#white knuckling my way through trying to be positive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 2 months ago

Text

“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him.

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.”

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual.

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart.

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not.

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.”

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations, but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground.

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive.

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him.

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice?

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor.

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases.

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.”

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath.

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close.

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency.

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

2K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 2 months ago

Text

Leo is born || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the long awaited fic of Leo's birth!

Warnings: complications with childbirth, allusion to ppd.

Word count: 1,190

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The hospital room was anything but calm—machines beeping, nurses and doctors moving quickly, their faces strained with focus. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. You were drenched in sweat, each contraction crashing over you like a violent wave, sharper and more relentless than the last.

Hours had blurred together in an agonising haze, the pain unyielding, your body caught in a merciless cycle that showed no sign of easing. The baby was still in the wrong position, and every minute that passed felt like a lifetime. You were struggling to breathe through the pain, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe paced at the edge of the room, running his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with worry. His shirt was crumpled, half tucked in, half hanging loose, as if he had dressed in a rush and didn’t care how he looked.

For once, his usually cool, composed demeanour was completely shattered. His gaze flicked between you and the doctors, desperation and helplessness etched across his face. He had no control here, and it was driving him mad. Another contraction hit, and you let out a sharp cry, your body trembling. Your hands clenched around the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

Rafe was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand. But his touch wasn’t soft or reassuring—it was tight, as if he were trying to hold on to his own fraying sanity. “Rafe…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, your voice cracking. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

His gaze flicked to the doctors, his blue eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was low, tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Why aren’t you doing something?” One of the doctors—a calm, composed man in his forties—tried to explain.

“Mr. Cameron, we’re monitoring the situation. The baby is in a breech position, and we’re assessing the safest way to proceed without—” Rafe cut him off, his voice rising, sharp and angry. “I’m not paying you thousands of dollars to asses the situation! Do something now! She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for hours, and you're just standing around doing nothing!”

His hand gripped yours tighter, though he didn’t even seem aware of it, his focus entirely on the medical staff. You could see the way the doctors exchanged looks—professional, calm, but there was a flicker of unease in their expressions. They were used to pressure, but not the kind of raw, unfiltered anger that Rafe was radiating.

“Mr. Cameron, I understand you’re upset, but we have to ensure the safety of both your wife and the baby. A C-section is becoming increasingly likely, but we have to wait for the right moment.” Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The right moment? My wife is screaming in pain, and you're telling me to wait for the right moment?”

Another contraction hit, and your hand instinctively tightened around his. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as the pain shot through your entire body. Rafe’s attention snapped back to you, and for a brief moment, the anger in his face softened, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb trembling as it touched your skin.“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, though the strain in his voice betrayed the fear simmering beneath the surface. “I’m right here.”“Rafe,” you gasped, voice cracking, “I can’t… it hurts so much.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. But he didn’t. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his words barely above a whisper. “I know, I know… I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Just—just hold on, okay? You’re so strong. You’re doing so good.”

But the second the contraction eased, his head whipped back toward the doctors, fury burning in his eyes again. “Do something! Now! I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care what it takes. Just help her!” One of the nurses, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. “We’re preparing for a C-section, Mr. Cameron. We need just a few more minutes to make sure everything is ready.”

“You’ve had hours,” Rafe snapped. His voice was dangerously low now, the calm before the storm. “If anything happens to her—or to my son—it’s on you. Do you understand me?” You could feel his anger vibrating through his body, his hand trembling in yours. He was terrified, but he didn’t know how to express it except through rage.

And yet, even through the haze of pain, you could see that his fury wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He was helpless in a situation he couldn’t control, and it was killing him. Before you could say anything else, the doctor spoke up, his tone firm but professional. “We’re ready for the C-section. We’re going to take good care of both of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked back to the doctor, his jaw still clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned back to you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, trying to offer you the only comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost pleading. “You’re so strong, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” The next moments were a blur. The pain, the fear, the cold sterility of the operating room.

But Rafe never left your side. Even through his anger, through his fear, he stayed with you, his hand in yours, his eyes locked on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. And when Leo’s first cry pierced the room, Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s here.” You let out a breath of relief. “Here,” a nurse approaches with your newborn son, freshly cleaned and swaddled. “Hm?” Your voice is distant as she gently places him on your chest. The weight of him feels foreign, almost surreal. You suck in a shallow breath, your shaky hand reaching up to stroke his delicate back, but you pull it away, unable to hold it there for more than a second.

The room feels heavy, and a hollow ache settles deep within your chest. You avert your eyes, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Can I… Can I just rest?” Your voice cracks. “I-I want to rest right now.” The nurses exchange quiet glances, their eyes flicking toward Rafe, who is watching you closely, trying to understand the distance in your expression. His brows knit together in concern, but after a beat, he nods slowly, saying nothing, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s waiting for you to come back to yourself.

1K notes · View notes

heejake-hoon · 4 months ago

Text

Enhypen hyung line when you send them a dirty text while being surrounded by family (mdni)

Heeseung: You try to bite back a smirk as you covertly type out the risky text under the table. 'Out with the fam but all I can think about is your thick cock stretching me open later…' Send. A few moments pass before your phone vibrates. You sneak a glance to see Heeseung's intense eyes narrow at you from across the room, his plush lips already parting subtly. There's a slight flush creeping up the back of his neck as he reads it. 'I dunno baby, might need you to send me a pic to really get me going while we're around your parents…' he types back with a heated look. You mouth an innocent 'What?' at him, going for wide-eyed before quickly typing. 'Like maybe a sneak peek of what's waiting for that huge cock later?' You can see the way Heeseung clenches his jaw, chest subtly rising and falling as his thick arms tense involuntarily. He's definitely getting riled already. With a wicked grin you fire off another. 'I'll be dripping and ready for you to just slam in to the hilt…' Heeseung's eyes damn near smolder as he hungrily drinks in your body before slowly, purposefully dropping his gaze straight to your lap. Even from here you can see the slight telltale tenting of his slacks as his tongue sweeps over his lower lip. Your phone buzzes again. 'Better be ready for this, baby…cuz I'm gonna wreck you raw when we're alone.' Arousal zings straight to your core at the sultry promise. Looked like getting him all worked up wasn't so hard after all.

Jay: You try not to squirm at the positively sinful text you just sent to Jay while surrounded by his whole family for dinner. 'I'm so fucking horny just thinking about those big hands spreading me open later…' You covertly peek up through your lashes in time to catch the harsh inhale and clenched jaw as he reads it. Jay's piercing eyes instantly find yours in a dark glare that has you suppressing a shudder. 'Pretty fuckin' ballsy to be sending me dirty texts while my parents are sitting right there,' he types with one thick finger. A fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the thought of getting caught. You shift minutely in your chair. 'Well maybe if you werent so goddamn thick I wouldn't be gagging for it all the time…' The muffled growl tears from Jay's throat as he reads the words, powerful forearms tensing against the tabletop. For a torturous moment you match his blazing gaze, skating your tongue over your lower lip. "Everything okay over there, son?" his father pipes up in concern. You have to duck your head to hide the smirk at Jay's visible stiffening. "Y-yeah. Just…something annoying. But it's fine." Your phone buzzes again as you catch that scorching dark look. 'This ain't over. Soon as we're alone I'm making you choke on this dick for being such a fuckin' tease…' You stifle a desperate whimper at the promise, already throbbing between your thighs at the mere thought.

Jake: You make sure Jake is within view before tapping out the scandalous text behind your back. 'God I can't wait to go home and just bury my face between your thighs later…' There's a choked sort of sound from across the room as Jake reads it, chest instantly heaving. You peek through your lashes to see his face flushed, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as his fingers fly over his phone. 'Fuck, you tryna get me all worked up in front of your parents like this?' You bite your lip hard as you tap out your response. 'Maybe…get you so fucking horny you're leaking by the time I wrap my lips around that huge dick…' Jake damn near snarls as he reads it, free hand clenching into a white-knuckled fist in his lap. You can see the desperation kindling behind those heated eyes when they catch yours, speaking right to the molten need already pooling low in your stomach. Another buzz. 'Jesus fucking Christ. So fucking bad I wanna bend you over this table & eat you out raw till you're soaked and screaming for it…' You have to sink your teeth into your fist to muffle the desperate whine that escapes your throat. Your thighs press together instinctively, whole body quivering at the explicit visual his words evoke. You catch Jake's heated gaze again from across the room, holding it boldly as you mouth 'Bathroom?' at him with a devilish arch of your brow. His jaw clenches almost violently at the unspoken suggestion, thick chest visibly heaving beneath his shirt as that muscle in his throat bobs. For a moment, you think the sheer naked want coursing through his expression might make him snap and take you right there on the damn table in front of everyone. Then your phone buzzes harshly in your lap. 'You got 2 minutes to get that sexy ass in the bathroom before I come drag you there myself…'

Sunghoon: You try not to squirm in your seat as you send off that deliciously filthy text to Sunghoon while surrounded by his whole family. 'I'm so fucking horny just thinking about your huge cock deep in my guts later…' There's a tense pause before your phone buzzes with his response. You covertly peek up to see Sunghoon's intense gaze burning into you from down the table, jaw visibly clenched and the tips of his ears already turning pink. 'You keep talking shit like that and I'm gonna make you finish me under this table…' he warns, dark promise simmering behind those heated eyes. You bite back a whimper at the thought, surreptitiously crossing and squeezing your thighs together as another rush of arousal washes over you. Before you can overthink it, you're quickly tapping back with one hand discreetly in your lap. 'Maybe I want you to use me like a fuckdoll while your whole family's right here…' The way Sunghoon's chest expands with a sharp inhale, thick forearms flexing involuntarily against the tabletop…God, you're already soaked just imagining having that powerful frame pinning you down. Completely at his mercy while he claimed what was his with brutal need. Another buzz drags your attention back to your phone as you mouth goes dry. 'Be careful what you wish for, baby girl… you know damn well that this dick doesn't play fair.' Your cunt clenches hard at the utter sin dripping from those words. You can already picture him forcing your thighs apart to make room for his thick length sinking into your helpless body with deep, punishing rolls of his hips-- A sudden insistent nudge against your ankle makes you start. You glance up to find Sunghoon's smoldering gaze trained on you as he slowly, deliberately grinds the toe of his boot against your inner calf in a blatant tease. The breath stutters from your lips as your thighs instinctively part slightly, already desperate for more friction against your dripping center. Sunghoon's darkly amused smirk is the only warning before he's trailing burning paths all along your legs with little aborted thrusts and caresses. You have to sink your teeth into your knuckles to stifle a moan, whole body quivering with the effort of keeping some semblance of composure...

1K notes · View notes

sleepymarimo · 8 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫.

summary: law might hate bread, might hate sweets, but if eating them is the only way to show you how much he cares, then so be it. pairing: law x fem!reader cw: none! fluff, awkward law. some descriptions of food and textures if you're sensitive to that! wc: ~3.5k (wow!!)

an: this is for my amazing friend @guilty-sugar ! i recall you saying that you were good at baking, but sad that law probably wouldn't eat any. so, we're gonna make him >:)

i have not posted in soooo long so pls forgive me 🥲 i hope you all enjoy law and making him suffer by eating bread!!

the air is getting warm again, he can feel it. it grows so stuffy that he shrugs off his top layer, leaving him in that buttoned shirt he couldn't stop wearing after the one time you told him it looked good.

his eyes scan the medical papers in front of him, but his mind is annoyingly slow today.

law does a grand job of pretending that he doesn't know your schedule, doesn't know the tell tale signs that point to only one conclusion. the air grows hotter, the crew buzzes with poorly repressed excitement and the sound of clinking metal bowls echoes throughout the entire submarine.

it's baking day.

he's been preparing for this. he's finally going to face his biggest enemy yet, a foe that seemed much more intimidating than any warlord or emperor of the sea.

today, granted the ocean didn't swallow him whole, law was going to try some of the baked goods that you were known for making, including the bread.

the thought alone makes his skin crawl, but it pales in comparison to how small he feels in your presence. it irritates him, especially since your intentions have been nothing short of well meaning.

that's what he thinks, anyway.

law runs his tattooed fingers through the black strands of his hair, deciding to forget about whatever paper he's reading about in a bid to feel a semblance of control. he's overthinking, looking too much into things.

do you really smile at him more than everyone else? do you ask about his coin collection because you actually care or are you being polite?

within the upper quadrants of the polar tang, he can just barely hear the others hound you with questions about what you'll be making. no matter what it was, it was sure to be gone in a snap.

a dull thump shakes the sub, but he doesn't think much of it.

bepo, he thinks, probably slipped trying to gather ingredients for you. his suspicion is confirmed when the laughs of penguin and shachi follow shortly after, but the sound doesn't begin to compare to the one that flows out of your lips.

he represses a groan, his way of ignoring how his heartbeat momentarily diverts from it's usual rhythm.

his knuckles grip the sides of his chair, using it as leverage to push himself into a standing position before grabbing his hat and making his way to the kitchen. the air is almost uncomfortably warm now, but he can't find it in himself to be upset with you.

the submarine had been navigating the undersea currents for a while now. a visit to the surface was just about due.

it's not like he planned it like that. no, of course not!

he didn't even think about how the crew would be eager to hop off the vessel, didn't think about how you'd stay behind to bake while he took on the task of keeping you company.

he steps into the kitchen with curiosity, though his expression gives nothing away. it's that same almost neutral face, his brows slightly furrowed and lips teetering on a frown.

bepo is sitting on the floor of the kitchen, the flour dusting his form barely noticeable against his plush white fur. the bear is half-apologetic and half-embarrassed, the former directed toward you while the latter stemmed from the laughter going his way.

"sorry." he grumbles again, thought it looks like you couldn’t care less. bepo seems to have enough of his crew mates, tackling the other two men and making sure to get them covered with flour.

their complaints mesh with your amused laughs, a soundtrack that the polar tang's captain knows well.

law is blind to the scene before him, everything becoming out of focus as he spots you mixing some ingredients into a bowl. you're laughing, nose crinkling and mouth stretching into a grin that almost makes his stoic expression crumble.

the corner of his lips waver, just a little bit, your joy infectious in a way that makes him believe it's an actual disease.

however, he has work to do and baked goods to stomach.

"and what are you all up to?" he asks, arms crossing as he forces his gaze away from you.

it's almost comical how the four of you straighten up, abandoning whatever you're doing to raise a hand to your foreheads in a mock solute. the "hello captain!" that echoes across the room is practically in perfect sync, or at least enough to make him shake his head.

he sighs, telling you guys to quit it. "that doesn't answer my question."

penguin brings a hand down on bepo's back, a cloud of flour puffing into the air as he does so. "sweets day, cap!"

you affirm penguin's statement, tilting your head with a smile as you give a rundown of what's on the menu for today. some cupcakes, a few cookies and a loaf of sourdough.

just the mention of the bread is enough to make him tense.

bepo laxly nods in agreement with you, his black nose twitching as he catches the scent of vanilla extract. his head is in the clouds, not so much on his captain, so he decides to join you at the counter to mix some ingredients together in a bowl.

at the doorway, law gives penguin and shachi a deadpan look.

shachi chimes in with a grin, nodding his head in your direction. his words are meant to be sly, directed toward the captain, but he's unable to hide his amusement. "sweets day with the sweetest member of the crew, don't you think cap-"

"shut up." law interjects, brows pinching together as he takes in the poorly concealed smugness written all over shachi's face. it's on penguin's too now, while bepo has long since abandoned the conversation to help you instead.

it's only because they've known law for so long that the duo know how much he likes you. no amount of scolding or scoffs can make them think otherwise.

the captain can tell by their smiles that they think they have the upper hand, but he ignores them. law speaks before they have a chance to open their mouths again.

"get the sub ready to surface." he orders, cocking his head in the direction of the control room. "we're stopping at the next island."

that seems to get their attention, their heads perking up at the thought of getting out of the cramped submarine. the duo give law their best salute, scrambling away to make preparations for the sub's surfacing.

law shakes his head and lets out a sigh, taking some strong steps toward you and bepo. your dynamic with the bear is one that melts his heart more than he'd ever admit. the way you can shift from witty and bright to determined and caring makes him want to explore every side of you.

he snaps out of his thoughts when you lightly reprimand bepo for stirring the batter too aggressively, a chuckle threatening to leave him.

an announcement is made throughout the sub to prepare the crew for what's to come.

reluctantly, law makes his leave. he'll have time, he'll have you, but he has to take a couple minutes to brace himself for what will happen once the rest of the crew leaves the submarine.

another half hour passes before the sub's hatch is opened.

the fresh air is much needed, the cool breeze like a balm that quells the unease in law's chest. a series of footsteps echo throughout the submarine as crew members make their way to the exit, smiles plastered on their faces.

this island seems lively, welcoming. the sun casts a bright glow over the town in the distance, a plethora of shops and eateries nestled side by side.

even though law is staying aboard, staying with you, there's a sense of proudness that rushes through him as he takes note of the relief plastered onto the faces of his crew. he doesn't let it show, but clearly their happiness affects him.

he lets them run loose, trusting them enough not to cause too much trouble.

his eyes do narrow at penguin and shachi though, the two men snickering a tad as they walk off with bepo in tow. it's like they see through his plot, his ulterior motive, and the captain gives them a look that serves as a warning.

as the blurb of orange jumpsuits fades out of view, law is left with the sound of crashing waves and a light breeze.

his grip tightens on kikoku's hilt, a gesture that he hopes makes what he's about to do a little more easy.

the scent of baked goods wafts out the door, overpowering the salty sea breeze without issue. he can hear you humming along to some random tune, talking to yourself as you navigate through the kitchen.

he follows the trail like a ship to a lighthouse, drawn in by the warmth and splash of color you add to his life.

upon walking into the kitchen, he takes note of how your back is turned to him. you're washing some dishes, the spoils of your work organized neatly on the counter. just the sight of all the sweets is enough to make his stomach ache, but he persists.

you call out to him first, catching him in those all too common moments when he gets lost in his head. "captain? i thought you were gonna head out with the others."

turning off the sink, you dry your hands off with a towel and focus your attention on him. he doesn't miss the slight tilting of your head, how your eyes glimmer with curiosity.

oh, he was horrible at this. no matter how many times he practiced the script in his head, you found a way to unintentionally mess with his psyche. maybe it was your hair, your eyes, everything.

"needed to finish some work here." he lies, so smooth with his words that you don't even think to question it.

with a nod, you give him that smile, the one that pops up in his head while he's reading and makes him lose focus. "if you finish up, maybe you can meet the others in town. or you can keep me company here."

he takes your words in with a hum of acknowledgement, watching you navigate through the kitchen with a natural ease. for a second, he allows the comfortable silence to stretch. he summons all of his courage, swallowing his pride and nodding toward the delicacies on the table.

"can i…" his jaw tenses, the temperature in the room feeling as though it's rising with every tick of the clock. he squeezes the hilt of his weapon more firmly, his throat feeling dry as he looks between your confused face and the frosted treats.

he gets it together, not asking, but declaring. "i want to try what you made."

your brows rise at his words. it's not like your captain to try your baked goods. you'd never taken offense to his reluctance, as you were well aware of his eating habits, but this is completely out of left field.

one could hear a pin drop, his request lingering in the air.

"you… want to try them?" you echo back, unable to hide your skepticism. your eyes browse the array of treats, including the loaf of bread that was still cooling on its rack. "are you sure? which one?"

law doesn't mean to sound so snappy with his response, but internally he's freaking out. your doubt, the subtle concern in your voice, makes him want to prove himself even more.

"i'm sure." he insists, taking some steps toward you until he's at your side. his eyes scan the table, each morsel seeming to laugh in the face of his uncertainty. "i want to try each one."

your eyes follow his, the table sporting a variety of treats ranging from cookies to cupcakes to the star of the show, your fresh sourdough bread. in your head you prepare for disaster, creating a scene that's as comical as it is mildly concerning.

"if you lost a bet to penguin and shachi…" you start, giving him an apologetic glance.

he's quick to cut your accusation short. there are no bets, no pressure from anyone but himself. "no."

when he looks back at you, expectantly, as if he doesn't know how to approach this hurdle, you grab a plate and start to load it up. there was no way you were going to give him a full serving of anything, so you chop off a piece of each dessert and make what you think is a perfect sampler.

he takes the plate from you with a degree of reluctance, but the brushing of your fingers against his acts as a reminder as to why he's doing this. words aren't his specialty. hell, it's hard for him to show how much he cares in general, but he can do this. for you.

his tattooed fingers pick up a piece of… something. it looks sweet, like something he'd hand off to bepo. those black brows of his furrow a tad, as if he's trying to break down the pastry to an atomic level.

taking note of how he seems to be losing himself in his own thoughts, you speak up with confidence and snatch the remaining portion for yourself. "it's just a chocolate chip cookie." you explain, taking a bite of it yourself to show him how it's done. "flour, sugar, eggs…"

"understood." law sighs, trying and failing to act even remotely excited about what was to come.

his teeth sink into the cookie, only a small quarter piece, and he has to keep from making too much of a reaction. from the chocolate clinging to his tongue to the sweetness practically making his gums ache, he finds each chew to be a struggle.

but when his eyes lift to meet yours, seeing the look of anticipation on your face, he finds that the cookie isn't so hard to swallow.

his tongue peeks out to catch any remaining crumbs, shuddering as the sugary sweet taste lingers in his mouth.

he takes a step toward you, a small one, nodding his head and hoping you can't see the hints of pink starting to form on his cheeks. "it's good." he states, even though from your angle it had looked like he was trying to swallow glass. "what's the next one?"

it seems like eons have passed, perhaps the longest ten minutes law has ever lived through.

he swears his stomach is starting to hurt from the amount of sugar settling in there, and the smile you give him, the appreciation you show, doesn't make it feel any better. your presence makes him more jittery than any dessert, that much was certain.

while you were hesitant at first, not wanting him to strain himself, you can't deny that your sweets-averse captain willingly trying your concoctions was flattering, meaningful.

"okay, last one." you clap your hands together, glancing at the last piece of food on his sampling plate. it's a small chunk, not even worthy of being served as an appetizer, but to law, it might as well have been a death sentence. "the sourdough bread."

hearing the word alone makes law's jaw clench, his eyes narrowing as if he had a personal vendetta against the bread. even when he's picking it up, he can't help but scrutinize it.

"yeah, last one." he echoes back, his eyes finding yours in a sort of stubborn inquiry for support.

understanding what he needs, as usual, you grab a piece of the bread for yourself and hold it up. the nod you give him, allowing him to dictate the pace, seems to give him the confidence he needs to conquer this molehill he's made a mountain of.

after a playful countdown from you, he chucks the bread into his mouth and forces his teeth to bite down on it.

the first taste of it almost has him freezing up, his chest rising and falling slowly in an attempt to not let his nose wrinkle. the texture of the bread is killing him, the roughness of it seeming to scrape against his tongue in a way he's not particularly fond of.

hearing you hum in content, clearly pleased with the taste of your own creation, is almost like a slap to his pride- in a good way. he chews a bit more, it's almost damn painful, but he does it.

finally, when the last few chunks of bread are swallowed, law feels like he can breathe a sigh of relief.

