there. 

When you search his eyes. You don’t find anger. You just see hunger. 

Gojo’s pretty laugh rings through the air. Undisturbed. Expectant. 

“What took you so long?” 

[lives-in-midgard]

You Are In Love

Pairing: Evan Buckley x reader

Summary: When you're out with your friends you meet a handsome firefighter. After a while you go on a date and decide to keep your relationship a secret until something happens.

Word Count: 1200

A/N: Hey. This is part of the Buddie-August challenge. This also includes some characters from the Rookie. I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Buddie-August hosted by me and @buckys-wintersoldier

Prompt: Kisses

911 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After a long shift at work one of your colleagues had the idea to go to a bar. You don’t often go to bars with all of them, but today you all finally had time. A lot has changed for you since you started working as a police officer at the Mid-Wilshire Station. You found a lot of friends there and you love your job.

“I’m gonna get a drink, would any of you like one too?” You asked the others.

“Could you get me another one of these.” Lucy said, pointing at her drink and you nodded.

“What about you Tim?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He said, smiling at you. When the others said they didn’t need anything, you made your way over to the bar. While you were waiting in line for drinks, a cute guy stood next to you and waited as well. Somehow he looked familiar to you, but you weren’t sure where you had seen him before. He smiled at you and then you suddenly remembered him. You could never forget that smile.

“You’re firefighter Buckley, right?” You asked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s me. Wait and you are officer L/n.”

“You can call me y/n.” You said with a smile.

“Only if you call me Buck because that’s what everyone calls me.”

“Okay, deal.” You said and he had that sweet smile again. You talked for a few more minutes until your drinks were ready.

“See you around, Buck.”

“See you and be safe.” He said and watched as you walked back to your table. You handed Lucy her drink and sat down next to Tim again.

“Who was this guy?” Tim asked curious.

“Oh, just a friend.” You answered and Tim nodded. You and Tim have been friends and partners for a long time and over time he has become very protective over you. He always knows when something is wrong and is there for you as best as he can.

The next day you kept thinking about your meeting with Buck. He was so sweet and you hope to see him again. You didn’t think you’d see him again soon because just when you had an emergency call and had to call the ambulance, it was the 118 that showed up. You couldn’t really talk to him, but it was great to see each other again.

When you were grocery shopping and walking through the halls someone said your name and when you turned around you saw that it was Buck.

“Hey Buck.” You greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, good to see you.”

“I was wondering if you would like to have a coffee with me sometime?” He suddenly asked.

“Yeah, sure. How about I give you my phone number.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You tipped in your number and he called you, so you had his number too.

Two days passed until you got a message from Buck. He asked if you were free tomorrow and you agreed to meet after work. At work Tim noticed that you were different, happier and more excited. He didn’t ask you about it, but it made him happy to see you happy.

The coffee date with Buck went very well. You talked about everything that came to your mind. You both really enjoyed it and had a great time. He asked you out on a date and that date turned into another date and suddenly you were in a happy relationship.

You had been dating for about three months now. Usually you were at his house or yours or sometimes you were going out. Favorite things to do together include cooking, watching movies, going to the beach and you enjoying it when he tells you a story from work and then you tell him some stories too. You’re very happy together and try to spend as much time together as possible, even if it can be a bit difficult due to your work shifts. Some people don’t think a relationship between a police officer and a firefighter is a good idea, so you decided to keep the relationship a secret for a while, which wasn’t always easy especially if you would see him on a call.

Today you have been called into a very difficult situation. You called for backup, but things quickly escalated, and you injured your left arm. Luckily, Officer Harper, Officer Nolan and Officer Bradford arrived at the right time to arrest the person. While Harper and Nolan arrested the person, Tim ran over to you and called an ambulance.

“Tim, I’m aright, it’s just a small scratch.”

“Let’s wait and see what the medics say, okay?” Tim said and put some pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. A few minutes later you could already hear the ambulance driving near you. When the doors opened you could see that it was Buck. As soon as he saw you, he ran towards you.

“Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at your arm. When you looked over, you saw that Tim had a confused look on his face.

“I’m okay, it’s just a small scratch.” You said again.

“Let’s go to the truck and I’ll take a look at it.” Buck said, placed his hand on your back and guided you to the truck. Then he removed the cloth from your wound and gently tried to stop the bleeding. You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He looked into your eyes and tried to smile at you. Then he looked back at the wound.

“The cut isn’t too deep, so it’s okay if I just bandage it.” He said and you nodded. Buck gently put the bandage over your wound and then gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Anytime.” He said, then Buck tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pulled you into a passionate kiss. When you broke the kiss, you reached for his hand and smiled at each other.

“I have to go back to work.” You said after a few seconds, even though you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Me too.” He said, looking over his shoulder to see his friends looking at you both with smiles.

“I guess they all know now.”

“They definitely do.” You said with chuckle. You noticed how happy they all were and then looked over at Tim who was as happy as they were.

“I think I have to go now. See you later.” Buck said and gave you a quick hug.

“See you.” You said, waving at him as you walked away. As you walked to your car, Tim was still standing next to yours and looked at you with a grin.

“Now I know why you’ve been so happy lately.”

“Yeah, Buck makes me really happy.” You confirmed and opened the car door.

You were glad that Tim and Buck’s colleagues now found out about your relationship, but you definitely want to meet them soon on a better occasion. Buck has told you a lot about them, so you’re very excited to meet them.

Taglist:

@cevansbaby-dove | @buckys-wintersoldier

@beaubbdoll

[jensthwa]

i was made for lovin' you (PSH x reader)

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

In an attempt to grasp at his youth, Seonghwa buys a motorcycle despite not knowing the first thing about them. When it inevitably breaks down, he has no other option that to ride it to a mechanic shop and, after following a sweet hum, he’s faced with the life-changing (and predictable) fact that, maybe, what he needed after all was not a motorcycle. Maybe, just maybe, what he needed was you.  

PAIRING: new bike owner!seonghwa x afab mechanic!reader.

GENRE: strangers to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 20k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both seonghwa's and reader's), wooyoung being a little shit for the umpteenth time + jongho, yeosang AND hongjoong (omg), that feeling you get when your youth is ending, midlife crisis! (or so yunho says), a loooot of work related/motorcycle plot, flirting, seonghwa losing his rizz, reader is adopted so that may count as a trigger warning for some of you, shitty exes, crying a bit but not really, pet and nicknames (ghost, dear), they almost get caught in a thunderstorm, lots of tension, making out, oral ( f & m reciving ), descriptions of the female anatomy, floor AND protected sex ( wrap it up pls ), the ending leads straight up to the next story on this universe so be aware of that.

NOTES: hello everyone! after almost a month in the making, here you have it! THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE but can be read as a stand alone, although there's some characters and scenarios you can understand better if you read the last three parts (you can find them in my masterlist). this really didn't need to be so lenghty but it turned out that way for some reason (i'm the mayor of yap town). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 02 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist.

Seonghwa is proud to be the type of person who can just tell what's going on after assessing a situation for a few seconds. 

His intuition is something he can rely on and he almost never misses the mark when he makes predictions that he doesn't share with anyone else in case it brings anyone down. 

As he watches San kissing his girlfriend's cheek and then stare at her like a lovestruck idiot, his mouth quirks up a bit and he quickly hides it behind the soda can he's been nursing for the past couple of minutes. 

He's happy it finally happened. 

He's also a little butthurt that he didn't get the chance to fully get to know her first. 

They've been together for a few months now, maybe four if he recalls correctly. Back then, he danced with her at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment like he didn't know one of his closest friends had been in love with her since they both were in highschool. 

He didn't tell anyone, but a part of him did it to see if it would prompt a reaction. And, from what he was told by Wooyoung, it did. 

She is his type of person, though. And when he texted her a few days later and she sent in a non-detailed voice note briefly explaining what went down after they all left the party and she stayed behind to help her drunk best friend, he told her he understood and that he kind of already knew. 

Or at least, he expected it. 

He also explained to San that, although his intentions with his girlfriend (before she was his girlfriend) were mostly genuine, he’s obviously not in love with her. 

After all, they only met that one time and now, back in San and Woo’s shared apartment for what feels like an overdue reunion after months of busy schedules and adult life, he can assure them both with a nod and smile that he is, indeed, happy for them. 

He treasures admiration for those who are able to find love in this modern age, anyway. 

Now there's two couples in the group. Seonghwa has never been the type of guy who chases relationships and has a goal set on when and how to get married. He simply exists and welcomes the opportunities life gives him as they come. 

That's how he got his job at Room for More. His professor gave him a recommendation letter after finishing the last presentation of his career and suggested he try his luck at his colleague’s company. 

And now he's actually doing what he studied to do and he's loving it. Working in interior design and fighting minimalism while he's at it? 

Incredible. Life could not be better. 

Kind of.

As rare as those types of opportunities are, he truly believes it is way easier to find a niche profession people are actually comfortable with than it is to find love in modern society. 

Life might give you your dream job out of nowhere, but it can also take away the opportunity of finding a partner you can celebrate your success with. 

He never even told his friends when he got the job. Only Hongjoong, who then passed on the word to the rest of the group and, after they all congratulated him for it, they quickly moved on to their thesis and focused on not letting their last year of university eat them up while they were at it. 

Except for Jongho, he very much had a few months left to ignore the unavoidable adulthood period he was about to suddenly enter his senior year. The rest of them, minus Hongjoong, had the right to grasp as much as they could of the freedom of only being weighed down by exams and not by other obligations like rent and bills. 

Wooyoung and San’s lease is being paid by their parents, so they don't really count. 

And Hongjoong lives with his bandmates in a little apartment above the rehearsal space provided by a lovely grandma who treats them all like they are her sons, so he doesn't really count either. 

Seonghwa feels like, in the span of a year, he took a whole step forward while everyone else is still enjoying their youth. Now, he has presentations and meetings with clients he needs to worry about. 

Love is not his top priority, not that it ever was, but now it barely crosses his mind. 

He just wants to stay cool and young for a few more years before giving in completely into feeling like an adult. 

So, naturally, what's the first idea that popped in his mind a few weeks ago when thinking about the inescapable passage of time? 

That he should definitely be a little more irresponsible with his finances. Why not? He's in the perfect period of his life where he's allowed to make a mistake without the fear of eternal judgment by a superior being. 

The superior being happens to be his mother, of course. Who else would it be? The woman could make a God shake in their shiny boots and silence them with a single scowl. 

She's all the way back in his hometown, though and she's really rooting for him to make it big in the city. 

Surely, she wouldn't mind if he bought a motorcycle to help him commute faster to his appointments, right? 

Well, he's about to find out any day now.

Looking out of the window that looks to the street, Seonghwa can see his new acquisition parked and sparkling under the streetlamp and the smile that it brings to his lips it's big enough for Yunho to bump him with his hip and lean against the window sill as well. 

“Who's making you smile like that?” he asks, looking away from Seonghwa and following his line of sight till it reaches the beautiful Bonneville he just got on a great deal with a guy who wanted to get rid of it. 

The auction post said that it was because it looked too vintage and the owner wanted to upgrade to something more ‘modern looking’. 

A fool, he thought. 

Because to him, this bike checks all his marks: it is modern enough that in case he needed to get any parts for it, it wouldn't make him lose his mind in the process. But also, it has that vintage, nostalgic, old film feel and look to it that is just right up his alley. 

He loves it. 

Huh, maybe he did find true love after all. 

And after breaking open his savings, Seonghwa managed to get a hold of it without financially ruining himself. Only a bit. 

He didn't tell any of his friends about it, maybe that's why Yunho whistles after he checks it out. 

“Now who's riding that baby?” 

“Me,” Seonghwa smiles, turning to his friend who, as the response dawns on him, drops his jaw and lets out an amused chuckle “What? That's my bike!” 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Why would I lie to you?” He returns, softly. 

A bit passes and then Yunho turns to everyone else scattered around the living room. 

“Guys, Seonghwa is having an early mid-life crisis and bought a motorcycle!” 

Yeosang gasps “Ain't no way…” 

“Hwa? A motorcycle?” Wooyoung hollers, louder than everyone else “What's next? Tattoos?!” 

Oh, for the love of God. 

Maybe there's a reason he didn't tell anyone until now. Everyone gathers around the window to look at it like children at a zoo and he takes a step back, sitting on the arm on the couch, a subtle smile on his lips. 

The only person that turns to him is San’s girlfriend, smiling proudly like he just won the lottery or something. 

Damn, she really is his type. 

“Are you happy?” She asks and it tugs at his lonely heart strings like crazy. 

He pushes through, nodding and shrugging a bit, dismissing his feelings for the final time. It's not really her, he reminds himself. It's the thought of having someone in his life that treats him the way she treats San. 

“Sure am,” he murmurs “My bank account? Not so much.” 

She laughs and Jongho turns to him at that “Are you an old man with debts now? Noooo,” he pouts “Who am I going to ask for bail money now?” 

