#when he pulls her in closer 🥺 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 5 months ago

Note

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it’s meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

💔 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

💔 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

💔 rating ──── explicit

💔 category ──── F/M

💔 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I’ve ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit though), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

💔 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

💔 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his hand and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It��s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me have my way with you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

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Thank you for reading!

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im-ovulating · 7 months ago

Note

For kinktober can we have a kiribaku x reader or dekubaku x reader or dekubakutodo x reader but public sex or double penetration or maybe knife play or quirk play🥺🤤🤤

(A/n: Kinktober Day 9/15! Sorry it's late, but this is way better than anything I was writing yesterday so I'd say the wait was worth it lol)

Word Count: 2,623

Summary- You get dragged off in the middle of the annual pro hero gala for some bathroom fun.

Warnings: Double Penetration, Public Sex, Double Creampie, Riding/Hitting from Behind, Fucking on Sink Counter

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Bakugo x Izuku x Fem! Reader: Double Trouble

--------------------------------

As you dance with Katsuki, feeling the heat radiating off of him and smelling his mouth-watering cologne, you can't help but feel a permanent warmth in your cheeks. The fitted black suit you and Izuku damn-near had to wrestle him into somehow making him even more attractive. You catch a glimpse of Izuku chatting with a pro hero you don't recognize and see his eyes are locked on the two of you even as he smiles at something his companion says. You've always loved the way Izuku looked at you, his eyes full of desire and admiration, making you feel like the most important person in the room at any given time. And to him, you might just be - well, you *and* Katsuki. The three of you had been together for over a year now, and it still gave you butterflies to think about how lucky you were to have snagged up both of them.

Suddenly, Katsuki's grip on your waist tightens, and he pulls you closer. His breath is hot against your ear as he grumbles, "Keep those damn eyes on me; you're dancin' with me, not him."

"You say that as if I didn't have to practically beg you to dance with me," You shoot back with a grin, not fazed by his glare.

After the song ends and the live band begins the next, Izuku makes his way over. "May I have this dance, beautiful?" he smiles with an awful "proper" accent, holding out his hand.

"Why, of course, good sir," you reply with a small laugh. You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his rough palm against your softer one. The two of you sway to the slow melody of the song as Katsuki is swept away by Mina, who you swear materializes out of nowhere.

You return her excited wave with a chuckle, watching as Katsuki tries and fails to get free.

"You look stunning tonight," Izuku murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as he pulls your attention back to him. His tone is so sincere and reverent that it makes you smile like a fool.

You lean into his chest and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the familiarity of his body against yours. "Thanks, Izuku," you whisper back. "You both look pretty great yourselves."

As the song continues, you lose yourself in the warmth of Izuku's embrace and the comfort of his familiar presence.

Eventually, the band slows to a stop, announcing that they're going to take five. Izuku leads you off the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back.

"You know..." Izuku begins, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I meant it when I said you look gorgeous tonight; good enough to... eat." You don't miss the shift in his tone. The deep rumble of his voice sending a tingle down your spine and heating your core. "Kacchan thinks so too," he hooks his chin over your shoulder from behind and gently takes your jaw in his hand, turning your head until you're met with the intense stare of Katsuki who leans against the bar. Seems he got away from Mina after all.

Katsuki takes a deep swig of whatever alcohol he's drinking before setting the glass on the bar and heading towards the bathroom. His eyes never leave you and Izuku - a clear invitation as he slips inside.

As soon as the door shuts behind the blonde, Izuku is leading you towards it. The hand on your lower back is firmer as he guides you through the throng of guests, ignoring the occasional call of 'Deku!' from reporters dotted around the room.

Your face flushes as you realize that being escorted by the number one hero, Deku, means there's no inconspicuousness in your oncoming bathroom tryst.

"Ignore them," Izuku murmurs, holding the door open for you.

Katsuki is waiting, suit jacket and tie already off and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.

As soon as you're within reach, he's pulling you in by the waist while Izuku locks the door and hangs his jacket next to his.

"Whose bright idea was this?" You ask as Katsuki uses his hold on your waist to lift you onto the counter and starts to bunch the skirt of your dress up. "I'm not complaining, but the top two heroes in all of Japan disappearing into the men's bathroom for an undisclosed amount of time with their girlfriend isn't something that's going to go unnoticed, especially at-" You cut yourself of with a small gasp as his thumb meets your clothed clit. "-at such a big event..." You finish, sounding less resolved as you close your eyes and tilt your head back. A pair of lips meet your neck, causing you to open your eyes and be met with soft green curls.

Izuku's hands curl around your jaw once more, turning you so he can kiss you. Katsuki pulls his thumb away from your clit in favor of spreading your knees apart and yanking your panties off, dropping to his knees so he can bury his head between your thighs.

"O-oh my god..." your groan is swallowed by Izuku's hungry kiss as your hand reaches down to tread through blonde tufts, tugging lightly as you try to pull Katsuki even closer.

He lets out a small grunt at the hair pulling, but obliges, tightening his grip on your thighs and harshly sucking. "Fuckin' hell, woman- be patient." he growls against you, sending vibrations up your spine through your swelling clit. Your arousal has started to pool, only to immediately get swallowed by the blonde.

"Says the one that dragged me in here for a quickie when he's supposed to be showing face at the gala," you shoot back, tilting your head so Izuku can suck and lick at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of soon to be hickeys that you don't have concealer to cover. Great.

"Shut it." Katsuki grumbles, shoving two fingers inside your cunt as he resumes his assault on your clit. You can feel the mix of spit and arousal dripping down towards your ass and it only makes you squirm even more.

Izuku's hands work on pulling the straps of your gown off of your shoulders so he can push the top passed your breasts and duck down you suck one of your nipples into his mouth. The rough pads of his fingers close around the other, pinching and twisting it as Katsuki adds a third finger.

The back of your head thumps against the mirror behind you as your moan echoes in the empty bathroom. "Careful..." Izuku grins, pressing a kiss to your hardened nipple. "We wouldn't want people to hear you..."

It's as Katsuki bullies a fourth finger into you that you realize what they're intending.

"Here??" You gasp out, biting down on your lower lip to stifle the moan that nearly rips out of you as Katsuki's fingers curl against that soft, spongy inside of you.

"Why not?" His gruff voice asks as he looks up at you; the sight of him on his knees, face so close to your dripping pussy as he looks at you through his lashes and his fingers pump in and out of you has you damn near speechless.

Nearly...

"I can think of 3 reasons off the t-top of my head- oh, fuckk..." you choke out as he and Izuku double team you; Katsuki curls his fingers back against your cervix as he sucks on your clit at the same time that Izuku sharply nips at your nipple.. "But those can wait- do that again," your chest heaves as your hands clutch at the counter aimlessly.

"Screw you both-" you groan, gushing around the blonde's fingers. "Just fuck me already! I'm prepped enough-" You feel more than hear the chuckle Izuku tries to hold back.

When Katsuki doesn't immediately pull away, pressing a few more kisses along your slick folds, you use your grip on his hair to yank his head back so you can meet his crimson gaze. "I said fuck me."

You barely get time to process his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare before your pulled off the counter, your high heels clacking against the floor as you land on them. Katsuki shoves Izuku back against the counter where you just were. "What'd *I* do?-" "Shut up, Deku and get your pants down." Katsuki interrupts. If our girl wants to be fucked so bad, that's what she'll get."

As soon as Izuku frees his cock, Katsuki is manhandling the both of you again. He shoves Izuku back once more so he's forced to sit in the counter and then he's turning your back to him and lifting you so your straddling Izuku. Stepping between Izuku's legs so he can press against your back, Katsuki rasps in your ear. "Better keep quite, there's a lot of reporters out there that would just love to hear your desperate little noises so they can confirm what they're already thinking..." His grin is sharp against your ear.

His hands still on your hips, Katsuki pushes you down on Izuku's length. It presses into you hard and thick. Just before you can bottom out, you hear the sound of his belt and zipper coming undone before he lines his own cock against your already stretched out hole. With a gentleness that contradicts his behavior a second ago, he reaches between you to hook a finger into you and tugging, stretching you carefully more so he can slip himself inside as well.

Your head fall against Izuku's shoulder as you're filled impossibly. You can't even moan as you shift your hips, causing them to rub deliciously against all of the right spots. Your small pants and gasps mix with Izuku's muffled moans that he's hiding with his hand and Katsuki's ragged breathing.

"Oh, my fucking god," you swallow hard, rocking your hips down to try to adjust to the feeling of both of them inside of you. "A-ah... please... please move. One of you needs to fucking move-"

And they do. Izuku replaces Katsuki's grip on your hips with his own, slowly lifting you up before pulling you back down. You can hear Katsuki curse under his breath as he braces his hands on the counter on either side of Izuku.

Izuku begins to slowly thrust up into you, his hips grinding against your back. Katsuki's face presses harder into your neck as he groans, his cock twitching within you. "Damn, woman," he grunts. "You're so fucking tight."

You feel his face scrunch up as he starts to move with Izuku, his thrusts matching his, but opposite; one in while the other's out. The friction between their cocks within you is exquisite, and thanks to Katsuki's skilled tongue and fingers earlier, you can feel your climax building fast.

Your nails dig into Izuku's shoulders, no doubt wrinkling his shirt in the process, as you tip your head back so it rests against Katsuki's.

Grunts and moans fill the room, the marbled walls echoing your obscenity back at you as it combines with the lewd squelching of their cocks bullying your poor cunt.

A particularly loud moan leaves you as Izuku's cock hits your g spot and he keeps it there, grinding slowly into it just as Katsuki slams into it. The handle on the door jiggles and Katsuki's hand slaps over your mouth as a knock sounds. "Occupied!" The blonde growls out, still grinding inside of you with Izuku.

Spots dance in your vision at the relentless assault against your most sensitive spot and before you can stop it, your cry of pleasure slips passed the firm grip on your mouth. The doorknob stops jiggling and it goes eerily quiet as the three of you wait with bated breath.

After nearly a minute of nothing, Katsuki finally relinquishes his hold, shifting his hand to your neck, tilting your head back impossibly more. "Well, now someone definitely knows. Just couldn't hold it, could ya?" He sneers, slamming into you harshly,

The hard, deep thrusts are clearly affecting Izuku as well if the way he squeezes his eye shut and tips his head back is any indicator; their cocks rubbing perfectly against each other with each thrust. "No need to -mmh- be mean, Kacchan." Izuku manages, his fingers digging into your hips in a way that will definitely leave bruises in the morning. "She can't help it if she's a needy for our cocks," he adds with a small laugh, just when you thought he was on your side.

"F-fuck you both," You whine, already barreling towards the edge again thanks to the nonexistent window of reprieve you got after your first.

They both laugh, Izuku's a soft chuckle and Katsuki's a mean snicker.

"Whatcha think we're doin', dollface?" Katsuki snorts, gripping your waist for better leverage.