"well, that's everything, captain." you smile, taking the plate from him and lightly placing into the sink. you're aware that this wasn't exactly easy for him, yet you're happy that he tried them. "what do you think? good enough for the crew?"

the answer should be obvious, as your treats were usually devoured within only a couple days of being made. law was confident that you could place ice in a bowl and the crew would eat it up without question.

"it's… good. everything was good." he replies, eyes following your every move. his heart feels a little more heavy in his chest, the lump in his throat harder to swallow than the goods he'd just tried. "the crew is lucky to have you."

i'm lucky to have you.

he inwardly curses himself for being so inexperienced with these matters and he places his hat on a nearby counter so he could run a hand through his hair. law is so caught up with his own inner turmoil that he doesn't notice how you grow a little bashful, how the laugh you give is more nervous than playful.

"thanks, captain." comes your response, the sound of clinking drawers filling the air as you started to properly store some of the goods for later. "that's sweet of you to say."

he hums, his way of telling you that he hears you. at the moment, he doesn't quite trust himself with speaking, his brows furrowing ever so slightly.

there is a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but it's not entirely suffocating. it's comfortable, almost welcoming. there are few people law was content to simply exist with, and you were one of them.

his mouth opens, your head tilting toward him as he states the obvious. "i hate bread."

it seems like a no brainer, your arms crossing while you change your position to face him better. "yeah, i know. what about it?"

law looks at you like he was looking at the desserts earlier. intense, almost scrutinizing, as if he would rather peer into your brain instead of hold a conversation.

"i hate bread." he repeats, the tension in his frame melting away a tad. "but i like it more when it's yours."

you're not sure how to respond to his admission, your jaw tense in a bid to keep it from falling to the floor. your captain is red faced, trying oh so hard not to just blurt out what he's been thinking for the past few months. it would be easy to get it out with a scoff, acting like it's not a big deal, but he knows you deserve better.

"everything has been better since… since you joined." the confession is heavy, the implication clear. this was no simple talk between a captain and their crew member.

while his cheeks get hotter, his brows furrow, his gaze doesn't waver from yours. he's watching for every reaction, anything that he can pick up on to confirm or deny his hopes, hopes which he rarely grants himself to believe to be possible.

your smile is a balm, the relieved laugh you give making him release a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"i can never tell what's going on in your head." your shoulders rise and fall with each chuckle, your chest buzzing at his words, at what can, will, come from this. "you didn't have to try all the food. especially the bread. you know that, right?"

his lips tug upward into a small smirk, his confidence growing upon seeing how you're reacting to him. it's enough to make him take a few steps forward until he's right before you.

"thought it would be a good way to show you that i mean what i'm saying." he answers, the taste and feel of the treats now long forgotten. "besides, i see how disappointed you get when i don't try them."

the way your eyes avert, the small tilt in your head, only highlights your guilt. "yeah, okay, maybe a little, but i wasn't gonna force you to eat bread. and all those sweets…"

"i'll have to get used to it." his shoulders shrug, his expression going back into that more nonchalant one that you're used to seeing on him.

the words have your brows furrowing in confusion. "what do you mean? are you going to start joining us for baking day?"

"no. i'm not eating bread ever again, so consider yourself lucky for being the only one to see it happen." he casually states, silently reveling in how you react, before he allows his smirk to grow a little more wide. "i just have a feeling that you're sweeter, and i'm not planning on giving you up any time soon."

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law fluff

2K notes · View notes

juniperskye · 19 days ago

Text

Take A Seat.

A lil Blurb - Based on the following request: Please Aaron Hotchner x BAU! fem reader smut? like they are just lazily making out on the couch and things get hot? (Reader rides Hotch like her live depends on it and Hotch clingy for dear life while she does it)

Hotch x Fem Reader

Word count: 607

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, SMUT, porn with no plot. Let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Aaron had just returned from a two-week long case, and you were feeling pretty needy. Jack had been spending the night with his aunt and you had never been more grateful for that fact. The second Aaron had walked through the door you had pounced on him.

That was nearly thirty minutes ago now. His go bag, shoes, and suit jack long forgotten in the entryway.

Now, Aaron was sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. Your shirt had been tossed over somewhere near the coffee table and the buttons on Aarons had been pulled open in a heated frenzy.

He was sucking deep purple marks into the skin where your neck and shoulder met while you grind your hips down into his lap. A moan slipped past your lips as Aaron nipped at your skin. His gaze lifted to meet your own and if you looked anything like he did…you were both completely wrecked. Hair tousled, lips swollen, pupils dilated and dark with lust, desperate. You knew what he needed and even more so, you knew he was going to give into your desires before anything else. That’s the thing about Aaron…he was a giver.

“I need you.” You gasped as Aarons lips pressed into the top of your barely covered breasts.

“You have me sweetheart. Take whatever you need.” He mumbled, pulling the lace of your bra down to expose your peaked nipple.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips when his teeth grazed over the sensitive nub. With shaking hands, you moved to pull at his belt, trying to free his achingly hard cock. It had been straining against his slacks, pressing hot against your core for the better half of the last half hour.

Aaron tapped your thigh, signaling you to stand momentarily to allow you both to rid yourself of the remaining clothing you had on. After a moment of tender hands assisting one another to undress, you made your way back to your previous positions.

As you lower yourself back into Aaron’s lap, he guides his cock into your waiting entrance.

“God your cock feels so good.” You groan into Aaron’s ear.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need.” Aaron praises as you find your rhythm.

The room was hot, salacious sounds of skin slapping against skin the only audio in the room. Your hands were white knuckled, holding the back of the couch as you bounced up and down on Aaron’s cock. His hands gripping your hips, supporting your movements. While his face pressed to your skin, moving from your neck to your breasts as you moved against him.

The sounds escaping both you and Aaron were pornographic, loud and uncontrolled as you both neared peak.

“Aaron baby I’m close!” You gasped.

“Cum for me sweet girl, let it go.” He instructed.

After a few more thrusts, you felt the band snap, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. All the while Aaron is now guiding your hips, chasing his own release. His hands wrapped around you in a bruising grip while his lips attach to your skin.

Sweat was cast over your skin, your hands were holding onto Aaron’s shoulders, you’re thankful for his grip on you as you are sure you’d have collapsed by now. His continued ministrations have sent another wave of pleasure to wash over you and the convulsions of your pussy finally sending him over the edge.

Aaron painted your walls with a grunt of pleasure, and as his breathing settled, he placed a sweet kiss against your lips.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too sweetheart.”

896 notes · View notes

cosmopretty · 3 months ago

Text

Possessive

paige bueckers x fem smut

warnings: strap, choking, dacryphilia, degrading, fingering PURE SMUT

Paige’s body hovers above you her hand holding your neck “You really thought you could go a flirt with some guy and get away it” she says her eyes dark as they bore into you. Her hand tightened around your throat “Answer me” she demands forcing you to look at her.

“I’m not yours Paige we’re not dating” You respond to her, you knew you were pushing her limits too far tonight, but you didn’t care.

Her brows raise and her hand lets go of your throat and without a word she rips your pants and panties off throwing them to the side before ripping your shirt off. Both of her hands pull your legs apart “You are mine and you always will be” she whispered before shoving her ring and index finger inside of you abruptly, without letting you get prepared. Your legs squeezed together in shock and she moves her fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of you relentlessly.

She speeds up her fingers her other hand moving to hold your legs apart. Tears fill your eyes at the stretch her fingers are causing, Paige’s eyes soften looking at you before remembering how you grabbed that guys arm, whispered in his ear. It drove her crazy you were hers, no one could touch you the way she could, no one could talk to you the way she could, you were all hers.

You moan, you jaw falling slack, head tilting back against the pillow “Fu-fuck I can’t take it” Paige shakes her head at your words pouting at you.

“You can take it” she whispers moving closer to you, her breath hot against your ear. She kisses your neck sucking on the soft skin, leaving big purple hickeys where her lips go.

Your core tightens, your breathing picking up as you pull on Paige’s hair, causing her to move away from your neck. She stares at you her hand letting go of your leg coming up to your neck again squeezing. Your lungs beg for air and she stares at your squirming, and whining under her for a moment before letting go slightly, letting you breathe but not letting go of your neck.

“Cum for me now” She demands, she could read you like a book, she knew when you were about to cum before you even did.

Your legs shake as the band in your stomach snaps, your juices flowing down hand but she doesn’t stop her pace. You whine pushing at her arm to make her stop “no more” you moan out the overstimulation making your legs shake.

Paige keeps her fingers inside of you before abruptly pulling away from you, hopping off the bed and going to the closet. You catch your breath on the bed, your eyes closing tiredness overcoming your body.

Before you can think Paige’s comes back over, strap hanging off her hips, she grabs your hips with both her hands flipping you over. She pulls you back against her, one of her hands coming to your back pushing you down to arch. You whine trying to get up with your hands but she pushes you back down “Nu uh gotta make sure you never pull a stunt like this again baby” she tells you positioning herself at your entrance, teasing you with the strap.

It rubs up and down your clit, through your folds. Paige coats it with your slick before pushing inside of your bottoming out fully in one thrust. You moan loudly biting the pillow under your head to quiet yourself “You can take it baby come on” she mutters before pulling her hips back just to snap them back into you, filling you completely. You squeeze around her as your hands holding the pillow so tight your knuckles turn white.

She thrusts into you over and over her pace merciless “Your a dumb little slut huh all you needed was my attention yeah, now you got it baby” she whispers to you her hand coming up to grab you by the neck pulling you back against her.

Your back lays against your chest and she chokes you, her head coming down to your ear “Say it say your my little slut” Paige whispers in your ear her breath fanning your neck.

Her hips don’t stop the pace, the strap rubs against her clit perfectly getting her off.

“I’m- I-Im” You try to say stuttering, before getting interrupted by your own moans. Paige pouts at you kissing your neck “Come on baby you can do it” she encourages you squeezing your neck slightly.

Breathing heavily you mumble the words she wanted to hear, but it didn’t please her in the slightest “Louder baby come on” she demands pushing the strap in and out of you faster, her fingers digging into your hip, which you knew would leave marks later.

“I’m yours- your slut P” You say tears steaming down your cheeks, your stomach tightening. She smiles slightly before pushing you down on the bed, her hand in your head shoving your face in the pillow “So pretty when you cry” Paige mutters.

She shoves the strap faster into you, not wanting to please you anymore only herself. You moan biting down on the pillow once again your hip burning from how hard she was gripping it.

Paige’s stomach tightens as she groans “Fuck baby come on” she says pushing herself harder onto the strap causing it shove harder into your gummy walls. You cry out “No more no more” you sob into the pillow your legs shaking as you cum for a second time. She ignores you and counties pushing herself onto the strap as it hits her clit, she cums on the strap moaning before falling limp on top of you.

Her body weight crushes you before you tap her a few times and she gets off of you laying down next to you.

You turn over and lay on your back, your legs non stop shaking as tears stain your cheeks. Paige wipes your tears holding your cheek in her hand she makes you turn your head to look at her “Your mine okay say it” she says her eyes softening as she looks at you wanting confirmation.

“I’m yours Paige all yours” You whisper looking into her pretty blue eyes. She nods and kisses you softly, a complete contrast to how she was treating you minutes ago. You were hers no matter what, even if you didn’t want to be.

795 notes · View notes

girlokwhatever · 7 months ago

Text

you belong to me,, pt.2

paige bueckers x fem!reader

part one

the ride back to paige’s dorm was tense to say the least. paige’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, her pale white knuckles telling you all you need to know. she’s not looking at you, which makes you pout from your position in the passenger seat. not even a little glance. you can’t tell if she’s mad, disappointed, upset, horny, or all four. you notice she keeps clenching and unclenching her jaw but her eyes never leave the road.

its deafeningly quiet in the car, only the occasional sounds of a bump on the road and your heavy breathing. she looks so good right now and you wish she’d give you some attention before you resort to grinding yourself into the seat.

when the two of you had left the party she pressed you between herself and the car, gripped your chin and told you you were hers only. she slotted her thigh between yours and into your mini skirt, applying pressure to your core.

“aw baby, can feel your heat through my pants”

she got you in the car and now, its nothing from her. but you’re finally to the dorm building parking lot and you couldn’t be any quicker to get out of the car. sliding off of the seat and into the cool air, you grab your girlfriend’s arm as she pushes you towards the building.

her hand started on your lower back but now rests on your ass while you unlock the door. it’s taking you a moment; you’re fumbling the keys and can’t seem to twist it right. paige’s hands roam from your ass to your waist and then she rests them comfortably under your shirt. she’s strumming her fingers against your ribs and you feel them slowly inch up.

you’re losing yourself in her, get a grip girl.

“too fucked by that guy at the party to open the door, huh?” you’re shaking your head no with a fever and your eyebrows are knitted together, but she’s taking the keys out of your hands and opening the door herself.

once it’s open, she’s pushing you through the threshold. you turn to look at her but before you do, her hands are throwing the keys somewhere so they can find a home on your hips instead. now she’s guiding you to her room and onto the bed, the fluffy purple comforter engulfing you.

you want her, bad.

she’s bent down to help you take your heels off, soft hands handling you just the way she wants. once they’re off, her hands slide up your bare legs and the goosebumps begin to rise.

“please, p”

she doesn’t answer you as she stands to hover over your smaller frame, watching the way your legs encircle her waist, trying so hard to pull her in.

paige is pulling your shirt over your head, hands roaming your chest as soon as it’s gone. it takes all her willpower not to give into your silent pleas and circle her tongue around your hardening nipples, so pretty and perky just for her.

“thinkin about that guy baby? the one from the party?” she questions you, enjoying watching you shaking your head and reach out for her. she lets you pull her down, propping herself up on each side of your head.

“baby please, only want you. ‘m yours p”

“yeah you are. but i gotta make sure you remember that next time you let another guy touch you. gonna make you remember.” she’s sucking sweet spots on your neck now, knowing all the places that make you squirm. you’re whimpering in her ear and she’s losing composure, barely managing to hang on.

your girlfriend notices the way you rub your legs together, chasing any sort of friction you can. she’s wedging her leg between yours and your eyes roll back, working yourself on her sweatpants and you swear you’re so fucking close-

“paige please!”

she’s never heard you willingly beg so much just for her attention. she decides to take it easy on you since she knows you didn’t really do anything wrong, just the ass fuck face from the party.

paige pulls your nipple into her mouth, gently sucking and massaging with her tongue. her sweatpants grow damp from your slick seeping through your underwear and it only spurs her on. she paws at your other breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers and cupping her hand full of it.

“paige, m’gonna cum- so close” and just like that she’s pulling away and you feel like you’re on fire. your denied orgasm burns through you and you can’t even believe it– she’s never done that before.

“what-“

“take your clothes off.”

you stare at her in disbelief as you slowly stand up, pulling off the rest of your clothes. she’s watching you the way predators watch their pray and it you can’t help but grow shy under her gaze. you didn’t notice the spot you made on her pants until now and your face glows with embarrassment.

you don’t get another second to think about it though; she’s moving towards you and pulling you on top of her lap while she sits.

“do i not make you feel good enough baby? had to go get yourself off on my leg. guess you don’t want my help anymore,”

her thumb brushes over your clit and you’re practically shaking on top of her, gripping her shoulders for dear life. her thumb glides over your wetness and back onto your clit but she quickly pulls away again. you think you’ll explode if she keeps going like this.

“i do want your help p, i need it. please paigey,” she was right, you’ve never begged like this before. you’ll do anything she wants, you’ll take anything she gives.

“yeah? how much?” her lips are gliding down your neck and her thumb traces the slowest figure eights on your clit. she can feel the heat radiating off of you, feels you throbbing for her.

“more than anything.”

you’re holding her arm now, fingernails dug deep. she’s looking right at you and you’re almost certain you’re going to fade away in this moment. she feels your arousal leak out and drip onto her hand. she swears she’s seconds away from burying her hand inside your warmth.

“not that other guy?”

you almost cry at the mention of him. if he hadn’t been such a weirdo, your girlfriend would’ve surely fucked your brain out by now. “no, not him.”

“that’s right baby, you belong to me.”

“i belong to you, paige.” all in a second, you’re on your back and she’s between your legs licking a line where you need her most.

her tongue circled your clit and sucked it into her mouth like she’ll starve if she doesn’t. you almost scream at the relief of having her between your legs. one hand is wrapped around your thigh and her other hand prods at your entrance, dipping into your arousal and sinking into you.

her finger itself is enough to fill you and is definitely enough to make you finish, but she quickly adds another. her mouth is making obscene noises and her fingers are curling against your g-spot.

you almost feel like your body is levitating off the bed and you think your back might break from how arched it is. your hands find a home in paige’s hair, pulling it away from her face.

your ears are ringing and you think you hear her praising how good you taste but you’re not sure. when she adds a third finger, curling it just the way you like, your legs shake and paige knows you’re close. she releases your clit from her mouth, nudging you with her nose before flattening her tongue and placing it on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

your toes tingle and your head spins, fingertips grasping for release. you’re so close, that fuzzy feeling consuming you until all you can feel is your girlfriend and her fingers thrusting into you.

“paige- right there, pleasepleaseplease, gonna cum”

“you got it baby, look so pretty right now. want you to cum on my face”

her hand tightens around your thigh and her fingers work faster in you. your clit is buried deep in her mouth and her tongue feels so good.

before you really even register it, you’re moaning her name and coming with a force so powerful you could pass away. both of you are breathless and definitely sweating, but she’s so fixated on you. her fingers are still deep in you and she’s slowly thrusting them while she places kisses on your clit and your thighs.

when she finally pulls her fingers out, they’re glistening with your cum.

“bet that guy from the party would kill to taste you”

she’s sucking your slick off her fingers with a smirk and leaning back up to your face for a kiss. it’s loving and sensual like she didn’t just fuck you, but you taste yourself on her lips and remember your situation.

you’re still recovering from your first orgasm when she circles your clit with her middle finger. it makes you whimper and you’re trying to move up the bed away from the stimulation– but it’s no use. paige has a strong grip around you and she’s pulling you closer to her. your jaw goes slack when she pushes two fingers back into you, scissoring you open. she’s pulling your thighs further apart for better access and you feel every single ministration.

her pace is slow and gentle but she’s pushing her fingers so deep you have to screw your eyes shut.

paige knows you’re sensitive and she knows what she’s doing to do, so of course when she asks to taste you again you have to say yes. her slow pace makes your brain melt and you’re subconsciously opening your legs further for her.

she’s still splitting you in two when her tongue finds your bud again, so needy and waiting for her. she gives you kitty licks, watching to see how you react. it’s almost too much for you, pushing her head back a bit but she’s persistent and surging forward.

she speeds her pace up, making sure to reach that spongy part of you that makes you crumble beneath her. her tongue is roaming your clit at an angle and speed that makes you cry out and within seconds you’re coming on her face again. your legs wrap around her head and for a second she can’t breathe but she thinks you look and sound so beautiful right now that if it killed her, she wouldn’t mind.

you feel your legs twitch when she touches you and she decides to give you a minute before going again. she stands to her full height, admiring you for all you are.

your chest rises and falls perfectly and suddenly she wants her face in your chest again, but she refrains. she knows you’re spent for awhile now. either way, she’d be more than happy to just lay here with you forever.

“baby?”

“paige?” she tugs you on top of her when she lays down. pushing all your hairs away from your face, she notices your smile and thinks she might melt. she remembers to thank God for sending you her way tonight when she prays.

“i’ll smile more at your friends when we go out if it means you won’t leave again at a party.” you chuckle, soft and sweet, and nod at her proposal.

“deal.”

“and tell everyone that even looks at you that you belong to me, alright?” part of her is joking, but she’s also serious and you know that. you’re ok with her request if it gets you in her bed like this.

“ok p, i belong to you.”

✩˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚

IDK IF THIS IS GOOD OR NOT

LMK I GUESS!!