Gyuri, Wooyoung's ex-girlfriend who somehow manages to stay friends with him, scoffs “You've never been to jail, kid.” 

“But he's the first person on my emergency contact list for that!” 

And just like that, they all pull away from the window and back into their seats to discuss the reasons why Jongho would end up behind bars. 

Being annoying seems to be winning. 

Seonghwa is glad to take the attention off of him. This way, he can't be caught staring at the way Mingi’s girlfriend sits on his lap and nuzzles her nose against her boyfriend’s neck. This way, the sigh he lets out when he catches San whispering sweet things into his girl’s ear gets lost amidst pointless banter and giggling. 

He shouldn't feel envious. 

But somehow he ended up wearing a green short-sleeve today, so it checks out. 

“Important client. Wants to renovate their whole space, his apartment and his office.” 

His boss is excited. It makes him smile as he stares at her with his hands behind his back, like he usually does when he receives instructions. 

“He loved your work, I showed him the photo studio you helped with last month and requested you specifically. He said that he feels trapped in a box every time he gets to work and everytime he returns home, so… He wants you to lead the project,” she smiles, tapping her manicured nails against her desk and cocking her head to the side “Congratulations, kid, you got your first big commission coming.” 

“Thank you so much,” he bows, his body bending out of pure gratefulness and instinct “I'll make sure to run everything by you accordingly, boss.” 

“Well, I'm expecting a report in two days.” 

“Two days?” 

“Mhm. He wants to meet with you this afternoon… In four hours, exactly. I already sent you an email with the details,” she gets up from her desk, extending her hand towards him and he rushes to shake it “You're doing the initial assessment today, alone. Everyone else has something going on.” 

Fuck. 

“Of course,” he's worried and anxious, but he makes sure none of it shows as he gives her hand a firmer shake before letting it go “I'll do my initial research in the meantime, then.” 

She nods and dismisses him with her hand. 

He stresses the whole time he looks up the name and company of this new client. It seems like a serious business, not the kind that wants to reject minimalism especially when the nation's professional aesthetic runs on it. 

It’s a modern tech silicon valley run by, what he's able to gather, a very rich family his new client is part of. There's a picture of them, smiling at an event, looking like the nightmare of working class people. 

He tends to keep his opinions on chaebol’s at bay (Yunho is his friend and he’s rich, so he can't really voice what he thinks so freely anyway) but the fact that they contacted his company, an interior design business with barely any recognition amongst their competitors, is both surprising and concerning. 

He clicks an article where his new client is featured. He's the heir of his family's empire, a tech savvy himself and he can tell, from the way they framed his answers, that he is well media-trained. 

Seonghwa has no name for himself. Why would he request him? He's not so sure the ambiance he helped to create in a mere photo studio is what is granting him this opportunity. 

His intuition is telling him, as he clicks for his initial research to print, that there must be an ulterior motive. 

But he's going to embrace the chance of securing his rent money either way. 

He just hopes his hair is presentable enough when he gets there. The helmet he bought is really not helping, the wind that somehow gets into it as he cruises through the streets doesn't help either.

Wanna know what else adds up to his problems today? The engine sounds weird. 

It sounds fucking weird. 

At a red light, Seonghwa lifts up his visor and tries to figure out what the hell is going on as much as he can. 

He's too green for this. Too new to this world. 

Would his mother scold him if she finds out he lied about doing a thorough research about the bike world before investing in one? 

He looks at his watch. He has time to spare, an hour and a half before the meeting takes place. 

Before he can fully make a decision, his body weight is making him turn into a street he doesn't know that well. But he's sure he saw a repair shop on the way to work today. 

Or was it just a body shop? Maybe he imagined it and the sudden panic he feels rising and darkening his cheeks under the visor is convincing him he's right. 

When he sees the floatable mascot waving in the wind, he lets out a sigh of relief. 

Pulling up, he sees a few cars with their hood open and a few new, modern bikes to the side, so he parks a few meters from them and when he turns off the engine and gets down from his -apparently- damaged new acquisition, he feels like he can finally breathe. 

No, scratch that, he takes his helmet off and then he's able to breathe. 

When he scans the place, there's not a soul in sight. 

Until he hears someone humming. It's a song he heard before, he can't quite put it together by the melody but it sounds like something he used to enjoy when he entertained the idea of joining Hongjoong's band all the way back in first semester of college. 

Something with heavy guitars, which kind of fits the place’s vibe. Looking around, he swears to himself he's trying to find the source of the humming.

After all, he doesn't have much time to take in the place.

But he does anyway. 

When he steps deeper into the shop, he feels like he's been teletransported into a decade he never got to experience, into a culture that is not his to experience in the first place. 

It's like a Sons of Anarchy set, something he would see in an indie two thousands movie, maybe. There's a lot of stuff laying around, an organized chaos he guesses he can attribute to the nature of this kind of job. 

But there's also a lot on the walls, aside from the usual tools hanging from it that look worn out there's posters and the Harley Davidson logo plastered at least five times in shirts, hats and jacket applique patches. 

He thinks the walls can be painted a new, muted color instead of the sort-of bright blue and beige they have going on. 

Focus. What the hell. 

Shaking his head, he follows the sound of the voice until he reaches the back of the shop. There's what it looks like an office, maybe a reception? With a door that's wide open and seems to lead to a storage he doesn't need to get in to. 

There, on her knees, he sees the source of the sound: A girl. 

A beautiful, beautiful girl. 

With her hair out of her face and overalls that seem too loose on her frame. 

Is his heart okay? It feels like it stopped beating. 

And then the beating comes back in full blast, goosebumps on his skin reminding him to speak up. Clearing his throat softly, he does. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh, shit,” she drops whatever she's working on, stops writing something down on a notebook that looks like it's about to run out of space “You fucking scared me!” 

“I can… see that. I'm sorry.” 

“Did you float all the way down here? Fucking Christ,” she mumbles something under her breath, getting up from her position and leaning into the desk in a way Seonghwa will probably remember forever. He gulps “What can I help you with, Ghost?” 

She's breathtakingly beautiful and he, who's usually smooth with words and random interactions, stammers out his response “H-hey, yes I… I'm Park Seonghwa,” he starts, smiling a bit “I was hoping there was someone here who can help me with my bike?” 

She looks around and he assumes she's looking for someone until he sees the corner of her lip curving up a bit “As I said, what can I help you with?” 

Did he already fuck this whole thing up? 

“Oh! I wasn't suggesting that you couldn't— I mean that's not what I…” her smirks widens, he suddenly remembers he's running out of time so he gets it together “I just bought a motorcycle and I'm sure the engine is not supposed to sound the way it's sounding so I thought I could use someone taking a look?” He gets out as fast as he can and the stranger claps her hands in a way that makes him take a step back. 

She intimidates him. Just a little bit. 

“First time owner?” She asks but he's sure she already knows. 

Chuckling nervously, Seonghwa nods “What gave it away?” 

“Your gear,” she simply states, getting out from behind the desk and into the garage space, moving swiftly through it like she owns the place. Damn, does she own the place? “You're barely wearing any. I get it, it's stuffy,” she turns over her shoulder to smile at him “It'll grow on you.” 

“More like I'll get used to it, I feel like.” 

“Yeah,” she rounds a car, tapping the hood of it and taking a pause as she scans the front of the place “That's what I said.” 

That's definitely not what she said. 

He's not sure if she's being rude or merely sarcastic, but he shouldn't be enjoying it the way he is. What drags him out of it is the way laughs when she sees his bike “This one?”

Concerning. Danger. Why is she laughing?! 

“Y-yeah.” 

“I don't get to see this type of bike often. Damn, she's beautiful.” 

He smiles, taking down his worries a notch “Yeah, I got a great deal for it. The guy said he wanted something like that instead,” he points at the one right next to his “Said he wanted something that looked out of Terminator. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they used a Harley Davidson for the movies.” 

“I'm guessing he meant Robocop?” 

“Maybe.”

“What an idiot,” she sighs, inspecting his bike closely “Not you, Park Seonghwa, the guy who sold you this. Key.” 

Key? Oh, right, the key. He tosses it to her and she catches it with expertise. 

“Well, thanks for clarifying that.” 

She laughs again, taking his helmet that's resting on the seat and putting it down on the floor as she straddles the bike “You're welcome,” she starts it, revs the engine a few times and then grimaces in a way that makes Seonghwa’s heart drop to his ass “Okay, Ghost, please tell me you have time to spare today.” 

“I actually don't,” he takes a few steps, worried frown on his face that prompts another sigh from her “I have a very, very important appointment in…” he checks his watch “In an hour that I really, really need to get to and— Is it that bad?” 

“No! No, not at all, I'm just better with cars than with bikes but, uhm… My brother is coming back in around fifteen minutes?” She offers and with the scowl on his face, she seems to backtrack “Listen, Park Seonghwa, why don't you leave your number with me and we can get this fixed by the end of the day. You can come by to pick it up or we can drop it to you early, tomorrow.” 

“Would you? Oh, my God,” he lets out another nervous laugh “That would be amazing, actually.” 

“Yeah, it's probably just the chain tensioner that needs an adjustment. Nothing's wrong with the engine as far as I can tell but that's why I want the guy who specializes in this type of thing to check it out.” 

“Your brother.” 

“Exactly,” she nods, turning it off and getting off as quickly and if Seonghwa was a little less concerned that he might've waisted his money on an expensive motorcycle, he would've noticed the proximity and the way she looks him over  with a curious glint on her eye “So, Park Seonghwa, what's your number?” 

She takes a step to the side and offers him her phone after unlocking it. He reacts to that. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

He doesn't notice the big smile she offers him either. He doesn't have time. He enters the digits fast and checks over them two times before saving the contact information and returning the phone. 

Checking his watch once again, he curses under his breath and looks at his baby with desperation, begging, praying that he doesn't have to spend a fortune on it. 

“I really have to go.” 

“I can see that,” she returns his words from before, smiling and leaning to rest her weight on the hood of the car she tapped earlier “Good luck with your, uh…” she looks him over one more than and this time he notices it, blushing like a teenager for some reason because of it “Business meeting?” 

The crossbody bag he's wearing probably gave him away, huh? 

“Yeah, yes. Thank you so much for all your help… Ian?” He reads the nametag on her overall and immediately thinks it is an unconventional name for a girl, but doesn't add anything about it “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“I get it, you're grateful, now leave.” He catches on that she's pretending like his presence bothers her so he can hurry, which he's actually grateful for. 

It occurs to him that he could stare at her forever like an idiot if she didn't. 

“Okay, bye. Please tell me if I have to, uh, rob a bank or something to cover the cost.” 

She laughs again and it sounds pretty this time. 

What the fuck. 

“Sure,” she nods and he takes a few steps backwards until he's about to turn and then he hears her voice again, so he doesn't but he keeps walking “It's Y/N, by the way.” 

“Huh?” 

“My name is Y/N, Ian is my brother.” 

His heart beats loudly and he can't help but smile as wide as he possibly can “Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Goodbye, Park Seonghwa!” 

He finally turns and then screams back “Goodbye, Y/N!” as he's hurrying to raise his hand and call on a taxi who just passed the entrance like divine intervention, placed perfectly just for him. 

He misses the sudden blush on your cheeks because he's already in the cab by the time you reach the garage’s door to glance at the beautiful man one last time.

Seonghwa is right on time. With a few minutes to spare, actually. 

The building looks even more modernized than in pictures. He can even see some workers remodeling an office he passes on the way to the… third? Main desk he has to go to. 

It's a very big company and he can see the silicon valley aspect of it all once he notices the few different uniforms everyone is wearing. It seems like the building is one big, creative space and he likes it, but it does feel a little cold in a sense. 

“I'm looking for Mr. Kim? I have an appointment in… five minutes with him, I was sent from—”

“Room for More. Park Seonghwa is here.” The lady at the reception doesn't spare him a glance as she talks through her headset and he has to blink a few times, bowing briefly when she points towards the elevator to his right “Floor sixteen, the only big office on the floor.” 

“Thank you—” 

“Next!” 

Turning back, he sees there's some people lined up behind him and he quickly moves out of the way and towards the elevator that drops him, two minutes later, into the sixteenth floor. 

As he walks towards the big doors at the end of the hall, he feels so out of place his armpits start sweating even though it is a cold day and the heating is barely on. 

There's a few cubicles, glass separating them from the hall and, in consequence, forcing him to glance a few times out of curiosity. The uniforms and creativity that he saw downstairs is lost and all he can see is the nightmare he had once, when he thought he would end up working in a similar space: men in suits and women in pencil skirts typing away and printing reports he is never going to understand. 

Maybe that's why he's a bit surprised when he gets to Mr. Kim’s office and he's waiting by the door with a kind of ironed three piece suit and a few hairs out of place, toothy grin and open arms. 

“Mr. Park Seonghwa, thank you so much for taking the job!” 

He moves in to give him a brief hug he doesn't really get to reciprocate before he's moving away and into his office. 