Izuku has gone quiet, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his freckled cheeks painted a pretty red and you know his close. His hips continue to buck up into you but his rhythm is starting to falter; long deep strokes turning into quick bunny humps as he gets closer and closer. Finally, his balls tense and spill into you as he lets loose a debauched groan.

Katsuki isn't going to be too far behind if they way his movements turn erratic tell you anything. With one last thrust into your cervix, you're cumming again, crying out helplessly as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. The only thing grounding you against the overstimulating ecstasy is the four hands tightly holding you.

Your pussy clamping down is his final straw. Katsuki slams him hips against your ass and keeps his cock buried as deep as he can as he floods your cunt with even more cum.

For a few minutes, nobody speaks. the bathroom silent aside from three ragged breaths.

Finally, Izuku speaks up.

You can feel them both shaking with aftershocks as they slowly release their holds on you. When you finally look down, you see that you're covered in your own juices, Izuku's cum, and Katsuki's. You swallow hard, feeling surprisingly unashamed of what you've just done.

"We better get you cleaned up," Izuku says, his voice still shaky. "We need to get back out there..."

Slowly, Katsuki pulls out of you, allowing Izuku to flip yours and his position so he can pull out of you without staining his slacks. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs, his eyes locked on the cum leaking out of your still gaped pussy. He's snapped out of it by Katsuki throwing his jacket at his head. "Hurry up, fuckwad," he tells Izuku. "We've already been in here long enough to draw suspicion."

All you can do is lean back against the mirror as they work on getting you, themselves and the counter cleaned up. As Katsuki takes a damp paper towel and starts to clean the mess from between your thighs, Izuku helps you fix your dress. He helps you get your arms back in the sleeves and turns to look for your discarded panties.

"She's not getting those back yet," Katsuki grins, pulling them out of his slacks' pocket to flash the fabric to Izuku before putting them back and fixing his tie.

Izuku turns just as flushed as you feel as he changes course to help you off the counter and stand you on wobbly legs as you pull your dress back down.

Another knock, this time accompanied by a voice, rings out, muffled by the thick wood. "Are you guys done yet? I really have to piss!" You can hear the shit-eating grin Kaminari wears.

#bakugo katsuki smut #bakugo katuski x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoriya x reader #deku smut #deku x reader smut #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader smut #bakudeku x reader #bakudeku smut #bakudeku x reader smut #kinktober 2024

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rafesangelita · 10 months ago

Note

poguesweethearts first time with rafe and he is just so so so so mushy with her 🥺

warnings: fluff, use of the nickname ‘sweetheart’, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft sex, multiple orgasms, soft aftercare

rafe had it bad. every touch, every glance, every laugh, he was fighting off things he never thought he’d have to. like right now for instance. “okay how do you like this? is it too pink?” you did a little spin for rafe, oblivious to the way his eyes danced down your figure.

you were currently trying on different outfits to meet his family in, your overthinking machine of a brain not resting until rafe decided for you. rafe leaned back in his seat, meeting your gaze. “you could wear a garbage bag, and i’ll still think you look perfect.”

you shook your head, a pout forming on your lips as you stepped closer to him. “rafe i’m serious! i want them to like me.” rafe pulled you down to sit on his lap, his hands bringing your legs up to rest over his thighs. “sweetheart, they are. my folks are already in love with you, they’re constantly telling me to bring you home already.”

rafe watched the worry etched in your brow melt away, his fingers cupping your chin. “please don’t stress yourself out about it. we still have a whole week before then.” you nodded, pecking rafe’s cheek. he shut his eyes the second he felt your lips against his skin. something so small like a kiss on the cheek was starting to become too much to handle.

“hey, do you uh- have any plans for the next few days?” he hoped you couldn’t feel the hard on in his jeans. leaning your head against his shoulder, you fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt as you hummed. “nope. my manager went on vacation with her husband so the icecream shop is closed, and i already baked what i needed to sell this week, so i’m all yours.” all yours, that was like music to his ears.

“good, that’s good.” you noticed the way he rubbed your knee as if to soothe himself, your eyebrows knitting in concern. “rafe?” you adjusted yourself in his lap, freezing when you felt something poke your thigh. both of you looked at each other, your eyes falling to his lips.

“are you busy the next few days?” you asked him, your chest rising and falling as your fingertips burned to touch him. “no..” without hesitation, both of you kissed each other desperately, your hands flying out to pull him closer as if he wasn’t already flushed to your side.

this kiss was everything you wanted it to be, and everything rafe needed. you wrapped an arm around his neck, letting him pick you up bridal style where he then lead you two to your bed. you swore your sheets have never felt this soft before, but then again, with the way rafe’s hands roamed your body, everything seemed, well, just sweeter.

you welcomed him between your thighs, your dress pooling around your waist as he pulled away to admire you underneath him. “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.” rafe traced the sweetheart neckline of your dress, your breasts peeking out just enough to drive him crazy.

you smiled softly, taking his hand in yours as you dragged it across your chest. “please take it off.” you didn’t have to tell him twice. in seconds, he had you in nothing but your white matching set, kissing your skin as if you’d disappear if he didn’t devour you right then and there.

everything about you was so perfect to him, for him. you slipped off his shirt, running your hands down the ridges of his abs. “i’ve wanted to do this since i first saw you walk into the country club.” you gasped softly when he cupped you through the lacey material of your bra. your hands worked to undo rafe’s belt, his cock straining painfully in his pants.

rafe cursed under his breath, taking his jeans and boxers off in one swift movement. you’ve imagined what rafe would look like; naked and ready to take you, but it didn’t come close to the sight of him right now. he stood glorious, the look in his eyes making you rub your thighs together.

“rafe?” you sat up, watching as he reached for your ankle. you don’t know what you were expecting, but rafe yanking you towards the edge of your bed definitely wasn’t it. “keep talking, sweetheart, ‘wanna hear your voice.” you swallowed thickly, your heart skipping a beat when he kneeled in front of you.

“i want to make you feel good..” you trailed off, letting him lay you down as he took your panties off. one look at your soaked cunt, and rafe couldn’t believe he had survived this long without it. “you already are.” your mouth fell open when you felt his breath tickle your skin.

“is it okay if i do this?” you looked down, the sight of rafe gazing up at you from between your thighs was something you didn’t know you needed. you whimpered, muttering a ‘yes.’ before you felt his tongue run between your folds.

rafe was quick to pin your thighs down on top of his shoulders, ensuring you couldn’t move away from him while he lapped at your clit. “feels s-so good, rafe..” you shuddered, your body jolting when his tongue prodded at your entrance.

rafe had finally gotten a taste of you, and now he was addicted. from your little whines, to the way your thighs threatened to close around his head, rafe couldn’t help but fist his cock at the idea of making you cum on his tongue. he groaned against your slick cunt, the vibrations shooting straight to your clit.

“oh!” your hands fisted the sheets underneath you, your back arching up from your bed at the sensation. rafe watched you fight to take a breath, his chest blooming with pride at your obvious display of struggle. “you look so pretty like this.” he pulled your bra down, your tits spilling out of the white lace.

it wasn’t long before your hips starting moving away from his face, your first orgasm of the night threatening to rip through you. “don’t make me chase you.” you shivered at rafe’s words, complying immediately as you let him pull you even closer. rafe knew you were close to making a mess for him, and he was going to watch you unravel if it was the last thing he did.

“rafe-” your hands scrambled to find his, the band in your stomach snapping as you borderline screamed at the white hot pleasure coursing through you. “i got you, baby,” rafe let you dig your nails into his skin, your cries making his cock twitch with need.

you couldn’t form a single thought, let alone a sentence, so when rafe kissed his way up to your lips and asked if you were okay, you settled for a broken moan. “shhh,” he moved you two further up your bed, making sure your head was resting on a pillow before pecking the tip of your nose.

if you felt fucked out with rafe’s mouth alone, you couldn’t even begin to think what you’d feel like after he was done fucking you with the same cock that currently rested on your tummy. you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when rafe caged you between his arms.

“you’re so perfect, you know that?” your breathing slowed to the sound of his voice in your ear. no one had ever made you feel like this. orgasm aside, you realized as you gazed up into rafe’s eyes, that he wasn’t rushing to have his way with you; instead, he was comforting you and smiling down at you as if you were the most precious thing to ever grace the earth.

he was selfless, even in this very moment when he had every right to be greedy, and that fact turned you on more than anything ever did. “rafe? please give it to me.” he blinked slowly, his jaw clenching at your words. looking down where he lined himself up with your entrance, you watched as his face contorted into full on bliss, a gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up inch by inch.

“holy fuck.” you ran your nails across the back of his head as he cursed against your skin. wrapping your legs around his waist, rafe interlocked his fingers with yours, both of you moaning in unison as he started thrusting into you. he stroked the side of your face, your eyes fluttering shut as you stretched deliciously around his length.

your heart felt like it could explode in your chest. the hand holding, the way rafe touched you as if you were made of glass, it was all making you melt into a puddle of sweet nothingness. “shit-” he hissed through gritted teeth, “you can’t be real.” he half laughed, kissing you ever so gently.

you couldn’t help but squeeze around his length, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot that sent you whimpering against his chest. rafe admired the way your eyes sparkled everytime you looked up at him. he fucked you hard and slow, every stroke bringing him closer to the edge of euphoria.

with his forehead resting on yours, your hand suddenly felt cold as he reached down for your clit, your hips stuttering when he circled your sensitive bundle of nerves. “oh my god!” you squealed, your eyes screwing shut as your high hit you in intense waves of ecstasy. alas, rafe was next to float on cloud nine, his jaw going slack as his thrusts came to a stop.

the feeling of rafe spilling his load inside of you was now etched into your mind, incapable of ever leaving. rafe unintentionally had a death grip on one of your tits, your whine of protest snapping him back to reality. “oh, i’m so sorry baby. did i hurt you?” he was panting when he popped his digits into his mouth to taste you one last time for the night. you shook your head, snuggling into his side as he rolled over.

“just a little, s’okay.” you reassured him, rubbing a palm over his chest. rafe looked over at you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. there was nothing you loved more than a man that turned all soft and mushy for you, and rafe certainly didn’t fall short. “it’s a good thing you’re going to meet my folks soon..” he traced the cupid’s bow of your lips. “cause i’m not going anywhere.” just when you thought things couldn’t get anymore sweeter than this, he spooned you.

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vanteguccir · 8 days ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: LA'S, THE PUPPY CITY * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where at the Los Angeles show of the Surprise Party Tour, Chris not only surprises Matt with the presence of Y/N but also with a new small addition to the family.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　Matt being a dog parent 🥺🙏🏻.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The bell over the door gave a soft jingle as Chris pushed it open, the metal frame rattling lightly against the glass. A breath of lemon-scented air wrapped around them immediately. It felt clean, a little sweet, with a subtle, milky smell that could only ever mean one thing: puppies.

