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balljointedpup · 1 month ago

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Rundown

Babysitter reader accidentally falling asleep in Price’s bed only to wake up to a big man crawling up behind her and shoving her legs apart while murmuring his wife’s name :\\ too bad she can’t correct him because the pillow keeps muffling her screams. - prompt by ceilidho

Warning: dubcon/noncon themes (reader doesn't verbally agree to sex but has wanted to fuck John secretly), somno kink, dirty talk, drunk! Price, implied age gap, babysitter! Reader, Wife is named, cheating, p in v sex, no protection, John's a nasty dog, Price is sloshed and can barely hold off his orgasm

Did i write this instead of sleeping? Yes. Do I have regrets? Many. I just couldn't stop thinking about this and knew I had to atleast try my hand.

Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated! Part two is available!

Part 1 | part 2

You've been babysitting for the price family for almost a month now. A small bundle of joy surprisingly docile in your arms after the wailinig for the baby boy would have cradled in her embrace. You hated the glare Colleen would snap your way as soon as her son shushed. You weren't sure why, at first you chalked it up to coincidence. Just the baby being well- a baby. But then you let yourself linger in her presence and found yourself curling away from the sting in your nostrils from the strength of her perfume. A lovely brand you had no way to afford, truely she was a woman to envy. Even in her years she's aged like wine; Rosé to be exact. She was primped and refined. A polished diamond with every sharp edge pointed in your direction. The many necklaces she adorned on her neck were chunky and sparkled with real gems that surely John has gifted to her over their marriage. Though, it made an uncomfortable resting spot for the babe.

But little James had much to protest about the way his mother's nails were too long and dug into his soft skin. To cry and scream when her perfume was just too much. When her makeup smeared against his chubby cheek and the new texture roused him into another fit. Only soothed once back in the arms clad in soft cardigans and sweaters, the smell of gentle floral soap and smooth skin against his own.

You've heard Colleen before bark at John to find a new sitter making small comments about how her baby clearly hates her. How neither of the men in her life seem to want her presence always resulting in a heavy sigh from John, firm words of curt comfort but she'd just bare her teeth and curl her painted lips. Not taking his words as anything more than another spew of thoughtless support. Not stopping her cries of woe until John has enough and grit words of defence through his grinding teeth.

You tried not to listen in; it wasn't your business after all but you couldn't help but feel pity. Some days it was for Colleen, clearly stressed and trying to latch onto something she can't quite grasp. But other days you felt a deep pity for John; peering in with little James bouncing in your hold as he sat at the dining room table with his head in his hands. Shoulders sagging down with the weight of the world digging into them.

Poor little James having to hear all this. Often, you tried to keep him distracted with the jingle of your keys or read out of a storybook to drown out their thunderous voices.

There's been a time Johns found you like that, huddled up by the crib shushing and slowly rocking the baby to sleep. A storybook in your lap and a relieved slumped as you stare at James' sleeping face. And so, to avoid waking up his son, he'd get close to your ear, ruffling your hair and giving your shoulder a firm squeeze as he muttered, 'Good girl. Such a sweet girl for keeping him happy' and 'sorry you had to hear all that, love' as he insisted on slipping you another small stack of pound notes for the extra stress. No matter how many times you've tried to decline.

Just as many times you've tried to convince yourself you didn't touch yourself that night because of his words. You definitely didn't imagine him mumbling sweet nothing's of how good you are, so perfect and sweet for him. He was a married man, for God's sake!

A soon-to-be divorced one if things continued to persist the way they were.

You didn't dare let these feelings show; for fear of losing your job and the possible disdain that would cloud over his aged features that you'd have the audacity to think of him that way. Unable to bring yourself to even consider baring the thought of his disapproval. It was too much. It made your stomach twist in ways stressful university exams never did.

-- -- --

RIIIIING

You rose from your afternoon nap, a startled sound ripped from your throat. textbook and laptop discarded clumsily at the table. The sofa creaking as you pulled yourself up, eyes squinting as you tried to find your phone in the darkness. Eyes already aching from staring at your laptop screen for hours even when it grew dark. Took engrossed in finishing your assignment to care that you were in pitch black. Only napping to soothe the sting.

You plucked your phone from the floor and saw it was Colleen calling you. Your eyes widened as you hastily answered. "Mrs Price! Is everything okay?"

"I need you to come over as soon as possible, Im already running late to meet with the girls and I need someone to watch James."

Your brows pinched in confusion. Checking the time and saw it was 10 o'clock. Surely there had to be someone more local.

"where's John-?"

"being useless as always, drinking and leaving me to do all his shit for him."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your skull; sure you've heard her be nasty but this was the first time you've ever heard her be so brazen with her dislike for her husband. Her voice oozing with venomous spit as each word punched out from her throat.

You thought it would be for the best not to say anything. Swallowing what words of defence you had for John, you slid off your couch. "I'll- uh- I'll be on my way."

You slipped on your shoes and your warmest coat, thankful your keys already sat in its pocket. You rushed out of your door, having to cycle your way over. Usually you'd catch the bus and then cycle the rest of the way but night buses weren't running where you needed to go.

Never have you peddled so quickly. Your legs were on fire by the time you arrived and Colleen was hissing at you as she scurried out the door for how late you were making her. Muttering the whole time she got in her car and was driving off into the night. You stumbled into the house and immediately went upstairs to check on James and thankfully he was still sleeping.

Hours you spent waiting for John to return home or even Collen. Anyone to bid you off so you could go back home and sink into the plush of your bed. Sleeping on the sofa and then all that peddling has strung your body until you were nothing but knots. Sitting down almost the entire time as your legs protested to any further usage.

You only went into the bedroom to grab the spare baby monitor to check if it was still working, but you got nosey. Peeking around and finding colleens vanity, staring at the unflattering reflection. Your hair was a mess, and your clothes were screwed on your body. You could smell your sweat and it wasn't even hot. With great hesitance, you picked and sniffed at the collection of perfume that sat there. All were much too strong for your tastes until you found a bottle tucked into the very corner. It looked like it hadn't been touched for a while, not even half empty, but it wasn't old. The brand's logo was chipped at the edges, and the bottle was sealed the wrong way. You couldn't resist giving it a small sniff and were pleasantly surprised to find such a kind smell. It was vanilla and rose water; with a small bit to your lip and against all your better judgment. You sprayed a shy spritz on your neck and dabbed it into either side. Already feeling like a grander woman.

But your curiosity died as the king-sized bed seemed to be calling your name. Sheets are neatly folded, and pillows are fluffed. With James back asleep after some fuss and a diaper change you slinked into the covers with mumbled apologies.

Sleep claiming you faster than you ever expected, slumped heavily against the mattress as your nose was filled with John's scent. A heady mix of both his natural order and the shampoo he used. Your nose sinking into the pillow even in your dreams as you inhaled deeply. Happy hums filling the empty room before soft snores took their place.

-- -- --

John on the other hand was not so lovingly dozed off. He wasn't partying with friends and running his mouth about all his stresses. No he was haggard as he just barely pulled himself away from the sticky counter. The bartender muttering something along the lines of him getting back to the misses.

His misses.

He was nothing but a stubborn bastard. That was his ring on her finger and he couldn't swallow the uncomfortable bitter pill that was his reality. He's been finding his ring 'mistakenly' left on the bathroom counter. She was already bringing up divorce whenever he glared at her a second too long.

He couldn't have it. What kind of man would he be if he stood by and let her go prancing off. That was his wife. His.

His fist hit the counter with a determined sneer and he shoved himself away. Wobbling for a moment before he was able to muster his legs into a familiar march. His footsteps were unsteady but persistent in their journey. The bar was within walking distance and what was a little fresh air to help sober him up so he can face his woman how he should. Steel in his composure and fire burning in his eyes as he was going to-

To-

Fuck. There are so many things he's been wanting to do. It's been too long. Much too long without being in between her legs. The heat of a welcoming cunt was now foreign as he had to rub himself with the rough callouses of his hand. No amount of spit could replace the heavenly slick of a woman's arousal. Didn't sound the same when he fucked his fist. Didn't smell the same. Didn't feel the same.

She was truly a cruel woman. He could withstand her sneers and moaning, but to deprive him of the luxury of a husband was the devil's work. His own personal torment after so many years of bloodshed and muddled honors.

Perhaps if that walk was as sobering as he told himself it was, he would have noticed the car that was missing. The bike parked in its place. The tranquil quite of his home shattered, 2 am in the morning, as he heaved himself through the door and winced at the thud of the door. Pausing to hear any cries of his son or the pissed off yell of disappointment but he was met with nothing.

He lumbered through his house after kicking off his boots. His coat was thrown somewhere in the darkness as he crept up the stairs and shuffled into his bedroom. There, he saw the lump of a figure in his bed, and his brain clicked into gear. Licking his dry lips, he dusted his hands off his jeans, already undoing his belt as he stepped out of the fabric as soon as it pooled down to his ankles. Crawling onto the bed as he stared at the sleeping miss in his bed, eyes beyond blurred and too blinded by his determination, maybe he would have noticed the obvious differences between you and his wife.

He presses sloppy open mouth kisses to your shoulder. "Col- Colly, He slurred out as each kiss grew higher and higher. The untrimmed scruff of his mutton chops scratching against your cheek ear as he babbled in gruff murmurs. "Wake up, honey."

But he had no patience for his 'wife' to rise from her slumber. Your stirring only egged him on as he caged your slumbering body in with hands on either side of your shoulders. Moving the blanket down to reveal your covered form. He huffed in disapproval. "Tuckered out? Didn't even undress." He scolded but there was no heat to his words as he began to undo the buttons of your jeans and eased them down your legs. Shifting your shirt as high as he could before grunting as your unconscious form was no help.

"this why..you need me." His chest pressed heavily down onto your back as his large hands wandered along your curves. Pinching at the chub he didn't remember Colleen having but it's been so long he just dismissed it. "Keep ya nice and warm."

John couldn't wait any longer. Pushing your underwear to the side and his fingers curled against the fabric as he rutted against your silky folds through the fabric of his briefs. Like a dog in heat his hips grinded hard against your sex. His nose burying in your neck as he huffed the smell of perfume - he got her that for their anniversary. He knew she was still missing him. All that bullshit of insisting she'd never wear one of his gifts again. Throwing out jewelry that was now deemed tacky, all because he bought it, and clothes she just shunned as old news.

With a growl he yanked his boxers down as he grabbed his already half hard cock. Rubbing it through your glistening sex, already so wet for him. Perfect little wife. He didn't take long for him to chub to full mass as he huffed at the floral scent on your neck. "Gonna fix it- gonna fix everything-"

As soon as his cock pressed into your entrance you were startled awake. The sudden sting making your eyes pry open. Your breathing hitched as you heard John's voice mumbling something into your skin as you opened your mouth but he just shushed you. "None of that. Don't start, just need you tonight." He presses his hips frimer to your ass as the fat head of his cock speared your cunt. He groaned deeply with a curse knocked out of him. "So fucking tight-"

Your cheeks burned as you tried to squirm away from the blistering heat of your poor fluttering walls being pried apart by his sheer girth. Gasping into the pillow. With a huff John yanked you further down with a sharp tug on your underwear, his free hand pressing down on the back of your neck to keep you nice and arched. Any words you tried to squeak out immediately muffled.

"that's it, just open up for me, Coll." He cooed, the stretch of alcohol thick on his breath as he squeezed your neck. Feeling the way your pussy betrayed you, crying all over his big dick as you heard each grunt and groan rattle in your ears. Just able to hear it over the sound of your own heart thumping so loudly you thought for a moment it lodged itself into your skull. "Atta girl."

As soon as your ass was flush to his pelvis you let out a whimper. Clutching at the bedding your eyes squeezed shut. The pain faded into a dull numbness before the tug of a vein rubbing against your walls had you softly moaning. So full. You could barely breathe with how far it was pressed to your stomach. Surely shoving your organs up and lodging them into your throat. A knot tight in it as your eyes fluttered open.

Unable a moment to breathe as he guided you back onto his cock with every thrust that sent you jolting forward. The stitches of your underwear screamed as he set his pace. sloppy but reaching deep within. Kissing your cervix with each thrust as you trembled. Blinking you didn't even notice the tears that poured down your heated cheeks as you kept shaking your head. Any attempt of protest cut off by your own traitorous moan.

Fuck it feels good. Why must if feel so good. You've imagined what his cock would feel like but you never imagined this. Never thought you'd actually be feel it drill into your poor cunt as you sniffled and sobbed.

John could barely restrain himself. When did her pussy ever feel this good? So tight and clamping down on his cock as if it were the first time. Has it really been so long that her body became as foreign to him as it he was to her. That made his teeth grit as he panted. "Shit- gonna- fuuck-"

He didn't need to say if for you to know. Your stomach clenched as your thighs tried to squeeze tight together like that would stop anything. Not with his thick thighs spreading your legs wide and welcoming for him. "J-John-" you hiccuped.

Voice so strained it became high pitched. Needy. It made his head spin or maybe that was just the alcohol catching up to him. Groaning deep from within his chest as he flooded your tight hole with hot ropes of cum. Rolling his hips lazily with each squirt. "Sorry...been too long-" he kissed your shoulder and your cheek. "You feel like heaven, love."

But John was never a selfish lover. He let go of your underwear as he remained snugly slotted into your warmth. Relishing in its slick heat. Thick fingers finding your clit with startling ease as he rubbed in circles. Fast and his rhythm broken but with how your clit was already throbbing needily it didn't deter your body from singing out. Hands clawing at the pillow your face was buried against as you bucked into the friction. Shaking your head as you tried to fight off how good it felt.

Whines spilling out of you as you chanted pleas and curses but it all fell on deaf ears. "Ohh- oh!" You pulsed around him as your own orgasm tightened in your lower belly. No matter how much you tried to deter it, John was insistent of your pleasure.

"c'mon on, Coll, make a mess on my cock." He cooed as he pressed more of his weight down into your back to keep you from squirming too much. "Know you miss it."

You cried out as it crashed over you. Stars filling your already blurry vision as stray droplets of tears fell down. The cover of the pillow damp with your tears and specks of drool you desperately tried to swallow down.

Both of you just laying there for awhile. You were stiff as a rock and he was slowly rolling his hips. Fucking his cum deeper into you with more kisses to your sticky skin. His hand weaving up to your hair as he tugged your head from the pillow. Blinking sluggishly as he expected to be greeted with the face of his wife but instead he was met with his babysitter. Cheeks streaked with tears and your lips parted with a small gloss of drool. Sniffling as your eyes latched to his dumb stare. Just looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"you're not my wife."

#cw: noncon #cw: dubcon #john price x reader #cod nsft #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price #babysitter! reader #x reader #nsft #afab!reader #fem!reader

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katsu28 · 14 days ago

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snowfall

pairing: lando norris x best friend!reader

summary: when plans with your family fall through at the last minute, lando invites you to come home with him for the holidays. (3.8k)

a/n: the big finale!!! lando is so best friends to lovers coded, i couldn’t resist. does it snow in the uk in december, probably not but it’s for the plot so bear with me pls <3 happy holidays everyone!!

“Yeah, of course. Yes, mum, I understand. No, I’ll be fine, I promise. Okay. Okay, I love you too. Cheers, see you when you get back.”

You end the call with a heavy sigh, tossing your phone away from you on the sofa.

That was your mum on the phone, telling you that her and your father wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. You’d planned on going home to celebrate with them like you always do, but for the first time ever in your life, it looked like you were going to be spending Christmas alone.