“It's, um, a pleasure,” he stammers out, following him “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Kim— Wow.” 

“I know, I know,” his client sighs as he takes a box and throws it to the side of his desk. The space is a mess and both of them grimace at the sound of something breaking inside the cardboard “This is why I recruited you. I tried to do something myself and ended up with… Whatever this is.” 

Looking around, Seonghwa is able to see what he means. The walls are mismatched and there's an unfinished design on the one to his left. Someone started painting a tree and gave up after sketching out a few branches. 

“And please call me Soohyun. Everyone here already calls me Mr. Kim and it makes me feel like my father,” he adds, sitting down on his desk chair and pointing to the one in front of it “That's my sister’s work. She tried to help me but broke one of her nails trying to get the cap off a painting tube so… She left me with this mess.” 

Seonghwa smiles, sitting down in front of him and getting his sketchbook out of his bag. Seemingly excited, his client rests his arms on the desk and grins at him, expectantly. 

He seems a little childish, not like the guy he studied earlier today. He looks younger than what he actually is like this, in a space that mimics what Seonghwa picks up like impatience and boredom, maybe the desire of breaking free of a corporate jail. 

Now, he understands why he contacted Room for More. 

“So, Soohyun… What do you want me to do for this space?” 

He spends the rest of the day in the middle of the mess, getting to know Soohyun’s vision and learning about the company as he helps to pile up the boxes laying around and drawing different ideas down. When he tries to talk about a possible budget, the man silences him and tells him not to worry about it. 

The pretty girl he met earlier crosses his mind one time, when Soohyun asks him if he can stay later than anticipated to give him an excuse to get out of what he says it's about to be a very boring and pointless meeting. 

Her image, your image makes him smile and he wonders, for a second, what the hell are you doing with his bike. 

And if he gets to see you again. 

Your brother comes back like a whole two hours later, so you're grateful you didn't push your new client to waste fifteen minutes of his, apparently, very busy day. 

“He said he got a great deal for it?” you nod “This one is not even that old, I'm sure they still make them!” 

You shrug and your brother sighs.

“Maybe he got scammed.” 

“I didn't ask but I think it started making that noise today because he seemed… alarmed,” you tell him and Christian pushes his hair back before taking the key out of your open palm “He didn't stay because he had a business appointment or something. He looked very laid-back, though, not rich at all, so don't you dare overcharge him for this.” 

“Oh, so you liked him.” 

Rolling your eyes, you turn to open the hood of the car you're supposed to be working on instead of giving away information he should've listened to if he didn't tend to walk out mid-shift “Yeah, we're actually getting married next week.” 

“Well, that means I can dispute getting the whole garage once dad goes away.” 

You let out a groan but you smile a little as you try and remember where you left off last night. 

“The only way he can go away is if he's dead, Christian,” you remind him “And he's going to outlive both of us.” 

“Of course he is.” 

You're not sure if your dad has a will at all. You're not his real children after all, so If he does you're not sure you're included either. 

It's not hard to tell you're adopted, but you've known Christian since before it was decided you two would share a family and even a last name. 

You grew up together, the adoption home treated both of you decently enough so you two never struggled as much but the children your age were a different story entirely. They used to tug at your hair and push you to the ground during group activities and the only one who was brave enough to make them stop was Christian.  

So, when your dad showed up at the adoption home and picked him out of the hundred children, he told him he didn't want to go anywhere without you. 

Sure enough, your dad took one look at your frightened little face, hiding behind Christian like a coward, and filled out the paperwork twenty minutes later. 

You remember gaping at the director, waiting for him to do something about this six feet tattooed guy in his late thirties wanting to take you both away from the only home you ever knew, but you're grateful the system didn't give two craps about children back in the day. 

Not that it gives a crap about them now, but at least they're a little more careful with just handing out kids like that. 

Because it could've gone terribly wrong. You were sure, at eight years old, your hand grasping the seatbelt on the back seat of your new dad’s car, that it was about to go terribly wrong. 

But he turned out to be nothing but a kind, hardworking (with an amazing credit score, no criminal record and steady income), widowed man who was looking to fulfill his late wife’s dreams of having a family and someone to leave their business to. 

After all, she was the one who built the shop from the ground up. You desperately needed to know more of her and your dad made sure to let you know how amazing she was in every aspect. 

She became someone you looked up to, even if you never really knew her, maybe that's why you ended up working at the shop as well. 

And yet, you still don't think it belongs to you. Ian is the one your dad wanted to begin with, you're just an added bonus. 

You're not sure you want it, either. 

But there's not much you know outside of it. Your time in school was great, no one bullied you anymore and the tough skin you developed out of nowhere cushioned the typical jokes that kids and teenagers are apparently programmed to make. 

You never made fun of anyone with ill intentions, so you're not sure how true that statement is. 

Either way, you kind of know where they were coming from. You weren't particularly exceptional at any subject but you never got in trouble for anything either, so you just kind of floated in everyone's orbit until you graduated, never belonging to any specific group of people or participating on any extracurriculars to help you maintain your barely there friendships after graduation. 

This shop is truly all you got. And the family that comes with it, of course.

Your dad coughing in the back and the sound reaching your ears even when the sound of Park Seonghwa's damaged motorcycle is right next to you, reminds you that spending every second of your teenage years and early adult life learning all you could about how to fix a car was worth it. 

“Fucking chain tensioners.”

Smiling, you turn your head to your brother and he's already working on it “So it was the chain tensioner?” 

“Yeah,” he wipes the sweat off his forehead “it's always the fucking chain tensioner with these things.” 

You don't tell him you already knew that. 

“So you could get it fixed today?” 

“Yeah, yeah. He said he's coming back tonight?” 

“Oh, I kind of suggested dropping it off tomorrow so I'm not sure…”

“Y/N!” he scolds immediately and all you can give him in return is an innocent smile “I'm not dropping off shit tomorrow.” 

Turning back to the car, your smile grows into a cheeky one. 

“I never said you would do it.” 

He scoffs “If this is your way of flirting with people, I can see why you never got far with anyone befo— What the fuck?” 

Jaw slack, holding the greasy towel you sent flying into his direction a second ago, he throws it back and it lands by your feet. 

“Did I lie?” 

“Stop being an ass or the next thing I'm throwing your way are my bedazzled pliers.” 

Your dad’s voice behind you puts a stop into the petty and pointless bickering “Well, don't, I worked hard on those,” you smile at him and Ian all but sulks before returning to the task at hand “I expect you both to be done on whatever you're working tomorrow, by eight. We have dinner with the Lee’s.” 

Ah, dinner with your dad’s closest friends. Usual Tuesday shenanigans, of course, but it doesn't stop the nervous bubbling inside of you. 

You pray Deokhee can't make it (he rarely shows up) but you mutter out an okay in response even if you don't feel like going anyway. 

Nodding, he quickly looks over on what you're both doing before disappearing into the back of the shop again. You look down at your toolbox and find the bedazzled pliers your dad gave you as a part of your fourteen birthday gift with a tiny, grateful smile. 

The eternal loop of working in the same usual five, fixable problems on the cars that people drop off at the shop sets in afterwards. And, for the rest of the afternoon, you keep stealing glances at the Bonneville and wondering what type of man its owner is. 

You've always been drawn to pretty faces, even if it costed you your sanity only a few years back. Not that Christian or your dad or anyone else knew about it. 

The little secrets you keep give you some sense of identity, it sets you apart from the oil changes and calluses on your hands and they remind you of the brief aspirations you once had outside of all of this. 

When you dreamed of belonging to someone else and not just this family business, someone who you thought used to get you before he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Deokhee thought cheating would not affect you.

Why? Oh, maybe because your edges were worn and rough and you've been through worse stuff before. 

What's worse than getting abandoned and picked out as an afterthought later in life?

Being abandoned and treated like an afterthought by the guy you wasted your teen years obsessing over, probably. 

Nothing breaks like a heart or whatever the song says. 

And, to his advantage, he knew you'd keep calm and collected and accepting of his ways because he never promised you the life you imagined for the both of you, even after giving yourself to him multiple times. 

Even after he told you how amazing you were. 

Even after he whispered how lucky he was to have you, hushed and hurried at the backdoor of his house that last time before he broke it off. 

Before he told you he found someone else. 

So you know wondering is a bad idea. You should not wonder about a client, at that. How unprofessional of you, how immature. 

But there was a spark this afternoon you never felt with anyone else. He was brave enough to joke around, even when you did try your best to intimidate him and lost tragically at one glimpse of his pretty smile. 

What's so wrong in indulging in a fantasy no one will ever know about? Heavens know you need one to keep you from smashing the wrench on the windshield of this old, ungrateful, misbehaving Chevrolet that's proving to be more difficult than any other car you've ever worked on before. 

It's only at ten after seven that you're allowed to think about Park Seonghwa without the guilt brought on by delusion. 

“There, fixed,” your brother says and, after starting the bike again, the noise is gone “Call your future husband and tell him to pick it up, I want to meet him.” 

Huffing, you reach for your phone and look at the recently added contact before shaking your head. 

Indulging in a fantasy it's fine, as long as you keep it to yourself. 

You get a chance to prove yourself wrong if you allow yourself to see him again. 

“Not a chance in hell.”

Couple of minutes pass and you fidget the whole time. You're hoping for a yes, so it can all die down tonight. Seonghwa’s lack of transportation and your fantasy included.

He doesn't respond the way you need him to. 

You hate that it makes you smile a bit. 

You glance at your brother and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Would it be nice to not go wherever he is and have time to actually get ready for dinner tomorrow? Yes. 

Do you want Christian to meet Seonghwa? No. That meeting would solidify everything else as a reality, it would pull you out of your little fantasy and you don't want that. 

You want to keep it (Seonghwa) to yourself for a while longer. 

You shouldn't be flirting, you really shouldn't. 

His flirting back puts you in a dangerous zone, a territory you desperately want to explore but can't. Shouldn't. 

Is it dumb of you to re-read the conversation at least eight times before going to bed? 

Probably. 

But you do anyway. 

When Seonghwa is finally walked downstairs by his new client, he's promised a meal by Hongjoong, only if he buys some beer on the way to his apartment. 

His roommates are apparently out and he didn't feel like going, although he didn't explain why. And when he gets there, Yeosang is also splayed out on the couch and with his laptop on his belly. 

“Hwa’s here!” 

“Oh, man, finally,” Hongjoong walks out of his room with wet hair and a towel around his neck “The takeout is getting cold. Come on!” 

He seems… Off. 

Seonghwa eyes Yeosang for an answer but the youngest just shrugs and sits straight on the couch as he closes his laptop. 

“Is everything alrig—” 

“I'll explain it to you when the time is right. Something's up with the band but it's nothing we can't fix.” 

“Okay…” Seonghwa sits down on the tiny table that somehow fits the three of them, the beers and the takeout with a tiny smile, knowing not to intervene until he's told to. 

Eating with his friends is like second nature to him. Everytime it happens, it's like a family dinner and everyone knows what to do and what to serve to everyone so, soon enough, they all have their chopsticks helping them get food into their mouths while they talk about their day. 

Seonghwa is nodding along, not sharing a lot because, well, work is work and he just tells them how excited he is for the new project and what he's planning on doing, he even shows them the mockups and drawings he spent the whole afternoon making, gaining supportive praise for it a second later. 

Yeosang looks up from his meal to him “So it's like a lot of little companies inside one company?” 

“Sort of,” Seonghwa smiles “I don't really get it, either, but that's okay. It doesn't seem like I have to get the concept of the company to plan this whole thing out, only what my client wants and that's… Very different from the company image.” 

He plans on saying something else but all train of thought gets interrupted when his phone dings right besides him. 

And he almost spills his beer on his pretty mockups trying to get to it fast enough. 

Only to end up disappointed, because it's not you but a discount notification from the food app he normally uses when he has the money to order in.  

It had to show up in his face, because what he hears next has the color draining from it “Oh?” 

Oh, God. 

It's like Wooyoung's spirit possessing Hongjoong, he sees it happen in real time and the wicked smile his friend sends in his direction is enough to know where it's all going. 

Yeosang sighs and eyes him with a tiny smile that says I'm on your side, but not really. 

“Hwa… The motorcycle, the looking at your phone waiting for something or someone… Are you seeing anyone?” 

“He obviously is!” 

“Yeosang! Stop feeding his delusions!” 

“So?” Hongjoong places his beer down, cocking his head to the side inquisitively and eyeing him up and down, like he can figure something out that way “Are you?” 

“No! I just… I met this girl today and—” 

“At the company?” 

“No! No, uh… My bike broke down and—” 

“Already?!” 

“Let him talk, hyung!” 

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong sets his lips into a straight line that makes Seonghwa huff out a chuckle of disbelief “Thanks, Yeo. Anyway, my bike had a weird sound this morning and I took it to a shop, so the girl who's… In charge?” he frowns a little, because he's still not sure “Of the shop sent me a text a while ago saying that it's fixed, I was just checking if she sent anything else.” 