Chris stopped just inside the door, his hand tightening around his phone, already recording. His screen caught Y/N stepping in first, the sleeves of her soft beige hoodie crumpled inside her tight fingers like she always did when she was nervous or excited - honestly, with her, it was usually both at once.

"Alright." Chris said quietly behind the camera, his voice almost swallowed up by the soft hum of the lobby. "We’re really doing this, huh?"

Y/N shot a small, crooked smile over her shoulder before turning back to their front. She looked around the lobby slowly, taking it all in, the neatly organized shelves of treats and toys, the bulletin board cluttered with colorful flyers and Polaroids, the little potted plants trying their best to survive on the windowsill.

It felt so alive here. Safe. Somewhere you could exhale without even realizing you'd been holding your breath.

Behind the front counter, a woman glanced up from a stack of paperwork, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. She was older, maybe in her fifties, with gray-streaked hair pulled into a messy braid and kind, smile-lined eyes. She set her pen down and stood, smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans.

"Hi there." Y/N said, stepping closer to the counter. Her voice was soft, full with that warm kind of politeness she always carried. "Are you Veronica?"

The woman’s whole face brightened. She rounded the counter with an easy, open smile that made Y/N open her own wide and pearly one.

"That’s me." She said warmly. "And you must be Y/N. You called about the puppies, right?"

Y/N nodded, the tension in her shoulders loosening visibly.

"Yes. And this is Chris." She added, glancing back at him. "He’s Matt’s brother. The one we’re surprising."

Chris gave a half-wave, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. Veronica’s smile widened like she could feel the expectations echoing around them.

"Well, you picked a perfect day." She said, motioning them forward. "Come on back. We’ve got a lot of little ones eager to meet you."

She unlatched a small swinging door next to the counter, and Y/N slipped through first, Chris following close behind, lifting his phone to catch every second.

The hallway was narrow, lined with colorful paintings of dogs and cats, and the faint sound of barking echoed down the corridor. Veronica led the way with easy steps that told them about the years spent in places like this.

"We’ve got a few litters in right now." She said as they walked, her voice low and steady. "Some purebreds, mostly mixes. All around two to four months old. A couple of rescues, some surrenders. They’re all looking for someone to love them."

Y/N listened with her whole body. You could almost see every word soaking in through her skin. She glanced at the little nameplates on the walls, the photos of dogs with their 'gotcha day' dates scribbled underneath in bright marker.

Chris tilted the camera to catch them both.

"She’s about to cry, and we haven’t even seen them yet." He whispered with a soft laugh that he didn’t bother hiding.

Y/N elbowed him gently, her cheeks warming, but she didn’t deny it.

Veronica slowed as they reached a thick, heavy door at the end of the hall. She rested her hand on the handle, looking back at them with a small, knowing smile.

"Just a heads up." She started. "It’s... a lot. But in the best way."

Y/N nodded, practically vibrating with so much joy that made Chris’s throat feel a little tight.

Veronica pushed open the door, and the sound hit them like a wave.

Not too loud.

Not overwhelming.

Just tiny barks. High-pitched yips. The soft whimpering of baby dogs desperate for attention.

The room was huge, warm, and alive.

Colorful pens lined the walls and clustered in the middle, each one a little world of its own. Puppies tumbled over each other, tails wagging furiously, tiny paws slipping on the polished floor. Some barked for attention, others yawned and dozed, some sat solemnly watching as if judging whether the visitors were worthy.

Y/N froze in the doorway, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh my." She whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Chris lowered the camera just a little, blue eyes widening, trying to absorb everything he was seeing.

"I’m not ready." She said in a half-laugh, half-sob kind of way, looking at the camera before traveling up to Chris's eyes.

Chris grinned, shrugging.

"You've been talking about this to me for months." He playfully rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you are ready."

They moved slowly into the room.

Puppies cried out from every direction, tiny paws scratching at the metal gates, little noses pressing eagerly against the bars.

Everywhere they looked had floppy ears, wagging tails, big hopeful eyes.

Y/N dropped to her knees by the first pen, offering her fingers through the bars. A tiny golden retriever mix immediately pounced, licking her hand with wild, uncoordinated enthusiasm.

"Hi, baby." Y/N cooed, her voice trembling a little

Chris crouched beside her, filming the way the puppy nipped at her hoodie strings and the way her laugh broke through, high and light and a little watery.

Veronica walked them slowly through the room, pausing now and then to tell them each puppy’s name, their little backstories.

"This is Millie. She’s a husky mix. Lots of energy, super smart... And that’s Bruno, he’s shy at first but a total cuddlebug once he knows you..."

Y/N knelt by every pen, meeting every puppy like they were the only one in the room. She spoke to them softly, let them sniff her hands, and gave every single one a piece of her heart.

Chris kept filming, but there was a lump in his throat now, heavy and thick. He could already see it happening. The way Matt’s posture would break when he saw.

The way this tiny new life would change their whole lives.

They were almost at the end of the room when a small sound caught Y/N’s attention, a soft, hoarse little bark, almost like a question.

She turned instinctively, eyes scanning, and there he was.

Tucked into a small pen near the back, almost hidden away, was a tiny pug, barely bigger than a loaf of bread, with oversized paws and huge, round eyes.

He blinked up at her, wobbled toward the gate on unsteady legs, and let out another bark, louder this time, more certain.

Y/N’s whole body went still.

"Oh." She whispered, her hand flying to her chest.

But it wasn’t the overwhelmed kind of 'oh' from before. It was different now.

She moved without thinking, sinking to the floor in front of his pen. The little pug pressed his smooshy face against the bars, pawing at the air desperately until Y/N slid her hand inside.

The moment her fingers brushed his fur, he let out a happy, high-pitched whimper and collapsed into her hand like he’d been waiting for her all along.

Chris lowered the phone slightly, laughing almost breathlessly.

"Oh my God, it's Matt's stuffed pug."

"This is him." Y/N said, her voice breaking on a whisper, ignoring his reference to Mr. Wrinkleton. "Chris, it’s him."

Chris crouched down beside her, his lips forming a smile. He looked at the tiny pug clambering over himself to get closer to her, his little tail wagging so hard it made his whole body wobble.

Yeah.

This was it.

Veronica knelt beside them, her smile gentle.

"He’s three months old." She said softly. "Had a rough start, but he’s healthy now. He’s gonna be somebody’s whole world."

"Our. Our own world." Silent tears slipped down Y/N´s cheeks as she cradled the tiny pug’s squirming body against her chest.

Chris lifted his phone again, filming as Y/N pressed a kiss to the pug’s soft paw.

"Welcome to the family, little dude." He whispered.

Y/N looked up at him, her arms wrapped protectively around the tiny bundle of fur, her whole face shining with something so pure it almost hurt to look at.

"Matt’s gonna lose his mind." He said, laughing at her reaction.

Y/N laughed, too, blinking hard.

"Yeah." She said. "In the best way."

The little pug yawned, his tiny body going limp against Y/N’s hoodie, safe and small and finally, finally home.

The big screen glitched.

Just for a split second, barely even a breath, but it was enough to make every single person in the theater sit up a little straighter.

The giant screen flickered, snapping out of its still state before huge white letters, sprawled loud and proud across it.

'SURPRISE'

The noise was instant.

It rose so fast it felt like the theater itself trembled with the force of it, a full-body, head-to-toe rush of screams and gasps and insane, joyful chaos.

And then the countdown appeared.

Big, chunky numbers.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

The entire theater vibrated.

And then there he was.

Chris.

Right there, filling up the screen, standing in front of a camera, looking dead into it while adjusting the knot of his tie with both hands.

Screams echoed louder than before, paired with bodies jumping out of seats like they had been electrocuted.

Chris just smiled his cheeky half-smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made everything else blur a little.

He stood up from the orange couch on the right side of the stage, the one where he’d been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Matt, grabbing the mic that had been resting between them.

The noise, if it was even possible, got louder.

Chris shot a quick look at the crowd, like seriously?, lifting his brows and laughing under his breath, but you could see the way his whole face lit up.

He loved it.

Still laughing, he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his hoodie and walked across the stage, his black Converse scuffing softly against the dark wood.

He turned toward one of the big wooden shelves that were part of the stage set and paused, throwing a quick glance back at the crowd, lifting the mic to his mouth

"Okay." Chris started, his voice crackling a little through the speakers because people wouldn’t stop cheering. He laughed again, boyish and bright. "For this surprise..." He paused, letting it hang in the air just long enough to make people collectively calm down. "I need you guys to chill, okay?"

The crowd didn’t exactly obey - because honestly, how could they? - but the volume did dip, a little.

Chris rolled his eyes dramatically, turning away from them and toward the wooden cabinet door in front of him.

He wiggled his fingers at it like he was about to do a magic trick, smiling so hard you could practically feel it.

Meanwhile, Matt and Nick were already on the left couch, explaining the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint Chris was going to show to the public.

"Alright." Chris huffed out, laughing through his nose like he couldn't believe he - and Y/N - were really about to do this.

Well, they already did it anyway.

His fingers wrapped around the cool metal handle of the cabinet door and pulled it open.

The tiny little squeak the hinges made was almost swallowed by the mutters of excitement echoing across the theater. He reached inside, his arm disappearing into the dark cabinet before pulling his hand back out slowly.

When he turned around, he had something small and squishy clutched in his hand.

The cabinet clicked shut behind him as he made his way back toward the couches, stopping in front of his brothers, holding the thing up.

For a second, Matt squinted at it, confused.

And then his face changed.

"Wait-" Matt leaned forward, hands shooting out to grab it. "Dude! Mr. Wrinkleton?!"

The theater straight-up erupted.

A loud, messy mix of laughter and cheers filled the air.

Matt cradled the stuffed pug against his chest like it was a living, breathing thing. His brows furrowed, all dramatic.

"How- how did you even-" He started, mouth hanging open a little. He shook Mr. Wrinkleton gently, like that was gonna shake an answer out of the poor plushie. "I swear I left him at home! I didn’t pack him!"

Chris just shrugged, doing that thing where he tried way too hard not to laugh, but his whole face was twitching.

Nick was already cracking up on the couch beside Matt, throwing his head back like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Chris, did you sneak into your bag?!" He asked into his mic.

Chris just threw his hands up all innocent-like, backing up a little.

"Well, obviously." He said, grin stretching wider.

Nick leaned forward, still laughing, grabbing his own mic tighter.

"Okay, wait, wait. So what, you went to those stuffed animals stores and bought a whole lot of it?" He asked, frowning at the pug.

"Yeah, like..." Matt shook Mr. Wrinkleton in the air again, pointing at him. "Build your bear or something."

Chris gave them both a deadpan look, crossing his arms over his cotton jacket.

"Wrong. Both wrong." He said, voice dripping with fake disappointment. "And Y/N would kill me if I bought more stuffed animals."

The audience cackled.