(first time writing something like this tbh so idk what i’m doing!! 😀)

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #uconn women’s basketball

688 notes · View notes

justporo · 7 months ago

Text

The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy! With a wonderful gifted artwork by @nathaira-draws (please follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier

~~~

You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.

But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.

Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.

Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.

And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.

And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.

You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.

Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.

The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.

As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.

Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.

This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.

The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.

His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.

You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows. “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”

His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.

You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.

His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.

“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.

Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.

It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.

The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.

Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.

“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.

The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…

Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.

Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.

Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.

“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.

The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.

When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.

In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.

By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.

Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”

Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.

Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.

Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike.

Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.

The whisky would have to do.

But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.

Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.

The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.

It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.

And yet the most you had done was sit there.

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?

Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.

Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-

“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.

His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.

Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.

Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.

He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.

But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.

The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.

You were both in for a treat.

With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.

The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.

The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.

The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.

Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.

One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.

His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.

His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.

And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.

You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.

Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.

But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.

The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.

You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.

“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”

“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”

And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.

Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.

After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.

His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.

You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.

Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.

Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.

Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.

But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.

Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.

His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.

He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.

And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.

Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.

Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.

“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.

You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.

“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”

And Astarion groaned, confirming it.

With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.

You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.

He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.

Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.

Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.

You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.

But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.

In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.

He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.

He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.

The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.

With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.

As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.

With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.

After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.

Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.

It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.

“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.

The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”

“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.

You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.

He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.

Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.

Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.

“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.

The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”

You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.

“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.

You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you

“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.

Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.

“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.

“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.

“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion bg3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x mc

565 notes · View notes

quack-quack-snacks · 6 months ago

Text

Watch Me.

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Sweet Home Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x Fem!Reader Summary: Your high school life was as normal as anyone else's... until Kim Do-hun arrived. He took you away from your best friend, Cha Hyun-su, until an apocalypse happened and he came to get you back. Warnings: Bullying (toward Hyun-su), mentally abusive behavior, implied physical abuse (One written slap directed towards reader), blackmailing, unhealthy relationship, abusive relationship, sadism and dacryphilia but not in a sexual way, Kim Do-hun being the queen of gaslight gatekeep girlboss, lots of crying, reader feeling helpless, monster!Hyun-su, talk of past suicidal ideation and self-harm, male masturbation, sexual fantasy, and fingering. Word Count: 14,310 Extra Notes: I FINALLY FINISHED IT! YES! The smut part I'm not the most proud of BUT I FINISHED IT ARE YOU PROUD OF ME?! Okay... enjoy :)

“I guess you don’t know why I’m doing this to you,”

Kim Do-hun sighed out with a condescending tilt of his head. His hand readjusted his grip on the wooden stick he used to beat Hyun-su only minutes ago. “I promise, I have a good reason.”

“You scum,” Hyun-su cursed under his breath as he glared at him. He was lying on the floor, blood flowing from the cut on his cheek and bruises scattering themselves across his body. His, once white, shirt was now splattered in red and muddied from the dust and dirt collected on the floor.

“You look pretty angry. I guess you weren’t beaten enough.”

“Do-hun, stop, please!” You pleaded from your place on the side. Tears you were unable to hide streamed down your cheeks as two of your ‘friends’ held you back from rushing forward and stopping him from continuing with the beating toward the boy who held your heart.

You could faintly hear Hyun-su whispering for you to stay out of it, but you focused your attention on the boy standing above him. He lazily tilted his head over to look at you and his lips quirked up into a smirk. “Yeah? And what’ll you give me if I do?”

“Anything. What do you want? You already have money and popularity and loyalty from all the fucking asshats that surround you, what more do you want?” You seethed out.

Your breath caught in your throat when he approached you. He raised a hand and you flinched when his knuckles skimmed over your cheek. “I want you,” he said simply with a grin.

“What?” You whispered, praying he wasn’t asking what you thought he was asking.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he took a step forward and you stumbled back, feeling betrayed but not surprised when your ‘friends’ instantly let go of your arms when they saw what he was doing. “I want to have you by my side every day while I walk down the halls of the school. I want to introduce you to my dad and arrange for us to get married. I want you to be mine.”

Your back was pressed against the window of the classroom as he cornered you, your eyes wide with surprise and fear. You didn’t want to marry this asshole, you didn’t want to be within 30 feet of him.

But you desperately wanted him to stop hurting the boy you loved.

“Hell no. She’s not getting with a guy like you,” Hyun-su protested, trying to get up from his position on the floor but failing. He whimpered your name through a pained gasp and started talking directly to you. “I won’t let you do this. Stay out of this, okay?”

The two of you held eye contact for a bit, arguing nonverbally about what you would do before you sighed sadly and looked away.

“No, Do-hun. I won’t be your girlfriend,” you spoke quietly, not looking him in the eyes. He sighed airily before turning back to where his victim resided on the ground.

He clicked his tongue, almost teasingly. Shooting you one last glance, he asked, “Are you sure?” You didn’t respond or even look at him. “Okay, your call,” he sighed before turning to face a classmate of yours who was sitting at a desk. “Hey, four eyes.”

Park Ju-yeong looked away from Do-hun’s direction, hoping he wasn’t talking to him but luck wasn’t on his side.

“You,” Do-hun tried again and the boy turned to look at him warily. “Yeah… It’s your turn now.”

Ju-yeong watched as he placed the wooden stick on his desk with a soft clacking sound. “But he looks…” he stuttered out, glancing at Hyun-su and seeing the state he was in.

“So?” Do-hun taunted. “Were you close with him or what?” The boy looked down, silently confirming the statement. The bully scoffed. “All these guys used to be friends with him too.”

Everyone looked away, either in shame or embarrassment from being called out on it. You quietly seethed as you watched the scene play out in front of you.

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” he offered him. “I’m not forcing you. Oh, by the way,” he started as he walked to stand behind his chair, leaning down so he was speaking right next to his ear. “Who were your friends again?”

You scoffed.

‘Not forcing you’ my ass.

Even though you expected it, your heart still started racing when you saw Ju-yeong close his fingers around the stick and stand up, moving to stand in front of Hyun-su.

“No,” you whispered and gradually got louder with your protests. “No, no. No! Stop!” You rushed forward to stand in the way but two pairs of hands wrapped around your arms to pull you back. You were practically completely immobilized and forced to watch everything in front of you.

Do-hun scoffed out a laugh as he glanced at you before turning back to Ju-yeong. With his hands placed in his pockets, he nodded back to him. “Keep going.”

You could see how Ju-yeong hesitantly looked over at you and your pleading face before facing forward again and raising the stick over his head. You let out a sob when he whispered a small apology and brought the stick down upon your best friend. No matter how many times you pleaded and begged for him to stop, Do-hun would always tell him to keep going. It wasn’t until you fell to your knees sobbing that you finally said the words he really wanted to hear, but your best friend dreaded.

“I’ll do it,” you sobbed out, barely coherent through your staggering breaths.

Do-hun raised a hand, signaling Ju-yeong to stop what he was doing. Hyun-su wheezed, trying to say something, to protest what he knew you were planning, but unable to because of the pain coursing through his ribs.

“What was that, Doll?” Do-hun asked as he took a few steps toward you and crouched down in front of your form. You had curled in on yourself with a hand clutching the fabric of your chest. The boys holding you back from interfering let you go when Do-hun reached forward to grab your chin. The gentleness with which he did so contrasted his actions toward Hyun-su so much it scared you. “Why don’t you repeat that?”

You stared at him as you tried to get your words out without any sobs or cries interrupting you. “I-” you let out a shaky breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your girlfriend. Just st-stop hurting him. Please.”

His smirk grew as he listened to your begs and how you seemed so helpless in front of him. So desperate for your friend to be released from this agonizing torture.

“So pretty when she cries, isn’t she Cha Hyun-su?” He jeered while you closed your eyes and tried not to flinch away from his hand caressing your cheek. He wiped away the tears that continued to fall and cooed at your soft whimpers.

“N-no… sto-” Hyun-su tried but it abruptly was interrupted by him falling into a coughing fit.

“Aw, you don’t think she’s pretty when she cries? That’s just not nice. Maybe you need another beating to appreciate her.”

Your eyes widened as you heard him say that and he stood up to face Hyun-su again. “No!” You screamed, scrambling to stand up and grab onto his sleeve hopelessly. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him, please.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side and you froze. You couldn’t move; couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think. All you could do was stand stiffly in his embrace as he pretended to think.

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” he started and you held your breath.

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Why would it be? He was a bully after all.

“I won’t hurt him anymore, as long as you follow everything I say.”

Your exhale was shaky when you released it, your heart thumping rapidly against your chest and your mind screaming at you that this was a bad idea. Ignoring the way your body - and Hyun-su - protested, you nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do whatever you say. Just don’t hurt him.”

He smiled at you, his eyes gleaming with a familiar look that brought you back to all the first interactions you had with him.

You were running down the halls of the school, cursing yourself for not waking up to your alarm. You would definitely be marked as tardy, if not absent.

Disheveled and panting from exertion, you held your Math and History textbook in your hand with your backpack hanging on one shoulder. You were trying to force the books into your bag but with the way you were walking and not thinking clearly, it was hopeless.

Your tie wasn’t even correctly done.

Turning the corner, you looked up just in time for your face to slam into someone’s chest. The both of you got knocked down to the ground with your books falling from your hands. Letting out a gasp, you immediately scrambled to bow your head and apologize.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking and I’m late for class and I- I’m so sorry,” you rambled. Looking up, you saw a boy you’d never seen at the school before. Your eyes lit up in realization before you practically crumpled in on yourself. “Oh, and you’re the new kid too, this is such a terrible first impression!” You whined and put your head in your hands.

When he let out a small laugh, you looked up. He was sitting more upright now while looking at you. His head tilted and his eyes filled with a look that you couldn’t quite place. “It’s alright, Doll.”

You frowned at the nickname but brushed it off. “Are you hurt?” You asked frantically while simultaneously shoving your books into your bag and helping him gather his own things. You stood up, holding his backpack in one hand while yours remained on the ground. With your other hand, you reached down and offered it to him. He looked at your hand for a while before taking it in his.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“Well, I am so sorry but I am still late for class, so I’ll see you around, newbie. Let me know if you need help with a tour of the school or anything like that!” You waved him off after handing him his backpack and picking up your own.

You were unaware of how he watched you walk away until you were out of sight.

A few hours later, it was lunchtime and you were outside with a few of your friends playing soccer. It was your favorite thing about lunchtime except for the times when you would eat with your best friend, Hyun-su. During the times when the two of you weren’t eating together, he would often watch you on the sidelines as you played soccer or occasionally be with another friend.

Today seemed to be one of the latter days as you played soccer. You couldn’t see him anywhere on the sidelines, but you did see his backpack. It wasn’t too uncommon for him not to be there so you just decided to let it be and continue focusing on the game.

You had the ball but you had nowhere that could be a good shot and one member of the opposing team was persistent on messing up any dribbling you tried to do. Your only choice was to pass it, and you did. You passed it to Seo-joon. The boy had only started playing with your group about a week ago but he was a pretty good kicker.

The only thing he needed to work on was his aim.

The ball went flying out of the playing field and crashed into the vending machine where two familiar boys were.

“Seo-joon!” You exclaimed just as you heard a voice call out.

“Be careful, watch out!” Hyun-su yelled to Seo-joon as he ran to retrieve the ball.

“Oh, sorry! Are you okay?” He asked but didn’t wait for a response as he passed the ball and the game continued. You rolled your eyes and jogged over to the two boys. You realized the other boy, who had fallen backward from the shock of the ball flying toward him, was the new kid, Kim Do-hun.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you two alright?” You asked, placing your hands on your knees while you panted from the run over. “Seo-joon might have a really powerful kick but he can’t aim all too well,” you joked.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Hyun-su confirmed before turning to where Do-hun was sitting on the floor after falling back in shock. “Are you okay?” He reached out his hand, offering him a way of getting up but it ended up not getting taken.

Not paying Hyun-su any mind as he stood, Do-hun turned to you. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

You nervously glanced over at Hyun-su before looking back at the boy and shooting him your most charming - yet still slightly awkward - smile. “Perfect. Well, I’m going to go back and continue playing, but I’ll try to keep you guys from getting any more balls being shot in your direction!” You reassured playfully before turning and placing a hand on Hyun-su’s arm. “I’ll see you after school, yeah?”

He shot you a grin and nodded enthusiastically. You returned it before turning around and running back to the game. Hyun-su missed the way Do-hun glared at the place where your hand touched his arm, instead watching as you were passed the ball and started dribbling toward the goal.

You could see it now. The look he gave you.

It was obsession.

He was obsessed with you; with getting you on his side, and if he had to use force or the use of others’ pain to get that then he would. No hesitation.

“Doll,” you heard and returned from your daze when fingers snapped in your face.

“Hm?” You looked away from where you had zoned out looking at your best friend and up to see the brown, haunting eyes of Do-hun in front of you. He let out a laugh.

“Hm?” He mocked and you bit your tongue to stop from making any remarks. “I’m taking you home,” he told you. There was no room for argument in his voice and you noticed everyone who had been in the room except for Hyun-su, Do-hun, and yourself were all gone. Hyun-su had moved from lying on the floor to leaning against the cubbies on the wall behind him. He wheezed every time he tried to open his mouth and all you could do was watch helplessly as you came to terms with what exactly you were agreeing to.

But still, even with the feeling of Do-hun’s hand around your waist and his fingers on your jaw that guided you to look back into his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

“I’m taking you home,” he repeated more sternly. You could tell he was getting annoyed but you couldn’t help yourself from asking your next question.

“Can I keep him as my friend?” You hated that you had to ask for that simple action. You were practically giving up any control you had over your social life and that was heartbreaking.

But as long as it kept Hyun-su safe…

Do-hun scoffed and his hand tightened uncomfortably around your waist. Your blood ran cold as you felt his fingers digging into your side, knowing how much power he had at the tips of those appendages and how hopeless you were against them.

You weren’t even talking about it in a physical aspect. No, you were talking about the power in society he held. It wasn’t a secret how he was the son of a very successful and important businessman, especially with how much he boasted about it. He could ruin anyone’s life at the drop of a hat and they wouldn’t know what hit them.

You were mostly worried about Hyun-su and his family. You were well aware of his dad’s boss being Do-hun’s father and how he used that to threaten him on a daily basis. It scared you how out of your depth you were in this battle you waged against him.

And like striking down the leader of your army, he dug the blade through your heart with the next words.

“You’re not allowed to even look at him ever again.”

You let out a scream as you thrashed around. The smell of cigarettes burned your nose as it filled the air around you. Your hands fought to pull against the grip holding you by your hair and forcing you to face your worst nightmare.

You cringed at the hot breath that blew against your ear as he spoke. “This is your fault. I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just followed what you were told and stayed away from him,” Do-hun condescendingly told you. He made it sound like he was sorry and remorseful at having to do this but you knew he was loving every minute.

“Just stop! Stop it! Please!” You sobbed, your hands going weak as they limply held the wrist of his hand holding your hair. The pained groans and gasps coming from Hyun-su on the ground in front of you echoed in your head relentlessly.

It’s your fault.

“Please let him go. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded helplessly but he just clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“I’m sorry too,” he lied. “But the only way you’ll learn is if you see that there are consequences to your actions,” he explained before forcing you to walk forward and fall to your knees in front of Hyun-su. You let out a small whine as the grip he had on your scalp tightened and he leaned in again. “These are the consequences. So take a good, long look and remember it every time you think about going back on your word.”

It’s your fault.

More tears fell as you did as told and took a long look over your wounded friend. There was blood splattered across his white-uniformed shirt as well as the grey undershirt he wore. Blood collected around his mouth from where he had spat it out along with the cut on his bruised lips. On his left cheek was the laceration from last time that had reopened and was sending streaks of blood down his face. His nose had a small gash along the bridge and both eyes, one still bruised from the last time he was beaten up in the classroom and the other luckily unharmed, were opened wide as he stared back at you.

Hyun-su reached out a bloodied hand to your cheek to instinctively wipe away the tears that had fallen there but you were harshly pulled away just before his fingers could skim your skin.

His eyes shot back up to Do-hun as he looked bored by the interaction. “Let her go,” he demanded in a quiet voice.

“I will, if you jump off,” Do-hun bargained and the look Hyun-su sent over to the edge of the roof sent you into a panic.

“No! No Hyun-su, don’t you dare!”

“Oh, shut up, Doll,” Do-hun rolled his eyes before he forced you to look at him again. “Do you want him to get another beating? Huh?” He questioned, mockingly. “I thought I told you not to talk to him, yeah?” At your silence, he degradingly tapped his knuckles against your temple. “Is there a brain in there that can answer or are you just an empty shell?”

“No. No, I don’t want him to get another beating,” you rushed out, trying not to make any remarks about the belittling way he spoke to you.

Hyun-su seemed much braver than you. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Do-hun scoffed and pushed you backward so you crashed into the chest of another boy in the group. His arms wrapped around your chest and stopped you from moving while Do-hun crouched down in front of Hyun-su and lightly flicked his forehead. “I’ll talk to her however I want. Don’t forget, she’s my girlfriend now,” he laughed under his breath. “And do you know how it feels to figure out my girlfriend has been cheating on me? Texting you, talking about how you left your clothes at her house? It breaks my heart,” he said with a sarcastically sad tone.

Hyun-su sent you a glance and you begged him with your eyes not to say anything. Whether he denied or confirmed the situation, it would only make things worse for the both of you. He just looked down and away from you, avoiding Do-hun’s irritatingly patronizing gaze as well.

“But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your clothes back soon enough, though I can’t guarantee what their quality will be like,” he joked and all the other boys on the roof laughed along with him. With that, he stood up and walked back over to you. The boy holding you let you go but his arms were immediately replaced with Do-hun’s as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side. Tugging you toward the entrance of the roof, his posse of sheep following close behind, he sent a dismissive wave over his shoulder to Hyun-su. “Better hope your bestie doesn’t misbehave anytime soon, or else this will happen again. Although, maybe you’re into that.”

You didn’t dare turn around to shoot him a glance goodbye, but you could feel his eyes on the back of your head until the door closed behind you and you were left alone with Do-hun and his friends once again.

7:30. 30 minutes before school started.

You walked down the stairs, heading for the back exit of the school where the outdoor staircases were - yours and Hyun-su’s designated spot to meet up in the mornings. It was a very dark day. Deep gray clouds crowded out any blue in the sky and revealed only little bits of the sun’s rays through the diminished light that shone through them.

Although it hadn’t started raining just yet, you brought a raincoat and change of clothes just in case you got caught in it when it inevitably did.

Opening the door to the back of the school, you immediately saw Hyun-su sitting on the steps with a white square gift box in his lap, a light blue ribbon wrapping around it beautifully. His foot was tapping along to a beat from the music playing on his phone, the headphones stuffed into his ears and playing loud enough that you could hear it as you approached. It was a habit you always tried to make him break, concerned for his hearing, but he never did.

When he saw you walking toward him, his eyes lit up and a smile grew on his face. He stood up to greet you before you both sat down again and started talking.

“This is for you,” he told you, placing the white box on your lap excitedly.

“Hyun-su,” you complained lightly. “I didn’t get you anything!”

He brushed you off with a smile. “There’s no need. Just open it.”

You did and when you saw the contents inside, you laughed. “What is this?” You asked, picking up the patchwork teddy bear. It wasn’t the most well-done stuffed animal but it reminded you of something specific that you couldn’t put your finger on.

His smile turned a bit bashful and maybe nervous as he scratched the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s your baby blanket,” he told you and you gasped. “I had your sister help me with it. I know that it meant a lot to you and how it wasn’t in the greatest condition, so I came up with the idea,” he explained in a rush, worried over how quiet you were as you stared at the stuffed bear. “So… Do you like it?”