It was bound to happen sometime in your life, really. You’re an adult now, still trying to find your place and your people in this world.

Speaking of your people, Lando has just made his way into McLaren hospitality, head on a swivel until his eyes land on you. He takes notice of your downtrodden demeanor immediately, marches his way over to where you are with gusto and plops down next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“What’s wrong?” He asks bluntly, dark brows furrowed in concern.

You inhale a deep breath, forcing a smile onto your face to respond. “Nothing. How was testing?”

“Fine. Seriously, what’s going on? Why do you look so sad?” He demands, but not unkindly or rudely. Just simply how Lando is with you, direct and to the point. It’s one of many ways he is around those he cares for.

“I was planning on going home to spend Christmas with my family, but my parents aren’t going to make it home in time,” You confess. Your finger picks at the loose thread of your sweater sleeve, a welcome distraction from the lump threatening to form in your throat.

Lando frowns. “Oh. M’sorry to hear that. That sucks.”

“Yeah. Looks like I’ll be spending the holidays on my own this year.”

“What? No, you can’t spend Christmas alone. That sounds so sad.”

“I’ll be fine, Lando,” You chuckle, patting his knee. It does indeed sound sad, but you won’t have Lando all worried about you when he should be celebrating with his loved ones. He’s got a lot to celebrate this year, and you don’t want your situation to take away from any of it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Come spend Christmas with me.”

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Lando is one of your best friends, sure, but joining him for something like this seems too imposing of you. Despite being close with his family, you can’t do this to them so last minute. After a long year, this is their time with Lando.

You shake your head immediately, wrinkling your nose. “No way. I wouldn’t want to barge in on your family time.”

“C’mon, you wouldn’t be! My family loves you.” He shrugs. “I mean, you’re basically an honorary Norris already at this point, and I think my sisters might love you more than they love me.”

That makes you laugh. “Shut up, no they don’t!”

“Uh, yeah they do.”

“Okay, maybe they do. I’m just that easy to love.”

“Yeah, you are,” He says, smiling softly. Your head cocks to the side at the pure warmth in his tone, and it seems to make him snap out of whatever trance he’s in, because he gives his head a subtle shake. “Seriously, come home with me. It’ll be fun. Way more fun than just sitting around at home watching those boring home improvement shows you seem to like so much.”

“Hey! Those shows are fun!” You huff, swatting him on the thigh.

“Sure they are,” He says, still unbelieving. “So what do you say? Christmas with the Norrises, how ‘bout it?”

You let out a breathy chuckle, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds lovely.”

“Mint! I’ll go let my mum know.” He beams, bouncing to his feet. “Better let Flo and Cisca know too, they’d kill me if I brought you round and didn't tell them ahead of time.”

“Lando?” You call after him. He whirls around with an arched brow, phone already in hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’d never let you spend the holidays alone.”

Looks like this Christmas might not be so bad after all.

-------

The first thing you hear when you climb out of the car at Lando’s family’s house is a shout of your name.

Before you can even register who might be calling you, a little body crashes into your legs, arms wrapping around your knees tightly. Now you know who it is, and you grin.

“Why hello, miss Mila!” You chirp, kneeling down to be at her level. She giggles loudly at the finger you boop against her nose, throwing her arms around your neck as best she can, and you lift her up onto your hip. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

“Christmas!” She cheers. Lando wanders over to the two of you from the boot of the car at that moment, and the second Mila spots him, she grins even wider than you’d thought was possible. “Lala!!!” She squeals, reaching out for him.

Lando takes her into his arms, swings her around a little bit, beaming brightly at the peals of laughter that escape her with every swing. “My goodness, you’ve grown! You might be almost as big as me now!”

Lando’s brother, Oliver, emerges from around the house now with his other daughter nestled in his arms, raising his free hand in greeting as he makes his way over.

“Guess my brother finally gathered the nerve,” He says cheerfully, clapping Lando on the back. Lando not-so-subtly steps on Oliver’s foot, garnering a hiss of pain from the older Norris. “To…make it home when it’s still bright out! Yeah, he usually doesn’t come around til the girls have gone off to bed.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Oliver,” You chuckle, pushing aside your confusion as you give a small wave to the toddler in her father’s arms. She waves back shyly. “Thanks for letting me join you guys this year.”

“Please, you’re welcome here anytime,” Oliver replies, sounding more than sincere. “C’mon, let’s head inside. Mum and everyone’ll be stoked to see you.”

Mila wriggles out of Lando’s arms to come hold your hand, dragging you towards the house excitedly. You don't notice Lando and Oliver dropping back, nor the hushed conversation they have that is definitely about you.

Much like both boys have said, the rest of their family welcomes you with open arms.

His parents tell you how good it is to see you again, and that they’re happy you’d decided to come home with Lando, Flo and Cisca glue themselves to your side immediately to catch up with you, even little Athena starts to warm up to you the longer she watches her older sister play with you.

You feel right at home with all of them like you always do, and it makes you start to forget about spending your first Christmas without your own family. Though, in a way, Lando’s family is starting to feel like yours too.

-------

It’s Christmas Eve and you can’t sleep. You’ve been at Lando’s house a few days now and everything’s been great—the food, the company. Lando.

You’re used to him being a little forward with his affections towards others, because that’s just the way he is. So when he pulls your legs over his lap while you’re watching a holiday film with the whole family, or rests his head on your shoulder during Monopoly, you don’t think anything of it at first. He likes cozying up to friends and being close to them. But as the days go on, it starts to feel different this time.

At first you just assume it’s because he doesn’t want you to feel awkward, but then you catch him staring at you a few times in a way you can only describe as pure fondness. While you're on the sofa cuddled up with Mila and Athena watching one of their shows. As you're helping Cisca figure out what to wear for her next date with her boyfriend, or helping his mum in the kitchen.

It could be platonic, but it feels a little too intimate to be so.

You don’t want to think too much into it, though. It wouldn’t do you any good to get your hopes up about the possibility of something more with Lando when it could just be all in your head.

Sitting up in bed, you scrub your hands over your face. Too many thoughts run their way through your brain for you to fall back asleep, no matter how tired you may be. You glance out the window beside you, and suddenly your attention is captured at the scene outside.

It’s snowing.

Sure, it’s an ungodly late hour, but seeing snow makes you want to go outside. Doing your absolute best not to wake anyone up as you swing yourself out of bed and creep down the hallway, you make your way down the corridor to Lando’s bedroom.

You knock on his door quietly, listening for anything that could give away whether or not Lando was up. For a few seconds, there isn’t a sound. Then you hear the clacking of a keyboard and the faint sound of him talking, and you know he’s awake. He probably didn’t hear you knock.

Pushing open the door slowly, you pad into the room to see him slouched over in his gaming chair with his back towards you.

“Yeah, mate, I’m gonna tell her—no, I’m not! Fuck off,” He says. There’s a lengthy pause—whoever he’s on call with is talking, you assume. “I’m just—I’m waiting for the right time. Like, I’ll know when it comes, won’t I?”

Your heart gives an involuntary pang in your chest and you sigh, having already had enough eavesdropping on this conversation.

You pad towards Lando, going for a gentle tap on the shoulder. Your hand just barely touches his arm, but he jumps about a foot in the air, flinching so hard you think the poor boy might’ve given himself whiplash.

“Jesus! What the—don’t sneak up on me like that!” He yelps, pushing one side of his headphones above his ear. On the screen, you can see he’s playing Tarkov again. Alway playing Tarkov instead of sleeping, that boy.

This time, it works out for you. Now you can drag out into the snow with you. Not that you weren’t going to do it anyways even if he was asleep.

“You couldn’t hear me! What was I supposed to do?” You huff. Squinting at the other username on screen, you smile, pushing into Lando’s space to reach his microphone. “Is that Max? Hi, Max!”

Lando’s voice sounds a bit strangled when he relays Max’s response a few moments later. “He says hi.”

“What else did he say?”

“What? Nothing,” He replies quickly, swallowing hard. “Why?”

“That was such a long pause, there’s no way he just said hi.”

“Well, he did, so…it’s whatever. What’s, uh, what’s up? Everything okay?”

Now you remember what you came here for. Grinning, you bounce on the balls of your feet. “There’s snow outside!”

“No way!” He says earnestly, cocking his head to the side. He abandons his game in favor of shuffling over to the window and peering outside, letting out a pleased little noise when he sees that it is indeed snowing out in the garden. “That’s wicked.”

“Will you come outside with me?”

He exhales sharply, giving an amused chuckle. “Yeah, right. I’m not going outside.”

“It’ll be fun!”

“Don’t see what’s so fun about freezing my ass off in the cold,” He grumbles, but you can tell he just needs a little more convincing. You jut out your lower lip, giving him the pout of yours that he can never seem to withstand, and his resolve starts to crumble. “No, don’t do that. Stop that right now. I’m not going outside with you at this time of night.”

“Please, Lan?” You plead, taking his face into your palms so he can’t look away. For a split second, his gaze seems to flicker down to your lips, but before you can process the tiny movement, he’s squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my god, fine,” He groans, shoulders sagging. You beam, wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. “Let me go tell Max I’m being held against my will and then we can go.” He crosses back over to his desk and mutters something into the microphone that you can’t quite make out.

As you’re pulling on layers to guard yourselves from the cold, he pauses, turning to you with one shoe on. “You didn’t, erm, happen to hear anything when you came in to get me, did you?”

“No, why?”

You’re not sure why you choose to lie about what you’d overheard, something about Lando telling some girl something at the right time. He hadn’t told you anything about having a crush on anyone, but then again, these past few weeks have been hectic.

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” He pulls the front door open right then, suddenly seeming so eager to get outside despite his previous grievances. Something in his tone hints that it might not be as nothing as he says it is, but you won’t push.

You traipse out into the garden after him, making careful sure to close the door behind you so the cold doesn’t seep in. Fresh powder crunches underfoot as you make your way further out.

The falling snow has already begun to coat everything out here in layers, and you drag your finger through it, smiling to yourself at the clean cut line it makes.

It feels like another world out here. In a life that is so often always hustle and bustle all the time, the quiet of this time of night in the countryside seems deafening, but in the best way. Peaceful can only begin to describe how you feel right now.

“Why is it so fucking cold out here?” Lando grumbles, burrowing deeper into his three scarves. Along with the two jumpers and thick coat he’d shoved himself into before even stepping foot outside, he looks well freezing.

“Don’t be such a grinch, Lan. It’s snowing!”

He scowls. “It’s freezing.”

“C’mon, at least try to have some fun! You’re killing my vibe, mate,” You huff, bending down to scoop up a loose handful of snow to chuck in his direction. It scatters into the air before it even makes it to him, but hey, at least he’s laughing now. You turn to say something else, but you’re immediately stopped in your tracks.

A snowball explodes against your forehead before you can say a thing, spraying bits of icy snow everywhere.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” Lando yelps, nearly tripping on his own feet in his scramble towards you. You’re too stunned by the snow dripping its way down your face to even register his words. “I wasn’t aiming for your face, I swear! Are you okay?”

You blink owlishly at him, at the concern and horror mixing in his expression as he takes you by the shoulders to check you out. He uses his teeth to pull off one glove, tossing it off to the side as he reaches to brush the snow from anywhere he can reach.

“For a professional athlete, you really do have shit aim,” You huff, playful annoyance in your tone.

Lando’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes crinkling happily at the corners as he giggles quietly. “I know. S’terrible, innit? Good thing my job doesn’t require me to do any throwing.”

“Good thing,” You echo.

His palms cup the expanse of your cheeks, the pads of his thumbs brushing across your cold skin delicately, and he’s looking at you in that way again, the way that makes you feel like you’re the only other one in the world. Blue-green eyes like sea glass flit around your face, thick brows furrowing ever so slightly as he inches forward. Slowly, like he’s giving you a way out if what he’s about to do isn’t what you want.

You’re holding your breath as he gets closer, closer, closer, until—

Fireworks.

As if kissing your best friend isn’t cliche enough, all you can describe of the feeling of his lips against yours is fireworks, bursting in your chest like little explosions.

“Wait—” You breathe, splaying a hand across Lando’s chest to push him back a bit before the kiss can go on any longer. Despite how much you want it to continue. He makes some sort of displeased noise out the back of his throat, pink lips turning down into a pout. “What about the other girl?”

That gets him to pull back a little more, head cocking and nose scrunching in genuine confusion. “What other girl?”

“I lied. I did hear you talking when I came into your room, you said something about waiting for the right time to tell her something. You can’t be kissing me if you like someone else, Lando!” You exclaim incredulously.

He regards you blankly for a few seconds. Then he starts to laugh. You’re trying to save his ass and he’s laughing at you. You scowl at him. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

“Oh! Oh, that was so good! That was gold, really,” He splutters, tears in his eyes. You swat indignantly at him and he holds up his hands in surrender, doing his best to catch his breath. “There is no other girl, you muppet! I was talking about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Guess this is the right time then, huh?” He says, chuckling nervously as he rubs at his reddened nose. “So, here goes it. I think I’m in love with you.”

“Why?” You ask, disbelieving. It’s a blunt response, you’re fully aware, but you want to know.

“What d’you mean, why? Have you met you?” He scoffs, like he’s astonished you even have the nerve to question him. “You’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and so smart, and you make people happy—you make me happy, even when I’ve had the absolute shittiest day, I know everything’ll be fine as soon as you find me. You know what I need, even when I don’t know what I need.”

You’re at a loss for words hearing all this now. How has Lando been in love with you all this time, with you none the wiser?

“Why’ve you never said anything?” You ask softly.

Lando smiles almost sadly, letting his hands drop back down to his sides. “You’re one of my best friends. I’d rather keep my mouth shut if telling you meant losing you. Losing what we have because you didn’t feel the same way.”

That, you understand. The fear of ruining your friendship with Lando is one of the reasons why you’d kept your feelings for him secret as well. So to both of you, it was better to ignore your feelings and stay this close than to let the other know and possibly lose one of the best things in your lives.

“We’re idiots,” You sigh, closing your eyes.

“You’re not an idiot,” He says immediately. Then he frowns. “Wait, why would you be an idiot? I know I am, but why you?”

You grab Lando by the collar of his puffy jacket, pulling him into a firm kiss. If he’s surprised, it only shows for a split second before he’s kissing you back fervently, drawing you flush against him by the hips. His nose against your cheek is much colder than before, but the warmth that spreads from your chest down to your toes is more than enough to remedy it.

“Please tell me that means you do feel the same way,” He pants, looking entirely dazed when you pull away.

You raise an amused brow at him. “No, I just kissed the living daylights out of you because I don’t feel the same way—what do you think?”

“Best Christmas gift ever, is what I think.” He smiles warmly. Then he shivers, blowing out a sharp breath. “Now can we please go back inside? I can’t feel my face anymore.”

Once you’re inside and have shed your coats and shoes and anything else wet with snow, Lando nudges you towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some hot cocoa.” He murmurs, quiet so as to not wake anyone in the house. You pause, causing him to look back at you. “What?”

“The package kind or the real kind?”

“What sort of question is that? The real kind, of course,” He snorts. “With milk and everything.”

“Oh, you do love me!” You say gleefully.

Lando rolls his eyes playfully, giving your hand a firmer tug that has you sliding right in under his arm on your socked feet.

Despite all his moaning and groaning about being cold, he’s pleasantly warm, and you sigh, nuzzling in closer. He welcomes your closeness, dropping a kiss to the side of your head as he shuffles his way towards the pots and pans cupboard with you latched onto him, not even trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

It feels natural because you’ve always been close. Though now, things have changed. Now, you can kiss him if you want to, instead of wondering what Lando would do if you did it. You’re not just friends to each other anymore.