Without warning, Chris stepped forward and snatched Mr. Wrinkleton right back out of Matt's hands, ignoring his loud "Hey, he's mine!" protest.

"Sorry, bud. He's part of the surprise." Chris said, tossing a wink at the crowd.

He walked away before either of them could argue, crossing the stage to the opposite couch, lowering himself onto the cushion, sitting Mr. Wrinkleton against his chest.

And even though he was trying his hardest to act normal, to play it cool, he definitely didn't look over to where Y/N was sitting offstage.

Not even a glance.

Okay, he peeked once. Real quick. But it didn’t count.

He pulled his gaze back to the audience, clearing his throat into the mic.

"Okay." He said, leaning forward a little. "I need you guys to really, and I mean really pay attention to this surprise, okay? No screaming. Just... watch."

The theater actually settled. Not all the way, but the noise dropped down to a quiet murmur. A few people were still whispering excitedly, phones clutched so tight in their hands that it looked like they might actually snap in half.

Chris turned back toward the giant screen, rubbing his palms over his knees once before looking up.

"Well." He said into the mic, voice a little softer now. "Let's see what I did."

The video started.

It didn’t come with any fanfare or intro, which already made it so different from the slow builds Matt and Nick did for theirs.

The first thing they all saw was the little bell above the door, giving a tiny jingle as Chris pushed it open. The metal frame rattled against the glass, a little shaky from his hand being just barely too excited.

Chris must've turned his phone a little, revealing Y/N stepping into frame.

And you could literally hear the collective reaction in the room. A few people gasped softly, immediately putting their hands to their mouths, excited whispers of Y/N's name carrying around the theater.

Matt’s whole body jerked upright, eyes going round as coins, traveling from the screen to Chris and back again.

"Y/N? What-"

She was tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands, all tucked in and shy, just like she always did when she was either excited out of her mind or on the verge of jumping out of her skin.

Behind the camera, you could hear Chris’s voice, low and soft, kind of laughing under his breath like he couldn’t believe they were actually doing whatever they were doing.

"Alright." He said, his tone so full of his excitement it filled up the whole living room and made Matt and Nick instinctively smile. "We’re really doing this, huh?"

Y/N shot a crooked little smile over her shoulder at him and then turned back toward the front of the store.

Video-Chris moved his phone in a way that the camera registered the shelves lined neatly with treats and toys, the bulletin board overloaded with colorful flyers and Polaroids of grinning pets, the half-dead potted plants on the windowsill.

Back on the couch, Matt’s mouth fell open a little, slow realization crossing his face, his occupied hand moving his mic close to his lips.

"Chris... is this a-?" Then blinked hard and answered himself in a sudden, hushed rush. "That's a dog place. Dude, it's a dog place."

Nick, looking equally bewildered but not yet putting two and two together, yelled back.

"What's happening?!"

On the screen, behind the front counter, an older woman lifted her head from a stack of paperwork. She pushed her glasses up her nose, eyes warm and crinkling at the corners. Her gray-streaked braid swung over her shoulder as she stood.

"Hi there." Y/N said, stepping closer to the counter.

Her voice was soft, careful but open, the way she used to talk when she's trying really hard to get it right because it matters.

Chris’s phone camera caught the way her fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, nerves leaking out even though her smile stayed steady.

"Are you Veronica?" She asked.

The woman’s face lit up instantly, like Y/N had flipped a switch.

Veronica rounded the counter with this easy energy that made you want to trust her instantly.

"That’s me." She said warmly, a little laugh in her voice. "And you must be Y/N. You called about the puppies, right?"

Puppies.

The word dropped into the room like a tiny, adorable bomb.

A whole new ripple of gasps and low "oh my god's" ran through the audience. Matt slapped a hand over his own mouth so fast it made a little smacking noise, his eyes widening more - if that was even possible.

Nick just shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, jaw dropped low.

Back on the right couch, Chris could feel everyone's eyes on him, the glances bouncing between him and the screen like they were all trying to process the serotonin overload.

Nick was the first to react.

"Wait-" He half-shouted into his mic. "You both spent a day with puppies or-?"

Matt was still staring at the screen, eyebrows drawn so hard together that they were practically touching.

Chris just leaned back a little, smirking at them all.

"I told you to pay attention." He said lightly, voice all mischievous.

The video continued playing, but no one really moved.

Backstage was dark. There was a warm golden light cast over everything from the stage beyond the thick curtains, but none of it quite touched where Y/N stood.

She was tucked into the far-left side of the stage, just behind where Matt and Nick were seated, hidden.

Perfectly hidden.

The kind of hidden where her heart could race freely and her hands could clutch the hem of her hoodie without anyone seeing her do it - the fabric was soft beneath her fingers, already wrinkled from how much she’d been fidgeting.

She stared at the stage, catching a glimpse of the big screen showing the video that had just started to roll, the one that had captured her and Chris walking into the puppy shelter weeks ago.

But her eyes weren’t on herself, though.

They were locked - utterly glued - to Matt on the flat screen across the stage.

His mouth was parted slightly in that unguarded way he had when he was surprised or deeply focused. His eyes were wide. Shiny. And every couple of seconds, he’d glance away from the screen, flicking his gaze through the crowd like maybe, maybe, he would find her in between their fans.

It was like he could feel her there.

But it wasn't possible, right? She was back home, waiting for them.

For him.

Y/N’s heart swelled, aching in the best, most ridiculous way. Her cheeks were already warm, and she hadn’t even stepped out yet.

On the screen, Chris's voice played softly through the speakers.

"Alright. We’re really doing this, huh?"

Y/N saw Matt’s brow pull in just slightly. And then his lips tugged up.

She was just barely biting her bottom lip when a soft touch on her shoulder made her jump.

She spun around, heart flying into her throat, but it was just Paula with her extravagant clothes, her headset half on, and her big knowing smile. But it wasn’t her smile that Y/N noticed.

It was him.

A squirming, snuffling, snorting little ball of cinnamon-colored fuzz, wrapped in Paula's arms.

Y/N’s eyes went immediately huge.

Her hands shot out, palms opening like some instinctual reflex she couldn’t fight. Paula laughed, handing over the pug puppy with the most care in the world. He squeaked once, then buried his little wet nose into Y/N’s chest the second she cradled him.

"Thank you... thank you so much." She whispered to Paula, though she never looked away from the tiny dog. Her nose pressed to his squishy head, eyes fluttering closed as she kissed him once, twice, three times. "Hi, my little love." She cooed, arms wrapping tighter around the warm, wiggly ball of fur. "Are you ready to meet your daddy?"

The puppy responded with a tiny sneeze and then a soft whimper, tucking even deeper into the safety of her hoodie. Y/N smiled, pulling the fabric higher around him, her lips brushing his ears as she rocked him lightly.

Across the stage, just barely in her peripheral, she caught movement.

Chris.

He didn’t wave or speak - obviously, but the small, subtle flick of his chin down, then toward the curtain, was enough.

Her cue.

She swallowed.

Her throat was tight, voice stuck somewhere behind her ribs. But she took one long, quiet inhale through her nose, then let it out through parted lips.

Her legs moved before her brain even fully caught up. Her boots were soft on the stage floor as she walked around the edge of the curtain and into the glow.

Her eyes flicked playfully to a group of fans who noticed her first and gasped. She gave them a small shake of her head and a smile and then looked down at the puppy still trying to climb her like she was a mountain.

"Shhh." She whispered to him, lips brushing his head again. "You’re okay, baby. We’re almost there."

His little paws dug softly at her chest, whining quietly with the new lights and noises, but Y/N just chuckled and kissed him again.

"We’re gonna get your daddy, okay? One sec."

She walked along the center of the stage slowly, looking at the crowd and lifting her right hand gently, pressing her index finger to her lips, until she reached the back of the left couch.

Matt’s back was still turned.

He was leaning forward a bit, fully focused on the final moments of the video. His fingers were twitching a little on his knee. Nick was watching too, his mouth still slightly open, clearly trying to process the whole thing.

"Matt’s gonna lose his mind." Chris’s voice said on screen, laughing.

Y/N’s laugh echoed faintly from the video. And then her voice echoed.

"Yeah. In the best way."

The screen faded to black.

"I'm so fucking confused right-" Matt turned toward Nick just a little, hand holding his mic to his lips, when something interrupted him.

A whine.

Right behind him.

Matt blinked. Froze. His body stiffened as he slowly turned toward the sound, eyebrows pulling in, lips slightly parted in confusion.

And then his entire world stopped.

Because there she was.

Y/N, who was supposed to be at home after a day full of classes.

Standing just behind him.

With a puppy cradled in her arms like he was something precious and sacred and just... perfect.

The little thing let out another soft yip, paws twitching.

Matt didn’t move for half a second.

And then everything hit him all at once.

His mic fell to the cushions with a soft thump as he stood so fast the couch shifted slightly under Nick. His blue eyes were huge, glassy, locked on her, and the tiny dog in her arms. He looked from her face to the puppy and back again like he couldn’t believe either were real.

Nick was still sitting, mouth wide.

"A dog?! What the fuck?" He yelled into the mic, which made the crowd laugh, breaking the silence.

But Matt didn’t react. Not to Nick. Not to the crowd. Not to anything.

His feet moved, and he rounded the couch as fast as his wobbling legs could. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of her, his bottom lip trembling so hard it visibly shook.

Y/N didn’t speak. She just looked at him. Heart bursting. Face soft and eyes full of tears she was barely keeping in. Her smile trembled, her arms slightly lowering the tiny pug toward him.

And Matt- God.

He reached out like he’d never touched anything so gently in his life.

His hands came around the puppy, scooping him carefully, protectively. His fingers curled around his soft belly, bringing him to his chest, and Matt immediately bent his head, pressing his nose to the pup’s warm, wriggling body.

The crowd around them had started to whisper, a few quiet "awws" spreading like waves, people lifting their phones to capture it.

Y/N stepped closer. Her hands dropped to Matt’s right hip, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of his denim jacket, grounding herself in him.

Matt breathed. He breathed like he’d been holding it in for years. The puppy let out a soft grunt, and Matt kissed the top of his head, nuzzling his nose into his fur.

"I-" Matt’s voice cracked. He pulled the puppy tighter. "Fuck- I love you. I love you so much already, little guy."

His voice was so emotional, so raw and wrecked and overwhelmed that it made Y/N’s eyes sting even more.

"You’re mine now, yeah?" He whispered, pressing another kiss to his tiny wrinkled head, raising his eyes to meet Y/N's, waiting for some sort of confirmation that came as a nod. "Ours."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her hand smoothing over Matt’s back before sliding up to gently stroke the puppy’s little ear.

"You’re gonna be the best dog owner." She whispered.

Matt looked at her again. His eyes were wet.

Really wet.

And full of every bit of love he could show.

And then Chris approached from the side, his mic still in his hand but lowered. He walked up slowly, looking from Matt to the puppy and then to Y/N.