You couldn’t contain the smile anymore as you turned to face him. As calmly as you could, you placed the stuffed animal back into the white box and set it to the side before throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace. “Do I like it? How could I not like it? I love it!” You pulled back to hold him by his shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you, Hyun-su.”

He smiled at you before bringing you in for another hug. The two of you stayed like that for a minute until you felt a cold wet plop on your head. Pulling away and looking up, you received another raindrop on your forehead.

“Shit! It’s raining!” You quickly turned and put the white lid back on the box before reaching to grab your bag. You were quickly stopped when Hyun-su grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Looking back at him, you let out a nervous laugh at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Hyun-su… no.”

“Hyun-su, yes,” he joked before grabbing both your hands and tugging you farther away from your bag. He laughed as you yelped from the light sprinkle turning into a full-on downpour and your clothes immediately getting soaked to the bone. You gaped at him while he spun you around.

“You’re such an idiot,” you said, trying to keep your tone serious but eventually failing as you burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re so lucky I brought a change of clothes today!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get those wet too,” he promised with a cheeky smile.

You raised your eyebrows playfully. “Wow, Hyun-su, I didn’t know you were so dirty-minded. And in public no less!”

“Wha-?” It took a second for him to understand what you were saying but when he did he pushed your face away from him with his hand. “Oh my god, if there’s anyone here who’s dirty-minded, it’s you.”

You laughed and it seemed like you couldn’t stop until the bell rang with how much the two of you were joking with each other. In the end, at least your bear was safe and dry.

The same couldn’t be said about the two of you.

You held the white box in your hands as you walked down the hall. The lid was slightly brown with water damage and was fraying in some areas but you couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling you felt when you looked at it.

Do-hun walked beside you. As a little ‘reward’ for being on ‘good behavior’ as well as a graduation gift of sorts, he was allowing you to give Hyun-su his stuff back, as long as he stayed with you the entire time.

The two of you walked toward the back of the school to Hyun-su and your spot. It had been so long since the two of you met here and you couldn’t help the emotion building behind your eyes and stinging your nose. Do-hun droned on and on about something but you weren’t listening to a word he said as you focused on not bursting into tears. Instead, you focused on keeping the letter pressed to the bottom of the box. You kept it a secret from Do-hun and you just prayed, for both yours and Hyun-su’s sake, he wouldn’t see it.

Opening the door, you weren’t surprised to see Hyun-su sitting on the steps. The way his form seemed so much sadder and lifeless than he had all those months ago when the two of you danced in the rain had your heart clenching painfully.

His head lifted as he heard your footsteps approaching and you nearly sobbed at the bandages covering his face. He scrambled to his feet, eyes mostly set on you but flicking over to Do-hun every once in a while.

You couldn’t handle speaking, so all you did was hold out the tattered white box to him. You saw his eyes light up in recognition of it but he didn’t say anything. His hands reached out and grazed yours as he grabbed it. The way his eyes locked onto you when he did made you know he felt the paper. It wasn’t anything too special, just a simple note asking him to keep in touch with your new phone number and the home address you knew Do-hun and you would be moving to once you graduated. It meant a lot for you to have him in your life, though, and you wanted him to know that.

“Wow, Doll. After all this time, you don’t even want to say your final goodbye to your ex-bestie?” Do-hun taunted, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you away from the boy in front of you and into his chest instead. “Seems like you don’t care about him anymore.”

You cleared your throat and looked down, your arms retracting from where they’d stretched in front of you to give the box. “Let’s just go,” you told him quietly. Luckily, he obliged and turned to walk away with you glancing one more time at the boy you loved.

You stood outside of the church, debating back and forth with yourself on whether you should go inside or not.

It hadn’t been long since you saw Hyun-su, only having graduated a few months ago, but it had been a long time since you had interacted with him. You were still with Do-hun. His father arranged for the two of you to get married and your parents did nothing to help. They were persuaded with money and the promise of a good life all in exchange for the freedom of yours. The engagement ring weighed heavily with betrayal and manipulation at the bottom of your black dress’s pocket.

Today had been the first day in weeks that you hadn’t been within five feet of Do-hun, and it was all for the same reason - the same person - you gave yourself to him in the first place.

Cha Hyun-su.

Even after everything, after every attempt to destroy your feelings Do-hun tried, you still loved the boy with all of your heart.

And now he probably needed you more than ever.

Your hand rested on the doorknob as you hyped yourself up to open it when you suddenly heard yelling. It was muffled and you couldn’t understand it but it slowly got closer and closer until Hyun-su came rushing through the door, a few men on either side of him dragging him out. You could hear the shouts now and they were all coming from him. Each was about how his parents abandoned him, leaving him to live alone in the world.

The shouts came to a stop when his eyes locked on you, your black knee-length dress and black flats showing you dressed for the occasion while he stood disheveled in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was disheveled and most likely tangled, grown out from the lack of attention he’d been giving himself since the bullying started.

You tried to help him behind the backs of everyone else. You mainly left little snacks or water bottles on his desk before class when you knew he hadn’t eaten, but occasionally you provided first aid kits for him on the occasion you ‘misbehaved’ and he paid the price for it. You never knew if he took them but you continued to do it, every day, without fail.

You watched as Hyun-su shook off the arms of the people holding him and they walked back inside. You had to hold yourself back and bite your tongue at the insults they called him on their way. It was only after the door clicked and it was quiet outside the church that you spoke.

“Hi.”

You said it so softly you weren’t sure he heard it, but then he replied. “H-hi. What… what are you doing here?” He looked away from you as he asked it, shoving a hand in his pocket while the other came up to scratch the back of his neck. You almost smiled at the nervous habit he seemed to have kept.

“I’m here for you,” you explained, taking a hesitant step toward him and inwardly celebrating when he didn’t move away. You took more steps forward until you were right in front of him, only a foot of distance between the two of you. You closed the distance as you wrapped your arms around his middle and pulled him into you. It was gentle at first since you were hesitant whether or not he would push you away, but your hold tightened when he returned the embrace. He buried his face into your neck as you rubbed his back comfortingly and you could feel the tears falling onto your skin. He sobbed into your shoulder all while you just held him. It was the first time in months you had held each other like this and it was a relief for you to feel him like this one more time. “I’m so sorry, Hyun-su,” you whispered to him, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes too but desperately trying to blink them back for his sake. He needed you to be the strong one right now, you couldn’t cry.

“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault,” he emphasized with a hoarse voice, bringing you closer. You let the first tear fall. It was such a relief to hear him say that when all you’d heard from everyone, specifically Do-hun, was how it was your fault. How you were the one who ruined Hyun-su’s life.

But you still blamed yourself.

“But I could have done something! I didn’t do anything and you paid the price for it all! I should have done mo-”

Hyun-su pulled away from you and in an instant pressed his lips against yours. The words left your mind as you immediately melted into it. He tasted like the salt from his tears but you didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was that he was there. He was kissing you and he was there. You didn’t think you deserved it but he was there.

He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours and breathing heavily. “Never blame yourself for what happened,” he demanded. His lips skimmed yours with each word and you felt yourself longing for the feel of them again. “You will never be at fault for what happened.”

Instead of saying anything back, you just pulled him back in for another quick kiss. The two of you might have been abandoned by your families but at the very least, you had each other.

Or, you did until you felt arms wrap around you from behind and yank you away from him. Your eyes grew wide as you recognized the familiar expensive cologne of your betrothed. You stiffened under his arms as they tightened painfully around you and Do-hun smiled at Hyun-su.

“Long time no see, Cha Hyun-su. Why are you kissing my fiance?” He asked, his grin still as condescending as it was in high school. Hyun-su looked shocked by the news, looking at you with anger boiling inside him but it fizzled out instantly as he saw you standing petrified in fear. “I don’t care. It’s not like you’ll ever see her again,” Do-hun cut him off right as he opened his mouth, walking backward and dragging you along with him. “Well, maybe you will, we might even send you a wedding invite!” He yelled as he forced you into the passenger seat of his sleek black, definitely more expensive than any vehicle Hyun-su had ever sat in, car.

Another wave of fresh tears fell down his face while he helplessly watched you stare hopelessly out the window as the car started driving down the road and out of his life.

August 13th. That was the day the world officially ended.

It started off as a normal day for you. You stayed in bed for the first few hours of the morning, only getting up when your stomach felt like it would eat itself. Then, you sat on the chair on the back porch of your house, watching the butterflies fly around your gorgeous flowers and petting the stray cat that would always find its way into your yard. You’d come to name it Dong-ee, meaning sunrise. Do-hun always scolded you when he saw you with the animal, talking about what diseases it could have, but you’d stopped responding to his words months ago.

He tried threatening you every day but it never worked.

After your sister died and he found out about - and stopped - the letters you sent to Hyun-su, you had nothing left to lose.

In the massive house you lived in, with servants cleaning everywhere and greeting you each time you passed by and your ‘husband’ never far, you’d never felt more alone.

It started with a single nosebleed. One of the servants started bleeding profusely out of their nose and onto the crystal blue couch she’d been vacuuming. You told her it was fine, rushing her off before your husband found out and immediately spraying some stain remover onto it. You know he would have scolded her at best - which was never a fun experience with the way he would degrade someone until they felt like dirt beneath the heel of his perfectly shined black shoe, or fired her at worst - which was a big way to get someone out of a job for life. He often blacklisted the employees he fired.

The nosebleeds seemed to increase, not only in the one girl but in the other servants as well. It wasn’t until one of them turned into a tall monster with sharp claws and extended canines, trying to kill Do-hun when they saw him, that you knew the world would never be the same.

It took time, but Do-hun and his guards - which in reality were actually just his guards following his every word while Do-hun sat in the background, just like in high school - were able to force the monster out of the house. After that, Do-hun decided what he thought was best and decided to do the worst thing you could have imagined.

He forced everyone out. Everyone who worked there and resided in the large house, they were forced out of the house and left to die in the streets roaming with monsters. You screamed and struggled as you watched them all be shoved out the doors which were barricaded soon after with thick wooden planks.

What he did next though, was what made you seriously fear the man called your husband and fear for your life.

He brought out a gun you didn’t know he even owned and shot silver bullets into the foreheads of all his most trusted guards. The same guards who just sent the servants to their death sentence as they forced them out of the house.

The air filled with the foul stench of blood and you nearly threw up. You backed away as he approached, getting closer and closer to you with the gun still in his hand. His finger may not have been on the trigger but it was terrifying nonetheless.

Eventually, you were backed against a wall with nowhere to escape. Do-hun cornered you against it, playfully and gently tapping the muzzle of the gun against your forehead.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while,” he confessed, smiling down at you. “Now you can be the perfect housewife you were supposed to be. It’s all worked out.”

You shuddered, flinching away as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. The one thing you were thankful for was the fact that Do-hun accepted consent when it came to anything sexual. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you like that, but he wasn’t above physically hurting you if you didn’t do as he said.

“Now, why don’t you clean up that mess over there,” he pointed to the dead bodies near the front door and you followed his finger slowly. “And I’ll watch from the couch. If you do good, I’ll consider making you some dinner.”

The world was ending.

And you were stuck with your psychotic murderer of a forced-marriage-provided husband.

You were fucked.

It had been a few weeks since the apocalypse started. You often heard the sounds of roaming creatures as they passed by and shuddered at the thought. Despite everything, you were at least glad to be able to stay in a relatively safe place when everything went to hell.

Do-hun didn’t make life easy for you, though. You could feel him hovering over you every second. Now that he didn’t have work and there was nobody around to stop him, he didn’t hesitate to be by your side the entire time and give you no privacy.

During everything, you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyun-su. You wondered if he was alright; if he was a monster or not; if he could possibly be one of those special infectees; if you would ever see him again.

You found your answer sooner than you expected.

You had no idea how much time had passed since everything started. At first, you tried counting the days, but you lost track after 80.

Now, after what you assumed must have been more than half a year within this hellhole, you sat on the couch nearest to the window. Though you couldn’t see through it anymore with the way Do-hun had boarded it up, using the curtains and whatever furniture he could find, you could imagine the way the birds and butterflies fluttered around your rose bushes and sunflowers as they often did when you would watch them through the glass. On days like those, you would often be having a glass of your favorite tea along with a new book of your favorite genre.

You’d since had to resort to a sliver of water from your designated drinking water supply and a book you’d already read several times over.

Do-hun had gotten especially protective and obsessive over you since the start of this hell. He never let you out of his sight, even more so now than before when he could entrust you into the hands of his guards. He would scream at you for hours at a time when you would ignore him. He would force-feed you your rations on the days you felt you couldn’t do anything but sit in despair. It was a strange, aggressive, display of his ‘affection’ for you.

You stopped ignoring him as often, part of the reason being he would scream at you for hours at a time when you did, just to get a reaction, but also because you just felt so isolated and alone. He was the only source of any interaction you had, human or otherwise; and while all of that was entirely his fault, you couldn’t really hope for a different situation when you knew it would never happen. Sometimes, when things got bad with him, you envied the servants who were forced out.

On other days, when things were even worse, you envied the guards you had to clean up afterwards.

You closed your book with a sigh when you read the same sentence over again for the twentieth time. Do-hun looked up from his own book with an annoyed glare before rolling his eyes and focusing on the pages again. Sighing, you stood up and gently placed your book in your spot before walking away.

“Where the hell are you going?” Do-hun demanded and stood up abruptly. His book limply fell to the floor and he stormed closer to you. On instinct, you took a step back before steeling your nerves and looking him dead in the eye.

“Away from you.”

He huffed angrily and grabbed ahold of your wrist and started walking back towards the couch. “No, you’re not. You’ll stay right here where I can see you.”

You roughly yanked your arm away from his grip and pulled away. “No. I won’t.”

Do-hun slowly turned around to look at you, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. This was the first time in a long time you’d truly fought against and denied a direct order from him. “What did you say?” He took a step toward you and your breath caught in your throat.

“I… I-I said,” you stuttered, cursing yourself for the lack of control over your shaking hands.

He widened his eyes, imitating your fearful expression. “Y-y-y-you s-said?” He mocked over exaggeratedly and you opened your mouth again to reply when a large shadow blocked the limited light coming through the fabric covering the windows. It got closer and closer, larger shadows casting over the floor behind Do-hun as it did. Your arm raised to point at the approaching creature when suddenly a sharp pain exploded across your cheek. Your head snapped to the side painfully and you brought a palm up to cover the reddening area where Do-hun’s hand had slapped you. Although the pain shocked you, you weren’t surprised by his actions. Nor were you surprised by the sadistic smile that covered his lips. “Got no words, Doll? You were so confident just a second ago, where’d that attitude go?”

Despite his taunting words, your attention was solely focused on the silhouette of a large wing rising into the air behind the curtains of the window. Just as you saw it come swinging down, you ducked down and covered your head with your arms.

Do-hun didn’t see the image of the creature behind him, so the action of you ducking down and the loud sound of shattering glass both confused him and gave him a fright. The fabric of the curtains was able to prevent most of the glass from getting through, but you were unfortunate enough to have a piece nick your right knee right below your dress’ hem. It started bleeding immediately and it streamed down your leg to stain your sock-clad feet. The blood was enough to smear across the floor when your foot moved.

Unfortunately for you, Do-hun remained unharmed from his standing position.

You crawled away from the wall and hid behind the white-marble kitchen island, unaware of the red trail you left behind from your bleeding limb, as Do-hun turned around slowly, taking the gun he kept in his belt at all times into his hands and pointing it at the figure still hidden by the furniture stacked high. The couch, with two dining room chairs stacked on top, screeched against the hardwood floor as a large wing made of only muscle and bone sent it flying across the room. You covered your mouth to hold in your yelps as the chairs loudly tumbled to the floor. Your eyes clenched tightly together and you tried to stop the sobs from wracking your body. Instead of focusing on the fight, you covered your ears tightly, making sure no sound could get through, and rocked yourself back and forth, trying to calm your erratically racing heart.

Outside of your covered ears and hearing range, Do-hun started speaking to the intruder. “Oh,” Do-hun laughed his usual taunting and narcissistic laugh, a sound that was unfitting considering the situation. “It’s you. You didn’t get enough in high school?”

Hyun-su smirked as the dust cleared and he clearly saw the face of his high school bully. He let his eyes travel around, looking for the one person he was truly there for but not finding her. His face almost fell until he saw a strange trail of fresh blood leading behind the large kitchen island. There wasn’t any blood on Do-hun, so he knew it couldn’t have been from him.

“You know, I really thought you might have changed after high school. Maybe you’d mature and see the error of your ways,” Hyun-su started, putting his arms into his pockets. He had transformed both arms back into their human forms for the interaction he was going to have with the bully, really wanting to see the fear on his face when he saw how powerful he really had become. “I guess I was wrong. You’re still scum.”

Do-hun scoffed and released the safety on the gun he still had pointed at the boy. “And I thought you would have killed yourself by now. I guess we’re both disappointed,” he smirked, tilting his head tauntingly. “But I got something you didn’t,” he leaned forward as if telling a secret but kept the distance between them. His lips formed a sadistic smile that made Hyun-su sick. “I got the girl.”

The boy who held your heart felt his own heart drop to his stomach, but he refused to let it show on his face. “Oh really? Well, I don’t see her,” he pointed out, giving another glance around the room and still not seeing you anywhere. The blood stain still held his interest but he would save that until afterwards.

“Well, you won’t need to see her. I’ll make sure she sees you though, when I put a bullet through your chest and make her clean up the mess afterward.”

The anger rapidly rose in Hyun-su’s soul like a forest fire. He clenched his fists, hating himself for not being able to come sooner. With adopting and raising Ah-yi along with trying desperately to find where you lived - which was much harder than he expected in a technology-free world - he took much longer than he wanted to.

‘Surrender.’ Hyun-su heard in his head. He looked behind Do-hun and saw the monsterized version of him standing next to him in the large mirror on the wall. The eyes of his double remained the deep black color he’d come to accept as a part of himself. ‘Let me help you. I only do what you want, remember?’ The other version of himself reminded him.

“Any last words, Cha Hyun-su?” Do-hun asked him, now looking bored with the conversation and placing his finger on the trigger of the gun.

‘Surrender. I’ll find her. We’ll find her.’ The monster insisted, speaking over and over in his head. Hyun-su’s thoughts were running all over the place, unsure of what he wanted to do.

He could turn over his control to the other side of him, but that side was unpredictable. Even though he knew he would never hurt you, no matter what version was in control, he was still worried.

On the other hand, if he stayed in control, he would have to fight through the pain and beat Do-hun on his own. It wouldn’t be that difficult but he just knew from how his finger fiddled with the trigger, that this apocalyptic version of Do-hun was a trigger-happy person.

He wasn’t sure he could handle that kind of pain.

He let out a deep breath, releasing his hands from his pockets and closing his eyes.

‘Okay. Go ahead, just keep her safe.’ Hyun-su told his other half, slowly feeling himself lose control and fading away.

“You know I will.”

When his eyes reopened, they weren’t the magically gorgeous deep chocolate brown that he had grown up with. Instead, they were a beautiful and vibrant sky blue. Do-hun’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t show any other signs of a change of emotion.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” the now monsterized version of Hyun-su asked Do-hun, referring to his previous question after a moment of silence. He could tell the eerily excited grin that lit up his face unnerved the boy in front of him and it sent a sick sense of satisfaction down his spine.

“And I think you're forgetting who has the upper hand in this situation,” he reminded him before his finger pulled the trigger.

You heard the loud sound of a gunshot go off even through the protection of your hands over your ears. The small whimper of fear you made might not have been heard by any human, but with Hyun-su’s unnaturally advanced sense, he heard it loud and clear.

The bullet did indeed pierce through Hyun-su’s chest, but he just sighed in disappointment at the attempt on his life. “Is that really all you’ve got?” He asked cockily despite the blood oozing from the hole in his torso. Do-hun’s facade finally cracked and Hyun-su could finally see the fear lingering in them. He let out a small noise of excitement and his grin widened even more. He slowly, teasingly, took a step toward the bully who quickly, fearfully, pulled the trigger again. This time, the bullet missed Hyun-su completely and he tutted. Do-hun went to pull the trigger again, but in a flash, Hyun-su appeared in front of him and twisted the gun out of his grip, putting his arm into a wrist lock and pushing lightly. Do-hun let out a loud noise of pain at the feeling of his wrist nearly breaking under the pressure. With his other hand, Hyun-su wrapped his fingers around his neck and grabbed it tightly while pulling him close. The boy let out a loud yelp at the feeling of his wrist still being held hostage and now the feeling of no oxygen getting into his lungs.

“I’m not going to ask if you have any idea what you’ve put me through, what you’ve put her through, because I know you know very well,” Hyun-su started. His tone was scarily calm as his finger tightened and loosened teasingly around Do-hun’s neck. One moment the boy could breathe in a drink of air, and then next he would be suffocating until the process repeated again. “But, if you tell me where she is, maybe I’ll consider letting you go,” he bargained.

Do-hun nodded emphatically before using his free hand, which had been scratching at the wrist Hyun-su used to choke him, to point behind the kitchen island where you were currently holding your breath to stop yourself from hyperventilating. Hyun-su turned his head to look over at where he was pointing and was pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t lied to him about your whereabouts. With a grin, he faced him again and released his neck. “Good boy,” he mocked, praising him like a dog before his grip around his locked wrist tightened and he twisted it sharply. The bone of his forearm popped out of place and Do-hun let out a scream, looking at Hyun-su with something like betrayal in his eyes. “I only said I would consider it, not that it was a promise,” he taunted him. Do-hun breathed heavily until Hyun-su once again wrapped his hand around his neck and blocked off any airflow. This time, his grip was relentless; he refused to let up until the face of his former bully and abuser turned blue and his body went limp. Just for good measure, he snapped the boy’s neck and made sure he was dead for sure.

Hyun-su’s monster let out a deep breath, feeling content with the revenge that had been boiling in his bones for years, only now getting let out in the way he best saw fit. The original Hyun-su would never admit it but he had pictured hurting Do-hun the same way his monster just did on occasion, wishing he could do that so he could get revenge for himself and for you.

You.

Now, Hyun-su’s monster knew he should probably give control back to the original Hyun-su now that the threat was dealt with and he just needed to find you now, but he was the result of Hyun-su’s desires, and his desires were very selfish when it came to you.

He wanted you all to himself. Ever since the kiss the two of you shared after his parents and sister’s funeral, he hadn’t been able to get over the guilt and wished for you to return to him. When the letters stopped, it was even worse for him. He could still remember the last letter you wrote to him. He often read and reread it over and over again. It got to the point where he had the entire thing memorized.

Dear Hyun-su,

It’s not your fault. It never will be. You didn’t do anything wrong. I refuse to let you ever think that even for a second, so if those thoughts ever intrude in your mind, think back on my words and let them remind you.

It isn’t what I want, but I won’t be able to keep in touch any longer. I haven’t been as secretive as I’ve intended, not that being secretive is at all possible around Do-hun. I don’t have much time so I won’t be able to make this nearly as long as I want. I’m not even sure if it will make it to you, but God do I hope it does.

Please, never let the world change you.

That was the time he really considered killing himself. The only thing that held him back was the thought of you and how he knew in his soul he would find his way back to you.

However, since he wasn’t able to see you and you weren’t there anymore to stop him, even if you didn’t know it, his self-harm got worse. He was able to get clean a few months before the apocalypse, but the scars on his skin felt constantly fresh with the loss of your presence.

Yes, he was selfish. And his monster side was even worse. His monster hadn’t personally met you yet, so he decided right then and there that he wouldn’t return the control, not just yet. He wanted to meet you himself, to see you in the flesh through his own unnaturally blue eyes.