You press your lips against his quickly as he’s piling marshmallows on top of two mugs of hot cocoa, pulling back right after just to see his reaction to the impromptu kiss.

As expected, his mouth curves into a grin, dimples on full display. He flicks a marshmallow at you, and you reciprocate, tilting your chin up at him in challenge.

Soon enough, now you’re both chucking the tiny white sweets at each other, trying and failing to catch them into your mouths. The first of you to catch one of them is you, and you cheer, flinging your hands in the air.

“Oh my god, shush, you! People are sleeping!” He breathes, lunging forward to press a hand over your mouth as you’re mid-shout.

Your eyes widen in comical realization and it makes him laugh, which makes you laugh. His hand falls from your face as you both fall apart in quiet giggles.

You’re laughing because he’s laughing, he’s laughing because you’re laughing, and neither of you can stop until your sides hurt.

“C’mere,” He murmurs, stepping in close and sliding a hand around the back of your neck. His gaze flits all around your face, taking in the sight of you with eyes that twinkle with happiness even in the darkness of the kitchen. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Lan." You smile.

He kisses you then, long and sweet and with such gentleness that it makes your stomach do somersaults.

In the morning, you’ll need to figure out how you’ll play things with Lando’s family, and then everything after. But not now.

For now, you’ll watch the snow fall outside while you snuggle up on the sofa with the boy you love and a mug of not so hot cocoa.

So maybe this Christmas hadn’t gone exactly as you’d planned, but really, you aren’t too sad about it anymore. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x best friend!reader #lando norris fluff

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aakeysmash · 2 months ago

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christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

college!sukuna masterlist

"Why are we here again?" college!sukuna huffs from next to you for the umpteenth time.

"Stop acting like a little bitch. You asked me that 20 seconds ago, Yuuji is acting better than you," you hiss out, glaring at him. It's true though: the kid is trotting right in front of you two, not a care in the world, while his caretaker is currently dragging his feet on the pavement you're walking on.

"And you still didn't answer, fucker," he barks back, grimacing, kicking a little rock.

"Yes, I fucking did! I told you this morning we were going Christmas shopping! You never listen to me," you start, jutting your lip out and trying to play the victim. You know he hates it when you do it. "Maybe I should tell Yuuji how his big brother hates the idea of going shopping with him," you provoke, whispering so that only you and him know what you're talking about. He scoffs, offended.

"Liar. Don't you fucking dare-"

"Are you two fighting again?" whines Yuuji, turning around and pouting. You and Sukuna glance at each other before shaking your head at the same moment.

"No, we're getting along so well," you force yourself to smile.

"Yeah, she said she's so glad I'm accompanying her. Matter of fact, she said she's going to offer us lunch," Sukuna continues, an evil glint in his eyes when he hears you gasp.

"I did not-"

"Really?! Yippie!" screams Yuuji, coming to hug you violently. You stumble back, gritting your teeth, and reciprocate the hug while narrowing your eyes at the grinning tattooed man in front of you. He knows you're not able to say no to his brother.

When Yuuji runs inside the mall, you push Sukuna's shoulder, mumbling "bitch". He just chuckles, then boldly gets you close by placing one open hand on your lower back. You know he's just going to tease you, so you put both hands on his chest to fight back, trying to put some distance between you two, but the place is crowded and everyone is looking at you. A woman passes by you and looks at you weirdly, so you stop wriggling in his grasp, and he delicately pushes you even closer. You're chest to chest, his breath fanning over your features, grin ever present on his face, enjoying how you look pissed out of your mind. From the outside, it looks like you're hugging each other, when in reality he just puts his mouth on your ear to utter "Never play with me, baby. I know how to drive you mad," then frees you and walks behind Yuuji with his hands in his pockets, not turning back to see if you're following him or not. You're seething.

"Oh my God, Yuuji, look at these!" you swoon over a pair of pajama pants. They're a soft brown, decorated with little green Christmas' trees and little reindeers, a bright red Merry Christmas! on both knees.

"It's a set!" squeals the kid next to you, grabbing the sweater right on top of the piece of cloth you have in your hands. You both notice at the same time that the set comes both in adults' and kids' sizes. "Can we take it?" he asks you looking up, puppy eyes activated. Your heartstrings are pulled so tight you feel like you could implode if you look at his face for a second longer.

"Of course we can, I thought it was obvious," you say excitedly, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him in a circle while he laughs, smile on full display and brown eyes squeezed shut happily.

Sukuna, who has kept watching his phone for the majority of the time you've been inside the mall, raises his gaze when he hears your laugh mingled with his brother's. If you had been looking at him in that instant, you would've seen the brief soft glimpse that passed on his whole face when he took in how happy you both looked together. When you turn around, though, he's already schooled his features to appear bored.

"Are we done?" he yawns.

"Would you like to match with us?" you ask him, at the same time. You scowl and he scoffs.

"Hell no, girl. I'm not with whatever stupid shit y'all are doing," he says, trying to act tougher than what he actually feels like. Seeing you being kind to the only person in the world who shares 100% of his genes makes him feel things he doesn't want to acknowledge right now.

"You're a party pooper, 'Kuna," Yuuji mumbles, frowning. "Can we still match? I really want us to match," he adds, shily, looking at you. You're shocked. His cheeks are getting redder the more you gawk at him. "Sorry, you can say no-"

Your kiss on his cheek resonates all around the ally you're currently staying in. "Of course I want to match with you. We don't need your evil brother, Yuuji. Let's go try them on," you sweetly say, taking his hand and walking away from Sukuna, not before flipping him off. Yuuji is so giddy that he follows you like he's walking on clouds, his face slightly hurting from how hard he's cheesing.

Sukuna just stands there, baffled and even a little offended. He stiffens, noticing he still has his phone in his hands. He's so fast with it he's the first to remain shocked by his own actions: he hears the click of his camera and looks at the pic he's just taken, feeling his chest heavier than it's ever been. It's a beautifully taken pic, where you and Yuuji are squinting at each other, hand in hand, laughing. He turns off his screen, shakes his head and catches up to you. You're going to give him a headache if you continue being like this. Or a heart attack. Or both.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" the nice old lady at the checkout says.

"Hi, we'd like to take these two pieces," you kindly respond, handing her the pajamas you and Yuuji just tried on.

"Let me see... oh, we actually have a family discount on this! Is the daddy not going to take anything?" she innocently asks, looking over at your older roommate.

"Yo, I'm not his-"

Your eyes almost fall out of your sockets. "Ah ah ah! Silly us! We forgot his one! Just give me a second," you interrupt a scowling Sukuna, covering his mouth with your hand before he can finish his sentence, dragging him away. Yuuji gives the old lady a confused look, to which she responds with "Young parents these days," shaking her head.

"You're going to take the fucking matching set, Sukuna, and you're going to like it," you seethe, still dragging him away (well, it's more like he's letting you drag him away). You hear how he's trying to talk behind your hand. "Don't piss me off. I'm going to pay less to get more, and you're going to listen to me. Go." You ignore him and he raises one eyebrow, looking you up and down, before biting your fingers. You yelp and let him go, scowling. "I said go! And act like you care about me when we get there, we're a family until the discount tells us so!"

"Okay, ma'am," he grins down to you, wiping his saliva from the corner of his mouth with a slow movement, his gaze lingering a bit too much on the way you're panting.

"Move! Take your size and let's go! Yuuji is waiting for us!" you push him, rushing back to the cashier.

"Oh, you were really fast. I thought you were going to argue with the way you rushed away," she says when she sees you come back, surprised. You nervously chuckle, telling her how you were already planning on buying one for Sukuna, you just forgot. "That would be 20.99$."

While you're swiping your card, you suddenly feel engulfed by heat. Sukuna positions his hands on your waist, giving you a half hug from behind while simultaneously giving his best confident grin to the old lady in front of him.

"Yeah. I just like when she bosses me around a bit, if you know what I mean," he says, sultry, winking at the cashier who is chuckling behind her hand, embarrassed, waving him away.

What the fuck? You initially try not to stiffen, then relax and give her a shy smile, and he squeezes you a bit closer. You melt on his chest, feeling hotter than you've felt all day. He's so comfortable. He brushes his lips near your ear and makes sure you hear the way his raspy voice is all around you. "And I do, baby. I really do."

#college au #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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yanderenightmare · 3 months ago

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♡ TW: omegeverse, bullying, near noncon, sexual assault, somewhat fluff

♡ FEM reader

Plenty of Alphas would think you’re a cute Omega, so he’s had to be careful with keeping you away from prying, preying, predatory eyes.

It's a hard feat, you know?!

Thankfully, after all his berating comments, you’ve resorted to wearing bigger and baggier clothing, which in turn has resulted in you fading into the background despite being a rather desirable Omega for any Alpha who’d bother to look. A good thing. He’s the only one who should be allowed to see your body anyway. The bad thing, of course, is the backlash—where, because of his benevolent mockery, you don’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But what can he expect when he bullies you?

He hadn’t wanted to. Honestly, you pushed him to it when you started wearing all those short skirts and small tops where he could see your bra straps. Of course, he had to say something! For your protection! You can’t go parading around like that! Everyone would think you’re up for grabs when you most certainly are not!

So yes, he had to tell you to cover up—that you look like a common cheap whore when you dress up in so little, that you look desperate for it, that even a bitch in her heat would have more dignity, that you ought to mask your scent glands before someone takes the open invitation as is.

Was he a little harsh? Yes. Could he have said it differently? Yes. Does he know how? No!

And now you hate him—and want nothing to do with him. Skittering away any time you see him. Hiding yourself. A sad look on your pretty face as you hang your head and run away somewhere you can be alone.

He feels bad. But… at least you’re kept out of everyone’s reach this way—so he has the time to make you his before another Alpha catches sight of you and does better at courting you than him. Yes, this way, you’re hidden and safe and secret—kept as his buried treasure until he finds the courage to come find you again.

“Oh, come on, I said I was sorry—now just take it off already,” some guy standing over you drawls with his canines on display.

You’d sought out the empty classroom to be alone, but now you were drenched in milk and surrounded by a pack. It was still unsure whether the guy with the carton had done it on purpose or not. But the result was the same—a soaked sweater and a pushy Alpha trying to lift it off as if in an act of assistance.

The mixed crowd of Alphas and Betas all stand watch, keeping you trapped in the classroom with them while you cower beneath the bigger hands pulling on your milk-soaked sweater—easily prying it off against your will and leaving you in the wee little crop top you had on underneath.

The guy whistles shortly, leering across your exposed figure with a sloppy grin. “So this what you’ve been hiding under all these lumpy clothes, huh?”

The crowd jeers behind him, egging him on with catcalls and hollers. Making him laugh as he towers over you, throwing your sweater to the floor with a splat before coming to grab your wrists, keeping you from covering up.

“Who’d’ve known, huh?” His grip is painful where you try and fight it, nearly enough to snap your joints, as he spins you against his chest and shows you off to the thrilled onlookers—pretty cleavage and all, and that unmarked neck that has them all drool. “Such a pretty little Omega right beneath our noses all this time.”

“Please—” you whimper, shying away with your eyes closed shut and your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Aw~" your manhandler croons, nuzzling his chin into the grove of your neck, then whispering hotly at you ear, “Don’t worry, sugar—they’re just going to witness. Only I will be doing the honors.”

The tears spring loose as the panic grips your chest. “Stop—stop it—”

Before you can think, you’re already lifting your heel and planting it down on his toes—hard—making him roar and loosen his grip for only a split-second opportunity to escape. And in the small moment, you break free—attempting to run away, only for the crowd to catch you and throw you right back—all of them chuckling at your cute effort as if it were all some game to them—making you their unwilling toy.

“Some nerve on you, huh,” their leader mutters in a growl, angry now, gripping you even harsher before slamming you down over a desk, bent at the hips with your face against the wood. “Tch—denying an Alpha like that…” His hand finds your hair, tangling the tresses to get a meaner hold on your head, keeping you down as he slots his crotch right against your rear—voice at your ear as he bends over you in a closing trap. “I oughta teach yah some manners.”

You sniffle, writhing and shaking with broken sobs now, hearing the belt being undone, “No, please—I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, jackass.” A voice declares from the crowd. You can’t see through the blur of your eyes, but you’re sure his silhouette hadn’t been there before. “Quite sure she told you to fuck off.”

You don’t know what happened next—it all went by too quick for you to catch—but one moment, you’re held firm against the desk, and in another, you’re behind someone—the newcomer—standing between you and the others, his broad back turned to you and both his hands clenched up into fists by his side.

Closer now, you know who it is by his scent. And, although it shouldn't—because he broke your heart with so many nasty words—it brings on a rush of relief so profound that, for a moment, you can’t help but want to forgive him for it all.

You peek around his arm to see your manhandler on his ass on the floor, a bloody crooked nose with a warped look on his face, glaring up at your unlikely protector. “Tch—” He gets up—flustered by the looks of it—casting you a mean glare as he brushes himself off, spitting out a “Not worth it” before whipping around and leaving—with all his lackeys following in suit.

And then it’s silent. Beyond awkward as your bully-turned-saviour turns halfway around. You’re still crying. And his fists won’t unwind. He knows he ought to ask you if you’re okay, but it seems like such a dumb question. And he already knows the answer.

He scoffs—this is unbelievable. He thought making you hide yourself away would make you invisible, but you just can’t help but attract attention, can you? The worst unwanted kind at that!

Shit. He sighs, then grips the edges of his sweater and pulls it off over his head. Balling it up, before reaching it out to you. Muttering under his breath, bowed head and all, “Cover up already.”

You’re unsure whether it’s a welcomed offer or not. You know it probably shouldn’t, but somehow… it still feels comforting. And so, you accept it. Taking it in your hands, you pull it on and let it dwarf you like a big, cozy safety blanket.

“Thanks,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself—hugging the fabric close and, with it, his scent—which, for some unknown and odd reason, somehow makes you feel all better.

“Y’know…” he begins, looking at the floor. “Stick to wearin’ my sweaters, and my scent will keep you safe.”

And there he goes, saying what he ought to have told you from the very start.

And though it doesn’t make up for his actions, it does shine a light on them.

You suppose beggars can’t be choosers, and this dumb Alpha is what you’ve been stuck with. The part of your heart that broke back when he’d been so mean you thought you’d never be able to breathe again slowly pieces itself back together—leaving a fuzzy warmth inside that has you blush.

“Is that so…”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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waitingonher · 1 year ago

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because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?”

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…”

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.”

“whatever.”

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?”

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.”

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.”

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink.

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth.

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act.

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!”

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.”

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.”

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

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hyukascampfire · 24 days ago

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GIFT WRAPPING ﹒ ､､ c.sb

it’s a shame that soobin has to work on christmas eve, but coming home to a fire-toasted home and his little family is enough to make up for it. ˒´-

꣑ ࣪˒ 〈 🌰 〉･ 3.4k

ρairings ˒ husband!soobin x reader

ɠ ; smut ˒ fluff

ωarnings ˒ breeding kink, soobin rlly wants to get reader pregnant, lactation kink, general smut, traditional roles, tradwife reader, whiny soobin, breast fondling, mentions of balls cause i know how some people feel abt that, they’re both whiny for each other, soobin’s big, and lmk if i missed anything!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this one’s at the request of my lovely @biteyoubiteme! i love you baby, and could not thank u more for giving me this gift. this was the best gift i could’ve gotten for christmas >.<‘ but yes, since we are always giggling over dad!txt, this one i dedicate to u!!!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

The best thing you’ve heard today is the jingling of keys at the front door.