He caught her eye, lifted his right hand, and closed it gently into a fist.

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, eyes still glassy as she lifted her own and gently bumped her knuckles against his.

Nick was the next to move, craning his neck and squinting behind the couch.

"This is insane." He stared between them and then turned to the audience. “They hid a puppy from us." He said, stunned, pointing to Matt, who was now just silently smiling down at the pug in his arms like he had found the meaning of life. "A whole entire puppy. From us."

The audience laughed, all warm and emotional, several people visibly wiping their eyes. Nick shook his head and looked back at Matt, softening when he saw how wrecked his brother looked.

"Matt..." He said into his mic. "They literally just made your whole world."

Matt just nodded slowly, that water-logged grin barely leaving his face, whispering something to the pug about how tiny his paws were as the little guy curled tighter into his jacket.

Chris stepped a little closer to him, lifting the mic.

"So..." He said, all playful but still gentle. "Did you like the surprise?"

Matt glanced at him, then at the crowd, then finally looked to Y/N. His gaze softened even more. He reached his arm out, grabbing her hand and pulling her gently against his side.

"I guess..." He said into the mic, voice low and smile cracking wide. "We’re dog parents now."

The entire crowd erupted in screams and laughter. Y/N laughed quietly against Matt’s side as he covered the puppy’s ears instinctively with the noises, kissing Y/N’s temple with one hand still pressed gently over the pug’s head.

596 notes · View notes

withlovemark · 3 months ago

Text

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? 😛

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

#i just know he’s big #he’s an innocent freak #everyone greet my baby a happy birthday!#nct jisung #jisung x reader #jisung smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct x reader #nct smut #c.fics

689 notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 9 months ago

Note

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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harrysfolklore · 2 months ago

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So since the Oscars are happening next week I wanted to ask if you could please write something about charles leclerc and actress!reader where she's been nominated many many times before but never won (kind of like saoirse ronan) but this time she finally breaks the curse and win her first Oscar and Charles being just proud husband

u know you can always count on me for a charles x famous!reader fic and honestly i loved this one 🥺 i hope you like ittt

The Dolby Theatre buzzes with anticipation as you sit between Charles and your co-star. This scene is familiar - the sixth time you've been nominated, the same butterfly-inducing wait during the Best Actress category. Your first nomination came when you were just twenty-three, and now at thirty, you've earned the title of 'most nominated actress without a win.'

Charles has been there for four of those nominations, watching you smile gracefully through each loss. You remember how devastated he was last year - more than you, even - when you lost for what critics had called 'the performance of the decade.' He'd held you all night, whispering about how the Academy didn't deserve you anyway.

Tonight, though, feels different. Maybe it's the way Charles keeps pressing soft kisses to your temple, or how he hasn't stopped playing with your wedding ring - a nervous habit he picked up during particularly tense races.

"Mon coeur," he whispers as the Best Actor category wraps up, "no matter what happens, you're already the winner in my eyes. But tonight... tonight feels like magic, no?"

You're gripping Charles's hand so tightly you might be cutting off his circulation, but he doesn't seem to mind. Your heart is pounding as Emma Stone opens the envelope on stage, the same way it has during the previous ceremonies where you'd left empty-handed despite the nominations.

Charles leans closer, his lips brushing your ear. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens," he whispers, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hand.

"And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role goes to..."

Charles's grip tightens imperceptibly. You feel him holding his breath alongside you.

"YN!"

For a moment, you're frozen. The applause sounds distant, like you're underwater. Then you feel Charles's hands on your face, see his beaming smile through your blur of tears.

"You did it, mon coeur!" he exclaims, his own eyes glistening as he pulls you into a kiss. "You finally did it!"

You're trembling as you stand, Charles helping you up. He's looking at you the way he does after winning a race - no, even more intensely than that. Like you've just won every championship in existence.

The walk to the stage feels surreal. You can hear the announcement echoing: "This is YN's sixth nomination and first win..." Through your tears, you see the standing ovation, catch glimpses of familiar faces who've been on this journey with you.

Your hands shake as you accept the Oscar, its weight both foreign and familiar after years of dreaming about this moment. You take a deep breath, looking out at the sea of faces until you find those green eyes that have been your anchor through every high and low.

"Wow," you begin, your voice trembling. "They say sixth time's the charm, right?" The audience laughs warmly. "I've had this speech written in my head since I was a little girl playing pretend with my mom's hairbrush, but now that I'm here, those words don't seem enough."

You pause, gathering yourself. "To the Academy - thank you for not giving up on me. To my incredible director who trusted me with this role that scared me as much as it thrilled me. To my amazing co-stars who pushed me to dig deeper, be braver."

Your eyes find Charles again, who's watching you with such pure adoration it makes your heart swell. "To my husband, who has sat through more award shows than F1 races this year so far, who runs lines with me even though he says my accent is better than his, who believes in me more than I believe in myself - ti amu. You've watched me practice acceptance speeches in our kitchen, held me through the disappointments, and somehow made me feel like a winner every single time. You told me once that in racing, it's not about how many times you don't make the podium, it's about never stopping until you do. Well, my love, we finally made it to the top step."

You can see Charles openly crying now, nodding proudly through his tears. "To my parents who let their little girl dream big, to my team who've been with me through every 'maybe next year,' to every young actor who's been told 'not yet' - keep going. Your time will come."

Looking down at the golden statue in your hands, you smile through your tears. "And finally, to every person who's ever felt like they're always the runner-up, who's heard 'better luck next time' so many times they've lost count - this is for you. Because sometimes the longest waitings lead to the sweetest victories. Thank you, thank you so much."

Later, at the Vanity Fair after-party, Charles hasn't let go of your Oscar once. He's been carrying it around, showing it off more proudly than any of his race trophies.

"My wife," he keeps saying to everyone who'll listen, his accent thick with emotion, "she's brilliant, no? I told everyone she would win. I knew it."

"Charles," you laugh, watching him polish the statue with his pocket square for the third time. "You're going to wear it out."

"Non, I'm protecting it. It's very precious." He looks at you with those soft green eyes. "Like you."

You lean into his side, feeling the familiar warmth of his arm around your waist. "You know what this means, right? Now we both have something gold to polish obsessively."

He chuckles, finally setting the Oscar down to pull you closer. "Oui, but unlike my trophies, this one was a long time coming." His expression softens. "You deserved this years ago, mon coeur."

"Well," you say, straightening his bowtie, "someone once told me that the sweetest victories are the ones you have to fight for."

"Sounds like a wise man," he grins.

"He's alright," you tease. "Bit of a show-off though. Keeps trying to steal my Oscar's spotlight."

Charles laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Never. Tonight is all yours, my love. Though..." he adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I might need to win another race soon. Can't have you being the only champion in the household."

You reach up to wipe a smudge of your lipstick from his cheek. "Race you to the next gold trophy?"

"Deal," he says softly, pulling you into a proper kiss. "But you've already won the most important race."

"Oh? Which one is that?"

His smile is tender as he touches his forehead to yours. "The race to my heart."

"That was terrible," you laugh, but you're already pulling him closer.

"Terrible but true," he murmurs against your lips. "Now, shall we go home? I need to practice my 'proud husband watching his wife's Oscar-winning performance' face for when we rewatch your movie for the hundredth time."

"You love that movie."

"I love you," he corrects.

And as you watch him carefully wrap your award in his suit jacket for the journey home, you think that maybe this victory is sweeter than you imagined - not because of the golden statue, but because of the golden heart beside you who never stopped believing it would happen.

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 fanfic

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

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Imagine jealous!sharon want to get you out of the way so she can be with Bucky…

She hurts you (even it’s like a bruise) and Bucky begins to be so protective of you 🥺🥵

ABSOLUTELY.

I'm imaging this with a soft sweet reader and fuckboi Bucky. Hear me out, okay.

He's not looking for a relationship at all, finally feeling a sense of freedom after getting a bit of himself back. He's so flirty with everyone, so charming, he knows he can get whoever he wants.

He fucks.

A lot.

Sharon eats it up, loving the smirks he gives her, his playful baby blue eyes always sparkling. She loves the naughty way he bites his lip and don't even get her started on how gorgeous he is when he works out shirtless. His Brooklyn accent comes out when he calls her darlin' and it makes her weak in the knees.

There's just one issue.

The looks he gives Sharon aren't special. She's not the only one he calls darlin', even the old lady at the coffee shop shares the same pet name. Bucky can't help the little smirks he tosses around to others, flirty compliments naturally falling from his lips. He's a bit of a heart breaker but it's who he is.

That's just Bucky.

That's Bucky with everyone else.

Then there's Bucky with you.

The quite lab assistant who worked at the compound.

He didn't have it in him to playfully flirt with you when you asked about his day. He actually liked talking to you, finding any excuse under the sun to keep the conversation going, poking at the little nick knacks you have on your desk so he doesn't have to leave so quickly.

Sharon hates the way he looks at you. Whenever he's around you, he looks at you with puppy eyes as if he's wondering how someone so sweet could possibly exist. She catches onto the way he's not the same with you as he is with others. He's called everyone in passing darlin' with a drawl of his voice but you're his doll. He's never used that with anyone else. That's reserved just for you.

She can't stand it.

At first she tries to pick you apart in subtle ways' maybe you'd finally realize you had no business talking to someone like Bucky.

"You're so pretty even though you wear glasses"

"Don't worry, that dress would still look good on your body type, its meant to suit everyone"

"I wish I was as brave as you to wear that! I'd love to have that much confidence but I could never"

She smiled sweetly while you pulled your lab coat closer together, clutching it tightly in your hand. Your heart sank to your stomach. You'd worn one of your favorite dresses, one many others had always said you looked perfect in but some how Sharon made you doubt that, despite her sugary smile.

Then she took it a step further to make sure you were more isolated, insisting you'd be uninterested in plans when the team wanted to go out. Purposely giving you extra work when they had drinks together. Anything to keep you sad and holed away in your lab while she kept Bucky all to herself.

She'd do anything to get rid of you.

She was almost certain everything was going accordingly to plan, inching closer and closer to Bucky during a movie night until she was pressed against him, sharing his blanket. Not that Bucky noticed since he was more distracted over the fact that Sam was also squished against him on the other side of the small couch. Sam was also buried under the now too hot blanket, his deep snores irrupting the movie having fell asleep on Bucky's shoulder.

"Damn bird brain" Bucky huffed, ignoring the fact that he pushed Sharon off while reluctantly adjusting himself so Sam's head wouldn't slip, shaking his head when Sam grumbled, trying to snuggle into Bucky more.

"Bet you wish that was y/n, huh" Tony wiggled his eyebrows and much to Sharon's distain, Bucky blushed. Not did he deny it.

It didn't matter though. She'd find a way to get Bucky's attention, it wasn't like you were real competition anyways. She figured you'd have the sense to like someone better suited for you, someone in your league, definitely not the very handsome Sergeant.