“And you like her.”

It's more than that, really. He can't even explain it, the smile tugging at his lips a dead giveaway of the whirlwind going inside his head at the thought of you. 

“Ye— No! No, I don't even know her.” 

He shouldn't feel so flustered, really, but the things he felt while looking at you earlier were weird and confusing and he needs to think straight before he lets it consume him. 

It felt a little too freeing for his liking. 

Free from what? He's not really able to pinpoint it. But it looks like he's going to have to. 

The way his friends are staring at him like they know something he doesn't it's annoying, but telling. 

“Okay, maybe I do like her a little.” 

Yeosang hums “Like her, like her or just… You know.” 

“I'm not sure…” 

“Well, figure it out!” Hongjoong is excited, almost jumping in his chair at the prospect of Seonghwa getting with someone “You have her number, ask her to… Meet you somewhere or whatever people do when they like someone.” 

“Ask her on a date, hyung. That's what this idiot is trying to say.” 

“Hey!” 

Seonghwa closes his eyes because he can't believe his friends are entertaining the idea, feeding the growing feeling inside his chest “I just met her today, though.” 

“And?” Hongjoong bites a piece of meat and shrugs, dismissively “Timing is never off when you like someone. Do something about it because I swear if I have to hear anyone else complaining about not getting with the girl they like because of timing I'll—” 

“Wait, who complained?” 

The table falls quiet as Seonghwa looks between his friends to find an answer but Yeosang just shakes his head and he gets it.

Not the time to talk about it. 

Hongjoong points at him with his chopsticks, threateningly “Do. Something. About. It. Anyway!” He gets up from his seat, points at Yeosang this time “Guess who almost got kicked out of college for messing around with the wrong crowd today?” 

“That's not what happened!” 

And Seonghwa swears he's focusing on the story Hongjoong is so eager to tell, on Yeosang’s ears turning pink at the mention of a girl he's never heard before, too. 

But all he can think about is you. 

The next day, after briefly stopping by his office, Seonghwa is back with a few coworkers who help with measurements and put their input in the assessment. He spends all day with it, too and, once again, serves as an excuse for Soohyun to get out of some meetings he's not interested in attending. 

As the day passes, he wonders how Soohyun maintains the important position he's in. Nepotism can't do everything for you, right? 

Right? 

But his new client seems down to earth enough to be aware of his advantages in an industry that's quick and cruel and doesn't hold too much space for laziness. 

So he lets it go because, well, he tends to judge but he can't really do much for people who actually deserve to be in charge. 

It's close to seven and Soohyun bidded him goodbye only a few minutes ago, saying sorry he can't walk him out because, at this time, he actually has an international call to make that can't be excused like the rest of his afternoon schedule. 

Seonghwa doesn't make it out of the office before getting stopped by a manicured hand to his chest. 

After the texts last night and Hongjoong's threats, he was practically ready to sprint downstairs to meet you (or whoever you sent) and get his bike back, maybe apologize for panicking and sending a whole ass sticker as a response instead of keeping the conversation going. 

And to see you again. God, he wants to break his Bonneville one more time just to get to see your pretty face again. 

He already idealized you in his head, which is bad and very amateur on his side, but no one needs to know that. 

But now he might have to keep all of that waiting for a few more minutes because there's someone staring at him like just committed a crime. A crime he's unaware of. 

“Who are you?” 

Her scowl tells him she's trying to get a read on him and he thinks he's transparent enough for it to be easy. If he really thinks about it, though, it looks like she wants to scare him a little bit. 

It doesn't work. 

“Um, Park Seonghwa,” he says and then points over his shoulder, to Soohyun’s office “I’m working on renovating Mr. Kim’s office?” 

“Oh, for fucks sake. Why can't no one in this family keep normal people around?” She peeks through his shoulder, the high heels she's wearing helping her with the task. Groaning, she turns around and starts heading for the elevator, mumbling something under her breath. 

The only thing he can make out of it it's something about supermodels and a it's not fair. 

She turns around briefly to look at him again and scoffs, clearly annoyed. 

“I feel like I know your face from somewhere else.” 

Seonghwa feels a little lost, but steps into the elevator when she does. Now he's afraid, maybe she's a crazy person but then it clicks. 

Clearly, he knows her from somewhere else too. 

“I'm sure the only place I've seen you before is on the news, Miss Kim,” he replies with a sheepish smile, shrugging a bit and hitting the main floor button on the panel “That's a nice tree, by the way.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The one in Mr. Kim’s office?” he offers, turning to her “He told me his sister painted it and as far as I know, he only has one sister.” 

That brings a smile to her face and Seonghwa counts it as a small victory, for some reason. 

“Ah, so you did your research,” she nods “Please scrape it off the wall if needed. It made me bleed.” 

“He omitted that part.” 

“Of course he did, it was his fault. Anyway,” she shakes her head, stepping out of the elevator and walking ahead without waiting for him. She looks like the type of person who knows everyone else will follow and he does, but only out of curiosity “my brother has your number, yes, Mr. Park?” 

“I'm assuming he does or, at least, my company's numb—” 

“I'm not interested in your company, I'm interested in you.” 

She's also very forward. How could he not guess that from the way she carries herself around? 

“I don't usually do freelance work, Miss Kim.” 

As they both reach the main entrance, she turns around gracefully and with a, for what he can tell, very rehearsed smile tugging at her lips. 

“I'm not interested in your work either, Mr. Park.” 

That, he did guess, but it's disappointing either way. 

“Then what good am I to you?” 

Her grin widens “You'll see.” 

The sound of his Bonneville pulling up it's what gets him to turn away from the mischievous glint in the chaebol's eyes. 

And when he sees you take off a helmet that's not his and wave your hand at him, she blends into the background completely. 

You look good, hair down and probably freshly showered because there's a few droplets falling down from the ends of it to your shirt and leather jacket. Your hands are gloved up and all, like you've been riding bikes your whole life. 

He wonders if that's the case. God, he wants to get to know you so bad. 

“Oh God, not another one, I— Is she your girlfriend, Mr. Park?” 

His head snaps back, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink “N-no, I just met her yesterday, she… That's my bike, I had to get it fixed.” 

Pulling her bottom lip in with her teeth for a second, she nods and then takes two long strides into the direction of a car he didn't see until now “Perfect, then. She looks pretty cool,” she waves at you and he doesn't get to see if you wave back, too focused on getting the color out of his cheeks “Tell her I said that. Goodbye for now, Mr. Park.” 

Seonghwa wants to ask a million questions. What does she want? What does she mean goodbye for now? But he doesn't get to. She gets into the car and drives off and that leaves space for you to drive his bike again and pull up right in front of him this time. 

“Hope I didn't interrupt anything there, Ghost.”

A nervous chuckle abandons him and he manages to shake his head “No, no, she's… my client’s sister?” He offers and you smile, turning off the bike and getting off a second later “She said you're, um, cool.”

“And why would she say that?” 

“Because you look cool? I don't really know, don't question me,” he's sure the efforts he put on making the blush disappear were pointless, cheeks burning when you laugh at him “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“Don't thank me, Seonghwa, I didn't tell you how much it'll cost you yet.” 

He gulps. 

You take mercy on him and the way his eyes glisten with worry, laughing again “It's not too bad. It was the chain tensioner and my brother worked on it pretty fast, don't worry.” 

Relaxing, he takes his helmet and key off your offering hands with a tiny smile, touch lingering on your skin for a second too long “Did you enjoy seeing me suffer just now?” 

“A little bit,” you shrug and mutter your apologies although he can tell you're not sorry at all “I'll text you the invoice with the account you can send the money to?” 

No. 

He wants to say no and make you go with him to an ATM so he can pay in cash just to keep you around for a while longer, he doesn't want this interaction to be over. 

And he's usually very good at communicating things of this nature but something about you makes him giddy and nervous and his charisma is not able to keep up. 

It dawns on him that it's very weird to want to keep a stranger, someone he only met a day ago, in his life for as long as possible. 

Do you feel the same way? He wants you to feel the same way.

The unexpected desire sits on his chest heavily, making him take in a breath more shakily than he intended to. 

“Sure,” the words taste bitter on his tongue, his tone gives away that he doesn't really mean it and then said desire takes over, making him stammer the next words out “Do you want me to take you somewhere?” 

Surprised, you blink a few times and then look down at your own helmet for a second. He feels like he screwed up by asking you that. 

Of course, you don't feel the same way. Of course, you must have someone waiting for you already. 

Of course, of course, of fucking course. 

But just before he can backpedal on his offer, you're looking up, your mind made up and the same teasing smile you've been wearing ever since he saw you yesterday “It won't save you from the debt I'm about to put you through with that invoice but sure.” 

Seonghwa lets out a huff and chuckle all in the same breath, straddling his bike a second later “Ha, ha. Count it as a tip, Y/N.”

“Oh, I'm so telling my brother that,” you beam when he returns the joke and he moves a little, making space for you at the back “Somehow, I don't feel safe with you riding this bike, Ghost.” 

He ignites it and the whole thing shakes a bit before you can even put on the helmet, so he can't really refute that. 

“Do you want to ride it?” 

It's a second too late when he realizes the double meaning behind his own words, unintended, but there they are floating on the air around you both, electric and maybe one sided. 

But you don't back down, taking a step into his space and crowding him, almost towering over him even if he's on the bike and even if that makes him taller than you. It feels that way, so he welcomes the sensation and the pang of his heart against his chest when you lean in just a little. 

“Do you want me to ride it?” 

Breath caught in his throat, Seonghwa takes in your smirk as a sign that, maybe, it's not one sided at all. 

“The bike,” you clarify a second later, like it's necessary “It would be easier to get us to where I need to go, anyways.” 

Planting his feet on the ground, he keeps the Bonneville stable enough to slide back to the space he created for you a minute ago, and if you can feel his heart beating with an unfamiliar, yet exciting song when you take a seat, put your helmet on and press your back against his chest, you sure cover it up when you turn to look at him. 

“Does your fancy job provide you health insurance?” 

He lets out an amused huff “Yours doesn't?” 

“I never asked,” you shrug, taking the handles and looking forward again, leaning in slightly so now he's not that close to you but he feels you everywhere still “Just making sure in case I break you.” 

When you start driving him, handling the Bonneville in a way he never would even with the years of experience ahead of him, he wants to tell you that he wouldn't mind that. 

In fact, he finds himself wanting it. 

As he holds tight to your waist, he finds himself on the verge of telling you to break him apart piece by piece so he can do the same with you. Explore you, not physically, but in the way it truly matters. 

He wants to know your soul, he wants to understand the reason he feels attached to you after a brief meeting and little more. 

You lean back to rest your back a little at a stop sign and he suddenly doesn't care if the way he squishes your waist for a few seconds gives his intentions away. He has your number, he's going to make a move eventually. 

What he does care about is the way you don't tense up and just lean into his body a little more before resuming the task of getting both of you wherever you're going

This? The way he feels so free as you move through the highway, make your way in between the cars at stop signs and the wind hitting his arms? This is the grasp at his youth he's been waiting for. Even if it's just for the night. 

Even if it's over too soon for his liking. 

You stop in front of a house that looks empty. He wonders if it's yours for a second, but then again he's going to find out any minute soon. 

“That wasn't too bad, was it?” 

Getting down from his Bonneville, you take your helmet off and offer him your hand. He slides up his helmet so you can see his face, about to reply, but you beat him to it “Thank you so much for the ride that I technically gave myself, Park Seonghwa, it was a pleasure to meet you.” 

Why are you saying goodbye like you're not planning on seeing him ever again? 

Suddenly, he's planning on ways to mess up his bike again just to get an excuse to see you again. 

No. 

He has to be braver than that. 

Taking your hand, he pulls you in a little bit and you let out a surprised noise that looks like it embarrasses you. 

Your cheeks turn red under the streetlight and he thinks you look beautiful like that. 

“Y/N,” he starts in a whisper, gathering his courage up “Would you like to—” 

“Y/N.” A voice interrupts him and your eyes widen in panic while you look at him, slowly turning your head to the person as he does the same. 

Not before he notices how the pretty blush and all colors drain from your face. 

A guy, with blonde shaggy hair and tattoos covering his neck and hands is standing on the sidewalk with a grocery store bag and a weird look on his face. Beside him, a girl who’s smile fades away when she seems to recognize you scoffs. 

The guy smiles and Seonghwa wonders why you don't say anything back, your grasp on his hand tightening before letting go. 

“There you are, your dad said—” 

“Ghost?” 

Seonghwa doesn't like the way your voice shakes when you say the nickname he's grown used to in such a short amount of time. 

“Yes?” 

You don't bother putting the helmet back on, simply dropping it to the ground and turning back at him “I trust you to ride this bike now, yeah?” 

He doesn't have to be told twice. Making space for you again, you hop on and hug his waste. He slides his helmet back on. 