Hyun-su snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the, unfortunately familiar, sound of your muffled crying. He walked over to the kitchen island, his feet not making a sound on the wooden floor - a trick he learned at the start of the apocalypse. When he reached the corner and the top of your head was revealed behind the white marble, he let out a sigh of relief. It felt like the weight of the world tumbled off his shoulders and he was free again. He saw you and the sun seemed to shine after a thunderstorm.

He tiptoed around to be in front of you and kneeled so he was at your level. His heart, infected or not, broke at the sight of your knees pulled to your chest and your hands covering your ears. To not hear was also to not see, and to not see was for it to not exist, he supposed. Your eyes were clenched shut and your cheeks were stained with tears that continuously ran down them. Instinctively, he reached a calloused and bruised but gentle hand forward and wiped the tears off your left cheek. What he should have expected, but it still seemed to surprise him, was the way you screamed and launched yourself to the side to avoid his touch. Another instinctive action he did was grab onto your arm and pull you back to him. You reacted negatively to this as well. It seemed you weren't able to recognize the familiar face in front of you in your panic, but he was determined to make you realize it was him.

You screamed and cried, swatting and kicking at the unfamiliar yet familiar and comforting touch of, what you presumed to be, a monster holding onto you. It was only when you heard the familiar voice speaking the syllables of your name that you froze. Your hands rested on the figure’s chest as you breathed heavily and slowly raised your gaze to their face.

It was him.

The boy you’d longed to see for months.

“Hyun-su?”

He smirked. It was so weird to see it because it looked so confident. Cocky, even. This was not the Hyun-su you knew less than a year ago. This wasn’t the Hyun-su Do-hun had broken him down into.

But it reminded you of the Hyun-su you knew before everything happened. The Hyun-su who would mess your hair up and then run away with a mischievous grin as you chased after him. The Hyun-su who dragged you into the rain so you could dance with him despite the water soaking through both of your clothes.

It was comforting.

What surprised you the most, however, was the blue color that took over the brown eyes you longed to see.

“Your eyes are blue,” you softly told him as if he didn’t already know. Your hands came up to lightly rest on his cheeks, so lightly that it barely felt like the touch was there at all.

The loose grip he had on your arms tightened slightly to keep you close - just in case you got scared and tried to move away from him again - when your eyes widened in realization. “You figured it out quicker than I expected you to. Smart cookie. And only because my eyes were blue?” He questioned, teasingly.

Your eyes were still wide as you answered, but he was pleasantly surprised to see no fear in them. “Hyun-su wouldn’t act this cocky.”

He kissed the back of his teeth, shaking his head with a smile. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. I’m still Hyun-su. We are one and the same.”

“Are you one of those ‘special infectees’?” You asked, bringing your soft touch away from his cheeks to make air quotes with your fingers. He frowned, not liking how the places your fingers had touched felt cold without you but nodded nonetheless.

Your head tilted to the side and your left hand went back up to his cheek so you could cup it, almost unconsciously, as you stared at him in perplexment. He leaned his face into your touch just like how Hyun-su always did. You didn’t do it often in the past, especially after you got with Do-hun, but he would always lean into the warmth of your touch whenever you did.

Do-hun!

Your eyes widened again and you turned to the side to try and see where he was. Your head didn’t turn far before Hyun-su cupped both of your cheeks and directed your attention to him again. “Don’t look over there, okay? Just look at me.”

You nodded, your eyes flickering back and forth between each of his eyes while you regulated your breathing. You knew he was protecting you from what was sure to be a gruesome sight.

‘A sight that he created.’

The thought fluttered through your mind but it didn’t affect you in the way you expected it to. You expected to feel at least a sliver of guilt or maybe even fear of the boy in front of you for what he did, but instead you felt none of that.

You just felt relief. You were finally free of the person who put you through hell for almost a year.

The hand not cupping Hyun-su’s cheek found its way to rest on his left shoulder. You didn’t keep it resting there for long when you felt a sticky, warm liquid stain into the creases of your hand. You pulled it away and your eyes quickly widened in fear.

It was blood.

You ripped your hand away from his cheek, an action that caused him to pout, and tore the collar of his shirt down past his shoulder. You gasped heavily when you saw the bullet wound right below his collarbone. Because of the black color of his shirt, you didn’t notice it before nor did you see the blood on the palms of his hands, the hands that had been holding your arms gently since you saw him.

“You’ve been- you’re- oh my god-” You panicked, pressing your hands against the wound that was still bleeding so you could stop the blood flow. “I need to- I have a first aid kit. We need- you need-” You couldn’t get your words out, heavy breaths interrupting each one and not allowing you to think properly.

Suddenly, a pair of warm, surprisingly still-soft lips met yours. You were still breathing heavily so you couldn’t really do anything except try to hold your breath as he kissed you. It was a feeling you didn’t know how much you craved to experience again until the moment it happened. Once he pulled away, you slowly let out the breath you held and just stared into his blue eyes.

“Calm down. I’ll be fine, okay? Just show me where the first aid kit is. I’ll even let you patch me up if it’ll make you feel better. Is that what you want to do?” He asked, his face still only inches apart from yours. You could feel his breath hit your lips with every word and it just made you crave his taste again.

You replied without looking away from his eyes. “It’s in the bathroom.”

He nodded, his lips tilting upward slightly into a small smirk. His eyes slowly flickered back and forth between yours, his head tilted slightly to the side as he spoke. “And what do you want to do? You wanna come with me and help clean me up or do you want to stay here until I’m done?” His voice was slightly teasing with a hint of a mocking undertone. It surprised you but you didn’t particularly dislike it.

You gripped onto his collar tightly, scared he’d leave you. “Please don’t leave me alone,” you whimpered softly. The smirk on his lips grew a bit bigger at your words before he suddenly leaned forward and wrapped one arm around your back, the other going under the backs of your knees. He lifted you so effortlessly you were astounded at how little effort he seemed to use in order to complete the action.

He made his way down to the bathroom, you in his arms as you gave him directions, and set you down on the large white marble countertop that the sink resided on. You watched as he kneeled down to open the cabinets below and rummaged through them messily until he found the first aid kit.

He was only doing it for your sake, knowing that - especially in his monster state - he healed quickly and didn’t feel much pain.

He took off his ripped muddied and blood-stained shirt while you grabbed the materials you needed while nursing his wounds. It wasn’t until you looked back up at him that you noticed his apparent lack of a shirt and your eyes caught onto his defined muscles. It was obvious the apocalypse had at the very least done wonders for his physique, that’s for sure.

The man was even more attractive than you’d thought he was in high school.

And you’d thought he was so hot in high school.

It took you a moment to snap out of your stupor, but you did and purposefully ignored the arrogant smirk on his face while you honed your attention in on his wounds. He noticed the way your face warmed at his silent teasing but he decided not to comment on it and risk breaking the intimacy of the moment, especially when you started to clean his wounds and he felt your hands touch his skin.

He slowly skimmed his hands up from where they had been resting on your knees until they reached your hips. He purposely avoided causing any fabric from your dress to rise since he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You appreciated it greatly, but couldn’t help the want that grew inside you for him to take it further.

The cleaning of his wounds, specifically the bullet wound - which took extra long because you had to make sure the bullet wasn’t still inside, which it thankfully wasn’t - took a while but you got them done. It seemed they looked much worse with all the dried blood and mud stuck to them than they actually were. The bullet wound had practically fully closed, and the same could be said about the majority of his other wounds. You were grateful he was an infectee, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived.

He also wouldn't have ever been able to get to you in the first place, which was another bonus.

Once the areas surrounding the wounds were cleaned, and he adamantly insisted he didn’t need the bandages you were so willing to cover him with, you grabbed a towel from the towel rack on the wall and wet it in the sink. Hyun-su looked at you curiously when you did and you just looked at him shyly.

“It’s a filtration system using rainwater. I set it up before the whole apocalypse started, not that Do-hun appreciated me doing that,” you explained with a hint of pain in your voice, recalling the painful memories of when you put your self-taught engineering skills to use.

“So you got to create it after all. I remember the first time you mentioned wanting to do something like that. I always knew you could,” he praised with a devilishly handsome smirk on his lips. The sight of it erased all the painful memories you felt - something Hyun-su had always been able to do. A hot feeling settled in the bottom of your stomach and it caused a damp spot to form on your panties. Hyun-su could smell the intoxicating scent of your arousal, and his hands tightened around your hips to hold himself back.

“Thank you,” you whispered with a slight blush before focusing on wringing the cloth out and bringing it to the dried blood and dirt on his chest, gently wiping it away. Each time your fingers lightly grazed against him, he could feel his resolve slipping just a little more.

It was only after the first swipe of the cloth that you realized just wiping it might not be enough for him to get clean.

“I think… it might be better if you just take a shower,” you told him hesitantly. You wanted him to get clean and feel more comfortable but that would also mean you would have to leave the bathroom.

He stared at you for a minute, trying to figure out what was troubling you but not quite being able to. Instead, he answered with a simple, “Okay.”

You gave him a small sad, scared smile - one that broke his heart a million times over - before you gently pushed him back so you could hop down and off of the counter. He watched you carefully as you crouched and grabbed a fresh towel for him from under the sink. When you handed it to him and fearfully turned to the door, he finally realized what was wrong.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you leaving is a good idea,” he warned, wanting to relieve you of asking to stay and instead just giving you the option openly.

You sighed in relief and took your hand off the handle of the door. Turning back around to face him again, you looked into his eyes so seriously but with a hint of concealed desperation. “Are you sure? I can leave so you can have some privacy.”

He would be lying if he said the way you cared about his feelings and how considerate you were in general didn’t turn him on, because God knows it did.

“I’m sure. You can wait for me on the counter. I won’t be long,” he promised and you nodded, hopping back up on the counter.

While the regular Hyun-su would’ve avoided thinking about it at all costs, his monster had no qualms about imagining impaling you on his cock on that countertop; about making it hard to tell whether the steam fogging the mirror was from the shower or from your hot bodies colliding together with each thrust of Hyun-su’s hips; about making you cry out his name in pleasure while your dead husband’s corpse listened in from the next room over. He almost regretted killing Do-hun off so soon, especially without proving to him that he never had the girl in the first place.

He started unbuckling his pants and your eyes widened before you hastily covered them with your cheeks heating up to dangerous levels. He chuckled quietly which caused you to blush harder. “You could’ve warned me,” you chastised.

“But where’s the fun in that?” He teased, dropping his pants and boxers to the ground with a slight clatter and stepping out of them both. You whined and his already half-hard dick twitched. The sound of your whining and the sight of you in front of his naked body caused him to nearly blow his load right then and there.

He smirked at you - not that you could see it - before stepping into the frosted glass shower and turning it on. He was honestly a bit surprised that you had soap in the shower but decided not to question it too much.

Just as he’d finished washing his hair and torso, he heard the soft and imperceptible to anyone without his supernatural hearing sound of you gasping and your breathing picking up. It was when he looked over that he saw you completely turned away from the shower door and clutching your chest.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out you’d snuck a peek at him through the window and evidently liked what you saw.

He cursed under his breath, the sound concealed to you by the sound of the shower’s running water. He could smell your arousal despite being doused in water and it was making him go crazy.

He leaned his back against the shower wall with a heavy breath and brought a hand down to his hardened cock, looking at your silhouette through the frosted glass and listening to your flustered breaths. He groaned under his breath as his hand stroked up and down on his cock. He imagined it was you in there with him, your hand instead of his. He could imagine the way your hand would barely be able to wrap around it if it even could at all. He held his breath to keep any sound from coming out as he squeezed and stroked his cock, the water covering his labored breaths.

It wasn’t enough to cover the banging sound that happened when he slammed his head back against the wall as his fingers ran over the slit of his penis.

Your head perked up but you still refused to turn around.

“Hyun-su? Are you okay?” You asked cautiously in a soft tone and god, he was a goner.

His dick twitched in his hand as he came all over the shower wall, coating it white with his seed. He breathed heavily as he came and almost completely forgot about the question you asked until you spoke up, this time more worriedly.

“Hyun-su?” He could hear your breathing and how it picked up speed in fear for his safety. It made his heart swell just as much as it made his dick harden again.

“I’m just fine. I’m not hurt,” he replied calmly as he grabbed the soap and cleaned off the lower half of his body like he hadn’t just masturbated to his best friend with only a transparent shower wall to separate them.

You let out a sigh of relief and nodded to yourself. “Okay. Good. I got worried when you didn’t reply.”

The shower suddenly turned off and you felt a presence appear behind you only a second later. You turned your head quickly to look in the mirror but you closed your eyes just as fast when you saw your, very naked, best friend standing behind you. Your cheeks lit on fire and you let out a surprised little sound that went straight to Hyun-su’s cock.

“I left the towel on the rack,” you explained, thinking he’d maybe just missed it. Instead, he leaned forward so his breath hit your neck and brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

“I know,” he said simply as he leaned forward and started pressing kisses along the expanse of your neck. Unconsciously, you leaned your neck to the side to give him more access and he smirked against your skin. Water droplets fell from his hair and skin onto yours and they slid down slowly. Hyun-su watched with hungry eyes as one slid down right between your cleavage and down to your stomach. He brought a hand up to your shoulder where he carefully traced the same path the droplet made, stopping once he reached the top hem of your dress. “May I?” He asked patiently. It made you feel sure he wouldn’t be upset if you wanted to stop right there and then. It honestly made you feel like you were floating.

Instead of answering, you turned your head to face him and brought your right hand up to pull his face into yours, your mouths crashing in an intimate and passionate kiss. Meanwhile, with your other hand, you brought it up to grab his hand which was still resting right above your cleavage, not going any further until you gave your consent. You gently wrapped your fingers around his wrist and moved his hand around your body so it was at your back. Separating from his lips for just a moment, you whispered against his lips, “Help me unzip?”

You could feel the smirk against your lips as he reconnected them and sensually, with a painfully slow pace, unzipped your dress, the straps falling off your shoulders and pooling around your hips. Hyun-su pulled away for a moment to marvel at your bare breasts. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered and leaned in so he was mouthing at your chest. At this point, you had turned so you were facing him directly while still sitting on the sink countertop. Your hands gripped his hair as he gently tugged on your nipples with his teeth, his hand playing with the breast he wasn’t paying attention to. Your head leaned back as you let out soft moans of his name that made him work harder and rougher to make them louder. He couldn't help looking up at your face and marveling at how drop-dead gorgeous you looked with your eyes closed and mouth hung open in pleasure.

You tugged at his hair harder as you felt the hand not playing with your breast brush against your inner thigh, slowly going further up with each second until it was completely covered under the fabric of your dress. You let out an embarrassingly loud whine as you felt his fingers brush over your clit and through your folds over your panties, feeling the wetness inside. You bit your lip to silence your sounds when Hyun-su kissed his way up to your neck and bit down harshly, leaving a mark and causing you to let out a moan of mixed pain and pleasure. He left a wet kiss over the bite mark before leaning up so he was whispering in your ear.

“I’ll only say it once. If you try to cover up the sounds you make again, I assure you I’ll force them out of you.”

A wave of arousal ran through you and it was obvious Hyun-su noticed by the way he let out a soft laugh in your ear before leaning back down to your neck and giving you as many love bites as he could. Meanwhile, he snapped the fabric covering your heat in half, allowing his fingers to continue running through your folds and to rub at your clit. Though you were curious to see what he would do if you continued to hold back your moans, you didn’t want to risk it and so you let them fall freely, your head falling back against the cool glass of the mirror.

After a while, he decided it was time to stop teasing you and slowly inserted a finger into your cunt. Both of you groaned in unison as he did. “You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned out while you let out soft whines as he caressed your clit with his thumb, trying to make you ease up enough for him to add another finger. He slowly thrusted his finger in and out, hitting multiple spots inside you with each thrust that had you seeing stars.

“Hyun-su,” you whimpered out, gripping his hair harder as you forced his head up so he was looking at you.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked with a slightly teasing lilt.

You brought his face closer to yours until your lips were touching as you spoke. “More.”

He smirked at you slowly gaining more confidence and taking what you wanted as you joined your lips together in another kiss. He obliged, slowly working another finger in until his middle and ring finger were both snuggly set inside your pussy, thrusting in and curling on their way out without fail. The moans you let out sounded heavenly to Hyun-su and his monster’s ears and he wished he could hear them every day.

Scratch that, he would make sure he heard them every day from here on out.

You came on his fingers with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, the sound of your moans traveling and not only sounding directly next to his ear but vibrating through his whole body.

He slowly took his fingers out of you and shushed you as you let out a small whimper from the loss. Bringing his hand up to his lips, he stuck the two fingers in his mouth and moaned at the taste, his eyes closing as a result.

“Come out so you can fuck her, I’ve had my fun,” Hyun-su’s monster told him, his control over the boy’s body fading away as the original Hyun-su regained consciousness. The first thing he noticed when he came to was the sweetest taste he’d ever tried in his mouth. He opened his eyes and saw something he’d been imagining for years, but something he never thought would actually happen.

He saw you, halfway naked with your chest bare and rising as you took in deep breaths. He nearly choked in surprise but was able to calm himself down as you opened your eyes to look at him. Your own eyes widened at the sight of his once blazing blue eyes turned back to the magnificent brown you adored.

“Hyun-su?” You whispered, bringing a hand down from where they still were gripping his hair and caressing his cheek.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, “It’s me.”

You smiled at him and he felt his cock - which he just realized was as hard as a rock and standing tall in all his named glory - twitch.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “I’m sorr-” he tried to apologize and move away when you used the hand still gripping his hair to pull him back into you and connect your lips. It seemed you pulled too hard because he crashed into you, his cock slapping against your still-sensitive core and his bare chest colliding with yours.

You moaned into his mouth while he gasped in shock from the feeling. His hands instinctively fell to your waist where he gripped you roughly, much rougher than he was trying to but you didn’t mind the bruises his rough treatment would most likely leave. His hands slowly traveled down to your hips, pushing the fabric of your dress down even further. He gently pulled the dress up and over your head, making you just as bare as him. Then, he roughly grabbed your ass and hoisted you up so you were supported in his arms with your legs crossed around his hips. You gasped loudly which gave him the perfect opening to take control of the kiss, entering his tongue into your mouth and dominating it instantly. While he did that, he took careful steps out of the bathroom and down the hallway towards the only bedroom in the large house. Once he got in there, he gently set you down on the bed and crawled on top of you, never breaking the kiss. He broke the kiss only to lean his forehead against yours and give the both of you a second to breathe.

“I love you,” you spoke through heavy gasping breaths. Hyun-su, whose eyes had been closed, opened them instantly to look at you in shock. You looked determined but a little insecure as you said it again. “I love you, Cha Hyun-su. I have since the first time you brought me out to dance in the rain and then when you cared for me all of the next week when I got sick. I can’t stop and I haven’t stopped despite not seeing you for all this time. I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

He stared at you in complete and utter shock. “Really?” He asked, disbelief coloring his tone. You nodded timidly before he cut off any other insecurities with a passionate kiss. “I love you, sweetheart. I have since the moment I met you. I knew you were the one for me and there would never be another who could compare. I want to be by your side until the end of time,” he confessed and you smiled a blinding grin. He smiled back as he interlocked both your hands together, subtly pinning you against the bed as his look turned from loving and adoring to loving and adoring and lustful once more. “Can I prove it?”

You smiled at him even brighter. “I would love it if you did.”

662 notes · View notes

m1ngkis · 2 months ago

Text

Hongjoong relieving some stress for you (18+)

A/N: MINORS BE GONE. This contains the sexual intercourse, fingering, and captain my captain why must you be so hot 🫡 MWAH

You can barely drag your feet into the apartment after everything you had been through today.

People at work acting like they had half a brain. People on the road driving like maniacs and endangering your life multiple times.

When you finally got your key through the lock and closed the door behind you, you kicked your shoes off and headed straight for the kitchen.

“Hey honey.” Hongjoong glanced up from his phone at his spot on the couch.

You didn’t even register his voice, too focused on scanning the cabinets for your favorite chips.

“Honey?” Hongjoong glanced up again, his eyes lingering on you a little longer. “You okay?”

“Huh?” You turn to face your boyfriend, chips forgotten as you trudge towards him. “Yeah, it’s been a rough day.”

“Can I help?” He raises his brows and puts his phone to the side as you slip onto the cushion next to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s the usual. Dumb people doing dumb things. It’s just ticking me off a bit more today.” A heavy sigh releases from you as his arm stretches over your shoulders and pulls you to lay on his chest, his heart beat thudding against your ear.

“You’re sure I can’t help?”

“Well…” You lace your fingers with his free hand and lift your chin to rest on his shoulder. “I know what helps when you get stressed..”

You can see him try and fight the smirk tugging at his lips as his hand tightens around yours. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I want to hear you say it.” He releases your hand and grips your chin up so your lips are centimeters apart.

His breath on the tip of your nose and a sweet hum finds its way past your lips as your eyes flutter closed. “Hongjoong.”

“Yes?”

“Make me feel good please?”

“That’s my girl.” Hongjoong smiles, connecting your lips in a kiss as he rearranges your positions.

Next thing you know, his hands are pulling at your jeans and tossing his own shirt away as his tongue explores your mouth.

You lift your hips as he removes your jeans and slips his fingers into your panties. Hongjoong moans when he feels you start to wet his fingers, rubbing tight circles into your clit.

“Gonna make you forget all about today.” His lips travel down you neck until they settle just between your breasts, sucking on your skin as your back arches up.

“Oh please!” Your breath gets heavier by the second as his fingers continue to move against your sensitive clit.

His fingers got sloppy as they covered in your slick and your legs snapped closed as he dipped two fingers into your walls and thrusted shallowly.

“God, you feel so good..can’t wait to get inside you.”

“Ooh..right there!” Your nails dug into his wrists as he angled his fingers to brush your spot with every thrust. Your breathy moans urged him on as his pace quickened, his own moans blending into a beautiful harmony.

Your toes curled as your orgasm hit and before you could get anything out, Hongjoong had the rest of his clothes off and his dick lined up with the opening of your pussy, still clenching around air.

“You might need this more than I do.” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a searing kiss.

You felt him slide into you, agonizingly inching in as if he had all the time in the world. He loved tasting your moans as you settled around his length and begged in his ear for him to move.

He wanted to stay put for a second, wanted to enjoy the intimacy of having you this near (also so he wouldn’t cum so quickly)

When he did move, you felt it in your bones. The pleasure tingled through your toes and your head dropped back against the couch cushions.

“That’s what you need huh?” Hongjoong pants, his knuckles turning white from his deathly grip on the arm of the couch. “Needed me to fuck this pussy, that’s all?”

“Y-yes! Joong…you’re so good.”

His thrusts pick up as you mumble incoherent words from drooling lips. He has a leg over his shoulder and his hand is just grazing your throat.

He’s holding back from gripping it up and overdoing it but the temptation is killing him.

There you are, taking him so well and your head is thrown back so it’s all on display. He just wants to, “Fucking.. choke me please!”

Your nails claw at his hand as your eyes roll back. And suddenly, heaven on earth doesn’t sound so unreachable when his hand is clenched around your throat, the veins popping out just how you like them.

“Fuuck!” Your voice barely comes out with his punishing strokes.

It’s rewarding when you hear him get more vocal, his moans pitching up and getting whinier as his hips stutter into your pussy. “You gonna make me cum, honey..shit.”

“Please..I’m right there.” You plead as his head dips back into your neck, his eyes screwed shut as he spills into you.

The action triggers your own orgasm and you know you’ll have to apologize to the neighbors with how loud you are.

Hongjoong lifts himself off of you, sliding out with a hiss before adjusting his body to the side.“I love when people get on your nerves..”

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #atz #ateez smut #kpop #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong ateez #ateez x black reader #x black reader #black kpop stans #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong smut

258 notes · View notes

glitter-epoch · 9 months ago

Note