That was until she found out you had a crush on the super soldier yourself. You'd let it slip out during a conversation with Nat, not realizing there was someone near the lab. Sharon didn't think you actually had a chance with Bucky but it didn't matter.

At this point she didn't care about what it took.

She was sick of the way Bucky was soft over you.

So she took a more direct approach.

"Y'know, I heard someone has a little crush on a certain super soldier" Sharon smirked, wandering to your table, tinkering with one of your tools while you looked at her like a deer caught in head lights.

How did she know?!"

"I-I don't-

"Oh please y/n, everyone knows" the blonde rolled her eyes at your gaping mouth before continuing, "I just thought I should let you know that he's not interested"

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach, the hurt expression on your face made her satisfied,.

"Oh" Was all you mustered out, embarrassed beyond belief while she shrugged. You blinked back tears while Sharon squeezed your shoulder out of faux concern, handing you a tissue.

"I'm so sorry, honestly I just thought you should know because he likes me. And I like him. So it would be best for you to move on, because were seeing each other" It didn't matter if it was a lie because she intended on making it real soon enough.

From that day, you avoided everyone in the compound like the plague, throwing yourself into work, feeling ridiculous for having even thought of Bucky that way. Of course he'd never go for someone like you, you should've known that from the start.

Sharon's plan was short lived after she overheard Bucky worriedly asking Tony about where you'd been all week since he hadn't seen you. After some endless teasing, Tony reassured him you were fine and just busy with lab work, not knowing the true reason as to why you'd overloaded yourself.

Sharon despised the pink that decorated Bucky's cheeks whenever someone said your name.

She hated that she'd seen him walking by the lab hallway in search of you.

She'd do anything to end all of this.

Including hurt you.

You made your way down to the gym hoping to sweat some of your unrequited feelings away, putting on your headphones before hopping on the treadmill. Sharon walked in moments later, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, her toned body on full display in nothing but a sports bra and some tiny shorts.

You felt even worse.

You tried to stay hidden, deciding 15 minutes would be enough, though your escape was cut short with Sharon caught your arm just as you were about to leave.

"How about we spar for a bit" She smiled sweetly, giggling at your confused expression. You'd never sparred in your life, in fact this was probably the third time you'd even used the gym the entire time you'd lived at the compound.

"Sharon, I-I don't think that's a good idea, I've never-

She cut you off, dragging you to the mat, practically shoving you to the middle with more force than necessary.

"It's fine! I mean, it's good for you to learn since you work here n'all C'mon, I'll help you and show you what to do" Before you could say anything, Sharon had flipped you onto the mat, twisting your arm behind your back without warning. You gasped in pain as she gripped harder, pulling further up your back until she heard your joints crack.

"Let-let go" You winced out, confused over what part of sparring this was, your body hitting the floor when she released her grip.

"Ops" Sharon pouted with faux innocence, taking a long sip from her water while you hissed in pain, seeing the formation of a bruise already forming on your arm.

"SHARON"

Sharon squeaked in surprised at the loud voice that boomed through the gym, bouncing off the walls. Her eyes shot up to see a very angry super solder making his way over to the mat, eyes darkening as they landed to your injured form on the ground.

"What the fuck did you do?!"

"Bucky, we were just-

"Don't" Bucky growled through gritted teeth, rushing over to your side, and slipping his arm around your waist.

"Angel, are you okay?" He cupped your cheek, helping you to your feet and taking your hand in his, examining it with the utmost care. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"M'all right" You nodded, your face heating up under his gaze, still a little shaken, your body trembling.

"How the fuck could you hurt her" Bucky spat, his metal hand clenched to his side, itching to punch Sharon in the jaw, having seen what she had just done but he didn't want to deal with the mess that would come afterwards. "The hell did you do that for"

"Excuse me? I was just showing her how to-"

Bucky's jaw clenched, instantly shutting her up. He refused to let go of you, keeping you firmly tucked into his side, growing unbelievably protective over you.

"Fine, go ahead, I'm sure she's different from all your other little side pieces" Sharon scoffed, smirking at the way your face fell. Bucky felt like he'd been hit in the chest; you were far more than any of his hook ups and he'd never considered treating you that way.

"You. Don't. Touch. Her" He glared her at before walking off with you. After the incident, Bucky insisted you go to the doctors to get checked over, waiting outside of the room like a kicked puppy. He couldn't help but feel guilty that all this had happened because of him. He also wondered that you thought.

Did you think he'd just use you for one night?

He would never.

He knew he wasn't into dating. He gave up on the dream of getting married, having kids, all that years ago. But that was before he met you. Ever since you'd thrown him a shy smile along with the softest hello Sergeant Barnes, Bucky had been a goner.

If his feelings were was bad before, it was even worse now.

You were told to ice your arm for the pain and swelling. Bucky had swept you away right to the kitchen, despite you telling him you'd be fine, plopping you onto the kitchen island wrapping an ice pack in a towel. He held it to your arm, frowning at the way you refused to look at him, your face downcast to the floor.

"Doll?" Bucky wrapped his arms around you for a comforting hug, wondering if the altercating with Sharon was still upsetting you, "Are you okay sweets? I missed you, haven't seen you in ages"

"I-I'm fine, I'm sorry" You pulled away from his arms, remembering Sharon's words from earlier, instantly missing the warmth of his body. "I know you don't feel the same way Bucky" You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

Bucky blinked in confusion, having no idea what you were talking about. What did he not feel the same way over.

"What do you mean y/n"

"I mean I like you-but I know you don't like me that way so I kept myself busy so I wouldn't bother you because Sharon said-

"Wait, slow down, what did Sharon say"

You sighed before recounting all the things that had lead to this moment, Sharon insulting you, then telling you to back off, to straight up fighting you.

"Oh doll" Bucky shook his head, feeling worse over what had happened but over the moon over your confessed feelings, "She's right you know," He teased at the pout that made it's way to your lips before playfully pecking them, catching you by surprise.

"I don't do relationships. Certainly never had before. That was before I met the sweetest thing in the world and she's had my heart since" Bucky whispered, his hands, one warm, one cool cupping your cheeks, "She has me dreamin' of sayin' I do and that white picket fence, a ring on her finger, a pretty little baby bump with flowers on the window sill. Maybe a baby boy n' a baby girl. Maybe even a cat. She's the cutest little lab assistance and I'd love for her to be my girl, sweets"

Bucky held your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing over your warm cheeks while you grew bashfully shy, burying your face into his chest instead, making him chuckle.

"I didn't think you were the relationship type" You shrugged, toying with his dog tags, "I'm not you're darlin' Bucky"

"That's cause you're my doll" Bucky tilted your face up making you look up at him, his lips pressing the softest kiss to your nose and then your lips. "My one and only doll"

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kenjakusbraincum · 1 year ago

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can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna #soft sukuna #i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics #also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader #yes weve heard it a thousand times #idc it makes me happy

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harrysxcarolina · 2 months ago

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sleepy head

b. eilish

warnings: wow, fluff, slightgrumpy!reader, sleepy!reader, late night sleep over, cuddly!billie, soft!billie, not proof read, honestly this lil dream came to me when I was falling asleep last night just imagine being able to just curl up to her whenever you want to sleep or simply just be close to her. she would be so cuddly and sweet nobody can change my mindddd 😩🥺

Groaning as your body tosses and turns, restlessly, in your bed. Gripping the comfortable tighter to your shivering body you pray that sleep will soon take over. After about another twenty minutes of endless tossing and turning fighting the moonlight peeking in through your curtains you give up. Aimlessly throwing the blankets off you and climbing out of bed as you grab a pair of your girlfriends sweatpants, what she left them here. You definitely didn’t steal them out of her closet the last time she asked you to stay over.

Grabbing your phone, checking the time, 1:12 am she will definitely still be up you think as you throw on a baggy sweatshirt and head down to the living room. Searching all over for your slippers as you grab your keys off the stand next to the door. Sliding your feet into the fuzzy slippers and quickly locking up as you grip your keys and phone closer to your body. Speed walking to the car, the crisp hair tickles its way down your spine. A soft shiver soon follows as you get in and start the car.

It isn’t long before you are pulling up to her gate and typing in the pin. Sighing softly as you carefully park beside her car and make your way to the front door. Juggling the keys in your hands searching for the one that specifically belonged to this lock before hearing the familiar click and swinging the door open. All the downstairs lights were off leading you to head up to the second floor. Gently tapping Sharks head as he bounces his way out of the bedroom door greeting you. Wagging his tail excitedly as he tangles himself between your legs. A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you lean down and place a soft peck on the top of his head before continuing your way to find your snuggly girlfriend. Sleep calling your name as you enter the bedroom to find your girlfriend snuggled up in bed playing around with a new track on her laptop.

Glancing up in confusion as she hears you ask Shark to lay down instead of trying to trip you out of excitement. Glancing at the time seeing that it was now pushing 1:30 am. “Baby?” she softly asks as she closes the laptop, setting it down on the nightstand, before gently lifting the corner of the blanket as you set your stuff down next to the laptop before crawling on top of her. Worry consumes her features as she wraps her arms around you tightly. Wiggling the both of you down deeper into the bed. Her legs spread as you lay on top of her. Nuzzling yourself deeper into her as she covers your bodies with the blanket. Placing a soft kiss on the top of your head as you wrap your arms down and around her torso squeezing her as you welcome her in all your senses.

Her hands gently rubbing up and down your spine as your eyes swoop open and close. Fighting the battle of sleep now as you figured out the one thing you were missing back at your place. Her.

“Couldn’t sleep again love bug?” She softly asks as she combs her fingers through your hair. Gently playing with the strands cascading down your back before reaching up and tucking your bangs behind your ear. Shaking your head against her chest as you groan softly. Mumbling softly against her baggy t-shirt, something incoherent, as your fingers squeeze her back. A chuckle rolls off Billies lips as she rubs her knuckles across your cheek. Glancing down at you as a smile finds its way across her lips.

“It’s not safe out there for you to be driving this late baby.” Billie tries again as she places a soft kiss on your forehead. Missing her touch causing you to tilt your head up silently asking for more forehead kisses as sleep starts to pull you under. You feel her smile against your skin as she presses a few more kisses against your forehead.

“Missed you.” You grumbled as you wiggle your legs between hers. Feeling the cool sheets against your toes as you try to find a comfortable position. Billie couldn’t fight the butterflies in her stomach. You’ve been dating for a while now but the fact that when you struggle to fall asleep the only thing that helps is her snuggles and kisses. Not that she's complaining, you just showing up at her house. Or when you come curl up to her at any given time when you’re together when your body desperately wants to sleep but couldn’t get there on its own. She loved it. She loved that she was the cure for you. The one thing your body craved for in your most vulnerable state.