Soobin comes through the door with heavy, tired eyes. When the kids come tumbling down the hallway for him, they soften into something warm. Lifting one to pepper kisses over her face, and listening to the other tattle about something that’d happened earlier, his mouth tugs into a gentle smile.

Dusting powdered sugar off your hands, you wait your turn. The scene falls over you like a dryer-warmed blanket. All you three had done today was wait for him to come home. When finally it’s you that he turns to, your heart flickers.

The Christmas tree is up and in a stand, but it’s bare. You didn’t want to decorate it without him, as much as he told you he wouldn’t mind if you and the kids did. It’s not every Christmas eve that he works, but he’d been scheduled this year. You’d spent the whole day rolling out dough and slipping the kids some, even though you knew the sugar would wind them up, just to make the house feel less empty.

And, wind them up it did. You took them outside, bundled up in thick cashmeres and puffy jackets, at one point, hoping they might work some of it out in the fluffy snow that’d fallen fresh on yesterday. It hadn’t worked, but watching them with pink cheeks and giggling was worth the while. Then, the three of you drug snow-wetted feet indoors to defrost, tugging off layers to accept the tingle of warm air against your numb skin.

You wish he was there, too, though.

Soobin reaches up to pull his tie loose from his neck as he comes to give you your greetings. He just manages to get it loose before taking your lips against his.

With his hands steadying you by the hips and the counter at your back, you sigh out a soft breath. Your lips speak of your longing—the both of you. Slow and intimate tugging of lips and soothing, your lashes dust against your cheeks. He tastes like some peppermint candy he’d probably picked up on the way out of the office. Fingers still a bit cold from outside, he brings one hand up and cups your cheek, brushing a thumb up and down the flushed skin there.

He smiles against your mouth and parts from you only to sprinkle sugary kisses over your face. They fall everywhere: a few over your cheeks, one just beside your mouth, and the last to your forehead. He cups your cheeks through each. When he pulls back and you think he’s done, he steals a quick peck for good measure. His hot-chocolate eyes catch yours once he’s done for real, nose crinkling.

“Hi, baby,” he says. Your heart sings listening to his smooth timbre. It resonates through you and brushes down every last frayed nerve. “How did home treat you?”

You reach behind yourself to tug your apron off. It’s a mess of flour and stray buttercream icing. “It’s Christmas eve,” you tell him. That’s answer enough. “How was work? Did you have a good day?” you say, smoothing your hands over the knitted sweater you’d swiped from his drawer. “We missed you.”

His chest is like home against your back as he wraps you up in his frame. “Doesn’t matter; I’m home now. It’s a good day.” He murmurs his words into your hair. “Mmm. You smell good. Are all these cookies for me?”

“You know who they’re for,” you say. The smile on your mouth is light and fluffy, like whipped cream. Sweet. You’d waited all day for this—for him.

His arms encompass you, wrapped across your front like ribbons over a present. You can hear the lazy smile in his words. “Were you baking all day waiting for me, beautiful?”

With the weight and warmth of him against you, you let your head fall back on his chest. You hum. “I missed you so bad,” you say.

“I know,” he says. Pressing a toasty kiss right into your neck where it’s bared to him, he adds, “I missed you too. Wish I was able to spend the whole day with you guys, not paperwork. But, it’s okay. I had my pretty wife here waiting for me.” Toward the tail-end, he hangs sweet suggestion over his words.

Your cheeks go pink. Maybe you’ve got the heater up too high. It’s not usually this hard waiting for him to get home from work. You’ll usually be busy with your own stuff, so that time passes you by fast enough. And then, he’ll come home all tired, and you’ll finally get the kids to sleep and he’ll make slow, sweet love to you, and then the whole household goes quiet as you all knock out. But today... you found yourself missing him more. On Christmas eve, you’re all supposed to be together; spending the day sprawled over the couch with intertwined limbs and running through Christmas classics with bellies full of hot chocolate and candy canes.

But, he’s here now. That’s all you can ask for. A full, content home.

“The kids want to do the tree,” you say, curling your fingers over the warm skin of his forearm where he’s bunched the cuffs of his button-up to his elbows. “They waited very patiently all day.” You drag the word all out, because really... it’d felt just as long to you. Usually, you’d have had your tree up and laced with twinkling lights and ornaments two weeks ago, but you really wanted to wait until you could do it all together.

“Well,” he says, leaving you with one last nip to the column of your neck before dragging himself off you. You miss the security of his arms almost pathetically quick. “Let’s get it decorated, then. Wouldn’t want to make you guys wait any longer.”

Soobin departs to find the tubs of Christmas stuff, and you go to pull the kids from their playing.

You can hardly help the excited little smile that finds its way to your mouth as you do.

❅

The lights on the tree wink at you, a cozy warm white like ice crystals among green pine needles. Its branches dip under the weight of heavier bulbs. Starry silver and Santa red, and even those assorted ornaments that you’d let the kids pick out, shimmer in the low light. It’s serene and familiar, like the Christmases that you can only relive through orange, flickering memories of better times. Your chest aches in the good way, looking at it.

All of you had put your touch to it, but mostly, you’d sat back and watched them all work, committing it to memory so that it might never go spotty—so that you can remember it years down the road, and use it like a dose of soothing balm when you no longer have this.

Now, you and Soobin just sit and admire it. In true Christmas fashion, you two had to wrangle the kids to bed. You raised your brows at them and warned them with the same old things you’d heard on Christmas night: Santa doesn’t stop by the houses of kids who don’t sleep, and he especially doesn’t stop for kids that don’t listen to their parents. That got them, warm in their jammies, dragging their feet to bed. Reluctantly, yes. But it did the job, and now it’s just you two.

Your stomach does an excited flip as, in between his mindless smoothing over your skin, Soobin toys with the waistband of your plaid pajamas. Lifting your head from his chest, you look up at him.

“Baby,” he says, taking that hand up and under your shirt. Running the warm, calloused tips of his fingers up the plane of your belly and then just under your breast, he says, “I missed you...”

Sweet and slow, a familiar hunger kindles between your thighs just at the way he says it. You know when your doting husband needs you. Your heart tugs toward him—you need him just the same. Surrounded by the home you’ve made together, made lovely by the scent of Christmas, and in his safe arms, all you want is him.

You tug yourself up from him and the cushions, sliding yourself over his lap so that your two thighs part around his waist and your heat meets his bulge. He’s hardened there already, strained against the fabric and hard against your clothed cunt even through the layers. Sucking in a breath, he supports the small of your back with two sturdy arms.

“Missed you too, Binnie,” you mumble into his neck. You’d said it a few times already, but you think it still isn’t enough to convey what you feel. His hands come down to cup your ass, digging divots into it and pressing you into soft grinds down onto him a few times. Your skin prickles wherever he goes.

When his hands find their way back to the elastic band of your bottoms, you lift your hips and let him tug them off you. It’s an awkward position, and you have to lend him a little help with those and your panties with a snort. He presses his forehead into your shoulder, laughing too.

At a brush of your bare cunt against his cock as he frees it, stood proud between the space of you and against your belly, your smile gives way to soft gasp. The tip of him weeps with pearly beads from the slit. He takes it into his hand taps it against your bud a few times, his free hand at your back, and relishes in the twitching of your hips above him.

With the warmth of his cock lined up with you, he pushes some of your hair out of your face and says, “Hate having to wait all day to see my pretty girl...” His chocolate eyes dart up and down between the sight of you just about to join bodies and your face.

Sinking down on him, letting yourself feel every inch of him anew, you hum agreement. You nestle him all the way down until the tip of him brushes just before the end of your depth, and then you give your hips a few rolls to let your insides adjust to his cock. Soobin’s big—no matter how many times you take him, it’s still a stretch. He doesn’t mind the wait; he sits patiently for you to adjust each time, running his hands up and down your hips just to touch you.

You dig your knees into the cushions and lift yourself off his cock. You let him slip all the way up until the flared tip of him threatens to pop out, letting the moment linger there for a moment before dropping back down on him. His shoulders take the blunt of your weight as you fuck yourself up and down him. “I...wish you didn’t have to work that stupid job...” Your voice permeates the air, above the crackle of the fireplace and the soft smacks of your skin against his.

His fingers dig into the soft curve of your waist where your shirt bunches. Each time you push yourself up, he helps, the corded muscles of his forearms twisting. It’s an intimate dance that the two of you have practiced and mastered, knowing when to give and to take without even the need for words. “I know,” he says, his voice taut. “But... I’m here now, baby. I’m here now. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Your chest feels full at that. You know he means it; he works so hard for you all. The couch cushions are abrasive against your knees, and your thighs burn with a terrible ache, but all that matters in this moment is how he sucks his lips into his mouth and lets his head fall back into the cushion at his back. He rocks his hips up to try and meet you. Each time you bring yourself down on him in a way that has his brow twitching or eyes screwing shut, you aim to find it again—in all of it, you hope he feels you thanking him.

Lifting his head, he tugs your shirt up to watch your tits bounce along with you. Taking his palm over one, he says, “Fuck—miss when these were all full of milk. All heavy for me...” His thumb rolls a pert nipple. Shuddering around a chill, your chest jumps against his hand.

Rather than controlled drags up and down his cock, you devolve into frantic rutting hips and whines. Each roll—back, forth, and in messy circles—nudges his twitching cock right up against that weak spot. Flame rolls in your belly and your thighs.

When you’d been pregnant, your tits had swollen up to produce milk, and they’d never gone back down. Maybe a bit, but never back to what they’d been before pregnancy. Soobin loved it. Not that he hadn’t been content with your breasts before, but you think it was more that he was fascinated that it was him who did that to you. That he had filled you with his cum, and got you round and pregnant. When you’d first started leaking, it wasn’t even you who’d realized. You had been stood in the kitchen with a flimsy grey shirt tugged over your body. When you looked up to see what your husband was up to, his eyes were all glazed over and heavy on your chest, where your shirt had gone dark and wet around your nipples. Before you could hurry off with reddened cheeks to change, he’d pinned you against the counter by the hips to suckle the mess up himself.

“Baby,” he says, voice coming from his throat a hoarse plead, “Beautiful, please, can you give me something for Christmas? Just one thing?”

Hair on your neck damp, you nod frantically. Around his waist, your thighs twitch with exertion and each blazing brush of his cockhead against your gummy walls. You’d give him anything; you’d already grown two children for him.

“You—gonna let me put another in you? Can I please get you all pregnant again?” he grits out, his hair falling out from its styling and over his rose-dusted cheeks. He looks at you heavy-lidded.

Your cunt squeezes him, an answer before you can even form the words. It does a number on you, the way he says it. Because really, you do think that to Soobin, the greatest gift you could give him is to carry his children and to just continue to love him. It’s no different for you; you want nothing more. “Yes, please... I’ll give you as many as...you want, please, just...”

The entirety of your pleading is not even out of your mouth before he’s pressing a strong arm across your back and laying you under him. The cushions accept your back lovingly.

Soobin takes a moment to situate you two. He drags you down by the hips, closer to him, tugs your shirt fully off to let it flutter to the floor elsewhere, tugging his own off in the same fashion, and he pushes your mess of hair out of your face so that he can better see you. And then, melding the bare, warmed skin of your soft chest to his own hard one, he rolls his cock up into you.

It’s slow and tender, like promises of love baked into each grind. He makes love to you in the form of open-mouthed kisses and puffs of breath fanning out over your skin when a deeper thrust has both of you shaken-limbed. In your ears, hot, he whispers filthy nothings.

“Gonna knock my pretty girl up again,” he pants. “Want—you to go around wearing me, big and round. My wife. You look so pretty pregnant... Fuck..” The skin of his chest brushes up against your hardened nipple each time he fucks himself up to you, his hands everywhere as he can’t find where he wants to hold you most. Eventually, he settles on linking his fingers with yours above your head with one hand, and the other splayed over your belly. Right where your belly might be swollen, were you pregnant once more. “Right here... can’t wait—h-oh, shit. Do you want that, baby? Want to give me another?”

Chest and belly tight, you can only manage a squeak and a nod. Through bleary eyes, you take in his face. The soft and masculine angles of his cheeks and jaw, his sweet brown eyes, his pinched brows... and all you feel is safe. Safe in his arms, safe in his love. His body cages you against the cushion, slung over you and delivering languid strokes, but you don’t feel trapped. Not one bit. In his arms, you feel untouchable. Secure beyond a doubt.

Nowhere else, with nobody else, would you rather build a family.

“Soobin, please,” you whine, welcome tears prickling at the corners of your eyes like snowmelt. “Want it so bad... I want it so bad....” Wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his lower spine, you urge him deeper.

“Okay,” he says. The smacking of your skin punctures the serene air as he picks up the pace. He lets his head fall into your shoulder, stunted breaths falling out as his belly tenses. “Okay, love. Gonna fuck you full of my cum, n’ keep it in there so I know it takes... shit, gonna give you my cum now, okay?”

Face screwed up, you try and roll yourself to meet him, to chase the tightness in your own belly, but he’s got you. With a few more hot stripes of his tongue over your tits and over your neck, and a few frantic nudges right into that spot he’s so familiar with, you go still and then break into full-body shakes. You press your mouth into his shoulder to obscure the sharp, sweet cry that comes rushing out along with your orgasm, worried about waking your sleeping kids. Your thighs twitch and shudder around him, some deep and innate part of your brain taking over through the fog to make sure he cums well and right into you. Fingers and toes curling and splaying through it, you allow yourself to fully feel the sweetness his cock gifts you with.

You don’t doubt that he’ll get you pregnant, cumming in you. Soobin’s seed is heavy and potent. He could knock you up whenever he pleased; the last two times he’d done it, you were surprised how easily it took. Your insides twist up around him harder.

“Fuck,” he half growls, half whines. “Fuck, fuck... Love you, baby... Love you so much...”

He holds you to the couch, fucking you into it as his heavy balls smack against your bottom. And then, spewing murmured expletives and taking your face into a big hand of his to press frantic kisses to your cheek, his hips stutter.

As promised, he spills his cum right into you, right where he knows it’ll reach your womb and give you just what you want. It’s hot and thick against your gummy walls. He holds you through it, taking your hips in kneading hands to hold you still. When you think he’s done rolling his hips up into you to shoot more ribbons, he grinds harder.

Soobin slumps over you, finally stilling. He does not pull out, nor unplug you, though. He wants to make sure his cum stays right where he wants it. His heart thunders a lovely song against your chest, and yours his. He runs long fingers through your hair mindlessly, the both of you basking in the slow fire as it burns through your veins and leaves you lazy.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he mumbles.

Heart fuller, you hold him closer. “We have so much wrapping to do...” you mumble, trying to blink away your content sleepiness.

He pushes himself off you just to say, “Don’t remind me.” His weight cradles you once more, running appreciative fingertips over your thighs as he says, “Just a little more.”

Who are you to deny him that? You cherish the lines of his face, all soft in the yellowish glow of the tree’s light. Here, in his arms, you let yourself forget about that and anything else but the simple love buzzing in the air.

“Just a little more,” you agree.

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note ZOOWEE MAMA!! soobin come over here, let’s recreate this for christmas! pls!