Hiii, always love to see people obsessing over love and deepspace (bc I'm addicted too), can I please request zayne fic about his hands and fingers? Can be suggestive, can be pure smut, up to you lol, ok thanks byee

HIII yes i can!!! i can't believe my first request is a zayne's hands request this feels like a gift. thank you for requesting i hope you like!!!

[ there’s a part 2 now :) ] ☄. *. ⋆ gn! reader | 2.8k words | suggestive, not smut | zayne gives reader stitches but it's deliberately not described in detail/no mentions of needles/blood

“my lunch break ends in fifteen minutes,” zayne had said, staring past your head in thought. “it would be a waste of time to check you in.”

you stood there in the bustling lobby of akso hospital, one paper-towel-bound hand pressed to the sliced skin over your hipbone, and waited. surely he wasn’t telling you to just leave. you were only friends, so it’s not like he had an obligation to you; but he was your primary care doctor, and...

and. there was, is, an and. you’re not sure what exactly to call it, and zayne is so adonis-like you’re embarrassed to even suggest he might like you.

“i’m sorry,” you said in earnest, a little surprised by his usual coldness that you’d arrogantly assumed would thaw upon seeing your injury. “i didn’t mean for you to drop everything for me. i should have gone to an urgent care, or something, i just thought since you’re here...”

zayne looked down from the spot over your head, clearly removed from his pensive mood. his intention to argue with you was clear, but he held his tongue stonily until you finished your rambling.

“no,” he replied. “you should never go to another doctor. i was just thinking.”

you blushed like an idiot. “ever?” you mocked.

“mm,” he murmured, back to thinking again. he brought his forearm to circle the small of your back, not touching, and motioned you forward. “come with me.”

and now, here you are: sitting on the grey sofa in front of the wall-length window, early afternoon light bleeding white all over zayne’s office. for a few moments, he’s left you alone to gather materials, and you relish in what feels like a small victory.

i’ve been personally invited to the office.

not like it’s the first time, though.

zayne returns with a small kit swallowed by the size of his pale hands; the sleeves of his button-down pinned up to his elbows. you shift, balancing your weight unnaturally on one leg. His eyes snag on you as he grabs his glasses from his desk (far taller than the tabletop, he must lean down to grab those, too).

“lay down,” zayne commands.

you blink, glancing around to try to figure out the most convenient position to get into for him to work. by the time he’s come over and sat down on the glass table in front of you, you’re still sitting up.

“you can put your head on the armrest and your feet that way,” he nods, not a hint of impatience in his deep voice. “i can see you squirming. when you sit up like you are, you’re putting pressure on the wound. it must hurt.”

“i haven’t even shown you the wound,” you retort, not sure why you’re arguing so much- and swallowing a wince as you turn to prop your head up on the side of the sofa.

“i see your handywork,” zayne replies. he pulls on a pair of blue latex gloves and they snap quietly against his wrists. he’s clearly careful not to let the noise be too loud. “hm.”

you frown in place of a (shameful) gulp at the sight of the gloves hugging his hands.

“is this bad?” you ask. “i’m sorry. i tried not to mess with it too much.”

zayne pieces through the small kit on the table beside him. even his rummaging is succinct; long fingers deftly parsing through the stack of metal utensils inside. he comes up with two sets of narrow pliers and a cotton round.

he passes the pliers through his fingers like pencils, balancing them between his knuckles, and pours a solvent that looks like lens cleaner onto the cotton pad.

“not bad,” he says, eyes on the pliers as he polishes them. “the paper towel is fine. but you got it wet beforehand.”

“and that’s bad?”

“you’ll be alright,” he murmurs- or maybe he always sounds like that- and discards the cotton round. the corners of his lips just barely curl. “you won’t die, i suppose.”

“well, i’d hope not. it’s just a cut.”

“and what did you do this time?” zayne demands softly, fishing in the kit for what you now realize will be sutures.

“i had an assignment with xavier and failed to climb a fence.”

“you impaled yourself, then,” he remarks coldly. “and xavier.”

he sets a roll of sterile surgical threads on a wider cotton pad and turns his eyes to your midriff, which is still mostly covered by your shirt; wound hiding beneath it.

“xavier, yeah,” you inhale deeply, mentally preparing for the stitches. “my partner. i’ve mentioned him, i think.”

“yes, you have,” zayne says. his voice is strained. then he inhales, a whole breath through his nose, mouth closed in stoic secrecy; and nods to your hips. “lift your shirt, please.”

you’re grateful that he’s given you a task and you don’t have to look him in his eyes after that tiny display of disdain (for your partner? for your hips? hopefully the former?). But as you lift your shirt, the paper towel comes loose.

“ouch,” you hiss.

you realize you’re probably stressing him out.

“it’s not bad,” you add, uncharacteristically hoarse.

“it’s not,” zayne agrees softly, eyeing the wound with his usual cold stare. his eyes refuse to flicker above or below the cut, which rests just over the shallow ridge of your hipbone, right above the line of your trousers. “but it hurts, i'm sure.”

you nod. “sure.”

“sure,” he repeats, almost as if to mock you, almost as if he’s just making sure he heard you right.

zayne busies himself preparing a cotton round of saline, and in the middle of this, says,

“you’ll have to unbutton your pants. can you fold the waistband over?”

your neck is suddenly clammy. “oh. yeah, sure.”

“if you can’t fold them down far enough, you’ll have to take them off.”

your eyes blow out like glass.

zayne, whom you suspected might have been deliberately extending the length of his cotton-round-preparing, is surprisingly the one to smile first. almost wickedly. “i would get you a cover, of course.”

“oh, how nice of you.”

he laughs barely, an exhale from his nose. you unbutton your trousers, fabric shifting against metal.

he inhales at the sound.

the blue latex over his knuckles catches light from the windows. you watch moments later as he threads the sutures, fascinated by how efficient his hands are. they’re longer than they are wide, and slender, not bear-like; but big nonetheless. and yet his fingers move like knitting needles, never missing a beat, never shaking. “would you like to do it yourself?” zayne asks suddenly.

his voice is like a hum, always vibrating in his chest.

you bristle. “god, no.”

“then why are you staring?”

you’re hoping he won’t finish on that very word, but he does, and he looks at you with his usual resolve of steel. you decide that no answer is the only good answer, and instead say,

“okay. good luck. don’t mess up, please.”

he chuckles and leans over you, the breadth of his sharp shoulders blocking the sun. “i never mess up.”

the words ‘mess’ and ‘up,’ are foreign on his tongue, like he’d never refer to a mistake so casually, like he’s never made one in his life. he probably hasn’t, you think.

zayne lifts up the cotton round, which is practically the size of a pea in his hand. “i’m going to clean around it. the solution may sting, but not much. it will be over fast.”

you nod. “sure.”

he chuckles again. “sure,” he hums, and then, before he presses down, “here.”

he swipes the cotton round over your hipbone, startlingly light. goosebumps rise instantly on your flesh. his fingers are icy, even through the gloves; they radiate cold like a lamp radiates heat.

zayne is kind enough not to mention your instant squirming and moves quickly to start the sutures.

“this will be fast, too,” he says, looking unwaveringly into your eyes. like he’s trying to will the fear out of you. “not as fast as that, but faster than you’d imagine.”

you nod. “sure.”

“there it is again,” he smiles. “sure.”

you grin incredulously. “i don’t know what else to say. you’re about to stab me.”

his smile is thin and almost prideful as he grabs his glasses and slips them on. he leans over your hips, then looks up at you; pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

“aren’t you glad it’s me, at least, and not some stranger?”

you’re busy inhaling and exhaling like a horse, trying to calm down. “i am glad it’s you, yes.”

your desperation throws him and his jaw sets like a stone, adam’s-apple bobbing.

“alright,” zayne says, nearly whispering. “now.”

he begins the sutures. you gasp, instantly, at first through your nose and then through your mouth; which pops open unwittingly. it’s nearly a whine.

“i know,” zayne murmurs, leaning back a tiny bit as he works; so his face is visible to you. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

you bite down hard and screw your eyes shut, but all you do is flinch each time his fingers move. he stops almost instantaneously, like pulling the plug on a treadmill.

“look at me,” zayne says, deep voice rumbling against your thigh.

you peel one eye open and then the other.

“i know it hurts,” he says gently. “but you can’t move. i could seriously hurt you.”

“sorry, sorry,” you nod. “i know.”

the pools of his eyes are clear. he’s resolute in his instructions as he speaks, every word confident.

“breathe the entire time, through every suture. i can work while your stomach moves; i can’t work if you’re flinching away.”

“okay.”

his brows lift. “okay?”

again, you nod. “okay. i’m sorry.”

“no apologies,” zayne says.

he presses his hand flat to the side of your belly that’s unharmed, the tips of his long fingers just barely curling around the slope of your waist. you inhale slowly at that, blinking rapidly. his hand is cool as glass.

you panic, as if he can somehow feel the coil that winds up in your stomach; watching his fingers splayed across your navel.

“i’m going to try again,” he says. you can feel the words all the way down to his fingertips. then his thumb moves, caressing the skin just over your waistband. “breathe.”

well, i can’t now.

“got it,” you grind out.

“good,” zayne hums. “three, two, one...”

and it starts again. you bite down, tongue taut to the roof of your mouth.

“don’t,” zayne warns, stern as ever, but his fingers keep working. “breathe. i can see whether you’re doing it.”

the coil in your stomach tightens. you peel your eyes open and watch him work, knuckles grazing over the soft, thin flesh that’s been revealed from behind the waistband of your trousers.

his eyes flash away from your navel as you start to watch. moments later, you’re stunned to see how laser-focused he is, pupils never moving from your cut.

“do you ever get nervous doing this?” you ask, apt to make the time pass faster by talking. like your mouth isn’t wet just watching him do his job. “are you nervous?”

“no.” his reply is instant. “i’ve done this hundreds of times.”

you’re stunned. “i would be nervous.”

“you are nervous,” zayne murmurs. “close your eyes.”

the ball of his wrist presses into the juncture of your hipbone.

“no,” you gasp. too fast.

zayne’s fingers slow, utensils suspended. he looks up at you, somehow feeling taller still. “no?”

you shake your head. “i-i don’t like not knowing what you’re going to do next.”

oh, sure.

he’s stopped working at this point, watching you like a hawk. “then i’ll tell you what i’m going to do before i do it.”

“that’s okay,” you exhale. i’m dying.

zayne’s eyes rove over yours, not unkind, but uncaring about how visible his assessment of you is. clinical, even still. the corners of his lips curl up.

you’re not sure how it’s possible for your stomach to drop while laying flat on your back, but it does; your ears hot as irons.

he goes back to work without another word. you’re so embarrassed, you finally shut your eyes and let your head weigh on the armrest until he’s done.

“alright,” zayne says. “that’s it. don’t move.”

you keep your eyes shut, nodding. “i really can’t thank you enough, i-”

“watch.”

for a moment, you lay there. then you open your eyes, peering down at him, too uncertain to be shocked yet. “what?”

zayne takes his small kit from the table and places it on your lap. you startle, blink, as he sifts through the contents of it. gloves still on.

“this is another cleanser,” he hums, his voice uncharacteristically musical. “i’m going to clean around the sutures.”

you stare incredulously at him. “...okay.”

he’s not fooled by your aloofness. zayne’s right hand works slow circles with a cotton round around your cut; the other comes down flat to keep the waistband of your trousers from getting in his way. both are cold to the touch; never quite warming.

your jaws come apart and you barely manage to stop your mouth from falling open as discards the cotton round and takes the corner of your waistband into his hand.

he buttons your trousers; pulls the zipper up.

you watch like a fool. then, when he’s done, and you think you’ll have to admit to what you’re thinking, he furrows his brows at your face.

“did you cut yourself here, too?” he murmurs.

“where?” you croak.

zayne shakes his head and slowly peels off the gloves; letting them slide slowly off his fingers. “mm. here.”

he reaches forward and spreads fingers to cup your temples. one thumb glides over your browbone, low enough that you can see it; four or five times before removing his kit from your hips and leaning back.

you exhale harshly and move to sit up, wondering if you’ll be able to somehow flee the office without another word.

“not yet,” zayne says. “lay back again. you don’t have to put your head back; just lean back.”

and you do it, instantly, because...well, because.

zayne pulls a rectangular gauze pad with an adhesive border from the small kit. then he leans forward- he'd be positioned between your legs, if you opened them- and pulls your shirt up once more.

as he presses the bandage over your sutured wound, it seems like even he can’t look at you. but his usually statuesque expression is lifted with amusement, plus something more sinister.

“you like to watch me work,” he hums.

his fingers dip under your waistband to smooth the bandage over.

“shut up,” you bite.

he leans back and watches you with no further offerings- words or otherwise medically dubious practices- and looks quite pleased. his breath is ragged, though; chest lifting and caving.

“thank you,” you exhale. your tongue darts out over your lips.

his pupils are swollen. “sure.”

you grin, caught off guard by the joke. it sounds ridiculous in his voice.

“my break will be ending,” zayne says, stony as ever once again as he walks to his desk.

you stand, smoothing your hair down like something far more scandalous just occurred than stitches.

“what do i owe you?” you ask. this earns a genuine, icy glare.

“nothing,” zayne replies, pulling on his white jacket and grabbing his things. “but go to the front desk before you leave. i’m going to call in a prescription ointment for you.”

you blink at him, thrice. a little dizzy. “oh, wow. thank you.”

as zayne strides to the door, you think he might genuinely leave you there without another word. but he takes the door handle, and, almost shy, turns over his shoulder and says,

“i’d like to stay with you, but i can’t. i’ll be working until dinner.”

“no, no,” you rush, stepping to meet him at the door. “i’m fine. thank you so much, for doing this. i was just thinking.”

he still can’t look at you, but at that; zayne grins.

“i’ll call you when i get home,” he says. then, “is that okay?”

you swallow. “of course.”

“i want to know how the sutures feel in a couple of hours,” he adds.

“oh, sure,” you tease.

his eyes darken, like darts. you’re almost afraid.

zayne opens the door for you and waits for you to pass by, eyes full of mirth as he looks down at you. “i’m glad i could be of service.”

he raps his fingers on a clipboard until you look away. you blush feverishly all the way down the hall at how he says ‘service.’

☄. *. ⋆

this is not how you do stitches nor how you sterilize utensils. anyways FIRST POST. lol. anon if you or anyone else wants a part 2 of this (nsfw) i wiiiiiill do it lmk

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace fluff #love and deep space x reader #l&ds zayne #l&ds x reader #l&ds #l&ds zayne x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #l&ds fic #l&ds smut

671 notes · View notes

miraclewoozi · 1 year ago

Text

ELECTRIC. - y.jh

your best friend is many things. smart, funny, empathetic, a complete and utter pain in your ass to name but a few. and on the evening of his twenty-eighth birthday, you discover something a little unexpected: jeonghan is very afraid of thunderstorms.

pairing : jeonghan x fem reader. content : f2?. smut. fluff. a bit of angst. comfort. (MINORS DNI) w/c : 6.3k warnings : swearing. jeonghan has astraphobia / a fear of storms (for a brief period, he's a little fragile). intentional lowercase. smut tags utc. PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. notes : happy birthday to this sweetest of sweethearts. i would chew my right arm off if he asked me to. (barely proofread. if you see a typo, no you didn't.<3)

smut tags : pussy drunk jeonghan (my beloved), no real power dynamics but jh is a cocky mf and a bit of a dick, panty sniffing hehe, fingering, oral sex (f rec), reader is turned on by the storm. they're very unserious about it.

the lead actors meet in a kiss. the screen fades to black. so ends yet another round of your annual birthday movie nights.

jeonghan reaches for the remote and silences the end credit theme to the film you’ve just finished watching at the same time as you lift your head up off his shoulder, stretching high above your head and letting out perhaps the loudest yawn (-stroke-moan) of your life. your joints ache from too long spent in one, rather cramped, position, your eyes feel heavy in the late hour. the room falls almost silent around you both, save for the harsh splashing of rain against the windows.

(this really doesn’t help the fact that you’re seconds away from falling asleep.)

“what did you think?” jeonghan asks, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“not my best pick,” you say, scrunching your nose a little. “not my worst, either.”

your best friend gives a short ‘ha’ of agreement, finally standing up off the couch. “couldn’t have said it better myself.”

he gathers up the takeout boxes currently decorating his coffee table and grabs the now empty drinks glasses with his free hand, grunting softly as he stands fully upright again. you see him trying to roll out a kink in his neck and laugh from where you’re still settled comfortably in the couch cushions.

“you’re going stiff in your old age,” you tease him, grinning brightly. he fires a look at you that simultaneously dares you to keep going down this path, and yet also, tiredly agrees. “remind me to book you a good massage for your birthday next year.”

he grunts something that sounds suspiciously like an instruction to go fuck yourself as he takes his leave from the room, carrying everything that needs to be thrown away or washed up into the kitchen. you busy yourself on your phone while he’s gone, deciding to check in on your weather app. you quite like the rain and you’re really not that worried about driving home in it; you’re just curious how long it’s going to last for.

in the delay of the app opening, a series of bright flashes bounce off every single wall in the living room. when you glance outside, the rain is falling harder than before; barely ten seconds later, a thunderclap roars through the ajar windows and you feel it all the way down into your tummy.

you don’t have a chance to excitedly run across the room to get a look at the storm, though. a loud swear and the sound of crashing glass stings your eardrums before the rumble is even over. instead, you’re bolting through in the same direction jeonghan disappeared off in just moments ago, your heart having taken dangerous residence your stomach.

“what’s wrong?!” you ask as you skid around the corner in your socks, just managing to catch yourself from sliding straight into the wall at the end of the hallway. “i heard a—”

you freeze, then, falling silent. jeonghan is gripping onto the kitchen counter like his life depends on it with both shattered glasses laying at his feet; he looks like he’s seen a ghost, all white-knuckled and clammy and pale-lipped. it’s terrifying.

“hey,” you say, slowly making your way into the room, mindful not to startle him and even more careful not to stand on one of the many shards on the laminate. “what happened? are you okay?”

he nods, weakly. swallows hard. blinks a few times, curls and uncurls his fingers, steps back from the counter.

“yeah,” he breathes eventually, uncertain and still visibly shaken. he wipes his palms on his sweatpants and looks over at you, forcing a smile, but you’ve known him for entirely too long to be sold on this terrible performance. “i, uh-...”

but jeonghan stops short, shaking his head, running out of words to say. for a moment, you think maybe he’s about to apologise; that’s the shape his lips make, anyway. you cut in before he gets the chance.

“it’s okay,” you say, leaning one hip up against the counter. “go sit down, i’ll clear all this up. watch where you stand, though.”

“you don’t have to–” he starts, but you interject before he can even entertain the idea of cleaning the mess himself.

“i know i don’t, but i want to. go. i’ll only be a minute.”

begrudgingly, he agrees; you grab the broom from his kitchen cupboard and start slowly sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan while he carefully steps on the safe parts of the floor and makes his way back through to the living room. you make reasonably quick work of everything, emptying the fragments into the bin on top of the takeout boxes – all that’s left by the time you’re finished a couple of minutes later, is to try and figure out what caused all this in the first place.

jeonghan isn’t an easily shaken individual; you know this from years of experience. he seems to be able to catch you every time, without fail: whether he’s just popping out at you from behind a door and making you yelp, or he’s near-on giving you heart failure by texting you that something terrible has happened and that you need to come over, immediately, only for said ‘terrible’ thing to be that he got really comfy on the couch without making any popcorn. but regardless of all the numerous ways he manages to terrorise you, you’ve never, ever managed to do the same back to him.

he’s always shrugged off your attempts, bragging that he just isn’t afraid of anything. so… you’re not really any closer to finding an answer at the time of going back through to the living room with your backpack slung over one shoulder.

“you wanna tell me what happened in there?” you ask, sitting down next to him on the couch. you’re sure his posture is supposed to be an attempt to convince you that he’s absolutely fine, now, but jeonghan looks stiff and is outright refusing to meet your eyes, despite your best attempts. again, unfortunately, you aren’t so easily fooled.

“i just came over dizzy,” he lies, doing his best to play it down. “maybe i stood up too fast and had a delayed reaction, i don’t know.”

“i’ve known corpses get up faster than you did, hannie,” you deadpan, laying one hand by his knee. “come on. that’s crap.”

he doesn’t quite jerk away from you, but you do feel his thigh muscles tense under your touch. you slide your palm down onto the couch between you instead in an effort to make him a tiny bit more comfortable.

“it’s nothing,” he tries. “really. it’s–”

“jeonghan–”

“y/n.”

the room around you falls silent, both of your stubborn personalities at a stalemate. he won’t talk, and you won’t let him stay quiet. it’s been this way for years. since you were teenagers, even. you’d think he would have learned by now. (he hopes that you might have, too.)

but, there is a fact at play that makes you stop staring him down, and you relax your shoulders slightly as you sit forwards.

“i’m only letting this go because it’s your birthday,” you sigh, clasping your hands together. “if it was any other day of the week–”

“yeah, yeah. trust me. i know.”

there’s an edge to his voice that almost sounds like your jeonghan. like the teasing menace you know and adore. almost. it’s missing something. missing his usual spark.

“i swear to god, though, if i find out you’re sick and you’re not telling me,” you mutter under your breath. not quite under your breath enough, mind – he hears you perfectly, and you can see, out of the corner of his eye as you start to rummage through your backpack for your car keys, the way his ears prick up.

“don’t be stupid, i’m not sick,” he says. the truth in these words, specifically, is evident in the weight of his voice, in the way his fingers brush against the small of your back. “i swear.”

“pinky swear?” you ask, turning to look at him over one shoulder.

he holds out his little finger on his right hand for you, both eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. you pinch your lips tight before hooking your own pinky through his, leaning in and pressing a short kiss to the pad of your thumb. the way you used to when you were kids. ‘you really can’t break those.’ he used to say. ‘they’re like, triple the strength’. saved for really important promises. when he does the same, you know you can believe him.

“okay,” you concede, going back to your search. “in that case – i think i’m gonna head on home before the roads get flooded.” you had to learn the hard way that the drains in this part of town aren’t known for their ability to handle much more than a middling rainfall.

somehow – always, somehow – buried at the very bottom of your backpack, you manage to find your keys and your hand curls around them as soon as you feel one of the rough edges against your fingertips. it’s barely been three seconds since your announcement, but jeonghan has managed to shuffle right into your personal bubble anyway and is now sitting with one arm pressed fully against your own.

“i don’t know if it’s safe to drive when it’s like this,” he says quietly. “it seems dangerous.”

“i think i’ll be okay if i leave, like, soon,” you try to reassure him.

“you think,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes at you.

“i’ve driven in so much worse, believe me,” you say. “don’t worry, i’ll be careful.”

“why don’t you just stay the night?” he offers. “you’re not working tomorrow, are you?”

“i’m not,” you confirm, and you do genuinely consider the offer for a moment before deciding to decline. “but i need a shower, and–”

jeonghan interrupts you, a little too quickly. “you can use my shower, i’ve got spare towels. i’ll sleep on the couch. don’t drive in this.”

“hannie, stop worrying,” you laugh, starting towards the door. “i promise, i’ll go slow and i’ll text you the second i’m home.”

“y/n,” he sighs, stepping towards you, jaw tense. “please. just this once.”

you swallow, looking all over his face, trying to figure out what train of thought the cogs behind his eyes are turning in tune with, why he’s so stressed about this. you’ve never known him behave like this sober. (you’ve only ever known him to be like this once, at all, and he tried to kiss you, then, so–)

“i really…” you start, only to be interrupted by another brilliant white flash. your eyes dart to the window just in time to see the lightning bolt through the clouds, and you feel your face noticeably soften in wonder. barely four seconds later – it’s getting closer – the loudest thunder clap you think you’ve heard in your life drowns out every thought you’ve ever had.

every thought, except the sudden pressure of jeonghan’s fist around your forearm. every thought, except the stuttered gasp he lets slip. every thought, except the sudden fear in his too-wide-eyes.

oh, you think, realisation dawning on you as the blunt press of his nails grows just a fraction softer in time with the end of the rumble. that’s…

“it’s okay,” you say softly, taking a step closer to jeonghan and opening your arms for him to step into. “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he falls against you like an unsteady house of cards, his arms tight around your back and his head buried into the place in your shoulder where it fits the best. you’ve never seen him like this, and you’re not really sure what to do with yourself; he’s always been the sturdy one, between the two of you. he’s always been your rock. there’s a little bit of an irony in how he’s always been the one to help you weather the storm, but with the shoe on the other foot…

“how can i help you?” you ask, trailing your fingers up and down his back, not really sure that he can feel you through the thick material of his sweatshirt but you’re trying your best, anyway.

he squeezes you tighter, buries his head further down into your shoulder, takes a few shaky breaths in through his mouth and screws his eyes shut a little more before he makes his request.

“please stay with me.”

if your heart wasn’t aching for him before, it most certainly is now. you nod to the room at large, hoping jeonghan can feel the movement even a little. you don’t loosen your hold around him, though: you let your best friend cling to you for as long as his muscles will allow before they start to ache and he has to step away.

“come with me,” you say once he’s finished running his fingers through his hair, trying to set it back to rights. “it’s okay.” you hold one of your hands out to him and he takes it, albeit apprehensively; giving his palm a squeeze with your own, you guide him through the apartment towards his bedroom.

“what are you–?” he asks, and despite his earlier hesitance to hold onto your hand, he doesn’t want to let go of you now you’ve reached your destination. he just stands next to you, fingers threaded through yours, looking at your face with tired eyes and a lifted brow.

“grab your bedsheets,” you tell him, shaking your hand free. “and your pillows. we’re gonna make a fort.”

“a what?”

“a blanket fort,” you say. “to hide from the storm.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, and for a brief second, you think maybe the idea has offended him. his face hasn’t lifted into the smile you sort of expected it to; instead, he’s just staring down at his bed as if he’s trying to will himself out of existence.

“we don’t have to do all that,” he says. “it’s… that’s way too much?”