“I missed you more, pretty girl.” Billie whispers in return as she gives you one more squeeze before gently leading you to curl up beside her. Getting you all snuggled up into her side as you nuzzle your face deep into her neck. Breathing in her scent as her hand snakes around your lower torso up and around your hip as her free hand reaches down, guiding your thigh to lay across her stretched out legs. Her hand spread out across your thigh. Squeezing every so often reminding you in your slumber that you are safe and loved. Your breathing soon slows as your fingers play with the hem of her baggy t-shirt. Billie quickly puts on the office for background noise as you doze off in her arms.

Your head gets heavier against her shoulder as she feels you sink deeper into her. Your soft snores echoing in her ear as she pulls the blankets back up over the both of you. Humming softly one of your favorite tunes as she gets herself comfortable. Prepared to not move an inch as you squeeze her body closer to your chest. Placing one final kiss to your forehead as she continues to hum. Laying her head against yours, her own eyes getting heavy as her body welcomes you and your sweet surprise. Trying to fight the losing battle as she dozes off with you curled up beside her fast asleep.

#billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish #billie #eilish #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x blurb #billie eilish x friends to lovers #billie eilish x wlw #wlw #billie eilish smut #billie x reader #billie eilish angst

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manikas-whims · 11 months ago

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Love and Deepspace men's reactions when they hear a little kid say he'll marry you when he grows up 🥺

ZAYNE

❄️ “In that case, we're rivals now.”

❄️ Pats the kid's head, encourages the challenge and shakes his hand in the name of healthy sportsmanship.

❄️ He will initiate mini challenges with the kid— lets see who can bring more flowers for you, who can make you laugh first..if the kid has evol Zayne even challenges the kid, saying lets see who can make a better gift for you using their evol..You'd laugh and enjoy all the love and attention.

❄️ He will also instill good habits in the kid. “You won't grow up if you don't eat green veggies. And if you don't grow up, kid, then how will you marry her?”

❄️ It’s all good because deep down Zayne’s heart will always belong to you, and he knows that you will always be his.

XAVIER

⭐ To Xavier, it's adorable that the kid wants to marry you. It's only natural. Who wouldn't want to marry someone as kind, strong, loving and protective as you?

⭐ But he will also subtly assert himself and let down the kid. He'll sneak a hand around your waist and pull you closer, making sure the kid is watching as he does so.

⭐ “She’ll already be taken by the time you grow up.” He'd state, causing your cheeks to heat up at the implications.

⭐ He'll also reassure the kid by saying that the kid might find someone truly meant for him by the time he's at that age.. someone who would be a lot like you but unique in their own way, and would love the kid..just as you and Xavier love each other.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Probably rolls his eyes and acts unbothered cause..PFFFFT! It won't happen. And that's cause he.. he will..cause he will marry— ahhh! even the thought of it makes him blush.

🌊 But then he'll notice you giving a lot of attention to this kid. You'll rub the kid's head, calling him adorable and peck his cheek for anything nice he does. And Rafayel would feel the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. He'd be very jealous..of a kid at that!

🌊 “I’m also nice, aren't I?” Rafayel would point at himself. You won't understand the sudden question but nod anyways to sate his ego. Unfortunately, that won't be enough. He'll ask you to rub his head as well cause if the kid gets your affection, then he deserves it too. You sigh but do rub his head too. You also find it ridiculous because..HE'S LITERALLY YOUR BOYFRIEND AND YOU BOTH LOVE EACH OTHER.

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

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godricgryffinsnore · 19 days ago

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A Moon-Soaked Menace & His Favorite Girl ♡ : A Remus Lupin Fan Fiction.

pairing : Remus Lupin x female!reader.

summary : During his dreaded full moon week, Remus Lupin turns into a grumpy, clingy mess—snapping at everyone but you, his soft, comforting haven. With chocolates, cuddles, and a whole lot of patience, you baby him through the chaos, while the Marauders bear witness to just how whipped the werewolf truly is. A fluffy, poetic, and laugh-out-loud love fest.

warnings : Excessive fluff and clinginess (may cause swooning 🥺), Mild language and sass, Jealous!Remus (possessive but adorable), Humor and banter galore, Mentions of full moon symptoms (grumpiness, fatigue), Marauders chaos (as expected), Cuteness overload—reader discretion is advised. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 0.8k

main master list <3

banners : @dollywons and @roseschoices

The full moon loomed like a judgmental mother-in-law, watching Remus Lupin spiral into the depths of misery with each passing day. It wasn’t the full moon yet, not quite—but close enough to transform Hogwarts’ gentlest boy into a snarling, blanket-burrowed menace.

He was grumpy. Lazier than Sirius in History of Magic. And meaner than James when someone touched his hair.

Except to you. Never to you.

No one understood it.

“Oi, Moony, why’d you bite my head off for asking if you wanted toast,” Sirius grumbled, dodging a flying pillow, “but let her feed you chocolate by hand like you’re the damn Queen of England?”

Remus, nestled like a begrudging forest creature beneath three layers of blankets, didn’t bother replying. He just opened his mouth expectantly as you unwrapped another Honeydukes truffle.

You giggled, placing the chocolate delicately on his tongue, and kissed his forehead like you were tending to a wounded soldier.

“Because she’s my angel incarnate, and you’re an absolute pest,” he mumbled around the chocolate, glaring at Sirius like he’d personally invented the moon.

You stroked his hair lovingly. “There’s my poor little full moon muffin.”

James choked on his pumpkin juice. “Muffin?”

“Oh, he’s worse than a muffin,” Peter whispered, horrified. “He bit me for trying to take his blanket.”

“I snarled,” Remus corrected, eyes still closed. “There’s a difference. Do you want to see it again?”

“Merlin, no—” Peter backed behind James, who was laughing far too hard to be any kind of shield.

You hushed him sweetly, pulling him into your lap like he wasn’t six feet of annoyed werewolf and mood swings.

“Come on, love,” you cooed, cradling his head to your chest, “let’s not snarl at the boys today.”

He sighed like you’d offered him a lifetime of peace. “Only for you,” he murmured, snuggling impossibly closer. “You're warm.”

“You’re boiling, actually,” you teased, kissing his temple. “Like an overcooked potato in a jumper.”

He grumbled something about betrayal and roasted vegetables and hid his face in your neck.

James leaned over to Sirius. “That’s the fourth time he’s nuzzled her neck today. You think he knows he’s not a cat?”

Sirius, unimpressed, was flipping through Witch Weekly. “He’s marking his territory. Watch what happens when someone flirts with her.”

Right on cue, a sixth-year Ravenclaw walked past your cozy common room scene and offered a casual, “Hey, Y/N.”

Remus’s head snapped up like a wolf sniffing a trap.

You smiled politely, unaware of the murderous aura now radiating off the boy in your lap.

“Hey?” Remus said slowly, voice low and dangerous. “Hey?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Rem, please don’t growl.”

“I’m not growling,” he growled.

The Ravenclaw sped off like a man who just realized he’d flirted with Death’s favorite girl.

Remus stared after him, then curled back into you with a long, victorious sigh.

“Mine,” he muttered, satisfied. “All mine. Forever.”

You giggled, brushing his curls back from his face and peppering kisses across his freckled nose.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whispered sweetly. “You’re my moon-boy. My little grump.”

“You’re my starlight,” he murmured, eyes fluttering closed again. “My reason for not punching Sirius.”

“Excuse you,” Sirius called from the armchair. “I heard that.”

Remus didn’t even lift his head. “I meant for you to.”

James gave a dramatic sigh. “You know, we thought Moony couldn’t get any clingier. And yet.”

Peter snorted. “Next he’ll ask her to carry him to class.”

Remus sat up, deadly serious. “Would you?”

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped the box of chocolates. “Darling, you’re heavier than Sirius’s ego.”

“Impossible,” Remus muttered, falling back into your arms. “But if you insist.”

You tucked a blanket around him and brushed a kiss over his tired eyes.

The world melted away for him in those soft little touches. No moon. No pain. No growling. Just the whisper of your heartbeat and the scent of chocolate and comfort in your arms.

He clung tighter to your waist. “You’re not allowed to leave me ever,” he said dreamily.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said with a smile, cupping his cheek.

“And no talking to other men. Except maybe James. Sometimes. On Sundays.”

“Even Professor Flitwick?”

“...He’s pushing it.”

You laughed and kissed his lips. “You’re an absolute menace, Remus Lupin.”

“And you love me,” he whispered against your mouth.

“More than anything,” you said softly. “Even when you’re a dramatic, clingy moon beast.”

He smiled that lazy, sleepy smile he only ever wore with you. “I love you more than chocolate.”

The Marauders gasped.

Sirius dropped Witch Weekly. “Blasphemy.”

You looked down at your grumpy boy, held safe in your arms, and smiled.

“Good. Because I bought you ten more bars.”

He gasped. “Marry me.”

James stood. “Right, I’m off to duel the moon and win my best friend back. Anyone joining?”

Peter raised a hand. “If it means no more growling—count me in.”

Sirius just sighed. “I miss when he was scary. Now he’s just a baby koala.”

You kissed Remus’s head again, holding him close as he drifted into a warm, chocolate-hazed nap against your chest.

Baby koala or not—he was yours.

And Merlin help the moon that dared take him from your arms.

#𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 della 𝄞#remus lupin x reader #fluff #drabble #marauders #remus lupin #remus loves chocolate #remus lupin fluff #the marauders #marauders era #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin is a sweetheart #remus lupin x fem!reader

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tokkiwrites · 4 months ago

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Hi 💗 first of all, I just discovered your tumblr and I already love your work <3 I’m not sure if this is the way to request, but I’d like to request a kraven one shot, where he is absolutely in love with reader but because of a misunderstanding he breaks up with her in a mean but hot way, then he finds out about the truth and tries to get her pardon, ofc I’d love me some angst, smut and dom kraven 🥺🥺 thank you

▪︎summary: You’re a film producer with a busy schedule, and your boyfriend Sergei’s insecurities lead to a heated fight. After realizing his mistake, he goes all out to win you back, proving just how much you mean to him.

▪︎tags: established relationship, kind of toxic sergei imo, a bit of angst, afab reader, p in v, creampie, belly bulge (??), size kink if you squint, fingering reader receiving, makeup sex, a few pet names, mean (slightly) dom sergei.

▪︎first fic of the year!!! thank you for this request!!! it's been sitting in my drafts for a long while, so sorry for making you wait. it has 2.45k words & and it's not proofread, so if you see any errors, no, u didn't !! i hope you enjoy <3

The air in your apartment was thick with tension. You sat on the leather couch, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, waiting for him to return from yet another one of his late-night escapades. It wasn’t unusual for Sergei to disappear without much explanation; his life as a hunter—of men, animals, and vengeance—demanded it. But lately, he’d been colder, distant in a way that left you feeling like a stranger in your own relationship.