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago

Text

𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭: Your friendship with Kenjaku, Satoru, and Suguru gains some benefits.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: train/passing you around, size kink, collar/leash, praise/degradation/mocking/teasing, pain kink, sweet mean dom!geto, sweet sadistic dom!kenjaku, sweet mean dom!gojo, hints of jealousy, choking w and without the with leash, spanking, spitting, dacryphilia double stuffing the same hole, triple penetration, hints of cock warming, begging, overstimulation, mindbreak, friends with benefits, possessive kenjaku with talk of a punishment, squirting, vibrator, creampies

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 15 minutes / 4.3k

oreo: @arminsumi you have me the nugget of encouragement I needed thank you and that last post I reblogged from you had me thinking which is how gojo found his way into his post and into your pussy (don't look at my shame, ignore the posting date i'm sorrryyyyy)

Kenjaku bends over in front of you, blocking the Tv, dangling your spiked collar in front of your face. The leash coiled around his other hand. Smirking at you, “Our lil princess grew up into a beautiful slut.” Grabbing the back of the sofa, towering over you.

“What? You gonna do something about it?” Trying to snatch it from Kenjaku, standing up and holding your collar above his head. Standing up on the sofa, yanking it from him. He wraps an arm around your waist, swinging you around.

Wrapping your legs around his waist. "Do you want me to?" He had always been so tall, but never this thick. Clinging to Kenjaku it's impossible to ignore his brawny arms, fat pecs, and sculpted abs. He's gotten so muscular in the five years you've spent apart.

"Yes." Slipping your finger into his soft dark hair. Grown to his shoulders and buzzed on the side. Showing a beautifully done tattoo of spiders crawling out of his skull. Sliding your hand down his pec, glancing over at Suguru stretched out on your sofa,

Satoru comes up behind you, slipping the collar from your fingers. “Aw is it just him ya want?" Wrapping the collar around your neck, fastening it. "Wanna slut your pretty ass out for Sug and I too?" Looking up, Satoru is close, towering over you.

"Anytime anywhere, my safe word is beans." Grabbing the back of head Satoru's head, lightly dragging your nails over his undercut. He leans in for a rough kiss, parting your lips for his tongue.

Kenjaku bites your shoulder, groaning, sinking in his teeth until you're crying into Satoru's rough, needy kiss. Cupping your ass. tugging on the leash. Being sandwiched between Kenjaku's and Satoru's hard, muscular chests has you soaking through your underwear.

Suguru gets up from the sofa, slipping his black sweater off. "It will be easier to triple-stuff our whore on her bed." Satoru breaks away, and Kenjaku slaps your ass, squeezing a handful. Crying from the sweet stinging pain. His thick fingers massaging your ass doing little to soothe the burning.

Biting Kenjaku's neck, he moans, it's breathy and going straight between your legs. He croons, "Is that the hardest you can bite, how cute." Biting down harder, your wet cunt clenching around nothing when Kenjaku whines.

Tugging on his inky black hair. "That's it, bite me harder n' mark me." Your fingers glide out of Satoru's hair when he pulls away. Wrapping your arm around Kenjaku's shoulders. Kissing the red bite mark, sinking in your teeth right above, sucking on his skin.

He trails behind Satoru and Suguru heading towards your headroom. "At least I won't have to hear you endlessly gush about how badly you want to fuck her when we get home." Kenjaku gently rubs your cunt through your shorts. Having his fingers so close yet not being able to feel him is torture.

Satoru nudges your bedroom door open, turning on your overhead light. Looking at Suguru with a large grin. "Oh you think this is going to shut me up. You should know me better than that." He makes quick work of his clothes alongside Suguru.

Breaking away from Kenjaku's neck, "Speaking of home how much longer do I get the pleasure of seeing all of you." Gently laying you on your back, letting go of the leash letting it pool next to you.

Your chest aches and your wet cunt throbs. "I missed ya'll so much seeing everyone on my phone isn't enough." Looking into Kenjaku's dark chocolate eyes, they have gotten so cold over the years. Seeing them warm up with a needy, hungry passion your heartbeat in your cunt.

"We know, we missed ya too that's why we moving into a place here together." Kenjaku grabs your shorts, easily tugging them off, momentarily lifting your hips off the bed. Tossing it onto the floor.

Your bed dips underneath Suguru and Satoru's weight when they climb on, kneeling on either side of you. Your eyes widen, "You did! That's not fair, all of you are living together without me!" Satoru and Suguru grab an arm lifting you upright. Shifting onto your knees, holding your arms up.

Satoru drops the leash through the collar of your shirt. "Our slut wants to see us walk around in our underwear, hear our rough sleepy voices, and climb into our beds at night." Those two words ring over in your head in Satoru's smooth playful voice.

Their slut.

Kenjaku slips his long-sleeved shirt off. Shifting closer towards the edge of the bed. Unbuttoning his ripped jeans, biting in between his v lines. Roughly yanking them down with his underwear.

The answer is easy to give. "You'll never be able to get rid of me." Pushing his pants down for him to step out of, kicking aside. You take a moment to take in the body-length piece depicting a war between angels and demons.

Kenjaku confesses, "We've been your's from the beginning." Following the trail of carnage from his pecs along his hard slim waist. "Listening to you rant about mediocre men who have failed to get you off has been infuriating." Passing by his cock, wrapping your fingers around Kenjaku. Swiping your thumb over his cock, leaning over to spit on his cock. Smearing it with a swirl of your hand.

Spreading your legs when Satoru grabs your ass, jiggling it before giving you a harsh smack. "Knowing that in three minutes between your legs n' I can have you calling me God. You say you aren't letting you go, I'll baby trap you givin' the first chance." Nudging his finger into your wet cunt fucking his long thick finger into you.

Kenjaku grabs the leash, coiling some of it around his hand. "We are picking out another collar, I want you to wear it everywhere." Your cunt is soaking, dripping down your thighs aching with a throbbing need to cum.

You're blaming it on how cunt throbbingly beautiful Satoru, Suguru, and Kenjaku are with their mouthwatering pretty cocks. "I thought I got over ya'll. This isn't fair." Satoru bites your ass, and you moan from the sweet pain.

Grabbing Suguru's fat cock, taking him in your mouth, pumping your hand along Kenjaku's cock. He suggests, "I could look for a place with two extra rooms. One for you to sleep in, the other to fuck you in." Groaning when you pump your fist faster.

"Fuck I've been wanting to do this for too many years." Biting your ass, groaning, curling his fingers. your cunt flutters when he grazes your sweet spot. Satoru glides in a second finger, clenching him.

"Such a sexy little cunt, she's going to be gapping and dripping cum when we're done." Replacing his long thick fingers with his tongue with a loud groan. You push your hips back, trying to sit on Satoru's face.

He reaches around stroking your sensitive clit. "Dirty slut getting off on taking three cocks. One isn't enough for a pretty greedy cunt like yours huh?" Slapping your sore ass, groaning around Suguru's cock, your steady pace faltering. He grabs your head stuffing his cock in deep. Your nose touching his short dark hair above.

Kenjaku insists, "We can get her on her back so we can all get a taste of her pretty cunt." Suguru glides his cock out of your mouth. Satoru bites your thigh, stuffing two fingers into your cunt. Curling them messaging your g-spot until Kenjaku yanks on your leash, pulling you out of Satoru's grasp.

Whimpering when Satoru tugs on your thigh, not letting go easily. "Nn that felt too good." Suguru slaps your ass. "Smacking me around more, make my slutty ass sore n' use my sloppy wet cunt." Kenjaku climbs onto the bed, yanking you onto your bag and dragging you towards the top of your bed.

Suguru props the pillows up, grabbing underneath your shoulders, sitting you up. Spreading your legs, Satoru leans in for a sloppy kiss you can taste yourself on. Sliding your fingers over his short soft undercut into his fluffy hair.

Wrapping your fist around Suguru's cock, slide your fist down. Getting off on how hard yet soft feeling of his heavy cock. His puffy veins occasionally pulse making his head slightly twitch.

Kenjaku lays down on the bed, biting your thigh, stroking your clit with his large thumb. Whining into Satoru's kiss, getting sloppier, rougher, fondling your breasts. Tugging on your nipple's barbell, making your clit tingle too.

Letting you go, slapping your beautiful wet cunt. Gliding two fingers into your cunt with a loud squelch, sucking on your sensitive clit. Ripping through the sweet stinging pain with toe-curling pleasure. He doesn't take long to find your g-spot.

Suguru groans, rutting his hips, his thighs trembling. "Nnn keep stroking my cock like that." Satoru pulls away standing up and covers your face with his balls. Shallowly stroking his cockhead, coxing thick white pre-cum out.

Opening your mouth sucking Satoru's balls, the pace of your hand swirling along Suguru's fat, heavy cock. "Cock hungry whore, nnnfuuuck I can't get enough suckin' on my balls like that. It would feel even better to fuck your pretty mouth sore." Sticking your tongue out when he lifts his balls off your face.

Tilting your head back, looking up at Satoru. With a quick smooth stroke stuffing his cock deep into your mouth. His jaw-dropping with a loud moan. "Wanna take a picture of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock." Quickening his pace with his deep strokes, gagging you easily without even giving you all of his long cock.

Kenjaku pumps his fingers faster, his tongue's bar stroking your clit perfectly. Your hand falters around Suguru's cock. He grabs your wrist to hold your hand still for him to glide his cock through.

You aren't doing anything. Getting off on how they are helping themselves to your mouth, hand, and sloppy wet cunt. Creaming on Kenjaku's fingers, your sensitive cunt spasming around him. He doesn't break the steady pace of his thick fingers, focusing on your sensitive spot.

Biting your thigh when you try to twist your hips away. "Stay still whore I'm not done." Stroking your clit with his pierced tongue at a steady slow pace. Gliding in a third finger, pumping them into you with loud lewd squelches.

Groaning around Satoru's cock he stops forcing you to take all of him. Suguru states, "That's one, I want you to keep count of how many times we get your pretty little cock sleeve to cum." Satoru glides his cock out with a soft pop, moving aside.

Pathetically whining when Satoru bites your tit, flicking your nipple with his tongue. "I can't get over how they're pierced, gonna get you some pretty chains to tug on." Rubbing your other pierced nipple, hooking his fingers around the bar tugging. Then gently stroking small slow circles.

Twisting your hips away crying, Kenjaku is relentless with a pierced tongue and thick fingers. Fucking your past your high, sucking on your clit with loud groans. Biting your thigh, sitting up wrapping the chain of your leash around your neck.

"I'll tighten it every time you try to pull away until you're too weak to move." Kissing your forehead, switching places with Satoru. On his knees admiring your soft, beautiful body. Dipping his head between your legs, grinding his hips into the bed.

Squeezing Satoru's head with your thighs. Your clit is too sensitive for the steady quick strokes of his soft tongue. His thick fingers nudge your soaking wet cunt, gliding in, curling stroking your cunt. It doesn't take him long to find your sweet spot.

Kenjaku tugs on the leash tightening it around your neck. Grabbing your hand, spitting in your palm then guiding you to his cock. Smearing your spit with slow swirling strokes.

Suguru lets your hand go, letting you stroke him. Grabbing your thigh, pulling it into his lap. Kenjaku does the same with his other leg. Together they are keeping your legs spread apart for Satoru to suck on your clit and fuck two thick, long fingers into you.

Suguru grabs your chin, turning and tilting your head up. Leaning in for a kiss. Parting your lips for his pierced tongue. His kiss starts off slow and soft. Groping your chest, gently rubbing your nipple. Groaning into your mouth.

Kenjaku shifts in his seat, grabbing your wrist and gliding it off his cock. "What am I sitting on?" Reaching not far underneath the pillow pulling out a vibrator. Smiling, "Here Toru use this."

Satoru pulls away with a soft pop, gliding his fingers out. Taking the toy from Kenjaku. Biting the nipple Suguru isn't playing with. Groaning when you writhe. Pulling away slapping your cunt to make you jerk back.

Kenjaku tightens the chains around your neck. Satoru glides his fingers around it. Admiring how it's painfully digging into your skin beneath the collar proclaiming you their slut. "I'm staying, Look me in my adorable face after this and kick me out. I bet you cuddles that you can't."

Satoru gets off the bed toy in hand to grab his pants and slips his phone out. Kenjaku nudges three fingers into your cunt. Your hand around his cock going limp. You're too weak to move from the lack of air.

Taking a picture of Suguru making out with you. With Kenjaku fucking his thick fingers into your sloppy cunt. You're soaking your sheets. "Send it in the group chat." Tossing his phone aside onto the bed, holding the toy to your clit. Turning it onto its strongest setting.

Suguru breaks away, Kenjaku glides his thick fingers out holding them to your lips. You barely have the strength to open your mouth. Roughly stuffing fingers into your mouth. You can't suck, too limp and tingly, dark spots dancing in your vision.

Kenjaku unwraps the chain around your neck. Gliding his fingers along the indent left behind. Loudly breathing it, soothing burning lungs. You can feel the rapid pounding of your heart in your dripping wet cunt.

Steadying your breathy, your voice is raspy and breathy when you whine, "Fuck fuck fuck." The intensity of pulsing is too much for you. Curling your toes, your thighs trembling, cunt clenching, slick dripping soaking into your bedsheet.

Suguru stands up putting his cock in your face. Stuffing his thick, veiny cock into your mouth in a quick thrust. Gagging you with short, deep strokes until you're crying. "This is the only time I want to see you sobbing. You're so damn sexy choking on my fat cock." Gliding his cock out, smacking your cheeks, stuffing himself back into your hot wet mouth.

Admiring how your lips look gliding along his cock with a deep moan. Holding your head still by a fistful of hair. Steadily fucking your mouth, making you cry with spit dripping down your chin, smearing onto his balls.

Satoru swirls the toy on your soft clit. Spreading your lips apart with his fingers to record how your cunt spasms around nothing. Sinking two fingers, massaging your sweet spot. Groaning around Suguru's cock.

Kenjaku holds your hand out flat, spitting into it. Wrapping your soft fingers around his thick veiny cock. You swirl your hand down, his heavy cock drooping to the side on top of your wrist. Your cunt flutters around Satoru's fingers when Kenjaku groans.

Adding a third long thick fingers, your sloppy wet hot tight cunt squelches with each pump. "Squirt for me mama, lemme see your pretty super soaker gush. Show me goof I'm makin' her feel." Biting your thigh, sucking and swirling the toy on your clit.

Suguru glides his cock out. Grabbing his cock, lifting his head up to kiss him. "Fuck like my cock that much." Trailing soft kisses along a puffy vein. Sucking on his soft balls. Pumping your hand along Kenjaku's thick, veiny cock faster.

Swiping your finger over his thick head, smearing pre-cum. "Go ahead and make a pretty mess for us beautiful." Licking up Suguru's cock, wrapping your lips around his fat head. Softly licking his head, tasting him.

Rutting his hip, stuffing his cock deep into your mouth. Gagging you till fresh tears spill down your cheeks. Groaning, stuffing the last inch of his cock into your mouth. Grabbing your headboard, holding onto the back of your head.

"You look so fuckin' sexy with my cock stuffed so deep." Gliding his tongue till the tip is about to slip out. Groaning when you swipe his head with his tongue. "I wonder how your beautiful cunt looks taking my fat cock." Roughly fucking your mouth, his balls hitting your chin.

You're creaming on Satoru's fingers, he doesn't stop. The peak's intensity becomes overwhelming as it grows. You can't remember to stroke Kenjaku's cock. He pumps your hand around his cock.

Satoru croons, "We can double stuff our lil slut, use her like a cock sleeve till we bust a nut. Ya got tighter around my fingers. Want Sug and I to double stuff your cunt. Whoever cums second it gonna fuck the first deeper into you." Squirting on Satoru's fingers, he stills the toy on your clit.