The guy takes a few steps but Seonghwa stops him with the sound of him revving his Bonneville “Come on, Y/N…” Is what he says when he starts to drive off, accelerating just a little bit before the houses start fading and the busy highway welcomes you both. 

Deokhee has some nerve. 

The fact that he does boils your bloodstream and you wish you could say that the warm sensation spreading through your body is caused by the guy who you're currently holding to. 

Seonghwa has checked in with you once and, after confirming you were okay to keep going, he has held your gloved hands at every red light and stop sign. 

You have no idea where you're going, but you're sure you can't go home and deal with this alone for now. He can't take you home, either (he doesn't know the address) but even if he could, you wouldn't let him. 

The nameless girl that was with Deokhee is the same girl he cheated with. A girl who, by judging her expression, probably knew about you. 

Mind going as fast as the Boneville, you ask yourself how many times she made fun of you for grasping a fantasy, a make-believe story with her now boyfriend. 

What did you lack that she obviously has? What prompted him to hurt you this badly? 

Is he stupid enough to not realize that the sight of them together would tear you apart all over again? 

The scene replays in your head again, after all these years of trying to get over it: Him, holding your hand and telling you how amazing you were to him but that, in all honesty, he didn't see himself going out with someone like you. 

You were too much, too proud, too loud. 

Which doesn't make any fucking sense because although you never held back a jab or a sarcastic comment if needed, you knew the time and place to speak your mind. 

It also didn't make any fucking sense because he knew you would keep his little secret from your father and your brother and, in consequence, keep the relationship you both had and the cowardly way it ended from his family as well. 

You were too much, composed of many flaws and adorned with rough and burnt edges, but you would never in a million years tarnish the happiness of the people who love you because of a rookie mistake. 

Falling in love with Deokhee was a rookie, horrible mistake. 

Falling in love in general? You doubt it. 

Because the way Seonghwa takes his time to slow down the bike on a lookout you were too distracted to notice you were climbing up to, pulls it to a full stop and then immediately reaches for your hands again, makes you believe there's good people out there after all. 

He took you away without asking any questions and you're suddenly welcomed with the same grateful feeling you have towards your family. 

Had you stayed there, you're not so sure you would've kept your words to yourself anymore. Your pain, your anger. 

Getting down from the bike, Seonghwa takes his helmet off and drops it in front of you, on the seat, before leaning in searching for your glossy eyes. 

You can see him hesitate through the fog your tears form and you don't let them drop just yet. You're angry, but there's no way you would let Deokhee make you cry again in this lifetime. 

You should get down from the bike, but it doesn't move under your weight even if you readjust your position on the seat and you fear that, if you do, you would only plop down into the ground and let it swallow you whole. 

You should say something, too. Thank him, probably, but the tall man lets out a breath before opening his arms and pointing at the view. Gladly, you take the opportunity to take in your surroundings and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Didn't know where else to take you, so I brought you to my breaking point.” 

“Hm?” frowning a bit, you peel your eyes from the city lights to him “Your breaking point?”

“Yeah, that's what I call it,” he smiles and you do too, halfheartedly “Here's where I come to break down and let everything out. There's a playground back there too,” he points behind him and you scoff, amused “If you want to climb up somewhere and scream. The neighbors don't mind it.” 

“I take that as a I've done it before.” 

“Once or twice,” he shrugs “It's good for the soul.” 

“God,” you cover your face with your hands “I'm so embarrassed you had to see me like that.” 

“Like what? You didn't do anything.” 

“Running away and acting all weak in front of…” you fake gag, but it's kind of real “Some guy.” 

A bit of silence passes in between you and your savior. 

And then Seonghwa laughs so hard you're forced to uncover your face and stare at him in disbelief “I'm serious! That's like… top one most embarrassing thing I've ever done.” 

His laugh comes to a stop and he doesn't step closer even if you want him to, just puts his hands in the pockets of his pants and looks at you for what it feels like forever. 

You don't mind it one bit. 

“I've known you for a day, Y/N, but even I can tell that's not the most embarrassing thing you've done.” 

Sulking, you turn to the beautiful view one more time and pout like a child. You want to tell him he's right, but your pride doesn't really allow it just yet. 

It's quiet for a minute or two. You move around, throw your leg over the Bonneville and sit on top of it as you stare at the city. You feel Seonghwa move around, pace behind you until he finally reaches around and he takes a few steps before stopping on the railing separating the street from the hill. 

He's looking in your direction instead of the view. You realize he's giving you space to sulk, to take in everything without pestering you with questions about why the hell you both just bolted instead of facing the situation. 

Your gratitude towards him rises a bit more. 

So your word vomit is justified, you think, because you don't want to leave him in the dark any longer. 

The fantasy you indulged yourself in earlier might just grow into a reality you have to embrace, a reality you want to embrace. 

“He's my ex-something and the girl he was with is the one he chose over me. I was supposed to have dinner with them— Well, no, not really,” you sigh, looking at Seonghwa who, in the deem light, just nods and waits for you to continue “He's my dad’s best friend's son and we have dinner with them every Tuesday. Their family, I mean. Deokhee… He never shows up,” you shrug “And when he does, he's alone and it's towards the end of it all so I never get to see him that long. But this?” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “I never thought he would do this to me.”

Finally getting off the bike, you walk slowly towards the railing as well and feel Seonghwa's eyes follow you as you do “He cheated on me with her, for Christ sake.” You whisper once the metal of the railing stops your step. 

“How long ago?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“No,” from the corner of your eye, you see how he shakes his head and leans in slightly “I'm wondering because if I was your dad or your brother or your friend, I would've done something to, at least, ensure something like this never happens to you.” 

“Yeah, about that…” A bitter chuckle abandons you and you shrug one more time “They don't really know what happened between us— They don't know something happened in the first place,” ashamed, once again, you turn to him “He asked me to not tell anyone when we started… Ack, whatever, it doesn't really matter.” 

“It does if it's affecting you,” he insists “It does if you go pale at the sight of him, Y/N. Did he do—” 

“No,” you cut him off, the corners of your lips lifting a bit “He didn't do anything weird besides breaking my heart.” 

“Good.” 

“I would've killed him if he did, by the way.” 

“As you should,” he returns right away and finally, for the first time in the twenty minutes it took both of you to get there, you laugh sincerely. That prompts a smile on his lips “Good to know he's an idiot but not that type of idiot.” 

Huffing, you turn to the city before you again “The only idiot in this situation is me.” 

“For loving someone? Y/N,” his hand reaches your shoulder and you close your eyes in defeat, surrendering your heart to the weird emotion it brings you “He cheated on you. He's the idiot, the dumbass, the—” 

Laughing again, his rant comes to an end and you open your eyes to find him staring at you in delight “Park Seonghwa,” you start, putting a hand over his on your shoulder “You, sir, don't know me.” 

The reminder does nothing to stop him from looking at you with stars in his eyes “I'm a great judge of character, Y/N.” 

“And if you're wrong?” 

“Then let me be wrong,” he shortens the distance a bit, the warmth on your shoulder leaving as he lowers both of your hands, not letting go “But let me get to know you first.” 

The emotion grows bigger, it swirls around your heart and spreads around your body in a way you never felt. It feels good and you hate to compare it to what you felt for Deokhee but where it once was filled with regrets and doubts and a need to hold on tight to whatever that guy made you feel now sits something that you can only describe as excitement and thrill. 

Peaceful, too. 

It steals your breath in a beautiful way. 

Squeezing his hand a little, you inhale slowly and let go of the air when you speak “I don't really do dates, Ghost.” 

“I didn't ask you on a date,” he counters immediately and your cheeks darken “I asked if I could get to know you. We don't have to go on dates, talking to you is enough.” 

“O-oh, I… I thought—” 

He seems to get it right away because he takes another step, your arm pressed to his by now, your hands still tangled in the middle “I one hundred percent meant it that way,” he assures you, chuckling a bit “But I don't really do dates either. Asking you out to a restaurant or a movie or whatever it is people do on dates doesn't really suit me.” 

“How so?” 

“There's this… Weird intention laced into it, into the prospect of a date that I don't particularly enjoy. I want to get to know people and see where it takes us without pressuring ourselves into anything romantic or sexual.” Your heart picks up at that. Not at the image it paints, but at his explanation as a whole. 

It shows he might be interested in you beyond something physical and it's a beautiful thing to note when, all your life, you have felt like people only wanted you for one thing and one thing only. 

You intend to tell him just that but the way he's looking at you makes you forget everything else. Brown eyes scan every inch of your face and stop at your lips for a second. 

Now your heart beats for a different reason. 

“No matter… How bad I want to kiss you, though.” 

Words fall short. They do when for the first time in a long time you entertain the possibility of letting yourself want to kiss someone else, too. 

Leaning in and straightening your back fully to give you the possibility of almost standing face to face with him, you silently communicate your desire. 

It's not enough. He's too respectful. 

Fuck, you like him a lot already. 

“If you want to kiss me then just kiss me…” you whisper, teasing smile in full display “Dummy.” 

He fakes a gasp at your jab as he leans in, his pretty nose bumping into yours for a second and making you giggle, part your lips and close your eyes while buzzing with expectation. 

The sky has other plans, though. It roars above you and you both look up. 

It's been cloudy, a couple of days of unusual humidity throwing off everyone but you guess the steam gathered up in the clouds just in time to knock some sense of reality into you. 

Or pushing you further into the craziness of this one day alone. 

Seonghwa groans a little and then a phone starts ringing in someone's pocket. 

Not yours, you made sure to hit the not disturb button as soon as you got ahold of it. 

You should probably tell your brother you're okay. 

But Seonghwa is still close to you, his lips a breath away from yours, so you put it aside when he shows no intention of picking up his call either. 

The tension builds up again, both of you ignoring the thunderstorm approaching and everything else. 

There's many things from today you're not going to be able to explain any time soon, the magnetic pull Seonghwa had on you the first time you laid eyes on him is one of them, the freedom you touch with your fingertips when your mind is finally off your duty, off your family… 

It's so dangerous you quickly become addicted to the recklessness of it all. 

And then his phone starts ringing again, so you welcome the reality that washes over you with a sour face and pout on your lips. 

“The universe must be against us being a thing, huh?” You whisper and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, resting his forehead on yours for a second before pulling away completely, pulling out his phone from his pocket. 

“I don't think the universe has much to do with this one, dear,” he frowns and misses the way you flush at the sudden nickname. You swear on your life, normally you would be pretty disgusted at the endearment. Now? You want him to call you that again “I should take this and we should probably go somewhere else. There's not much to cover us up if it starts raining.” 

“Sure, uh…” You fish your phone from your pocket as well, grimacing when you look at the missed calls and texts “I have to make a call, too.” 

He seems to understand immediately “Go right ahead.” 

Putting even more distance in between both of you, you faintly hear a what's going on from Seonghwa and then tap your screen to return your brother's call. 

He picks up right away. 

“Are you okay?!” 

His tone forces your eyes closed. Rushed, you picture him in the backyard with a cigarette in between his fingers, trying to get ahold of himself without worrying everyone else too much “Yeah, I'm okay. I'm with a friend and—” 

“Then why don't you pick up the fucking phone?!” 

“Calm down,” taking in a breath and letting it out, you hear him do the same before continuing “Is there a way I can explain all of this to you tomorrow? I'm fine, Deokhee is a dick and I don't ever want to see him so I ran away like a—” 

“What did he do?” 

“No, nothing now, it's just… Listen, I'll explain tomorrow, alright? I'm staying with my friend tonight and everything will make sense tomorrow. It's really dumb, like… Teenage drama dumb,” you sigh, hoping that the minimal information you're giving him can help him figure it out “Just tell dad that I'm fine and if he asks I'm with a friend who is a girl and she's staying over at my place because there was a… Boy emergency or whatever.” 

“Are you with—” what seems to click is something else and your brother gasps “Y/N!” 

“Can you help out this time?”

The silence on the line seems to extend forever and guilt licks your throat, giving you the feeling that it's about to close up. 

You want to grasp what you felt a minute ago again, the freedom of this, of doing too much, of unnecessarily putting Christian through it because he already did so much for you growing up. 

Just tonight, at least, you owe yourself the feeling of not proving your place in your own family. 

But the silence hurts and you wonder if you could ever, truly, be free from it. 

“You owe me an explanation. Take care and text me goodnight at least, yeah?” 

“Okay,” you whisper back “Thank you, Ian.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, kid.” 

His words fill your eyes with tears again and you don't get to reciprocate them before he hangs up. You know he knows, but it still hurts when you remember how unlovable you felt before you met him as a child.

It hurts when you remember that you allowed Deokhee to make that feeling return. 

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. 

And the more it hurts, the more the sky rumbles and you fear that, if you break down here and now, it would not only embarrass you in front of Seonghwa but also strand him on this hill with you. 

It doesn't matter that he calls this his breaking point, it's not yours to use. 

So again, your tears stay at bay and when you turn around you catch Seonghwa looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

He wants to hug you, his body language gives him away as soon as he steps closer to you but a storm is about to soak through your clothes any second, so you pass him and grab his hand to pull him to his bike in the process. 