“it’s your birthday,” you counter. “and i want to make you a birthday fort. like we used to, when we were kids. it’ll be fun!”

he gives a little sigh, but it’s not one of sadness or exasperation with you. it’s defeat. except, you think if you could taste it, you’d be able to pick up a tiny lacing of sweetness in his exhale.

“fine. you’re building it, though.”

you think it’s safe to say that perhaps, you’re a bit out of practice. you distinctly remember this being much easier when you were young: throwing bedsheets and blankets over the couch and propping them up with chairs or broomsticks. the forts that you would make as a child were, truly, a sight to behold: you used fairy-lights to decorate one, once, and it still remains one of your most prideful projects to date. the slight catastrophe that sits in jeonghan’s living room by the time you’ve finished laying out the last few pillows is… more a cave, in your opinion, and not a very pretty one, but you emerge from it smiling anyway and jeonghan looks at you so fondly that no matter how rubbish it is, it’s worth the half an hour you spent putting it together.

“what do you think?” you ask, sitting back on your heels.

“it’s not your best,” jeonghan teases as he walks towards your monstrosity masterpiece, critically eyeing the ‘roof’ that would definitely fail any kind of health and safety audit. “but it’s not your worst, either.”

a bright smile lights up your face as he drops down to his knees and crawls inside the space alongside you, letting the ‘door’ (a particularly thick blanket) fall down behind him. one of the (many, many, many, many, many) problems you encountered was trying to make one of these to fit two grown adults, but with him tucked away inside with you and a few flashlights to prevent you from being plunged into darkness… ignoring the potential for it all to come collapsing in on you at any given time, it’s surprisingly comfortable.

you lay back against the pillows first and jeonghan follows soon after, a weirdly gleeful smile playing at his lips as he does. he curls into your side and you talk, and talk, and talk. about everything. about nothing. it doesn’t really matter.

you’re not quite sure why, but the deep roars of the storm outside don’t seem to bother jeonghan quite as much in here. maybe it’s because he’s not alone, and there’s no imminent threat for him to be: maybe your company really is making a difference. he still reaches for you every time there’s a particularly loud clap, still closes his eyes and takes a series of deep breaths until his stress passes, but for whatever reason, he feels significantly less tense.

and when, after the third boom, he decides just… not to let go of your hand? who are you to try and force him?

there’s… just one problem, though. you’re ecstatic that the storm isn’t bothering jeonghan as much, now. that he can talk absolute nonsense to you in your private little hideaway, that he can lean his head against your shoulder and chuckle at your bad jokes and even crack a few of his own. genuinely, you could not be happier. for him.

but there was more reason than wanting to sleep in your own bed that had you desperately trying to get home before you realised the gravity of your best friend’s situation.

with every new growl of thunder outside, something low in your stomach twists, accompanied by an ache, a warmth, a throbbing between your thighs. at first, it was easy enough to battle through. you kept telling yourself that the thunder never lasts too long, that you could get through this without jeonghan being any the wiser, that everything was going to be fine. but now, almost an hour later, the buzz of electricity in the atmosphere and the entirely-too-addicting scent of your best friend’s fabric softener has you feeling hot enough you could faint.

you twist and shuffle over and over, hoping to find a position that eases the throbbing. it’s fine, you think, taking a deep breath and praying to every deity you can recall by name that jeonghan doesn’t notice your discomfort. i can do this. it’s fine. just a little while longer.

a spectacular boom sounds through the apartment and jeonghan’s fingers tighten around yours so much that, against all your better judgement, you let out a loud gasp. not out of pain, though – no, you wish. if only it was that easy. ha. no – as he squeezes your hand, images flash through your mind of him being the one to relieve you of the tension building up beneath your skin. of him gripping and grasping and tugging, thrusting, tasting, adoring. your throat runs dry and you squeeze your thighs together desperately, pinching your lips tight, willing your pounding heart to calm the fuck down. willing your cunt to stop drooling into your panties.

“fuck,” you breathe when he finally lets go. you feel him shuffle at your side and prop himself up on one elbow, looking down at your face with mild terror written into the lines of his own.

“i’m so sorry – did that hurt?” he asks, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. you wish he wouldn’t. surely, you think, pressing your tongue harshly against the roof of your mouth, surely my pupils are blown to oblivion, right now.

you shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“are you sure?” he asks, slowly running his fingers down your arm, moving to take hold of your hand again if you’ll let him. you flinch, the drag of his nails akin to an electric shock – like being struck by lightning, you tell yourself – and he snaps his hand back straight away. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you hurry, pushing yourself up to sit (almost head-butting him in the process) and groaning at the way the seam on your jeans rubs against your clit. who wears fucking jeans to a movie night? what absolute moron–

“do you feel okay?” jeonghan questions, sitting fully upright now too. “do you think it was the foo–”

“oh my god, please,” you whimper, bowing your head, letting your hair fall around your face, shielding you from him. just a little. not quite enough. “please. i’m fine. stop asking. i’m fine.”

“said everyone, ever, who was in fact – not fine,” jeonghan quips. “do you need water? i can help, just talk to me–”

“jeonghan,” you snap, whipping your head back up. your face feels hot and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this tense before in all your years on this earth. all your muscles are tweaking in anticipation for something that most certainly is not going to happen, and you really need him to stop talking in that deep, smooth, caring voice. with immediate effect. for the love of god –

…and heaven above, the penny drops.

jeonghan’s concerned expression turns to one of complete shock and you cover your face with both hands, trying so desperately hard not to be perceived by him in this most humiliating of moments. he doesn’t say anything for a second, and you tell yourself that he’s probably trying to find either a terrible joke to ease the tension or a way to tell you to go home. you don’t know which would be worse, but it’s only a matter of time until you find out.

therefore, you definitely don’t expect him to pry your hands away from your cheeks, and for his shit-eating, impishly charming, handsome-as-fuck grin to be the first thing your eyes land on when you open them.

“really? thunderstorms?” he asks, close enough that you feel the breaths that his words don’t quite steal. “that’s your kink?”

“it’s not a kink,” you whine, throwing your hands down either side of you. he doesn’t release his hold on your wrist, though. “come on, don’t be–”

“of all the things you could be into,” he says. oh, he’s back. he’s back with a vengeance. you suppose, really, you should be glad that he’s feeling more like his usual self, but the fact that it’s at your expense? that there’s no-one else around for him to turn on instead? that this is your topic of conversation at ten past midnight on his living room floor?

“hannie, please,” you huff, lips drawing downwards into a frowning pout. the ache isn’t going away. why isn’t it going away? why is this cocky, smirking version of your best friend making you feel even hotter under the collar? what’s going on? “don’t you think i’ve suffered enough?”

“not even nearly,” he says, sitting up on his knees, resting his palms on his thighs. “since when? how did you even fig–”

boom.

and his jaw falls slack, watching you squirm.

you’re quite literally fighting for your life. or, at minimum, for your friendship. because, really, you could jump jeonghan’s bones right now and you don’t actually think he’d turn you down (something to be filed under: thoughts that are not making this any easier). but that’s not what you’re trying to do; you’re trying to help him feel better, and take his mind off his fear, and when he pulls his bottom lip between his bottom teeth before speaking –

“okay, wait. hear me out.”

to both of your surprises, you do. you don’t try and protest, which he was sort of expecting you to do. you don’t tell him to shut up, you don’t try and get away from him. you sit there, eyes wide, hands curling into the blankets beneath your slowly numbing ass, and you wait for him to continue.

“i can help you.”

your heart shoots up into your throat and you struggle to swallow around it. your breaths are heavy, laboured, your lips parted and a little swollen from how you’ve been biting at them for the past hour and a bit.

“you don’t have to–”

“shut up, y/n,” he says dismissively, crawling in front of you and lifting your hands away from the bedding you’re kneading (pathetically, in his professional opinion) like a cat. “listen. you’ve helped me so much tonight, you don’t even know. let me return the favour.”

“hannie…”

“hannie,” he whines, in a poor imitation of your voice. “hannie, i only helped you because you needed me– is that it? look at you, y/n. you’re a mess.”

if this were anyone else, you’d be livid. not only at the way he so effortlessly makes fun of you, but at the fact that he accurately finished your sentence without having anything more than an affectionate nickname to work from as a hint. you don’t know what to say, suddenly stunned into silence, but it’s all right. you don’t need to say anything; he keeps going.

“you need me. let me help you – look. it’s my birthday.”

he wants this, you think to yourself, growing slightly concerned by the way your heart continues to hammer in your throat. he wants… me.

you give one slow, but definite, nod of your head and jeonghan’s grin grows from cocky to genuine. he crawls until he’s right up in your space, lifting a hand to your cheek, and you forget how to breathe for a moment as he looks you in the eyes with more heat than the mid-august sun.

“lie down,” he says, pushing that last little bit closer and capturing your lips in a kiss. it’s short, but mind-boggling. your brain goes totally blank when he pulls away. “it’s okay. i’ve got you.”

but you do as he says and shuffle around the little fort so you’re on your back, head resting against one of the many pillows you’re grateful you brought in here with you. he crawls on top of you, then, caging you in with one hand either side of your head, settling with one of his knees slotted between your just-parted thighs.

“okay?” he asks, searching your face for any signs of discomfort or worry. he doesn’t find any, though – he’s met only with a perhaps too enthusiastic nod and your hands playing at the hem of his sweatshirt. he chuckles, bending down to kiss you again, a little deeper this time, a little longer. open-mouthed and hot, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, dropping onto one elbow so his torso lies almost flush against yours.

“easy, tiger. taking care of you, right now.”

you sigh as his lips start to descend down the column of your throat, and you press your shoulders back into the blankets to try and push that little bit closer to him. one of his hands slips beneath your own shirt and his palm comes to rest flush against your hip, dragging his thumb in small circles over your skin.

“this,” he mumbles into your collarbone, tugging the neckline of the garment between his teeth for a moment so you know what he’s referring to. “off.”

“bossy,” you mumble, your body cold all of a sudden as he sits back away from you and you tug your t-shirt off over your head. as you do, he reaches behind his neck and tugs off his sweatshirt as well before he tosses it up near your head, out of the way.

now, this is certainly not the first time you’ve ever been around jeonghan without anything covering his top half, but it is something that you rarely get the chance to see. if it’s not the fact that he’s chronically freezing cold, it’s because he’s grown emotionally attached to some of the baggiest tops known to mankind, or he’s worried about getting a sunburn so is still covered up at the beach. for one reason or another, this just isn’t something you’re blessed to see very often, and he looks so good you almost forget that it’s him.

of course, that only lasts until he says something really fucking dumb. in other words, all of about three seconds.

“how… practical,” he says, eyes trained down on the bra covering your tits. in a way, it’s probably a good thing you’ve snapped back to your senses, because you once again find yourself thinking that if this were anyone else, you’d have told them to get off you and never call you again.

but why is jeonghan, of all people, criticising your choice of comfy underwear… weirdly endearing?

“sorry,” you grunt, making no effort to hide the (flesh-toned, full-coverage, entirely too old) bra that he’s looking at like it’s personally offending him. “didn’t expect to need to impress, tonight.”

“don’t be sorry,” jeonghan says, shaking his head as he unpops the button on your jeans and tugs them down over your hips. “just… do better next time, yeah?”

you laugh so suddenly, so abruptly, so loudly that you choke on your own spit and end up coughing a little, propping up on one elbow to try and relieve the burn in your lungs as he continues to work your pants off your legs. by the time he scrunches them into a ball and puts them to the side, too, you’ve managed to catch your breath, and gasp out, “next time?”

“next time,” he nods, making himself comfortable between your thighs. he lays one palm on the inside of each knee, pushing them as far apart as your hips will allow, before he brings one hand over your covered cunt and drags his thumb up and down your slit.

you don’t even get a chance to ask why he’s so sure there’ll be a next time. he skillfully works you through the material and in seconds, has you tipping your head back into the pillows, moaning at the overwhelming feeling of finally being touched.

“so fucking wet,” he sighs, feeling your arousal through the cotton of your underwear, pressing the material between your folds. his thumb circles your clit over and over, the pressure just right – not so light that he’s teasing, not so hard that you’re squirming away from him. hell, if you knew he was this good, you’d have dragged him into bed years ago.

“come on, hannie,” you gulp as he starts to work his thumb faster, starts to massage at your inner thigh with his other hand. “need more…”

well, he doesn’t need to be told twice. you lift your hips and he tugs your panties down your thighs, unhooking them from around your ankles. you expect him to, you know, return to business, but he does something just a little bit unhinged first and brings your soaked underwear up to his face. you hear how deeply, how loudly he inhales, the subsequent groan he gives even louder, and you swear the reason you end up bumping his hip with your knee is to bring him back to earth, because it actually feels like he’s forgotten you’re lying right there.

“i’ll do it myself, in a minute,” you threaten, and jeonghan grins wickedly down at you as he lowers your panties down to join the rest of your discarded clothes.

“no you won’t,” he tells you – he tells you? – , finally now lying down between your legs, just inches away from your glistening cunt. “god – as if i’d ever let that happen.”

“i swear– ” you start, half a second before one of his fingers presses against your hole. you stop talking with a gasp, a hand flying to your chest and squeezing against your tit. just like that. in a heartbeat, you’re done for.

he seems intent on gathering as much of your arousal on his fingertip as he possibly can, running it through your folds, pressing it inside you, smearing your slick all over and then some like a fucked-up painting. only once he’s satisfied does he finally start to work his finger in and out, pressing his lips just above where your clit is begging for his attention.

“don’t play stupid,” you chide him when he looks up at you through his lashes, eyes wide and feigning innocence. “if you can find it through my underwear, you can find it now.”

“bossy,” jeonghan tuts. “what’s with the rush, huh?”

and he adds another finger to the first, both long and elegant and reaching spots inside you that your own physically can’t. you keen against your will, hips reacting of their own accord, trying to fuck your pussy down against his hand. he makes no effort to stop you.

“m’not gonna beg,” you tell him. “just – fuck, get your mouth on me. now.”

to his credit, he does.

and more to his credit, being eaten out has never, ever felt this good.

the hand not grasping at your chest shoots down to tangle in his long, silky hair, and jeonghan moans loudly against your pussy as he laves his tongue everywhere he can. over your clit, between your folds, slipping it inside your hole in place of his fingers – he’s relentless, slurping and groaning and finding some sort of insane stamina from somewhere deep in his soul. you swear to god, this is not the man who sometimes falls asleep with his light on because he doesn’t have the energy to get up and turn them off.

within a matter of minutes, you can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter and tighter, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your moans and whines only getting louder by the minute. your legs are shaking. your thoughts are little more than static, and him. at some point – you don’t know when –, jeonghan reached around your hips to pull your thighs together and clamped them around his ears, mumbling against your clit something to the effect of to help with the thunder. (you don’t mention that there hasn’t actually been another thunder crack since he started making out with your pussy. it doesn’t feel relevant, somehow.)

every time you tighten your thighs, every time you squirm, he hugs you tighter against his cheeks and you just end up humping against his tongue. something tells you maybe that was the plan all along?

sparks of energy start to prickle all over your skin as you teeter on the edge of your high. your fist tightens in jeonghan’s hair, your breaths become fewer and further between. it’s frankly a bit of a miracle you’ve even managed to last this long – you held back as long as you could, determined to milk as much of the pleasure his hands and his mouth so skillfully bring as you can. just in case there’s no next time, but… hell, do you hope there is.

“hannie, i’m–” you gasp, his fingers curling upwards again and resuming their earlier assault on your g-spot. “fuck, hannie, i’m so close–”

“mm, have been for a while, huh?” he asks, drawing his mouth away from you, licking his tongue over his arousal-slickened lips. “you’ve been holding out on me.”

“yeah, but-... i wanna come so bad,” you swallow. jeonghan flicks his tongue out over your clit again and you jolt up into the touch. “please, don’t stop.”

“won’t,” he promises. and it’s the last thing he says before his lips meet your pussy again and he brings you over the edge into the most electrifying of climaxes.

by the time you’ve stopped twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, jeonghan is sat up on his knees again, softly massaging at your hips with his thumbs. your vision is still kind of fuzzy at the edges when you glance up at him, and for a moment, with a hazy outline and an amber glow behind him owed to the flashlight you set at the entrance to the fort, you think he looks a little too much like an angel.

“where the hell did that come from?” you ask him, fighting against the squirming in your belly. fighting against the sensation that feels a little too much like butterflies.

“really?” he asks in a breathy laugh. “that’s-... i mean, do you actually want to know, or…?”

you mull this over for a moment before crossing your arms over your eyes and concealing yourself from his view, shaking your head. one part of you is morbidly curious as to how he got so good at giving head. the other part of you is too busy trying to gather the brain cells he just sent flying across about eight different dimensions.

“i think you’ve broken me, jeonghan,” you breathe, feeling more than seeing him lie down next to you again. his lips press sweetly against the curve of your shoulder. warmth radiates from that one spot, all over your body. you smile, like a complete loser.

what’s worse is that you really don’t mind.

“is that a yes, then?” he asks, slinging an arm over your waist. you turn your head to look at him, eyes crossing a little with how unexpectedly close he is.

“yes to what?”

“to next time,” he says. his grin matches yours and you nod your head at him, yes. in your peripheral vision, you notice how he lifts one hand, extends his little finger. straight in front of you, you see both of his eyebrows raise.

you pinch your lips tight before hooking your own pinky through his, leaning in and pressing a short kiss to the pad of your thumb. the way you used to when you were kids. ‘you really can’t break those.’ he used to say. ‘they’re like, triple the strength’.

saved for really important promises.

“to next time.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #jeonghan x reader #j writes.#*#ft. the lowest effort banner of all time <3

1K notes · View notes

bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

Note

joel miller x thigh riding (bonus points if he's a touch mean, just the tiniest touch, but like the kind of mean that comes off more of a degrading praise yaknowyaknow)

-ˋˏ 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘 ˎˊ

— pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

— word count: 1k

— warnings: thigh riding, spoilt orgasms, playful degradation. 18+, you nasties. More of my absolutely filthy bullshit xoxo

joel miller masterlist || main masterlist

“Come on; you can do better than that.”

Joel’s arms rest over the sofa, hands dangling at the wrist as he watches you struggle with a flat expression. His eyebrow cocks slightly when he hears you whimper, and you swallow back your noises for fear of his cold observations.

You’re trying. It’s so hard. You’re grinding your swollen clit across the denim of Joel’s jeans, and your toes don’t quite meet the floor where your panties lay discarded and forgotten. The burn in your hamstrings leans more towards cramping, and you feel tears prickle in your eyes.

It’s been so close you could almost grasp it. Each time your orgasm was within reach, the swell of arousal blooming through your abdomen, your hips would stutter, or you’d lose your balance slightly.

His worn denim is stained midnight blue by the slick you had smeared across the fabric in your desperate attempts to cum. Joel appears unphased by the filth; his illegible gaze focused on your face instead.

He pushes off the sofa with his elbows, sitting forward ever so slowly and watching your lip tremble. It feels so good, the friction of the cotton against your throbbing clit. Burning white-hot at the base of your spine, each roll of your hips surges it forward and it’s almost painful. You’re suffocating.

Joel’s expression is entirely blank, but his tawny eyes are hawk-like, observing each tremor of your legs as you struggle to support yourself while chasing your orgasm. Your pussy clenches as you gaze right back at him, eyelids heavy and chest heaving from your exertions.

It’s there again- it’s melting through you, squeezing around nothing as your slick leaks down the inside of your own thighs. You whimper, mouth hanging open as you uptick the speed of your sloppy grinds- he can surely hear how wet you are, and you’d be mortified if it wasn’t for the bright flare that bursts forward. It’s there- it’s the-

Joel raises his thigh up cruelly, and your balance slips. You cry out, toes on your left foot bumping the floorboards as your hands fly out to stabilise yourself. The fabric of his T-shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, and you let out a pained gasp of his name.

A tear drips from your lashes as your impending climax plummets away from you. You’re breathing hard, lungs practically vibrating from the burn of needing oxygen, and a panting breath bleeds into a wail of despair at how quickly your hard-worked flame dissipates into dull embers.

”Are you cryin’? Hmm?” Joel speaks evenly, as though a naked, pretty girl isn’t using his fucking thigh to get off. His question has a lilt of a mocking tone, teasing you and the degrading position you’re in. “Needy thing.”

Embarrassing. It’s humiliating the way your eyes roll back at the sound of his gruff Texan accent. It’s gravelly, and it rolls down your spine like warm honey.

Joel stares back at you, awaiting an answer with an expectant curve of his brow. Synapses in your brain misfire, and you can’t seem to work your dry mouth into the shape of the word ‘yes’, so you offer him a meek nod of your head. More tears stream down your cheeks, collecting at your chin and dripping down onto his lap—another wet stain to add to his collection.

“You poor thing,” he hums, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone to wipe away the wetness. Absolutely wrecked, you lean into his touch in search of any affection. A quiet, submissive noise bubbles in your throat, and his top lip pulls up ever so slightly at the sight of you chasing any form of caress.

Twisting his wrist, he grabs ahold of your chin with his palm. You gasp as he pushes his fingertips into the soft flesh of your cheeks, smushing them together so your lips purse comically. “There’s no shame in askin’ for help.”

This time it’s playful, the tone of his drawl. He’s hinting, alluding to taking over and putting you out of your misery. He’s known this whole time that you’d need him. He ruined you, rewired your brain-body connection, so it was forever missing a final piece.

You couldn’t cum without him anymore.

His suggestion sparks your dying embers alight once more, the heat bursting through you when his eyes flick down to the naked junction of your thighs. They spasm beneath his intense gaze, like the look alone was enough to stimulate your poor, abused clit.

You open your mouth to beg, to fucking prostrate yourself in front of him and plead for mercy, but he drowns your words with the shocked moan he rips from you when he begins bouncing his heel off the floor.

Joel’s vigorously bobbing thigh feels like a vibration against your sensitive clit, and you practically crumple inwards at the sensation. Mind-numbing bliss rocks through you, and you let out a filthy, disgusting groan.

”Oh, just look at that,” He taunts you, knowing damn well he could have gifted this to you before you had exhausted yourself. “That’s it, ain’t it?”

Slamming so hard across your ribs that it almost bursts out of the gap between the bones, your heart somersaults when he works his palms onto your thighs. Joel’s fingers squeeze at the flesh that creases at the junction of your hips, and the image of his vaguely amused expression blurs when tears sting your eyes once more.

“Uh-Oh fuck, oh Joel pl-please… Please! Please, I ca-aha- I can’t-“ you babble, the pitch in your voice rising to a squeak as he continues to bounce against your tortured cunt.

“You can,” is all he prompts, gazing at you with this look he reserved only for the victims of his brutal survival instinct. Twisting the knife, going in for the kill. Your orgasm flares so hot between your thighs that you swear it burns a hole through you.

“You can, you’ll feel so much better. Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me and I’ll give you another.”

4K notes · View notes

norizz-nation · 8 months ago

Note

Could you write something for Lando after the christmas dinner with both of your families and you were needy and wanted his attention so you kept teasing him through the whole dinner till he couldn't stand it anymore, so he grabbed you and took you both to your house early so he could fuck the attitude and bratiness from you. Thanks

Brats Like You | L.N4

Summary: When it comes to having dinner with both your families, things can turn out pretty wild.

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, degradation, choking, dacryphilia, hair pulling, usage of belt to tie reader’s hands, orgasm denial

“You didn’t have to do this, right?” Lando asked, sounding disappointed as you looked at him with confusion on your face. “Do what, baby?” You acted like you didn’t know. He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw as he focused on driving. “Do what?” You asked again, hoping for his answer this time. Although you knew what’s the answer. “You know exactly what.” He stated coldly as his hands gripped on the steering wheel so hard that you could see his knuckles turning white.

You did know what Lando meant. It’s not like it was an accident when you wore a dress that revealed a bit of your back. Well, most of your back. You did that on purpose. And he knows that. He knows that you just like to be a slutty little brat in front of everyone. He also knows that you know how fucked out you’re left when he’s done showing you the consequences of your actions. “Can’t even behave for once.” He murmured as his jaw clenched hard.

Fuck, you really made him mad.

“Just behave and don’t try to be a bratty little girl and don’t do anything stupid that you might regret later.” He told you as he guided you to the table where both of your parents were sitting.

“So, how’s everything, y/n?” Lando’s mum asked as you smiled at her innocently from across the table, “Well everything is going absolutely great.” You said as you placed your hand on Lando’s thigh, well, his upper thigh. This made Lando breathe nervously as his arm that was resting on your chair softly taps the back of your neck with his finger to signal you to stop whatever you’re planning to do.

But did you stop? No.