Steadily pumping his fingers, fucking you through your high. Gliding his fingers out, dipping his tongue in to taste you with a groan. Yanking your hips back, he swirls the toy on your oversensitive clit.

Pleasure boarders on painful. You're quivering tears trickle down your cheeks. Satoru lazily pumps his tongue, groaning. Stretching his long, muscular body out on your bed. Grinding his cock on your soft sheets. Suguru glides his cock out of your mouth. Sitting down next to you.

Satoru grabs your hair pulling you onto your knees. Forcing Kenjaku to let go of your hand. Slapping your ass as Satoru pulls your shorter soft beautiful body on top of his. Getting on his knees, getting next to your head. Grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, and slapping your face.

"Stupid sluts like you get triple stuffed." Sticking out your tongue looking into Knejaku's beautiful face. Satoru grabs your jaw making you face him.

"You can have her mouth in a minute. I'm recording what expression our beautiful slut's face makes when we stuff our cocks in." Satoru picks up his phone, capturing your beautiful face on screen.

His cock is trapped with your sensitive clit and soft lips. Grinding your hips, smearing your slit on Satoru's cock. Biting your lip, your soft clit drags along a thick vein. You can feel his pulse. Lifting your hips for him to reach between grabbing his cock and lifting it for you to sink your soaking wet cunt down on.

Taking Satoru's warm cock head when he grabs your hip planting his feet and slamming you down. Moaning, your jaw drops, clenching his side with your thighs.

Kenjaku grabs his cock jerking himself off next to your face. "I'll have to screenshot something for my phone's background." Pinching your nipple, softening when you whine. His gentle strokes soothe some of the ache.

Satoru croons, "You sound hot cryin' like that." Enjoying how deep he's reaching, stroking your sweet spot before touching your cervix. Suguru nudges your stuffed cunt with his cock, getting just his fat head in. Admiring how your cunt stretches, his cock vanishing inside you.

Your warm, soft soaking wet cunt is so tight, pressing him against Satoru's longer cock. Slimmer than his own he's stretching you out more. His head stopped just below Satoru's. Your tight cunt makes Satoru's cockhead overlap.

"Fuck the pretty faces you made taking our cocks is gonna make me bust too quickly." Satoru ends the video tossing his phone aside. Letting Kenjaku grab your hair twisting your head forcing you to look up at him. Sptting on your cheek, smearing it with his cock before stuffing your mouth.

Suguru and Satoru time their thrust, stroking your sweet spot with Satoru's head hitting your cervix. Not giving you another moment to get used to them. Suguru's soft breathy moans mix with Satoru's needy whines.

Kenjaku's fat cock muffles your cries. "Pretty little crybaby slut." Dropping your leash, pushing his hair out of his face with a swipe of his hand. Clenching Suguru and Satoru's cocks.

"Three cocks enough for ya? One of us is bound to be free when your greedy little cock sleeve needs to be filled." His large balls smack your spit-covered chin. "Touch anyone else and you're not sitting down right for days. I'll make you count every hit to your sweet ass." Fucking your mouth rougher, grabbing his thigh.

Digging your nails into Kenjaku's muscular thigh." That's it my pretty slut cry for me." Smiling down at you, "I'll edge you till I cum then leave you wanting till the next day. Won't even let you cum during aftercare, and if you touch yourself, you're not getting my cock for a month." Gliding his cock out of your mouth with a soft pop.

Using however long you got to catch your breath. Moaning when Kenjaku smacks you roughly across your face. Satoru groans "What dumbass our cock drunk lil slut is getting off being smacked around in bed? What other fucked up things would you let us do?" Rutting his hips faster, messing up the pace he's kept with Suguru.

Kenjaku stuffs your mouth full of his thick cock, roughly pumping his hips. Keeping a steady pace. "We should rent a place in the middle of the woods and find out. It won't matter where we fuck her."

Satoru slides his large warm hands up your sides. "I could pin you against a tree and fuck my cum into you after skinny dipping." Cupping your breasts, swirling his thumb over your nipples.

Suguru grabs your wrists twisting your arms behind your back with one hand. Smacking your ass repeatedly till you're jerking your hips away trembling. "Is six all you can handle? Pathetic." Slapping your stinging cheek two more times before massaging your soft sore cheek.

"We can raise her pain tolerance make her our perfectly trained painslut who begs for our cocks." Kenjaku groans, his hips shuttering. "Keep cryin' like that and I'll have to cum in your mouth." Fucking your mouth faster, tightening his grasp on your hair when his legs tremble.

Satoru grabs your sides, digging his nails in. Whining beneath you, his pace getting sloppy. Thick warm cum spurts deep in your tight, sloppy wet cunt. Satoru's thrusts flatter. He lifts up biting down on your shoulder.

Suguru fucks you harder, faster, stuffing Satoru's cum deeper into you, stroking his cock. Getting off on your soft cunt squeezing him tighter and the warmth of Satoru's cum. He lets your wrists go, grabbing your leash, and tugging on your collar.

Kenjaku's firm grasp keeps your head from moving. Steadily fucking your mouth not caring about your need for air. Causing your body to become tingly and limp, your head foggy. There is no need to think about anything. You just need to feel their warm hard cocks fucking into you until they cum.

Cumming on Suguru's cock pushing him over the edge. He sloppily fucks his cum into you. "Cum in her cunt." Kenjaku glides his cock out of your mouth, pumping his cock. Suguru lifts you off Satoru's cock, holding you up with your legs spread, pulling his cock out.

Satoru moves out of the way, getting off the bed and heading into your bathroom. Turning on the water.

Kenjaku moves in front of you, lining himself up and giving you his fat cock in one quick rough thrust. Jolting, your eyes widening and your toes curling. Wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders slipping your fingers into his soft hair. Tugging on it, pulling him in for a rough, passionate kiss.

Parting your lips for his pierced tongue. Laying you down when Suguru gets off the bed, his heavyweight pressing you into the bed. Digging your nails into his back, giving him several thin pink lines that will be there for days.

Pulling away, grabbing the toy on the bed, turning it on, holding it to your clit. "You're my dirty lil slut n' you're gonna take my cum like a good whore aren't you?" Swirling the toy on your puffy, sensitive clit. It's too much, you're trembling.

"Please cum please cum please cum! Sir please. daddy sir Kenjaku please cummmm." Clenching his cock, trying to push him over the edge quicker. "It's too much nnnn can't, can't, want to feel you cum. Please!" Smiling when you feel his a quick pulse in the veins of his fat cock.

Spasming around him cumming too quickly from his thick cock splitting your sensitive cunt open fucking Satoru's and Suguru's cum deeper into you. "NNn fuck that's it sexy mama needed to feel her cumming on my cock to get me off." Thick warm cum trickle from his cock. Smearing with every steady stroke.

Kenjaku takes the toy off your clit, turning it off and setting it aside. "Beautiful princess I'm proud of how well you did for your first time with us. What do you want for your reward?" Leaning down gently kissing your forehead.

"Cuddle pile? Don't take you cock out just yet." Smiling softly at you, your cheeks heat up from the admiration in Kenjaku's brown eyes. Lifting you off the bed, hiding your face in his neck.

He keeps his cock in, holding onto you, arranging the pillows before turning around. Sitting with you straddling his hips, he gently strokes your back.

Suguru comes back with a clean wet hand towel. "Look at me beautiful, let's get your pretty face clean." Satoru climbs onto the bed next to Kenjaku and you. You can't look any of them in the eyes. Kenjaku undoes the clasp of your collar and you pull away. Sliding your hands down his thick pecs, keeping your attention on his hard abs.

Satoru croons, "Aw what this did we fuck our princess into being shy again? Do we need to fuck it outta ya?"

oreo creampie's m.list

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miley1442111 · 8 months ago

Text

weird facts- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you finally meet spencer's friends after a very long time, it's just... they don't know about you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of murder, kissing, suggestive

Spencer felt ill. You weren’t picking up any of his calls, weren’t answering any of his texts, and you hadn’t been seen for a whole 24 hours. According to your friend who was staying over at your house last night, you had gotten a call from work and it meant you had to travel, but it was meant to be within the country, so why weren’t you answering?

“Pretty boy?” Derek called from across the bullpen. “We’ve got a case.”

Spencer quickly followed Derek into the conference room, even if his mind was elsewhere. It sadly, was a mass-murder scheme that they only had a few hours to figure out.

“Oh yes,” Hotch said under his breath. “We have some help, these are Agents Riley, O’Callahan, and Dr. Y/l/n. They all work with unsubs like these everyday and the doctor here has a lot of background from her time overseas. Please use their help and expertise,” he stated before getting up and ending the meeting. The office was buzzing with movement, but Spencer was too awe-stuck to see you in front of him to move, or really notice the rest of the world around him. It had been 5 months since you’d seen each other in person. Both of your jobs made it practically impossible to see each other more than a few times a year but neither of you minded, you loved each other.

“Earth to Spencer Reid!” Derek shouted at him and finally broke him out of his trance.

“Yes?!” He startled, ripping his eyes from your figure immediately.

“Can we focus on the case please? Not the pretty doctor,” Derek shot you a wink and you rolled your eyes, still unaware of Spencer’s being there because of your engrossment in your files.

“Yes, fine!” He hissed, beginning the geological profile.

“Spencer?” You ask, shocked at his being there.

“Hey honey-” He smiled sheepishly as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. The rest of your team and his all looked on, deeply confused. Spencer placed a soft kiss onto your cheek as you smiled. Spencer was over the moon, you were here. You were in his arms.

“You two know each other?” Agent Riley said with a smirk on his face. “Is that the boyfriend?”

You pulled away despite wanting to hold on longer. You picked back up your casefiles with a contented smile. “Shut up Riley.”

Spencer’s face was red as Morgan, Prentiss, Jj, and Rossi all looked at him in shock.

“My man,” Derek smirked, giving him a less than soft slap on the back. “Congratulations, how new is it?”

“It’s been 4 years, 77 days, 5 hours and,” He took a split-second to look at his watch. “And 47 minutes.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped more.

“You’ve been dating him for 4 years?” Agent O’Callahan practically shouted. “We only heard about him for the first time last week!”

“Can’t anyone have privacy anymore,” You muttered, diving into yet another casefile.

“I have to ask you everything about this-” Derek turned to you but you cut him off.

“No, you have to build your profile,” You reminded him. “Ask me everything when we catch these fuckers.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in the crowded bar, Derek on your right and Spencer on your left, his hand holding your thigh under the table.

“So, he tells you all the weird facts he tells us too, right?” Derek laughed, entertained by your relationship.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “But I enjoy ‘weird’ facts.”

Derek nodded his head. “You two are seriously perfect for each other,” he smiled. You could feel Spencer squeezing your thigh, his hands getting sweater by the second.

“He definitely spits out random facts during sex,” Derek said to the blonde woman next to him and Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat, knowing his own tendencies to not shut up, even in the bedroom. You laughed along with them, not actually giving them an answer.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked home with Spencer’s hand in yours. You had successfully caught the unsubs, you had stopped the attack, and now you had time to spend with your brilliant boyfriend.

“Your friends care about you a lot,” you said as you walked down the dark street. Spencer chuckled.

“They like you a lot,” he admitted. “Probably more than they like me.”

“Spencer, Derek looks at you like you’re his little brother, stop it. They’re just happy that you’re happy,” you smiled. “You are happy, right?” You asked, standing outside his apartment block.

Spencer chuckled at your question, like he could be anything else. You were the kindest, smartest, and most incredible person he’d ever met. You cared and loved him so deeply. You were his everything.

“I’m more than happy,” he smiled before pressing a kiss to your lips.. His glasses slightly hit off your nose but neither of you minded, his hands began to explore as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs his apartment block, ready for another night of ‘weird facts’.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthewgraygubler #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction

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mrsfancyferrari · 1 month ago

Text

Want You

Summary: LN4 + "But I don't want them, I want you." 🥧🏈

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You stand in the mirror, pacing back and forth as you fix your hair for the third time. Tonight is one of those nights where the universe feels electrically charged, a perfect blend of thrill and anxiety swirling in your gut.

Layla, your best friend, has just finished getting ready and is practically beaming with excitement beside you.

Her skin glows under the soft lights of your apartment, and her dress hugs her figure perfectly. You can’t help but feel slightly overshadowed by her beauty.

"Do I look okay?" you ask, biting your lip, your eyes darting from her to your reflection.

"Are you kidding? You look amazing!" Layla exclaims, twisting a lock of her hair, her eyes sparkling. "But you really need to get out there more. You’re gorgeous in your own right!”

You chuckle, brushing off her compliment with a wave of your hand. "Yeah, well, even if I am, who's going to notice when you're around? You’re the one who gets all the attention. "

"That's not true! But anyway, tonight we’re supposed to have fun, not talk about that,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “Now, remember the plan?”

You nod, though your heart feels heavier with those words. “Right. We’re meeting Lando and the guys at the club. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m some awkward third wheel. He’s popular.”

Layla rolls her eyes playfully. “You say that every time. You two are friends. Besides, I think he likes you more than you think.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond, your mind racing back to the day Lando had randomly entered your life during a charity event you were volunteering for.

He was charming, funny, and incredibly humble for someone so famous. But the thought of anything romantic blossoming between you seemed absurd, especially when Layla was practically the embodiment of what everyone desired.

At the club, the bass vibrates through the floor, and colorful lights dance around the crowd like fireflies in the night. It’s an atmosphere alive with energy, but you feel your heartbeat quicken at the thought of seeing Lando.

You spot him near the bar, a bright smile on his face as he talks to some friends. Dressed casually, Lando is effortlessly cool, like a magnetic pull that draws everyone’s attention.

“There he is!” Layla exclaims, her excitement infectious. You watch her eyes grow wide like a child spotting a shooting star.

“Go! Go talk to him!” you nudge her, unable to keep the urge to play matchmaker at bay.

“No way! I’m not going without my wingwoman,” she whispers urgently, grabbing your wrist.

With a resigned sigh, you stride forward, Layla trailing closely behind. The moment Lando sees you, his face lights up, and he waves enthusiastically.

The way his presence commands attention is almost intoxicating.

“Hey! You made it!” he greets, pulling you in for a quick hug. You can smell his cologne, fresh and invigorating. Suddenly, your shyness mellows into warmth, though a tiny inner voice reminds you that you’re about to play cupid.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your demeanor suddenly a mix of confidence and nervous fluttering. “Lando, this is my best friend Layla. You should hang out with her more—she’s awesome!”

Layla’s cheeks flush, and a playful smirk spreads across her face, but you can’t help but feel anxiety gnawing at you.

“Nice to meet you, Layla,” Lando says, his bright green eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope!” Layla giggles, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers as if she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

“Yes, definitely,” he chuckles lightly, shooting you a glance that feels a bit mischievous. “I always wanted to meet the friend who keeps you so grounded.”

You fight to keep your composure, trying to bury the layer of jealousy creeping in. “Well, tonight’s all about celebrating. We should hit the dance floor!”

Hours pass with drinks flowing and laughter echoing. You dance, reveling in the rhythm while keeping a watchful, almost possessive gaze on Layla and Lando. They banter, and you notice how easily they connect, the chemistry undeniable.

A part of you feels satisfied, hoping for the sparks to ignite. Yet, another part steals glances at the way Lando laughs—could he truly like her?

“Hey,” you hear a familiar voice call, pulling you from your thoughts. Lando approaches, his brow slightly furrowed. “I was looking for you. Want to join us?”

You swallow, glancing at Layla, who is leaning against her car, her smile bright. “Um, sure. Just one moment.”