When his fingers intertwine with yours, you know he understands. He doesn't make any questions, he doesn't press any information out of you and just allows you to climb his motorcycle. 

“We need to leave.” 

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, getting on the bike as well and goes in for his helmet but your words stop him. 

“Do you want to stay the night with me?” 

Turning his head, he blinks at you a few times and you smile a little before the curve fades away. 

“I have my own place, we can order something in and just talk. Seonghwa, you…” biting the inside of your cheek, you try to approach this the right way “I don't expect this to go anywhere but can't you… Do you feel it too?” 

He stays silent and you fear you might've taken it too far. But it doesn't really matter. Willing to take the risk, you take his hand on yours again and hold it close to your heart. 

The sky roars again in response. 

And you catch when his breath hitches because of it, too. 

“Do you feel it, Seonghwa?” 

A bit passes and then some, his eyes searching for something in yours and then dropping to where your heart beats again.

“What's your address?”

It's already raining by the time you both get into your building’s garage and park his Bonneville. 

The entire ride was a bit long. It had you resting your head on his back while his fingers tapped against yours with impatience. 

But when you make it to the safe space that is the elevator, clothes showing the evidence of the droplets falling from the sky and all, you finally get to breathe. 

Until Seonghwa steals that breath away again. 

He stares at you through the mirror, steps closer until he can take your face with his hands and swipes under your eyes where the makeup has run a little. 

“Ghost…” 

‘I didn't answer before,” he murmurs and wet his lips with his tongue. You can't help but stare at them, the moment somehow more intimate now, under the fluorescent glow of the elevator, than with the city lights and lighting above you “But I do feel it. I stand on what I said before, though.” 

“No dating?” 

He chuckles “No, not that,” shaking his head, he steps away when the elevator gets to your floor “I want to get to know you either way.” 

“Ah. That,” you feel silly for assuming he didn't want to date you, but given your history you're not sure you can blame yourself too much “Well, you're about to see my cave, so we're both halfway there.” 

As soon as you open the door and turn on the light, you can see in his face that he sees what you mean. 

It's a one bedroom apartment that doesn't leave too much to the imagination. Your bedroom’s door is opened, the bathroom door is closed and the kitchen is an American style one that's separated from the living space by a small counter you can barely fit your mail on. 

There's a lot of old furniture that you remodeled, painted over the cracks and stuffed where you needed the most. Your fridge is also old, the couch is somehow the only modern looking item in the living room and it stands out a bit because its material is not as worn out as everything else. 

There's posters on the walls, unframed and placed randomly because, here, you don't have to be put together. The only people who come over are your brother and your dad, so it's okay. 

It's not even an old building, but your apartment makes it look like one. 

“Hope you don't mind the mess, Grandpa.” 

“Oh, I'm not Ghost anymore?” He asks with a breathy laugh, taking his shoes off as you place yours by the entrance and shrugging his jacket off too “It's not messy, it's… Kind of like the shop, really.” 

Mirroring his actions, you take off the leather jacket and welcome the warmth of your apartment “Greasy?” 

“Cool,” he corrects and you walk through your space picking up a few things from the floor and putting them by the living room table “Is it yours, by the way?” 

“The shop?” he nods and you walk to your fridge to fetch you both some water bottles “It's my dads. Why do you ask?” 

“You seemed to own the place, with the way you walked around it,” shrugging, he takes a seat on your couch as he takes in the space ��I just wondered…” 

Walking in front of him on purpose, because you could've easily rounded the table and sat at the opposite edge of the couch, you sit right beside him and offer him a water bottle that he takes with a whispered thanks “You wondered…” 

“A lot of stuff, actually,” he admits and you smile “Like your age, for example. Your last name, how did you end up working as a mechanic, if you were studying something, if you…” he pauses and turns to the side, resting his shoulder on the couch “If you liked me the way I liked you.” 

Choking on the water you're gulping down, it's very evident you didn't think he was about to go down that lane again. 

So directly, too. 

He laughs, leaning in and wiping your chin with a familiarity that has you even more breathless than his confession. No, scratch that, it's all of it. All of him. 

“Don't make me get on that bike again tonight, dear.” 

That goddamn endearment again. You might risk it all and kiss him, chin wet and all. 

“Whatever for?”

“You clearly almost choked to death,” he exaggerates, probably an excuse to stay that close to you longer than he needs to “And it was my fault, too.” 

Smiling and shaking your head, you push him a bit until he falls back into his previous position, smugness tugging at his lips in a way that has your insides jolting up with excitement “I do like you, Ghost.” 

“I know that now, but earlier I did wonder.” 

“Wondering is such a dangerous thing, isn't it?” 

His smile settles with a softness that melts you, your hand back in his with ease “Not necessarily.”

Squeezing his hand in unspoken agreement, you nod and then try to remember the topic of conversation before… Well, before he distracted you. 

“Well, you were kind of right with your assumptions then. It's not my shop, but I grew up in it,” you shrug, letting go of his hand to grab your phone “We should probably wait to order something.” 

“Yeah, until the monsoon dies down,” he says, looking outside your window that does little to conceal the thunderstorm outside “You grew up fixing bikes?” 

“Cars,” you correct with a nod, connecting your phone to the speaker that lies under your tv “Is my day to day playlist alright?” 

“Yup,” he crosses his legs on the couch and you see from the corner of your eye how his follow your actions, heat rushing to your cheeks at how attentive he is “Did you always want to be a mechanic?” 

The question takes you by surprise, but you cover it up as you set the volume to the perfect percentage to let you two have a proper conversation without raising your voices “Kind of. It's all I'm good at, really,” you shrug “Also, my dad’s wife looked very cool in pictures growing up and I wanted to be just like her, so.”

“Your mom?” you shake your head and he frowns “Your stepmom?” 

“No, uh…” clearing your throat, you get ready to reveal a piece of you that you rarely share with other people, even if it's obvious to everyone else “I'm adopted. Me and my brother we, mmm, we used to live in this sort of… Group house, I guess, and dad just picked us one day,” word vomiting again, once that you open the dam you don't know how to stop “I mean, he's not… We're not blood related, either, he just brought me along like when you adopt a dog at a shelter and they give you their favorite blanket, you know?” 

Seonghwa is full on frowning at that and you think that, for the sake of just agreeing with you, he's going to nod and let it go, but he doesn't “I don't think you're just something your brother brought along with him. Adopting two kids is a big decision, isn't it?” 

Reluctantly, you nod. 

“Well, there you go.” 

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, though,” you shrug and sip on your water bottle again, gulping the liquid to send that lump on your throat down “But it doesn't really matter because it was a long time ago and now they're both stuck with me.” 

He shakes his head but laughs a little at your sudden shift and, this time, he does let it go. 

But you don't. 

“Thank you, by the way.” 

He smiles, a little confused “For what?” 

“Helping me when I needed you to. We don't really know each other and yet…” 

“It feels like I know you, though.” 

Sharing the sentiment, you nod “I know, it's weird but, uhm… You didn't need to do what you did for me tonight. You even took me to your breaking point!” you let out a puff of air, making it a bigger deal than what it sounds. It's a bigger deal for you, anyway “And then drove me all the way here. That's a lot.” 

“It's not much. It was my fault, really,” he shrugs and shakes his head at the confused look you give him “I kind of… Asked the universe for an excuse to stay with you, so…” 

“Ah, so it was your fault Deokhee showed up,” the lighthearted joke lands the way you intended because he laughs with a sound so beautiful it makes your heart pick up “Got it.” 

“Do you feel better? I mean, after seeing him, are you feeling better?” 

“Not really, it sucks,” you say with a bitter laugh “But I hold grudges like that. It's not…” you raise your hands in self defense suddenly “I don't want him like that anymore, it's just that I can't help but…”  

“I understand,” he whispers and you let out a sigh again, grateful that he interrupted your rambling “People believe that forgive and forget is the way to go when you're resenting someone but human beings don't really work like that, hm?” 

“Yeah…” 

Staring at him, that weird emotion that you felt at the top of the hill comes back. That dangerous warmth that makes you want to take his hand in yours and place your lips at the back of it with a familiarity you haven't really earned yet. 

So when you catch him staring at you the same way, you change the subject. 

“What do you do?” eyebrow raising, you eye him suspiciously and that makes him giggle “Meetings all day, past normal shift hours…”

“I renovate spaces, Y/N,” he laughs again “You made it sound like I work with the mafia.” 

“Do you?” 

“No. I have a buddy that does, though.” 

“Oh, so I was kind of right then?” 

“Yeah, yeah…” you both laugh again and then he looks around your living space like he did when you two first got in “You were right about the whole getting to know you just by looking at your apartment.” 

“I know, it says a lot about a person.” 

“It does!” He's excited now, sitting straighter and turning ever so slightly, your knees bumping now “There's only a few people that I trust who have those… Beige, white and black houses or apartments and that's only because I got to know them before I saw where they live.” 

“So, you have rich friends?” 

He stops and thinks for a second “Yeah, they all have a lot of money. I mean, the people I'm talking about, not my friends,” you raise your eyebrow again and he chuckles “Alright, I only have one rich friend. The rest of them are broke musicians and college students. He was actually the one who called earlier and, uhm…” 

“Interrupted us?” You offer, smiling. 

His cheeks gain a little color, maybe from the memory “Y-yeah.” 

“Everything's okay?” 

“Yes! Yeah, he wanted me to go pick him up from something but I told him I couldn't because, well—” 

“You were with me.” 

“Mhm,” you see him gulp and the mood shifts a little bit again. His face falls down as he eyes your parted lips, leaning in again ever so slightly, like he's not really thinking it through “Couldn't leave you stranded and he has a chauffeur.” 

Unconsciously, you start leaning in a bit too.

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes… D-do I like what?”

You chuckle and he breathes out a laugh, too “Renovating spaces…” 

Pressing his hands into the fabric on the couch, at your sides, he invades your space a little more now “I do… Do you like fixing cars?” 

Nodding, your nose is a whisper away from his now “I do…” 

He breathes and it lands right on your mouth, making you pant as well. 

“That's good.” 

“Mhm.” 

Eyes closing, your lips tremble a little as you wait for him to close the distance. 

“You're so fucking pretty—” 

You close the distance instead, pressing your mouth into his and letting the tension deflate your posture because you're finally tasting him. 

Your little fantasy is not a fantasy anymore. 

And it feels so fucking good. It feels good to have someone you desire, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, reciprocate your emotions and pull you closer to make acquaintance with your taste as well. 

Seonghwa makes a noise you want to engrave into your brain the second you grab his shirt and pull him to you as well. And then you move. 

The couch is stuffy, your bed is a mess and the cold from the thunderstorm makes its way to your living room even if you feel your entire body lit up from the swipe of his tongue against yours. 

So you stand up. 

You give him a teasing smile when his mouth chases after yours once you pull away “Where are you going?” 

“Another thing you should know about me,” you start, breathy, your thumb swiping your bottom lip on instinct and his eyes follow the motions “Is that I have very noisy neighbors. The woman in that apartment over there,” you point at the window right in front of yours, the building separated by the street but still close enough to tell everything that goes inside your neighbors apartment if you wanted to “Once made a complaint against me because I walked out in my underwear one time.” 

“Is she blind or bitter or something?” he asks, amused by your sudden storytelling, chest heaving as you pull your curtains closed “Or both?” 

“She's old,” you tell him, turning around “And you haven't seen me in my underwear to make that a point, Ghost.” 

“Yet,” he smirks slyly and you blush at the implication. Seonghwa reaches for you as you pass in front of him again and slip right through his fingers a second time “Now where are you going?” 

He sounds whiny. 

You like that. 

“Another thing you should know about me,” walking to the door and turning off the big light, the living room goes dark except for the lighting that illuminates it as you're making your way back to him, getting on your knees on the couch and reaching behind him to turn on a lamp that doesn't do much but, this way, at least you can see each other “Is that I don't invest in new shit. Can't afford it, so those curtains are useless during the day… And when the lights are turned on.” 

“You don't want people to gossip about you kissing a hot guy?” 

“Wow,” his cockiness is clearly a joke but you won't let the opportunity of making fun of him go “Is the hot guy in the room with us?”  

He beams at you. 

“Oh, shut up, Y/N.” 

Humming and feeling a lot more comfortable now that you know that, in fact, the spotlight won't be on you when you keep kissing his lips raw as you intend to, you loop your index finger in the collar of his shirt and tug with minimal force at it. 

He acts like you put a lot of strength while doing it, his lips a breath from yours again as a consequence.  

You're about to let out a witty remark, something to keep the teasing and flirting going but then his eyes actually light up like the sky when the song playing on the speaker changes. 

“That's what you were humming yesterday!” His hands fall to your waist and you all but get whiplashed at the quick change in attitude. 

He looked like he was about to risk it all a second ago and now he's letting his back fall into the couch and taking you with him. 