“Right, baby?” You asked him as your hand slowly moved towards his crotch, making him move a little under your touch. “Right, yeah.” He said as he took a sip of his wine. Your fingers twirled around his crotch and you stopped right where his belt is. You acted like you’re going to unbuckle it which made Lando push your hand away.

“Hey baby, come here. You have something on your face.” The way he said that assured you that there’s nothing on your face. But, you still move your face close to him as he brushes your cheek and whispers, “Don’t you dare behave like a fucking slutty brat here. Because you know that your ‘little acts’ have consequences, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said, smirking at him. At this point, you’re just trying to see how much you can play with his nerves. “Alright, sweetheart you wanna play? Then let’s play, come on.” He said as you looked at him with confusion, not knowing what he’s going to do next.

This evening went slower than usual. It felt like this wasn’t going to end. But surprisingly it was only 15 minutes. You couldn’t stop but wonder what Lando meant by his “play”.

Your thoughts got distracted when you heard Lando saying that he’s not feeling that good and needs to go home as soon as possible.

“Oh honey, we just started our talk.” Your mum said as Lando smiled innocently. “I know mum, but my head is aching so much. I can’t take it anymore.” He said as both your parents started to get worried.

Right. He’s definitely not sick.

“What the fuck were you doing?” He questioned as you winched in pain. The grip around your neck tightening more and more. “Answer. Me.” He spat those words as you let out a little smirk that made him more mad. “Oh is it funny, huh?” He asked as you nodded lightly. The smirk not leaving your face.

It didn’t take much time for him to get you positioned on your hands and knees. “Let’s see if you still find it funny after I’m done with you tonight.” He stated as he unbuckled his belt and tied your hands behind. “B-baby please.” You pleaded as Lando pulled on your hair, whispering, “Please? Brats like you don’t deserve this cock. Now keep your face down and ass up.” He said as he slowly trailed his fingers down your spine. Making you squirm for more.

“Please baby please.” You pleaded again and Lando just scoffed at your words. “Already needy?” He asked in a taunting tone and you just nodded. “P-please.” You pleaded. Again.

He then teasingly pushed your lacy panties aside asking, “Please what, huh?” “Please just fuck me already. Baby please I want you to fuck me.” Your needy words made Lando grin a bit. “Always wanting my cock like a dumb little slut, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but whine out as you nodded your head, answering him. He then pulled on your hair a bit harder than before asking, “I need your fucking words. Say it. Do you want my cock just like the dumb little slut you are?”

His question made your cheeks burn as you could assure that is damn red now. “Y-yes, yes I want i-it.” You managed to say as you could feel your thighs stick with each other from how wet you’re.

This “play” was torturing you. All you want is just to get yourself off. No matter how. “Wow this brat can finally get some words out of her mouth instead of just whining.” He taunted.

Your head felt fuzzy. It felt like the world was falling apart. As if you two are the only people alive on earth. All you could focus on was him. Only him.

Every thrust made you scream a bit louder than before. His belt definitely left a good bruise on your wrists.

“F-fuck baby, y-yes right t-there!” You screamed out when you felt him hit the perfect spot that makes your body shake uncontrollably. “Fuck, your pathetic little pussy clenches so fucking hard around my cock.” He said breathlessly as you could hear his groan fill the room.

“I’m g-gonna-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence and Lando pulled out and started to jerk himself off which made you squirm and cry out for more of his cock.

His warm cum coated your ass and some landed on your hands. “Oh my God. Please Lando…” You pleaded and he scoffed at you. Coming closer, whispering, “Still find it funny? I don’t think so. See that’s the reward for your ‘little acts’. Now let’s see how long you can squirm for.”

Fuck, his ‘play’.

A/N: Your baby is back with another fic! I’m sorry for not writing for a while but I’m back now. Hope y’all like this one. As always requests are open so feel free to ask what you want me to write. I love you. ❤️

651 notes · View notes

mythicalmaven · 21 days ago

Text

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (THIRTEEN)

A very angsty chapter but with a good ending! whoops! The positive will return, no worries! <3

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 4,3K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, talking about feelings, crying, realizations, angst (but with a happy ending)

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

“OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!” Lando’s voice rang through the hall as he barged into Oscar’s hotel room, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. “YOU ARE SO DEAD!”

Oscar, hunched over his suitcase, froze and looked up, bewildered. He could tell immediately that Lando was beyond furious, but he couldn’t fathom what had set him off.

“Lando, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

Oscar had just arrived back after qualifying, planning to freshen up before heading over to your room, as he did every race weekend. He’d been thinking about you the entire way back, looking forward to unwinding together, the familiarity of those private moments giving him a sense of calm after the intensity of the day. But now, standing here, all he could do was rack his brain, trying to figure out what could have provoked Lando like this.

Lando’s fists clenched, the knuckles going white as he glared at Oscar with pure disgust. He slammed the door behind him, sending a tremor through the room. “Don’t play dumb with me, Oscar. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Oscar’s face twisted in confusion, his mind whirling. Was this some bizarre prank? Lando was known for his sense of humor, but this felt... different. More intense. More real. Slowly, he got up from his crouched position and perched himself on the edge of the bed, his voice calm but uncertain. “Lando, I seriously have no clue what’s going on. Did I do something wrong?”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, practically spitting the air out in disbelief. “Are you actually this clueless, or are you just lying straight to my face right now?”

Oscar’s patience was wearing thin. “Lando, for the last time, what is going on?” he demanded, voice rising as frustration bled into his tone.

Lando’s face twisted with anger, and he kicked the door behind him, a loud bang reverberating through the room. “Jesus Christ, Oscar, you’re a fucking asshole.” His eyes flashed as he took a step closer, his voice dripping with disdain. “Maybe next time, don’t lie to my sister about your so-called ‘feelings’ for her if you plan on sticking your tongue down someone else’s throat behind her back.”

Oscar’s heart stopped, his face going pale. “Lando,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “What are you talking about? I had to kiss her on the cheek, nothing more. You knew about that—you know it meant nothing.”

But Lando’s expression only grew darker. “Oh, so now you’re not just an asshole; now you’re a liar too. I’m not talking about that.”

Oscar’s stomach twisted. He had no idea what Lando was getting at, but a cold unease settled over him. “What are you going on about, then?”

“If you were trying to hide your little escapade with that attention-seeking bitch, maybe next time you should close the damn door of your driver’s room before deciding to shove your tongue down her throat.”

Oscar’s face drained of color, realization finally sinking in. “Oh god, did you see that?” He stammered, starting to explain, but Lando cut him off sharply.

“I didn’t,” he hissed, eyes blazing, “but she did.”

Oscar’s heart shattered, his voice catching. “I promise, Lando, it’s not what it looked like.”

Lando’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” His fists clenched tighter, his voice deadly quiet. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Oscar. Because if you don’t—and I mean it—if you even think of stepping near her again, I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Oscar was left in stunned silence as Lando spat the words at him, guilt and regret washing over him like a tidal wave. His mind flickered back to what had happened earlier, replaying each moment with increasing dread.

*flashback to earlier*

Oscar had been in his driver’s room, unwinding after the high of qualifying, hoping to cool down before meeting up with you. Ava had followed him in, chattering on about the race and the PR obligations they’d fulfilled. They shared a laugh about the awkward peck on the cheek they’d had to perform for the cameras, the faint taste of staged affection still lingering.

“You looked so stiff out there, Oscar,” Ava teased, smirking. “You know, if we don’t make it look real, they’re going to know. We should really practice if we want people to buy it.”

Oscar tensed, shifting uncomfortably. “I think we’re fine, Ava. It’s just PR. We’re not meant to look that serious anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his hesitation. “Come on, Oscar. Don’t be so uptight. This is for show. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her voice softened, and she took a step closer, her eyes glittering. “Let me teach you a few tricks. Just… trust me.”

He backed away slightly, eyeing the door. “This really isn’t a good idea, Ava. It could easily go too far.”

But Ava seemed determined, giving him a knowing smile as she leaned in and pecked him lightly on the lips, her eyes flickering toward the door. Oscar felt his stomach clench, a mix of unease and annoyance. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He was only doing this entire act to protect you from unwanted scrutiny and questions.

“See?” she murmured, stepping closer still, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s not so bad. A bit of practice never hurt anyone.”

Before he could protest, she was kissing him again, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him in closer. He hesitated, feeling every fiber of his being rejecting this, but her hand slid around to the back of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss. Uncertain, he felt her hand snake up into his hair, tugging lightly as she pressed closer, the intensity escalating.

Oscar was caught off guard, feeling her press her hips into his, guiding his hands to rest on her waist. He’d barely noticed the way her eyes darted toward the door, a glint of mischief flashing in them as if she knew someone was watching.

He froze, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of discomfort, his mind flooded with the realization of how much he didn’t want any of this. Summoning all the strength he had, he pushed her away, breaking the kiss and stepping back, his face flushed with frustration and embarrassment.

“Ava, this isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’m not comfortable with this at all. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

She smirked, feigning innocence. “Oh, really? You didn’t seem uncomfortable a second ago.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing this PR stunt for the sake of appearances. To protect someone I care about. But I’m not going to pretend that you and I…" he said, gesturing his finger in her direction and then back to himself "are anything real, because it's anything but.” He gestured to the door, his voice quiet but firm. “Please. Just leave.”

She shrugged, her smirk lingering as she made her way out, leaving him alone in the room, a strange mix of relief and dread pooling in his stomach.

*end of flashback*

The memory dissolved, and Oscar found himself back in the awkward quiet of his hotel room, his heart pounding in his chest as Lando’s words echoed in his mind. You’d seen it. You’d seen everything.

Oscar’s stomach twisted violently, leaving him feeling nauseated and weak. His mind was a churning mess, every second replaying the scene, the look on Ava’s face, the moment he’d seen her eyes flick toward the door. That sickening realization that she had known. And worse, that you had seen it all. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him; his legs felt unsteady, his heart beating erratically, each thud filling him with a helpless dread.

Lando looked down at him, his expression hard and unyielding, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was no pity in his stare, only barely controlled rage mixed with something that might have been desperation. Lando’s voice was low, but the intensity cut through the air like a knife. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Oscar, or if you’re just a damn good liar,” he said. “But if you’re serious about this, if you really care about her, you’d better get your ass over there and fix this. Because I don't ever wanna see that look on her face, ever again.”

Lando’s words struck hard, each one landing like a punch. The warning wasn’t just a threat; it was a declaration, a fierce brotherly loyalty that Oscar knew was unwavering. The way Lando looked at him, with such disdain mixed with pain, it cut Oscar to his core.

“If I find out you’re lying,” Lando continued, his jaw clenched, “I will make sure you lose that seat at McLaren. I’ll make it my mission, Oscar. You know how much my sister means to me.” He shook his head, an angered exhale escaping him. “I warned you about hurting her.”

Oscar couldn’t hold back any longer. His voice shook as he forced the words out, raw and desperate. “Lando, I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.” His hands clenched at his sides as he looked down, feeling his chest tighten painfully. “This is… it’s such a horrible misunderstanding. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Emotion welled up inside him, a mix of fear, shame, and regret, and he felt his throat close up, his vision blurring. His breath grew uneven, and despite himself, a tear slid down his cheek. Then another, until he could feel the hot, shameful trail of them spilling freely, powerless to stop.

Lando’s expression softened slightly as he watched Oscar crumble before him, the fight momentarily leaving his own features as he absorbed the depth of Oscar’s remorse. He looked away for a moment, as if weighing his options, and then his voice came, gruff but more measured. “Then you need to go to her,” he said quietly. “Go to her, now. She’s going to be devastated. If you’re telling the truth, you can fix this. But you’d better go now.”

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding. He was already reaching for his jacket, his heart still pounding but with a sense of urgency to repair the damage. He couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling hurt, betrayed. The very thought twisted the knife in his gut, driving him forward.

“One more thing.” Lando’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and Oscar turned back to see him standing firm, his eyes cold again. “This PR thing—it’s making things worse. If you really want a future with her, end it. Because if this ever happens again, you’re going to lose her. And you’re going to lose a hell of a lot more.”

Oscar met his gaze, giving a solemn nod. “You’re right. I’ll stop it. I can’t… I can’t put her through this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the conviction was there.

Lando held his gaze a beat longer, then sighed, giving a slight nod of grudging acceptance. “Go fix this, Oscar. And don’t make me regret trusting you.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

After spending time with Lando, letting yourself unload the heartbreak and confusion, you’d assured him you’d be alright eventually—that you just needed some time alone. Retreating to your hotel room, you tried desperately to hold yourself together, to avoid being swallowed whole by the storm of emotions that seemed intent on drowning you. But the harder you tried, the more impossible it felt.

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the sight was sobering. Your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with smudged mascara that had streaked down your cheeks in uneven, telltale lines. You looked broken, more raw and vulnerable than you could remember feeling in a long time. The weight of it settled heavily, pressing down on you with each passing second.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Startled, you wiped your face quickly, taking a deep, steadying breath before walking over to the door. You didn’t open it, unwilling to let anyone see you like this. “Lando,” you called out, your voice strained, “I told you I’m fine. Just… just go.”

But instead of your brother’s familiar voice, you heard the voice you least expected—and least wanted to hear.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Oscar’s voice was soft, rough around the edges. You froze, feeling your heart twist painfully at the sound of him. Every part of you wanted to sink against the door, to open it, to confront him. But instead, you stiffened, the hurt quickly filling the space where vulnerability once lingered.

“Just leave me alone,” you managed, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Please, baby,” Oscar’s voice broke on the word, thick with desperation. “Please, open the door. Let me explain. It’s all… it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

A wave of emotion washed over you, and your chest tightened as you sank slowly to the floor, resting your back against the door as you fought to keep your voice steady. “There’s nothing to explain, Oscar. I was there. I saw it,” you whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face between them, as if trying to block out the memory of it.

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he pressed, his voice breaking again. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You let out a bitter laugh, muffled as you pressed your head against your knees. “Oscar,” you mumbled, voice hollow, “You had your tongue down her throat. There wasn’t any press around, no cameras to put on a show for. You can’t call it anything but what it was.” Your voice was so quiet, almost fragile, just loud enough for him to hear through the door. “Besides… It's not like you owe me anything. We were never exclusive. I’m not your girlfriend.” You swallowed hard, the words cutting deep. “And considering what I saw, it’s obvious you don’t want that either."

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you two, heavy and painful. You could feel him on the other side of the door, his presence almost palpable, and it took everything in you not to reach for the handle. But your heart was guarded, waiting, hesitant to give in so easily.

The silence was broken by a ragged, unsteady breath, and then you heard him sink down to the floor on the other side of the door, mirroring you, with only the cold, impersonal wood between you.

“Please… please don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I know I don’t deserve for you to listen to me right now, but it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t real.” His voice cracked, and you could hear the tremor in his words, the strain of holding back tears. “Ava, she… she forced it. I didn’t want it, I didn’t—I pushed her away.” His words were stumbling, broken by emotion, and you could feel his desperation as he tried to explain himself, to make you see the truth he was so desperate for you to understand.

You stayed silent, torn between wanting to believe him and the vivid memory of what you had seen. Part of you, the part that had loved and trusted him, wanted to believe every word. But another part, the one that had been hurt, was afraid to trust again, afraid to be vulnerable. You felt your throat tighten, your hands curling into fists as you struggled to hold back your own tears, feeling them dry on your cheeks as you pressed yourself harder against the door.

He paused, gathering himself before continuing, his voice raw with honesty and regret. “She kept… pushing it, saying we needed to make it look real enough for people to believe it. She’d go on about how it would all fall apart if we didn’t act convincing, kept saying we had to practice that stupid kiss.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I told her no, but she just wouldn’t stop pressing, and then she just kissed me"

He took a shaky breath, his words fractured and heavy with guilt. “I-I didn’t want it,” he stammered, his voice thick as he tried to speak through his tears. “I swear… I didn’t want any of it.” His voice cracked, a choked sob escaping as he struggled to keep going, the desperation evident in every trembling syllable.

You heard him shift against the door, his back pressed firmly as if trying to ground himself. “I felt trapped,” he continued, his words punctuated by small, hitched breaths. “Like… like if I didn’t go along with it, I’d ruin everything—the whole stupid plan. And… I didn’t want to drag you into that. I was scared. I didn't want to ruin things for you”

Another tear-choked breath left him, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I… I couldn’t keep doing it. I pushed her away. I told her I couldn’t—” His voice broke, a raw, unsteady exhale filling the silence as he struggled to compose himself. “I told her it was wrong. I told her it was wrong, and I wanted it to stop.”

His voice faded, overcome by a quiet sob that made the door between you feel thin, almost nonexistent. The vulnerability in his tears was unmistakable, and even in the silence, you could feel the weight of his remorse pressing against you.

Oscar’s voice grew softer, pleading. “You don’t have to say anything if… if you don’t want to. But I just need you to know that it wasn’t me. I didn’t want that, any of it.” His voice faltered, but he kept going. “I’m done with this stupid agreement, this entire PR stunt. I’ll quit it—even if it doesn’t mean I get you back. I just… I can’t keep doing this. I love you, Y/N.” His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper, the words raw and honest.

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something deep inside you, pulling you closer to that fine line between anger and forgiveness. You felt the sincerity of his words, the pain that bled through them, and despite yourself, part of you believed him. But the fear held you back, the hurt silencing the words that you wanted to say.

A silence fell between you, thick with unspoken words and shared pain. You could hear his shaky breathing through the door, and you knew he was crying. The sound wrenched at your heart, stirring a sadness that mixed with your own, leaving you feeling both hollow and heavy, unable to find the words to respond.

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway. You could hear someone approaching, and then a familiar voice—one that made your stomach twist.

“Well, well, Oscar,” Ava’s voice cooed, feigning sympathy. “Is it really worth all this? She’s not worth it, you know.”

Oscar’s shoulders tensed, his breathing growing heavier as he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with a newfound clarity, a sharpness born of betrayal. He recoiled from her, yanking his shoulder away from her touch, his expression a mixture of disgust and fury. Without a second thought, he rose to his feet, facing her with a look that could have frozen fire.

“You’ve done enough,” he spat, his voice low and filled with a venom you’d never heard before. “You’ve already ruined everything. Leave me alone.”

But Ava merely arched an eyebrow, her smile twisting as if amused by his anger. She opened her mouth, perhaps to retort, but Oscar didn’t give her a chance.

“Just… stay the hell away from me.” His voice was louder now, strong and unwavering, the raw pain of it echoing through the corridor. “I don’t ever want to see you near me again. Not at the track, not anywhere. You hear me?” He took a step back, his voice rising with each word, carrying both fury and anguish. “I’m done with this agreement. Done with you. Done with this entire PR stunt!”

The volume of his voice carried through the door, and even you could hear the finality in it. For a brief moment, the hurt and anger felt a bit lighter, a flicker of hope stirring beneath it all. The words he’d said, the fire in his voice—it felt real.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as Ava moved away, clearly surprised by his outburst. Oscar remained standing in the hallway, staring after her until the corridor grew silent again, empty save for him and the lingering echo of his words.

Slowly, he sank back down, his back pressed against the door again, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. He didn’t say anything else, but his quiet, broken presence felt closer than words could convey. And though your heart was still bruised, still guarded, you found yourself shifting slightly, pressing your shoulder to the door, closer to where you knew he sat on the other side.

Oscar took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes as he sat against the door. You listened to the sounds leaving the Australian's mouth, still pressed against the other side, your heart aching with every tear-choked word he’d spoken. Slowly, as silence settled around you both, you felt him begin to shift, his weight moving as he gathered himself to leave. He exhaled quietly, almost as if he were accepting that this was the end, that he’d done all he could.

The thought of him leaving stirred something urgent within you, a longing that broke through the hurt and fear. Without fully thinking it through, you reached for the handle. Just as Oscar rose, taking a few hesitant steps away, you opened the door.

“Oscar,” you whispered, reaching out to grab his arm.

He turned around sharply, his red-rimmed eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at you, disbelief mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope. For a long, fragile moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid, every apology, every promise, every feeling that had built up over months. The intensity of his gaze, softened by the tears still brimming in his eyes, filled you with warmth, melting away the last of your hesitation.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I love you too, Oscar.”

The words seemed to break something within him. His face crumpled, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek as he reached out, cupping your face in his hands as if you were something precious, fragile, something he couldn’t bear to let slip away. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, his gaze so full of tenderness and vulnerability that it took your breath away.

And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with a quiet desperation, a raw need that spoke of every moment of anguish, of every ounce of longing he’d carried for you. His lips were soft but insistent, moving with a careful, almost reverent passion, as if he were pouring everything he felt into this one kiss. You could feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his fingers pressed gently but firmly against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

The kiss deepened, slowly, his lips parting as he moved closer, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear to be separated by even a breath. His tears mingled with yours, salty and warm, the emotions overwhelming as the kiss became a quiet exchange of love and sorrow, each movement a promise, a silent plea to never let go. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you held him close, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him.

His tongue brushed lightly against your bottom lip, a gentle request that you answered by parting your lips, allowing him in. As your tongues met, a wave of emotion washed over you both, the kiss growing deeper, more intense, every second drawing you closer, until it felt as though nothing else in the world existed but the two of you. The taste of him, the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours—it was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering fully to the quiet, consuming love that bound you together.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew needier, more fervent, yet still so achingly tender. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, slow and deliberate, savoring each touch, each taste, until the world seemed to fade away. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further, his tongue caressing yours with a slow, deliberate intimacy that left you breathless. It was as if he was pouring every unsaid word, every unexpressed feeling, into this moment, and you could feel it in every movement, every touch, every trembling breath.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two of you slowly broke apart, your foreheads coming to rest against each other as you both tried to catch your breath, your eyes still closed, savoring the warmth and closeness. His hands lingered on your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, to lose this connection even for a moment.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of emotion. “Please be mine.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that took your breath away. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You managed a small, tearful smile, your fingers brushing over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “I mean… for real this time. Be my boyfriend. Please,” you said, your voice a soft, tender plea.

A smile broke through his tears, a pure, radiant joy lighting up his face as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with a love so deep it was almost overwhelming. “There’s nothing I would love more,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with happiness.

And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you felt the pain and heartache begin to fade, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth, a promise of something real, something lasting.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

previous | next

Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff @silentreader128 @edixttor @sugakookie132 @a-beaverhausen

#f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #friends to lovers #fluff #mclaren #op81 #smut #angst #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader

157 notes · View notes