He watches you, a look of concern crossing his face. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah but you know, Layla really lights up the floor.”

“She does,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “But I think you’re just as fun. It’s nice having both of you here.”

“Nice being here with you.” The words spilled from your mouth before you could bite them back.

Before you nerves could take over, you added, “You know, if you’re interested, Layla would love to get coffee or something. She’s crushing on you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Lando’s face, followed by an understanding nod. “Yeah, I picked up on that. But honestly?” He paused, searching for your eyes. “I think I’d prefer hanging out with you instead."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a giddy thrill dance in your chest. “Really? You mean that?”

“Definitely,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “You’re fun to talk to, and we have a great vibe. I really like spending time with you.”

“Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, a mixture of confusion and excitement swirling inside you. “I mean, Layla is great and all, but—”

“Look,” he interrupted gently, his eyes softening. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I’d love to get to know you better. Just you. No Layla.”

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the small living room where Lando and you sat. Your head ached, pounding in rhythm with your heartbeat, and the remnants of last night's festivities loomed over you like a heavy cloud.

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything too wild, don’t worry. Just that you really like spending time with me… and that you might like me in a different way.”

Your face burned even hotter, a mix of embarrassment and panic flooding your senses. “Oh my god! Lando, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to… I don’t remember any of that! It’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t stress,” he said, a warm smile crossing his lips. “It’s not like you announced it to the whole party or anything. Just me, your trusted partner in crime. Besides, it's actually kind of sweet.”

His words were laced with a sincerity that calmed the storm brewing inside you, just a little. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy? It made my night a lot better.”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“You were not a mess, you were just… liberated,” Lando smirked, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms behind his head. “And honestly, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. In fact, it kind of makes me happy.”

“Ugh, Lando, you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you replied, your voice wavering as you tried to muster a hint of displeasure.

“No, I’m not.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy?”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“No you weren't.” His face lit up with a smile that was infectious. “First things first, though—let’s get you over that hangover.”

You chuckled softly, grateful for the shift in energy. “Right.”

“Exactly,” Lando said, standing up and moving to the kitchen. “How do you feel about greasy food? Because I believe that’s the primary cure for hangovers.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Always a solid choice. I could go for some toast or maybe even pancakes.”

“I can whip up something interesting,” he called back, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice. “But it might not be traditional breakfast food. I’ve been experimenting a little.”

“Oh boy, this should be good,” you said, following him into the kitchen, the earlier tension still lingering, but now more like a hopeful promise than a cloud of uncertainty.

Lando looked back over his shoulder with that charming grin that made your heart race. “Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

As he rummaged through the cabinets, you felt a flutter of excitement amid the remnants of your embarrassment. Maybe today wasn’t just about curing a hangover. Maybe it was the start of something new—something sweet and just a little bit wild.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of sizzling ingredients, laughter, and casual banter, the gravitational pull of your connection drawing you closer.

And for the first time that morning, as the sunlight spilled in and the soft music played, you felt truly, undeniably alive. . . .

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the McLaren paddock as the roar of engines filled the air. You had arrived earlier than expected, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Lando had invited you specifically to watch him race, and you had decided to bring Layla with you, thinking it might make the day more enjoyable.

But now, as you watched the interactions unfold around you, you began to regret that decision.

“Look at them,” Layla said, nudging your arm and pointing toward the racing cars as they zipped around the track. “Isn’t it incredible? I still can’t believe we’re here!”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to suppress the tension knotting up your stomach.

Lando was on the other side of the paddock, surrounded by his team, engrossed in the pre-race hustle. He looked effortlessly cool in his race suit, flashing that signature smile that made your heart skip, and exchanging laughter with his crew.

You could see the admiration in Layla’s eyes, the way her gaze followed him, almost too fondly.

“Do you think he’ll win today?” Layla asked, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “I mean, he’s been so on form lately. This might be his season!”

“Yeah, I hope so,” you managed, but your heart sank a little at the way she spoke about him, as if Lando was already hers, as if you didn’t even exist in the context of their perfect relationship.

As the anticipation built, Lando finished up with his team and made his way over to you both. With a warm grin, he wrapped you in a tight hug, his comforting scent of fresh cedar and sunlight enveloping you.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaimed, pulling back to look into your eyes. He waved cheerfully at Layla, who returned the gesture with a beaming smile.

With a playful tap on my shoulder, he kept his attention locked on you. “I bought your favorite snacks in case you get hungry. Just ask anyone in hospitality and they'll give them to you.”

“Oh, Lando, you didn’t have to,” you said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“I knew you didn’t eat much,” he replied, with a hint of teasing in his tone. “Gotta keep you energized, right? What would the fans say if they saw you fainting in the stands?”

You chuckled, the lightheartedness of his comment managing to ease some of the tension in your chest. “I appreciate it, really. Thanks, Lando.”

“Of course!” He flashed that dazzling smile again, and your heart skipped yet again, wishing it wouldn’t betray you so. “Are you excited for the race?”

“Absolutely,” You said with a grin. “I can’t wait to see you speed past everyone. You’re going to crush it!”

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “I’ll do my best. And if all goes to plan, maybe we can celebrate afterward?”

“Definitely!” you replied a little too quickly. “That would be amazing!”

As Lando left to get ready for the race and you walked to the garage, Layla nudged you playfully. “Haven't you seen the way he looks at you?” she said, a teasing smirk on her face.

“How do he… look at me?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

“Like he's helplessly falling in love,” Layla teased, her tone light but with a touch of sincerity.

Your cheeks heated. “Oh, come on. He’s just friendly. You know how he is.”

“Friendly? Girl, he’s practically glowing when he sees you! It’s more than friendly.”

You didn't reply but her words were replayed in your head for most of the day. . . .

The roar of the engines and the excitement of the crowd filled the air as you settled into your seat, your heart racing along with the cars on the track.

You had been eagerly watching Lando drive with impressive precision, your admiration mixed with nerves as he expertly navigated the twists and turns of the circuit.

But as the laps dwindled down, your stomach began to rumble louder than the cars. You leaned over to Layla, who was just as engrossed in the race aside from the occasional glance in your direction.

“I'm going to grab some snacks Lando got for me. Want anything?” you asked, trying to mask your growing hunger with a light-hearted tone.

“No, I’m good! Can’t believe you have personal snacks from the Lando,” Layla teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you made your way to the hospitality room, the bright lights and lavish decor a stark contrast to the rawness of the track.

You felt a rush of nostalgia thinking about all the times Lando had surprised you with silly little gestures, like snacking during breaks or rescuing you from long queues at events.

As you entered, the atmosphere abruptly shifted. A tall, undeniably handsome man leaned casually against the bar, a cocky smile on his face that could light up the room.

He had perfectly styled hair and a confidence that was palpable. You instinctively felt your pulse quicken, but not in the way you were used to with Lando.

“Hey there,” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet as he turned to face you. “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing all alone?”

You blinked, taken aback. It was the first time someone had openly flirted with you in public, and the realization made your cheeks flush.

“Um, just grabbing some snacks,” you stammered, glancing back toward the snack table. “Not much to see here.”

He moved closer, leaning forward on the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’d hardly call you ‘not much to see.’ You definitely stand out from the crowd. What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s…” you hesitated, almost forgetting your own name for a moment. “It’s Y/N. And you are…?”

“Ethan,” he replied, extending a hand with an air of confidence. You hesitated but eventually shook his hand. “So Y/N, do you come to the races often?”

“More often than you’d think,” you answered, forcing a smile.

Your mind kept drifting back to Lando, his curly hair bouncing with every turn, his infectious laugh, his enthusiastic spirit. You couldn't help but mentally compare every detail of Ethan to Lando, a habit you couldn’t shake off.

“What do you think of the race so far?” Ethan asked, diverting your thoughts back to the present.

“Oh, it’s exhilarating! Lando’s doing really well,” you replied, your voice faltering slightly as you mentioned his name. “He’s a great driver.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Lando? The Lando?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for a bit. He’s… well, great,” you added sheepishly, not wanting to divulge too much about your friendship.

“Sounds like you’re a bit smitten,” Ethan teased, his eyes sparkling with playful banter.

You cut him a look, a blush creeping up your neck. “No! It’s not like that. We’re just friends!” The resolve in your voice felt weak against the wistfulness laced in your words.

Would Ethan ever understand the depth of what Lando meant to you?

The race continued, and Ethan shifted his attention from the track to you. “While I might not have curly hair or that… infectious laugh, I can still try to impress you,” he said with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I can’t deny you’re charming, Ethan. But the thing about Lando—”

“Is that he’s Lando,” Ethan interrupted, his voice low as though the name itself held some power. “I get it. You’ve got this history that I can’t compete with.”

He looked down, running a hand through his hair. The gesture seemed so reminiscent of Lando, yet distinctly different.

You couldn’t shake off how much every flick of Ethan’s hair and every smile he flashed felt in stark contrast to Lando’s bouncy curls and radiant grin. He smiled, sure, but it felt like a shadow of something brighter.

Just then, a staff member waved at Ethan from the other side of the grandstand, beckoning him over for photographs. “I’ll be right back!” he said, throwing you one last flirtatious grin before he slipped away.

You decided to take the chance to get back to your seat, curious as to why the cheers around the paddock were getting louder.

“Did you get your snacks?” Layla asked, her eyes still glued to the screen where the race was unfolding.

“Yeah,” you replied absentmindedly, still feeling the flutter of excitement from Ethan's attention. As you focused on the race, your thoughts danced back to him intermittently.

The atmosphere was electric; Lando was still in the lead for qualifying, much to the delight of the crowd, and your heart raced not just from the race—but from the momentary thrill of flirtation.

“Come on, come on, Lando!” Layla shouted, her enthusiasm infectious. You mirrored her excitement, your eyes following the sleek McLaren as it whizzed around the track.

When Lando crossed the finish line, securing pole position, the roar from the team was deafening. Everyone in McLaren was ecstatic, their cheers echoing the adrenaline that surged through the air.

"Yes, Lando," you said, smiling as the cameras captured the jubilant scene.

With Lando’s triumph, you watched as the team swarmed to congratulate him. You couldn't help but chuckle at his signature grin, the way he seemed to glow with the thrill of victory.

But as you looked closer, you realized that despite the chaos around him, Lando’s gaze was searching the crowd.

“Do you think he’ll spot us?” Layla asked, her eyes narrowing, trying to catch a glimpse through the throng of people.

“I doubt it. I mean, look at him! He’s the star of the show right now,” you replied, attempting to downplay the hope that fluttered in your stomach.

Still, your thoughts were interrupted as Layla suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

“C'mon! We need to get a closer look!” she shouted over the noise. Your heart raced for a different reason now, excitement growing as you maneuvered through the ocean of fans, team members, and media.

You just managed to catch a glimpse of Lando standing on his car, fist raised triumphantly in the air. “Look at him! He’s on top of the world!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the cheers.

“I know! He’s incredible!” Layla responded, beaming at Lando’s joyous display.

Amidst the clamor and celebrations, you decided to yell out, “Lando, over here!” hoping he might hear you.

To your surprise, he turned in your direction, a radiant smile breaking across his face. He scanned the crowd, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. His smile grew broader, and you felt warmth flood your cheeks.

Then, without a thought for the crowd around you, you made your way over to him. You squeezed through a chaotic throng of jubilant fans, the buzz of celebration swirling around you, until you reached the area near the barriers.

There he was, laughing and exchanging high-fives with the team. You couldn't help but grin as you approached.

“Lando!” you shouted over the noise, arms open wide.

He spotted you immediately, and a look of pure joy washed over his face. With almost immediate instinct, he lunged toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

The strength of his excitement was palpable, and you squeezed him back, your heart racing.

He chuckled as he lifted you slightly off the ground. “I did it! I can't believe it!” he cried, setting you back down gently. “Did you see that last lap?”

“Are you kidding? It was amazing! You were so fast!” you exclaimed, your voice rising above the cacophony.

As he pulled back, he looked down at you with his bright eyes sparkling in the fading light. “I couldn’t have done it without all your support. You were here every step of the way.”

“You’ve worked so hard, Lando. You deserve this,” you said, your gaze drifting for a moment as you felt the warmth of his presence envelop you.

But then, staring at him with the backdrop of the ecstatic crowd, your heart felt odd. Being so close to him, you suddenly found yourself stammering. “I—uh, I mean… you really did great.”

Lando tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You alright?” He took a small step closer, his arm still around your waist, making you acutely aware of the physical closeness between you, which felt both comfortable and electric.

“Uh, yeah, totally fine,” you replied quickly, but your voice was barely above a whisper. You caught a brief glimpse of Lando's gaze flitting to your lips, and it sent a jolt of connection rushing through you.

“I just… I mean…” You struggled to finish your thought, the reality of your best friend stepping into the limelight making you feel both thrilled and ridiculously nervous.

“Just what?” he teased gently, his smile unwavering but those eyes—oh, those eyes were searching, digging deeper.

“Just… I didn’t think you’d get pole position! I mean, I thought maybe, like, third or fourth?” You laughed nervously, but his gaze didn’t waver.

“Hey, you should always believe in me!” Lando said, but there was a soft intensity behind his words that made your heart race all the more. “If I can get here today, then you have to promise you’ll always believe in me, no matter what.”

You paused, looking earnestly into his bright eyes, biting your lip. “I promise. But you’ve gotta promise me too; no matter how famous you get or how many trophies you win, you won’t forget about me, okay?”

“Never,” he said softly, but the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. He lowered his voice, his teasing demeanor fading slightly.

“You’ve been my constant through all of this, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Lando’s words lingered palpably in the air between you. You felt like the entire world had faded away, the crowd’s roars dimming into background noise. “I just… I could never replace what we have.”

“Exactly,” he said, moving a fraction closer, eliciting butterflies to flutter chaotic within your stomach. “Remember that time you thought I’d mess up in Monaco, and then I didn’t? I was convinced I could do it because you believed in me.”

You laughed, flushing at the memory. “Yeah, and you laughed at me for just being realistic.”

“Realistic is boring! You should know that by now. In racing, and in life, you gotta dream big,” he said, voice lightening as humor returned to the moment.

Just as you were about to respond, Zac approached. “Hey! Lando! Congrats, mate!”

He clapped Lando on the back, breaking the synergy you had created. “That was an incredible race! You crushed it!”

Lando’s hand left your waist as he turned to engage with Zac, his infectious excitement pulling him into the conversation. “Thanks, man! I can’t believe it! I was so nervous the entire time!”

You stepped back slightly, allowing the two of them to revel in the adrenaline of the moment. Lando beamed, his eyes sparkling as he spoke animatedly with Zac about the race strategy.

You watched as he made his way to get weighed and interviewed, your heart fluttering with a mix of pride and something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“Really, though, I don’t understand why you’re still on the fence about it,” Layla said, stepping beside you as you discreetly observed Lando.

Her voice was laced with curiosity as she nudged your shoulder. “He’s been so into you these past few weeks. Did you see how he looked at you when he saw you?”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your gaze still fixed on Lando. “Yeah, well, I saw that. But just because he looks at me a certain way doesn’t mean he likes me. He’s excited about the race, Layla. I’m just… there.”

“You’re not just ‘there.’ You’re practically glowing in his vicinity. It’s like he only sees you when he talks!” Layla insisted, her tone shifting to teasing. “You could light up an entire stadium with the way he smiles at you.”

“Okay, maybe he enjoys spending time with me,” you conceded, your cheeks warming at the thought. “But that doesn't exactly scream ‘I like you.’”