When the door finally opened, his broad frame filled the entryway. His face, shadowed by the dim light of the city outside, was unreadable. "You’re home late." you said softly, setting your phone down. He closed the door behind him with deliberate slowness, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. "We need to talk."

Your stomach tightened. "What’s going on?"

"I found something," he said, pulling a small, crumpled note from his pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table. You glanced at it, confused. It was one of your old grocery lists. "What about it?"

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I saw the address written on the back. A warehouse in the docks. Care to explain why you were there?" You blinked, trying to recall. "That was weeks ago. I picked up some things for work— props for the shoot. I told you about it."

"No, what you told me was that you were with your team. But I asked around. Your team never uses that place." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made your skin prickle.

"Sergei, what are you getting at?"

"I think you’ve been hiding something," he said, stepping closer. "I’ve seen this before. People lying, playing both sides, thinking they can outsmart me." Your chest tightened with frustration. "Are you serious right now? You think I’m involved in…what? Some conspiracy? Smuggling?"

"Don’t." His voice dropped, dangerously low. "Don’t play innocent. I saw you meeting someone there— a man."

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. Then it clicked. "Oh my God. You’re talking about Steve, aren’t you? He’s my set designer! He was helping me load props for the commercial."

"Steve," he repeated, skeptical.

"Yes, Steve! Sergei, do you think I have some secret life I’m keeping from you? Do you really think I’d risk everything for…for what, exactly?"

He didn’t answer, his jaw tightening.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, standing. "You’ve been pulling away for weeks, acting like I’m the problem, and now I find out it’s because you think I’m some kind of criminal?"

"You’ve lied before," he said, his voice softer but still firm.

You froze. "That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The one time I didn’t tell you I was scared on one of your hunts, and now you think I’m some kind of liar."

Sergei ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "Trust is not something I give lightly. And once it’s broken—"

"Once it’s broken, what? You punish me forever?" Your voice cracked. "I’ve been trying so hard to be there for you, to understand your life, and this is how you repay me?"

His silence was answer enough.

You grabbed your coat, the tears burning in your eyes now impossible to hold back. "You know what, Sergei? If you can’t trust me by now, maybe you don’t deserve me," you said, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. You shoved past him, grabbing your bag from the counter. "I’m done trying to prove myself to someone who’s determined to see the worst in me."

He didn’t stop you. He just stood there, the weight of your words settling into the room like a physical presence.

When the door slammed behind you, Sergei was left alone with his thoughts, the silence deafening. His instincts, honed through years of hunting and survival, were screaming at him that he had made a mistake. But pride held him back from chasing after you.

Days passed, and Sergei couldn’t get you out of his head. Every corner of his apartment reminded him of you—the mug you always used, the blanket you insisted on leaving draped over the couch, your perfume faintly lingering in the air.

But what haunted him most was the look in your eyes when you left. Hurt. Betrayed.

It wasn’t until he found himself back at the docks that everything began to unravel. He wasn’t there to check on you or verify his suspicions— he was there to work, tracking a lead on a smuggling operation tied to his latest hunt.

And that’s when he saw the warehouse you’d mentioned. Inside, he spotted Steve, the “man” he had been so suspicious of, overseeing a crew as they dismantled what appeared to be a film set. Lights, props, and equipment were being packed into cases.

“Perfect timing!” Steve called out when he spotted Sergei lingering by the entrance. “We just wrapped. Your girl's idea for the shoot went off without a hitch.”

Sergei’s stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Steve said, grinning. “She practically ran this whole project. She even came out here herself to supervise when we couldn’t get everything transported in time. Total lifesaver.”

Sergei’s heart sank. The anger he’d held onto for days evaporated, replaced by a crushing guilt. He had been so consumed by his doubts and paranoia that he’d completely misjudged you.

“Where is she now?” Sergei asked, his voice rough.

Steve shrugged. “Last I heard, she was taking some time off. Said she needed a break.”

It took Sergei two more days to track you down. You had retreated to a quiet café on the other side of town, tucked into a corner booth with a notebook and a cup of tea. When you saw him approach, your expression hardened. “What are you doing here?”

"Love, Iㅡ” he said, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft. “I made a mistake.”

“You think?” you shot back, closing your notebook with a sharp snap. “I was wrong,” he continued, sitting across from you despite your obvious reluctance. “I let my fears and suspicions cloud my judgment. I accused you of something you didn’t do, and I pushed you away because of it.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Why are you really here, Sergei? To ease your guilt? Or to make yourself feel better about what you said to me?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m here because I love you. And because I can’t stand the thought of losing you over my own stupidity.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to let yourself melt just yet. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? How little you must think of me to believe I’d do something like that?”

He reached across the table, his hand hovering over yours. “I don’t think little of you. I think too much of you. I’ve lost so much in my life. People I trusted. People I loved. And when I thought I might lose you too…” He swallowed hard. “I panicked. I lashed out. I was wrong.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, the raw sincerity in his eyes breaking through your defenses. “Do you know how exhausting it is, Sergei, to always feel like I’m on trial with you?”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “And I promise you, I will do better. I will earn back your trust—if you’ll let me.” You hesitated, the walls around your heart crumbling piece by piece. “One more chance,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “But if you screw this up again, Sergei…”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, his hand finally closing over yours. “I won’t.”

As he held your gaze, the faintest flicker of hope warmed your chest. You weren’t ready to forgive him completely, but for now, you were willing to try.

And for Sergei, that was enough. "Let's go home?" he finally asks. You look up at him, and you can't contain a smile. "Sure. Let's go home..."

As Sergei unlocked the door to his loft, you stepped inside and froze. The space, usually dark and utilitarian, was transformed. Soft warm light bathed the room, illuminating dozens of vases filled with vibrant flowers. Roses, lilies, tulips, every kind you could imagine. A faint, delicate fragrance hung in the air, calming and intoxicating all at once.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes

wide. "Sergei.. what is this?" He shut the door behind him, watching you with a soft smile. "A gesture," he said simply. You turned to him, a mix of awe and confusion on your face. "How did you know I'd forgive you?"

His smile grew faintly sad, his sharp features softened by vulnerability. "I didn't." He took a step closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms. "But I wanted you to know what you mean to me. Even if you walked away for good."

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. You looked back at the flowers, the effort he had put into creating this moment, and you felt the last of your anger dissolve.

Reaching out, you picked up a bouquet of white roses from the coffee table and cradled them against your chest. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He chuckled, his hands sliding down to take yours, the flowers between you. "Maybe." You laughed softly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of his body against yours. Looking up into his piercing blue eyes, you saw the Sergei you had fallen in love with: the fierce, unyielding hunter who was willing to bare his heart for you.

Unable to hold back any longer, you leaned up and kissed him. His lips met yours hungrily, his hands pulling you closer as if to make sure you wouldn't slip away again. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, igniting a fire in your core that burned away every lingering doubt

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, his hands slid down to your waist. "Come," he said softly, his voice thick with desire.

Without hesitation, you let him lead you to the bedroom. The space was just as carefully prepared as the rest of the loft. The bed was freshly made with crisp sheets, more flowers arranged on the nightstands, and soft candlelight flickered around the room.

You turned to him with a playful smile. "You really went all out, didn't you?" He stepped closer, his hands sliding up your sides, his lips brushing against your ear. "I don't take chances when it comes to you."

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, his touch more insistent now, his hands trailing down your back. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his eyes.

"I'll let you make it up to me." You giggle, arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Thank you, baby." In no time, he gets both of you naked, and as if it's the first time, you can't help but shy away a bit. Pulling you closer, his calloused palms travel across your torso, tracing the curves so perfectly. Your already messy hair and burning body invited him to climb over you completely. One of his fingers presses over your lips. "Open."

You do as you're told, parting your puffy lips and letting Sergei’s finger slip in. "Wider." he demands, pushing in another digit, traveling well past your tongue and into the back of your throat. It makes you gag slightly, but you moan around his fingers. He smiles proudly, thrusting his fingers into your mouth and slicking them up before removing them. You're left gasping for air. "Good girl." you shudder.

he motions you further on your back before lining his fingers with your exposed core. "m gonna work you out a little, baby, yeah? then make you take my cock." he doesn't hesitate for long. the slick and wet noises fill the room as Sergei pushes his fingers inside, causing you to buck your hips agains his hand. Your head turns to the side as you try to hide that growing warmth in your cheeks. those two fingers worked into you, turning you into a incoherent mess. A familiar feeling was building up inside your lower belly. "gotta come, baby?" he coos, mocking you. "can't have you do that. Need to feel my cock buried deep inside of that pretty pussy first."

his tainted words make your brain all fuzzy, soft whimpers and pleads parting from your agape mouth. "p-please" his fingers slip out of you, the feeling of emptiness being short-lived as Sergei pushes inside of you full force. This is the first time Sergei has made you take his cock all at once. His hips snap against your, eyes digging into you as if eating you alive. He's merciless, grabbing you by the cheeks harshly and making you look down at your belly, where a familiar bump was visible. "See that, baby?" He laughs. He was so deep inside of you. You can't help but squeeze around him.

"there's my good g-girlㅡ" he groans in utmost pleasure, roughly hitting just the right spot over and over. he pulls out almost completely before snapping his hips forward again, causing you to moan louder, breath hitching as his cock brushed, and probably bruised, your velvety walls.

"I'm gonna fill you up so good, love." he leans down and rasps into your ear "make you leak all overㅡ fuck!"

"p-lease, Sergei" you cry out, gripping him by his broad shoulders, the thrust quickening. he frowns, closing his eyes as he tightly grips you by your thighs. "gonna come all over my cock, baby, huh?"

with one last harsh snap of his hips, he sends you both into heaven and back. You each finish, and you can feel his come pooling inside of you. Your mind and vision blurry, you manage to whisper out a soft "I forgive you." Sergei falls next to you, pulling you closer to his chest as he kisses the crown of your head.

"I love you so much, baby " you smile before you reply with those three words that still make butterflies fly in his stomach."I love you."

#aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson characters #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson #sergei kravinoff #kraven the hunter #kraven smut #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven x you #kraven x reader #sergei kravinoff x reader

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm.

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move.

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time.

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.”

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple.

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived.

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside.

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you.

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.”

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.”

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest.

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you.

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.”

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.”

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him.

You nod, letting him take your injured hand.

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?”

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort.

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach.

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.”

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow.

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you.

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius make their own sympathetic shushing sounds, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair.

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat.

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless.

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.”

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.”

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile.

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.”

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well.

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.”

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?”

You blink at him. “Feel what?”

“Good.”

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed.

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.”

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand.

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?”

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected.

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?”

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?”

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.”

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light.

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.”

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.”

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?”

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.”

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?”

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out.

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.”

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.”

“Not you?” James teases.

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.”

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?”

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.”

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.”

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.”

“There?” you echo.

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly.

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows.

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.”

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face.

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.”

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.”

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.”

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe.

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

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