“Huh?”

“I didn't see anyone when I came into the shop yesterday and then I heard you humming this song.” 

“Oh,” you laugh, braising yourself on your forearms as he moves his hands up your back “Is one of my favorite songs by them.” 

“By who?”

Eyes wide as saucers, you gape at him in disbelief “Kiss?” 

“I don't know them like that!” 

“You don't know this?” he giggles under your scrutinizing gaze and you follow, still in disbelief. You don't really know what possesses you, but you start singing along to the lyrics “I was made for lovin’ you, baby. You were made for lovin’ me.” 

Seonghwa's laughter dies down at that and you notice it too: How the words somehow seem fitting even though you is day two of knowing him. 

The way his heart beats under the palm you place right above it, on his chest, feels intoxicating. 

So you descend again, your front colliding with his and your mouth grazing his beautiful one as you sing the song to him. 

“And I can't get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?” 

“Fuck…” 

You laugh “That's not really how it goe—” 

His tongue probing your lips open shuts you up for good. 

Seonghwa's hands hold you close, tracing the curve on your back slowly with his thumbs until he finds that spot where your shirt rode up a little, goosebumps on your skin letting him know what he provokes on you. 

There's never been a point in time where you let yourself wonder if you're moving too fast. 

For you, someone who had to take every chance they got in life to get something, out of fear the opportunity wouldn't show up again, this thing you got with Seonghwa feels like it's going at the right pace. 

You both like each other, that much is clear. 

Nothing dramatic has really happened to bond you two together, but it feels like it has. 

Like you're bonded. 

Like it was fated, somehow. 

Like his motorcycle had to break down and he had to walk into the shop when you were the only one there to assist him. 

Like he had to see you breakdown, take you away from the despair Deokhee brings to your soul, in order for you to finally let go and move on to greater things. 

And there's nothing greater than feeling his hand travel down and absentmindedly grab your ass, a noise of satisfaction slipping through your lips and landing on his at the feeling. 

“I'm so—” 

“I liked it,” your smile blends with his as you peck his lips and he does it again, gaining a pleased hum from you “Come here, Ghost.” 

“Where?” 

Disentangling your limbs from his, you follow your original plan and slip from the couch to the floor, your knees hitting the soft carpet you have under the coffee table you're grateful is not that in the way.

Seonghwa sits on the couch again, opening his legs to accommodate the new position you're in and you see the image get to him before the suggestion hits your head. 

You see him gulp when you lick your lips and then it's your turn to gulp, trying to understand if this is something he wants as much as you want it.

Because suddenly you want it. You want it so much. 

It doesn't take much to gather up the courage to touch him, his thighs inviting you to caress them with your nails, teasing, testing him “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, hooded eyes and a soft, whiny, trembling tone making fidget on your knees “More than okay.” 

It makes you smile. But there's things to clear up before you go any further. 

“I don't want you to think I brought you to my house just to get on my knees in front of you, Seonghwa.” 

“I don't… I w-would never think that,” you nod and he releases a shuddering breath “I don't want you to think that this is all I want from you either, Y/N.” 

“I don't think that,” you whisper “but thank you for making it clear.” 

“Mhm, I… Oh.” He stops when your touch trails higher and you take your hands away. 

“You wanted to say something else?” 

“N-no.” 

Squinting your eyes at him, you press “You sure?” 

“I was going to say that I want you… S-so please touch me, please.” 

Who would've thought that a man begging would turn you on so, so much? 

You catch on to it immediately. Lowering your hands again, this time around his calves, you pull him a little so he can sit on the edge of the worn out couch. 

He follows suit. 

“You want me to touch you?” you murmur and he nods “Where?”

He closes his eyes, blush beautifully creeping up his neck “Y/N…” 

“You asked me to touch you, but I already was…” you say, like it's the most obvious thing ever “So where do you want to be touched, hm?” 

Straightening your spine and angling yourself upwards, your nose hovers just below his chin. Hands starting to go up again, you hear his breath hitched when your palm grabs into the fabric of his pants before letting it go, the sound of it hitting the skin under making you and him release a noise. 

“How do you want to be touched?” 

Looking down, Seonghwa's mouth barely brushes your nose when he says “So it's going to be like this?” 

“It's working for you,” you whisper back, the pad of your fingers pressing on his inner thighs and, when you look down, the tent in his pants curves your lips with pride that shows when you turn to him again “Isn't it?” 

Pupils blown, he bites down on his lip and you see, for a slight second, a switch in his demeanor that makes you want to drop the teasing just to ask him to take you right there, on the floor, on the couch, wherever he wants to. 

But, as soon as your fingernails trace the outline of his cock, he switches back “P-please...” 

He doesn't have to beg you anymore. 

Desperate to have him squirming under your touch, you push a little with your thumbs and he whines, a sweet sound you can't treasure as long as you want to because hand grabs your neck and his mouth crushes yours in want. 

In a few seconds, the button of his pants is off and the fabric is pooling at his ankles. You help him out of them, his mouth never leaving yours except when you two break apart to pass sweet moans in between kisses and barely there bites. 

Boxers succumbing to the same fate as his pants, you get him needy and panting into your open mouth as you finally take him fully into your hand. 

Pumping one and then twice, you finally pull away to look at him and the sight that welcomes you is beautiful, big and oozing at the tip. 

Eyes connecting with Seonghwa’s again, you make sure he's looking at you before gathering spit and letting it fall into your hand. 

He moans. 

And then he moans a little more when you start working his length, butt connecting to the carpet once again to give him attention fully. 

It feels invigorating, the control he gives you makes you float into an intimate space you never had the opportunity to explore before and that just adds up to the list of things you're grateful for. 

You take in his reactions, the way he's having a hard time keeping his mouth shut when you get close to the tip and tease it before going back down, the way his breath catches in his throat when you lean in and blow some air on it before letting yourself have a taste of him. 

Licking around the tip and eyeing him as you do so, you get to catch him throw his head back in bliss. Then, you indulge both of you a little bit more: hollowing your cheeks, you move forward to take him in your mouth. 

And then you moan around him at the feeling and he shivers under the palm you placed on his knee to keep steady as you suck him off. 

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dear,” he encourages and you bat your eyelashes at him teasingly, making him chuckle before whining again. Tangling his fingers on your head to guide you to the right speed, he closes his eyes and curses under his breath “So fucking good.” 

It only makes you want to hear him again. So you do your best to stay on him, breathing through your nose and continuing your ministrations as he moans above you, filling your living room with sounds you want to plaster across the walls, encapsulate in a bottle to hear them again when he's not with you. 

You take him deeper and his grasp on your head tenses before you release him with a lewd sound you didn't really intend to make. 

Breathing hard, you let out a whine when he tilts your head back. He looks at you with indescribable desire, want and a little smile that prones yours. 

“You have no idea,” he starts, leaning in to take you mouth with his again, tongue swiping at the saliva that gathered under your bottom lip “How bad I want to ruin you now.” 

Oh, so maybe he's not as submissive as you thought. You should've guessed it, the slight switch and the little glint earlier would've hinted at his true intimate nature if you weren't so busy trying to get the act up. 

“Only if you want to, of course.” 

And yet, he's such a fucking gentleman. You can practically feel yourself getting wetter at his words. 

Your whisper is sweet, a confirmation on what you want and what he obviously wants to hear “Come here, Ghost.” 

You make space for him on the floor and he doesn't question why the both of you are not on the way to your bed right now. 

He seems to like it, even, so you giggle into his mouth at his eagerness to lay you down on the soft carpet and hum appreciatively when his hands bypass your shirt and grab your bare waist to accommodate you both into a comfortable position. 

With his leg in between yours and his chest pressed against you, he kisses you until you're pliant, needy and janking him down to earn some sort of friction. 

Mouth descending down your cheek, into your jaw and then your neck, Seonghwa scatters kisses in the soft spots like he already mapped you out with his mouth. 

His hands touch you where you like, his knee bumps into your core to keep you there as he works his way through you like he had you like this before and it's addicting. 

It feels right. 

He mouths at the valley of your breasts and softly sinks his teeth into the flesh through your shirt and it makes you dizzy, letting out a moan that makes him smile. 

Touching him too, you give his back some attention before sinking your fingers on his silky hair and tugging at the strands. 

He kisses down, down, down until he reaches your belly and then bites you the same way he did seconds ago “Ghost…” 

“Say my name, Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“I love when you call me Ghost,” he starts, breathing hard and you watch his nose disappear under the fabric of your shirt, raising it a bit more when he moves to be eye to eye with you “but I want you to call my name if I'm making you feel good,” kissing the sense out of you for a few seconds, he talks against your mouth “Can you do that for me, dear?” 

“Yes,” you barely nod, opening your eyes to find his “Seonghwa.” 

The way you whisper his name, needy and teasingly at the same time, seems to wake something else in him. 

Because in a second, he's asking you to raise your body a little so he can take your shirt off. You help him with his and he moves to undo the clasp on your bra after asking for permission one more time and you shouldn't really find his insistent questioning of consent so hot but you do. 

He takes his time with you, exploring you with his mouth as you do your best to keep still under him. He kisses your chest, rounding your nipples with his tongue and taking them into his mouth after.

Lightning illuminates the room and electricity runs through you and settles into your core. 

“Seonghwa…” 

The sky roars when he gives your legs attention over the fabric of your pants, moans blending into the thunder and the sound of the raindrops against the window when he pulls back and raises your left leg to kiss a path from your ankle to your thigh. 

You buck your hips at the feeling, asking for more without really saying anything and he smiles before moving to your right leg and giving it the same amount of attention. 

“You want me to touch you?” He asks and you're about to call him out for being mean and clueless, but his smirk proves he's only teasing “Where do you want me to touch you, Y/N?” voice low and dripping in honey, he unbuttons your pants and you're not too fucked out yet to know he's returning the way you tortured him earlier “How do you want me to touch you?” 

Your pants end up meeting with his somewhere under the coffee table and you smile when he zeroes on the wet patch your arousal has formed on your underwear. 

And, unlike him, you're not actually humble in asking what you want “Don't you want to taste the mess you've made, Seonghwa?” 

When he eats you out, he makes sure to taste it real good. Open you up with his fingers, learn the right pace and pressure until heat pools on your lower abdomen and you're incoherently babbling praises under your breath. 

When you come undone on his tongue, you make sure to repeat his name like a mantra. Over and over again until he's sated with his meal and leaves the remnants of it in wet marks as he makes his way up to your mouth. 

Tasting yourself on his tongue is heaven. 

“Sound so pretty for me, you're so… Fuck, Y/N.” 

Taking him into your hand again, his dick twitches at the sudden attention it's getting and you explore the skin on his neck, lap at his collarbone and nuzzle against it because you just can't get enough. 

“I want you inside me, Seonghwa,” you whisper against his skin and you see him close his eyes when your other hand joins you on his chest, thumb against his nipple “Ruin me like you promised, hm?” 

He grabs your chin, eyes dark with passion and affection in a way you never want to forget “Your filthy mouth might be the death of me.” He whispers and you giggle, bratty.

“Good, I never want you to forget it,” you whisper back “I never want you to forget me.” 

“Never in a million years, dear.” 

Happy at his response, you kiss him and feel the warmth of his hand leaving you to try and grab his pants again. You giggle when he curses lowly, letting go of him so he can take a condom out of his wallet with a smile on his face. 

He looks back at you in the process, shaking his head in amusement at the way you're taking the tender pause and he's smiling when he rolls on the condom as well as when he lowers himself so he can kiss you senseless again. 

When Seonghwa enters you, the whiny mess he was when you first touched him makes its comeback and you welcome it as you sink your nails into the skin of his waist, accompanying his slow movements as he eases you open. 

Soon, you're a whiny mess too. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear and kisses your shoulder while you hug him tight to you and let yourself get lost in the buck of his hips and the way he slows downs to make the moment last, like you're not planning on keeping him in your life and making him see stars whenever he wants. 

When he picks up the pace, the living room is warmer than it was when you first came in and the cold from the storm outside it's forgotten as his sweaty forehead rests on yours and his hips snap into yours with vigor.

“That’s it, dear. God, you feel so good…” 

Ruin you he does. Because this time, as he flicks your clit with his thumb and you come, it solidifies the fact that there's no one else you want. 

Is it crazy and a little rushed because you just met him? Yes. 

Do you give a damn? No. No you fucking dont. 

He ruins you for good and for everyone else, as well. 

“Seonghwa! Fuck, fuck, don't stop.” You beg, overstimulated and hips aching, but wanting him to reach his high so badly none of that matters. 

When his hips stutter, you take his ass with your hands and keep him in place, buried deep inside of you and walls pulsing around him as he comes with a beautiful cry and a rasp of your name in his throat. 

Panting, you take the opportunity to kiss his face as he comes down, nose slowly caressing his with affection and gratefulness and emotion you can't express because it's not the time yet. 

“God, Y/N.” He breathes out with a chuckle and you reciprocate it, kissing his mouth once more before deflating against the soft carpet under you. 

“I know,” you look at him, at his fucked out expression and the cute way he kisses the hand you use to wipe the sweat out of his face makes you feel giddy and in love, even if you know you're aren't in love with him yet “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.” 

Laughing, he nods in agreement “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.” 

He kisses you again and then pulls out, making a quick work on the condom and asking for the bathroom so he can dispose of it before making his way back to you. 

When he does, you're already sitting down, still naked, but sipping at your forgotten water bottle. Sitting down next to you, he places a kiss on top of your head.

The carpet is definitely going to use some cleaning after tonight, but that's okay. 

There's a bit of comfortable silence as you both recover from the amazing sex you just had. He takes a sip of your water bottle as well and then there's another thunder that shakes your window and all, making you both jump a little. 

Seonghwa “Do you… Mind if I stay over?” 

You snort “I wasn't planning on letting you go anywhere, Ghost.” 

He smiles, getting close to your face again “Even if it stops raining?” 

You nod, pecking his lips “Even if I have to go and clean up my room just for you.” 

“Oh, wow,” he whistles loud and you push him in feign annoyance, looking around for your underwear “You like me, like me.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

He attempts to hug you but you push him away again and stand up, making a quick job of putting your panties back on “Say that you like me and I'll let you kidnap me if you want.” 

“That's not how kidnapping works, idiot.” 

He gets up as well, taking his underwear and putting it on as he follows you around your apartment. 

You quicken your step, but he catches you right as you enter the mess in your bedroom. He hugs you tight, you back against his bare chest and his chin on your shoulder a second later “I'll honestly let you keep me even if you say you hate me, Y/N.”

Is sweet and it should make you cringe but you all but melt against his touch. There's no real need to tell him you like him when you place his hand on top of your chest so he can take in the way your heart beats for him for the second time tonight. 

“Good,” you turn a little, smiling at him and then turning to your room again “Do you want to help me clean this up just to make it messy again?” 

“Y/N!” 

Seonghwa doesn't help you clean your room. He, in fact, makes it a lot messier as soon as you two get into bed and when he falls asleep he dreams of a life where he can be by your side every night. 

The only thing that disturbs his sweet dreams is the way you squirm in his hold and he can't quite place the reason for it until he hears the loud, banging alarm ringtone he has set at six thirty so he can get ready for work. 

Murmuring and still half asleep, you slap his chest so he can tend to it “Turn it off, Ghost.” 

He does and he checks the time and the screen of his phone to find a message from his boss. It reads something about taking the opportunity to take the rainy day and work from home or something like that and Seonghwa can confirm, looking through your bedroom window, that the rain falls softly against it still. 

He smiles, grateful to have his laptop with him so he can work on his report if you decide not to kick him out first thing in the morning, and then rolls back to you so he can cuddle you and sleep in for the first time in months of commuting to the office. 

Then his phone rings again. 

Both of you groan at the sound and you sit up, the big t-shirt you put on after taking a shower gathering messily around your waist and he almost forgets about the call at the sight of you. 

You're so beautiful. 

“Pick it up and tell them to go fuck themselves for calling you so early. What the fuck.” 

He smiles “Bossy.” 

“You like it.” You say, smiling back and falling on top of him as he answers the call from an unknown number, your cheek resting on his chest. 

He makes sure his voice sounds extra sleepy when he does “Hello?” 

“Good morning, mister Park!” It's a woman on the line, a voice he recognizes but can't quite place yet “I'm sorry to wake you up, but yesterday you asked me what good you're to me… Guess what? You can find out today!” 

She sounds sarcastic and tired and like she drank seventy energy drinks to stay awake. Seonghwa scavenges his brain until the memory hits him “Miss Kim?” 

You look up at that, curious. 

“The one and only. Now, tonight you will accompany me to a party and—” 

“Miss Kim—” 

“I'm not finished,” you cuts him off, annoyed “At the party, I need you to pretend to be my boyfri—” 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

Now, you sit up on the bed again and frown at him. He shrugs and sits up as well.

“This could be a really great opportunity for you to gain connections and—” 

“Miss Kim,” he starts and, after taking in the sudden desperation on her voice, he sighs “I'm flattered you have taken me into consideration for this… Particular, uhm, job?” He offers, feeling awkward as hell “But my day is taken and I'm not single anymore, so I can't do it.” 

He watches you as you break into a little knowing smile and he smiles back, not even the disappointed sigh Miss Kim lets out on the other side of the line can break him away from the spell you so easily put him under. 

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” She sounds like she doesn't really mean the last part but it's trying hard to make it seem like she does “God… Ugh. Don't mention this to my brother and please cover that stupid tree up, okay? Goodbye.” 

She hangs up before he even gets the chance of saying goodbye or asking if she'll be okay. He has friends who wouldn't pass the opportunity to fake a relationship and go to a party, anyway. 

“So,” you start, getting on your knees and making your way back to him “What the fuck was that?” 

He reaches for your waist without really thinking about it, like he's been doing it his whole life and you sit on his lap like this is a morning routine you two crafted with years of experience. 

“I don't really know. Remember my client's sister?” you nod “She wanted me to be her fake boyfriend at a party tonight, I think.” 

“And you told her you're not single anymore to save face because you didn't want to go?” 

“I told her I wasn't single because I'm not,” he says, honestly “Even if you're not my girlfriend right now… I don't really want to see anyone else but you, so…” 

You fake a gasp and he rolls his eyes, smiling like an idiot when you lean in to leave a peck on his lips “And I was about to kick you out ten minutes ago!” 

Pouting, he holds you tighter “Why?” 

“That stupid alarm almost made me.” 

“I turned it off!” 

You laugh at the way he pretends to be offended and you're about to say something else before his phone starts ringing like crazy. 

It's not a call, it's a message notification. 

He turns to it and sees that Yunho is spamming the group chat with emojis. 

“Oh, God,” he sighs “What now?” 

“Is that your friend from yesterday?” 

“Mhm.” 

When Seonghwa scrolls to the messages to find something that can indicate what the hell is going on, he reads something a little alarming. 

Does anyone want to skip town tonight? 

He blocks the phone and tosses it into the bed, turning to your worried form with a smile “Do you want to meet my friends tonight?” 

You seem to get it immediately. 

“I would love to, Ghost,” you lean in to kiss him again, softly “Only if you introduce me as your girlfriend and not your mechanic, though.” 

Heart beating with a wonderful song, he agrees with soft yes and kisses you dumb for the first time today. 

He almost misses the deadline for his report, too. 

It's not really his fault that he can't get enough of you. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie. 

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you. 

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score. 

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind. 

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man. 

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face. 

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently. 

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth. 

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting. 

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink. 

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense. 

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight. 

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end. 

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.    

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed. 

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going. 

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace. 

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?  

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.  

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?  

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”  

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.” 

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on. 

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist?  He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it. 

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going. 

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right?  You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing  faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires. 

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them. 

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze. 

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction. 

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning. 

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask. 

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.  

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively. 

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact. 

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head. 

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be. 

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention. 

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.  

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?” 

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion. 

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder. 

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close. 

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment. 

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.   

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you. 

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair. 

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

[katiascraft]

"This is how you fall in love" | OP81

parings: Oscar Piastri x Reader.

Summary: Oscar is truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

Now playing: "this is how you fall in love" by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler.

Word count: +1,2k

Warnings: I think none just pure fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many errors). I do what I can. Not proofread.

Authors note: hey I don’t even know if this is good - I really hope it is - but I needed to write about Oscar SO BAD. (Btw is Yale in New York? Forgot to look it up). Update: I changed it. Yale it’s no even near to NYC 🤣 I’m a mess. Don’t forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

It was a sunny morning in Monaco. The quiet of the city could still be appreciated. You were asleep on the bed you shared with Oscar. It was your first night here since you haven’t seen each for the last time about 1 month or maybe almost 2. Time is a difficult thing to be aware of with his schedule to be honest.

Both of you had really busy lifestyles yet managed to build this relationship. Mostly it was a long distance relationship. He was traveling and working the whole year. And you were a student at Ivy Columbia University in New York City. As students it was difficult to find a gap between your exam and classes that fitted the races. You tried your best to always be there for him. Even if it was through the phone after the race. And for him that was really considerate.

You didn’t even have time to breathe when it was exams season yet you still find time to call and check on him. He knows it’s an obvious thing you’re supposed to do with people you love. But still he really appreciates it.

He was so happy and grateful you were finally together. Because you don’t see each other that often - every moment you spend together it’s so intense and pure magic. You do everything you could think of before saying goodbye again and part ways. It was the hardest part of your relationship. You said goodbye to each other so many times it anxiety breaking. He just never could get enough from you, from being with you. He has never felt this way about anyone and the fact that it’s been 4 years of being side by side it was crazy to him. How he would never get bored of you. You were always so intriguing, unpredictable, witty. You were the opposite when it came to what others could see. But behind close doors in your little magical and full of love world - you two matched each other's crazy perfectly.

Oscar is an introvert and really shy when it comes to interactions with people, always feeling nervous and so polite. You were always loud and could talk even with a wall if you wanted to. Always the life of the party so extroverted. You were the opposite but the same in a way. You would get so shy around him giggling like the teenager you were since you two met. And he could be the best at flirting and teasing around you. You made him feel so comfortable in his own skin and he just got loose and relaxed. Could be the real him with you. And just for you.

In your little beautiful world you wouldn’t stop talking about everything and anything. Joking around and teasing each other just to end up having sex in the living room. The chemistry between you two was unmatched. Behind your four walls he was the most confident man and you were as well. Bringing the best of each other out. Just for the other one. You were sexy, fierce, not afraid of anything. He made you feel even powerful.the way he always uplift you when you needed him the most and the fact that you could be so vulnerable knowing he won’t judge. He never did. He knew the real you and embraced it. His love changed you so much. He is the best thing that ever happened to you. And you were his. Oscar with you was kind of another person. It was him of course but intensified. Open and free. You gave him that space, that safety. And he adored you so much for that. Being himself it’s something he struggles with most of the time. Shying away. But with you by his side he could be the life of the party too.

He loved watching you study so concentrated. He would join you in silence, maybe by reading a book, or preparing your favorite tea in moral support. Or he would just sit in silence admiring you. How the sun would reflect on you and how it could make you shine even more. How perfect you’d look. And how that could make his heart race high speed. He would feel so lucky to have you. The comfort he felt was so big. He would want the time to stop right there and live stuck there forever. With you. Also, he loved the way you showed him so much love. He loved your homemade cakes and pies. You were so good with pastry. It was your inside joke. Because you were so good with him as well. He sometime would join you and try to help just to fail miserably and start a flour fight. The kitchen ended up in a mess but you were giggling and enjoying yourselves. Everything was worth it.

He really loved sharing activities together. Whether it was a paddle match against George and Carmen or Maria Kart battles with Lando. Also you loved hiking together and discovering new places around Monaco where you could escape reality and plan picnic dates. He loved that you got along so well with his friends and family. Since day one it felt natural. Everyone was welcoming of you. He was so nervous about it. But it was perfect because for him you were.

He heard you coming down the stairs just in time for the breakfast he had prepared for you both. You appeared with your hair in a mess and sleepy eyes. His tshirt on and your boxers of lighting mcqueen. You looked so adorable. Squishy. he smiled widely at you. And you returned the smile hugging him tightly.

“Good morning sleeping beauty” he said sweetly, grabbing you in his arms and kissing your temple. He heard you giggle.

“Good morning my Prince Charming. How grateful I am to wake up next to you for the rest of my life” you said teasingly and romantically looking at him. He giggled blushing. A soft pink tone now on his cheeks. You always had that effect on him.

“and how grateful I am to have you in my arms every morning for the rest of my days” he said just like you making you giggle to then plant a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he said, pulling away gently.

“Me too my love” you said softly.

You two took all of the things he had prepared with so much love to the table by the pool. The morning was beautiful and warm. Perfect. He put all of your favorite fruits and prepared your favorite cappuccino as well. He is always on the details. He remembered everything about you. You didn't have to ask - he already knew. He was perfect. Perfectly imperfect. There was no other man like him. You were sure about it. And you felt really lucky he even looked at you. These past few years were everything and more of what you could ever have dreamed as a kid. You always wanted to have your special someone - but you never thought you would find him.

You had your breakfast talking about what you were gonna do for the day.

Maybe this is what it really feels to fall in love.

Peaceful. Comfortable in silence. Not overthinking. Just being you and feeling loved. Feeling seen. Feeling celebrated. Cared for. Being chosen. The one. The bestest of friends. Your shoulder to cry on. Laughing until crying. Hugs and more hugs. Plasire. Deep talk. Vulnerability. Partnership. Support. Admiration. Trust and communication.

Giving a part of you to someone else to carry everywhere they went trusting they will never break it.

Maybe this is how you fall in love.

How you two fell in love every single day.

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