“Maybe not,” she replied, tilting her head as she watched Lando waving at fans and signing autographs, “but you’ve got to admit, there’s something more. I mean, look at him! The energy is off the charts!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the conversation light. “You know how he is. He’s a charismatic guy. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Maybe. But wouldn’t it be amazing if he was like that with just you?” Layla’s voice softened, and she nudged you again. “Take the leap! Ask him how he feels—it doesn’t have to be a grand declaration.”

The sun was beginning to set over the racing circuit, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky as Lando settled himself into a high-backed chair in the paddock lounge.

It had been a day filled with adrenaline, the thrill of achieving pole position lighting up his thoughts.

The victory celebrations had been electrifying, but they were quickly overshadowed by a single purpose that surged through him like fuel to an engine—he wanted to see you again.

After the debrief, he had scanned the crowd, searching for you, his excitement building with each passing second. He had been talking about trying a new restaurant in town, and he couldn’t wait to explore it with you.

But the moment he stepped into the bustling lounge, he spotted you, and his heart sank just a little.

You were laughing.

Not just a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that lit up your face. You were engaged in conversation with Ethan Smith, the American actor who had been brought in as a special guest to support the race.

Lando could see the chemistry between you two—it was glaringly evident in the way Ethan leaned in slightly, his playful jokes coaxing out laughter and smiles that made your eyes sparkle.

“Hey, you look like you’re going to kill Ethan,” Layla, your best friend, teased as she sidled up to Lando, noticing the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped him.

“Who?” Lando asked, tearing his gaze from you for just a moment.

“Ethan Smith? One of the most famous actors in the US? You don’t know him?” Layla's voice was filled with disbelief.

“Nope, and I don’t like him either,” Lando grumbled, eyes narrowing as he watched Ethan wink at you.

You giggled, and Lando felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. He stood up properly, unable to resist the pull any longer.

As he stormed over, Layla rolled her eyes, giggling softly in amusement. “Good luck, hero.”

Lando approached, trying to keep his expression neutral even while he could feel a competitive spark igniting within him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” he said, forcing a smile as he sidled up next to you, “but I thought we were going to check out that new place together.”

You turned to him, your smile blossoming even wider. “Lando! You were amazing out there today! I still can’t believe you got pole position!”

“Thanks! It was a good day, but I’ve got even better plans,” he added, shooting Ethan a pointed look. “I’m taking you out for dinner remember.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered and amused by Lando's sudden intrusion. “Oh, is that so? Looks like you’ve got some competition, Norris.”

Lando’s jaw twitched slightly. “I don’t see any competition, honestly. You’re just a—”

“Just a what?” Ethan interrupted with a smirk, leaning back casually. “Just a huge star who happens to be having a lovely conversation with someone he finds incredibly charming?”

You giggled again, a sound that made Lando’s irritation simmer down just a fraction. “You guys, come on. I’m just trying to enjoy the evening here.”

“Exactly,” said Ethan, flashing you a disarming smile. “And you deserve it! Besides, I was just giving her some advice on how to handle the media.”

“Media?” Lando questioned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t realize you were running a media workshop.”

Ethan shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, just sharing the wisdom I’ve gained. It can be tough, huh? Like staying out of the limelight while everyone’s watching you, waiting for you to slip up.” He shot a harmless smile, but Lando felt the jabs in his stomach.

You frowned, sensing the tension. “You guys, let’s not make this into a competition. Lando, you were the one who wanted to go out tonight.”

Lando looked at you, and then back at Ethan. “Right,” he said, softening his tone as he fixed his eyes solely on you. “I just wanted to celebrate with you a little, that’s all.”

Ethan grinned, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Looks like you’ve claimed your prize, my friend. I was just enjoying the company. I’ll step back.”

Lando glanced at Ethan with a nod, appreciating the concession, but still feeling a little victorious as he turned back to you. “So, are you ready to go eat? That new place is supposed to be amazing.”

You looked back to Ethan, and then nodded, a sweet smile curling on your lips. “Yeah, I’m ready. Sorry for taking up your time, Ethan.”

Ethan waved it off with a playful wink. “No problem! Have fun out there, you two. Just remember, she was laughing with me first!”

As you and Lando began to walk away, he turned back to you with a raised eyebrow. “You know, just for the record, I think he was flirting with you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh please, he’s just a friendly guy! Besides, I already have someone I’m interested in.”

“Good,” Lando muttered, feeling a rush of relief and warmth flooding his chest. “Just making sure.”

He smiled down at you, his heart feeling a little lighter now. “Let’s go enjoy our dinner and make some headlines of our own, huh?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, linking your arm through his as you both made your way out, leaving the tension behind you.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at the thought of spending the evening with you, feeling that maybe the only competition that truly mattered was the one he could embrace.

The evening air was cooler than expected, igniting a small thrill of anticipation as you stepped out of the car. You looked up at the restaurant’s glowing sign, your heart fluttering a little.

This place was newly opened, a fusion of modern and vintage charm, and you were eager to see if it lived up to its reputation.

As you adjusted your jacket, you glanced at Lando, who was standing beside you with an easy grin, his eyes sparkling like the city lights around you. Ever since he came into your life, each moment felt a little more vibrant, a little more alive.

“Have you seen the menu?” you asked, looking up at him, excitement bubbling in your voice.

He nodded, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I did, and I can tell you right now, I’m going for that pumpkin risotto. It sounds incredible.”

You laughed. “Pumpkin risotto? It seems a bit heavy for someone who just came off a race, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, I need my carbs!” he retorted playfully, nudging your shoulder with his. “Especially after that race last week. I burned more calories than I could count, you know.”

“Fine, but I’m holding you to it. If you fall asleep in the middle of dinner, we might have a problem,” you teased back, stepping inside the restaurant.

The atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace—soft lighting, a hint of herbs wafting from the kitchen, and laughter echoing from nearby tables. You felt a buzz of excitement in your veins as you and Lando were led to a cozy corner table.

“So, what are you going to have?” he asked, picking up the menu and scanning it with genuine interest.

You shrugged, pretending to gauge the choices with utmost seriousness. “I think I’ll try the seafood linguine. It’s been ages since I’ve had good pasta.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, I love when you get excited about food. It’s one of those little things that makes you… well, you.”

A warm blush crept onto your cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were so observant, Mr. Norris.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I notice the important things. Like how you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, or how your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite books.”

“Okay, now you’re just getting mushy.” Your voice barely hid your embarrassment, but the fluttering in your chest was unmistakable.

You loved how easily he could make you smile.

Their server arrived, and you both ordered. As you waited, the conversation flowed easily, moving from playful banter about Lando’s racing experiences to sharing your dream travel destinations.

“I really want to visit Japan,” you said, your eyes dancing with the thought. “The culture, the food, the cherry blossoms… it seems magical.”

Lando leaned back, an amused smile plastered on his face. “You’re a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, biting your lip. “What about you? Where would you go if you had the chance?”

He paused, his expression thoughtful. “Probably somewhere quiet. Racing is intense, so I think I’d like a peaceful beach. Just to sit, reflect, and maybe learn to surf.”

“Surfing, huh?” You quirked an eyebrow. “You? I can already picture you wiping out spectacularly.”

“Oh, I’d definitely faceplant! But I’d get back up,” he said, his laughter infectious. “Just like on the track. That’s what makes it all fun, right?”

Before you could respond, your food arrived, and the divine aroma filled the air. You both dove into the dishes eagerly, enjoying the burst of flavors that danced on your tongues.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, savoring a mouthful of your linguine. “You have to try this.”

Lando took a bite of your pasta and nodded approvingly. “Wow, that’s really good! But I’ll stick to my risotto for now.”

As dinner continued, the conversation turned more personal. Lando shared stories of his childhood, his dreams, and the pressures of being in the limelight, while you opened up about your own aspirations and the challenges you faced.

“Sometimes, it’s overwhelming,” he confessed, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. “I mean, I love racing, but it can feel like everyone’s expectations are just weighing down on you.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his. “But you’re doing something incredible, Lando. You’re following your passion and inspiring people along the way. Just don’t lose sight of what matters.”

His gaze locked onto yours, lips curving into a smile that reached his eyes. “You always know what to say to make me feel better. I’m lucky to have you around.”

In that moment, you understood something deeper was blossoming between you—a connection that transcended the thrill of racing. It was a shared dream, a mutual understanding, and an undeniable chemistry that lit up the evening.

As the night wore on and the plates were cleared, you felt a mix of contentment and longing. The restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversations, but in your little corner, it was just you and Lando, caught in your own world.

“Next time, we should pick somewhere even more adventurous,” he suggested, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You leaned back, thinking of the possibilities. “That sounds perfect. Let’s make it a tradition.”

Lando grinned, and in that moment, you knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You just hope that your feelings won't get in the way. . . .

Layla’s coughs echoed through the empty hall as she wrapped herself tighter in a soft blanket on the couch, trying to drown out the sound of the outside world.

It felt bitterly unfair that her body had rebelled against her just when she’d been looking forward to watching the race with you.

“Hey, Layla,” you called from the kitchen, where you were prepping a few snacks. “I’m heading out now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

She turned her head slightly, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed. “No, really, you should go. I’d just be a downer. Besides, I’d hate to get Lando sick. He’s got that race this weekend!”

“True, but…” you hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken words. “I mean, it would have been nice if we could all hang out together. I was kind of hoping you'd be there.”

Layla's smile was faint but brightened her pallid complexion. “I think you’re hoping for more than just ‘hanging out.’ You like him, don’t you?”

You sighed. “Maybe? I mean, after last night’s dinner… I just can’t tell if it was all in my head.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, quickly followed by a cough. “You actually thought he was, what? Just being polite? You guys were practically flirting all night.”

“Flirting? Really?” You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought he was just being friendly. Charming, even. He’s always like that.”

“Yeah, but that look he gave you? Come on! It was like, 'how do I impress you?’ and 'you’re amazing’ wrapped in one.” She coughed again, and you felt guilt worming its way into your chest.

“Maybe he was just being a nice guy. Or he was bored...” you trailed off, unsure.

“Or maybe he’s into you, and you just don’t want to see it,” she countered, her voice softening. “You should go talk to him. Tonight could be your chance!”

You ran a hand through your hair, pondering Layla's words. What if? What if that spark you felt between you was mutual?

You took a deep breath as you nodded. “Okay. I’m going. Just to check in on him.”

“Good! Now go knock his socks off!” Layla replied, her enthusiasm cutting through her congestion. As you waved goodbye, a quiet mix of excitement and apprehension simmered in your stomach.

You arrived at the paddock, the unmistakable hum of excitement buzzing in the air. The energy of fans waving flags and donning their favorite team colors could be felt all around; it was palpable and infectious.

You took a moment to soak it all in, engaging with the fans milling about, sharing smiles and snapshots that captured the thrill of race day.

But amidst the joviality, you couldn't shake off the knot in your stomach. Lando had been acting differently lately, receiving an outpouring of negative comments and disproportionate criticism on social media.

It made your heart ache to see someone so talented being torn down and misunderstood, especially when he had always been so kind and considerate.

Today was supposed to be about racing, but you had a growing worry that Lando might not be able to shake off the weight that was pressing down on him.

Once you greeted the last group of fans, you made your way through the paddock with purpose. The noise faded slightly as you approached Lando's garage—his sanctuary, where he would armor up for the battles on the track.

The energy there was different; it was practically electric, the team buzzing around, making final adjustments to the car and going over the last-minute strategies.

Still, your focus was solely on Lando.

You searched for him in every nook and cranny, peeking into the bustling pit area and checking around the hospitality suites. But a feeling of dread began to take root when you couldn’t find him.

“Maybe he’s in his driver’s room,” you murmured to yourself, trying to push down the worry that lingered like a shadow.

At the door, you hesitated, your heart racing. You knocked once, then twice, listening for the sound of his voice.

When no response came, you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open, half-expecting him to be absorbed in some last-minute race preparation. Instead, the scene that greeted you was far from it.

Lando was curled up on the small, worn sofa, hands wrapped around his knees. He jumped slightly at the sight of you, his eyes wide, a mix of surprise and vulnerability.

“Oh Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, forcing on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You frowned at the sight of him, the dim light casting shadows across his face, revealing red-rimmed eyes. Your heart sank. “Lando… what’s wrong?”

You lowered yourself onto the sofa next to him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to ease your concern.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, the practiced lightness in his voice clashing with the heaviness in the room.

You could see the slight tremor in his hands, and your worry deepened. You reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his knee.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, searching his face for the usual spark you loved. “I can see it. Talk to me?”

He looked away, glancing out the window at the racetrack where the cars were roaring around the circuit.

You followed his gaze but quickly turned back to him, determined to break through the wall he had put up. “Does it have to do with the race? Is it the pressure?”

Lando shook his head, something between sad and grateful passing over his features. “It’s not that. Just… a lot on my mind, you know?” His words were heavy, like anchors sinking in deep water.

“That’s okay,” you said, shifting closer to him. “I’m here. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor behind it. “You’re always here, Y/N. That’s what I like about you. You make it easier.”

“Then let me help you,” you insisted gently, nudging him with your elbow while you tried to coax out a more genuine response.

“Can I get a hug?” you asked, knowing that physical closeness might be the best way to pull Lando out of the shell he’d crawled into.

He hesitated, eyes darting around the room like a deer caught in headlights. Then, hesitantly, he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

The warmth of his body was comforting, but as he buried his face against the curve of your neck, you felt the tell-tale signs of him holding back. You hugged him tighter, hoping he could feel the strength of your support.

“Let it out,” you whispered, holding him as he exhaled deeply, searching for words that seemed stuck in his throat. “Please.”

You rubbed his back in soothing circles, the silent rhythm cocooning you both in a bubble of softness. You didn't care if you were basically sitting on his lap; all you cared about was Lando.

“It's just... a lot,” he murmured finally, his voice muffled against you. “The media, the fans—they're relentless. I don’t think I can do it today.”

“Shhh…” you soothed, leaning back slightly to bring his gaze toward you. His big, dark eyes looked lost, a storm brewing behind them. “You’re stronger than they think. You love racing, remember? You belong out there.”

He looked away, swallowing hard. You could see the emotions swirling within him, battling between fear and desire, doubt and determination. “But what if I mess up again? What if…”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently. “What if you do great? You can’t let fear write your story for you. You have to give yourself a chance.”

His fingers found your waist as he held you closer, the intensity in his grip conveying everything words could not. “I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he confessed finally, his breath warm against your ear.

“You won’t,” you assured him, your heart racing with the intimacy of the moment. “Not with me by your side. You have me, Lando; I believe in you.”

With every squeezed breath, the hug felt too tight, arms closing around you, squeezing you, pressing together, inch by inch. You could feel his hesitance melting into something else, something deeper, something that felt like your very own electricity.

Lando was the unpredictable force that set your heart aflame. Those arms wrapped tightly around you felt intoxicating, like a drug that sent your pulse racing when the rest of the world faded away.

His phone buzzed, jolting you both back to the reality of the upcoming race.

“It’s Oscar,” he muttered, annoyance tugging at his features. “I don’t want to go; I can’t face the pit or the cameras.”

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze fully. “Well, I can’t do this for you, but I can be right there with you. You need to let them see how you feel. It’s okay to show vulnerability, Lando.”

He took a deep breath, and you could see the gears in his mind turning. “What if it’s not enough?” he muttered, but the fire in his voice was finally wavering.

“Enough for who?” you pressed. “You don’t have to perform for them. Just do your race, and I’ll be right there cheering for you.”

“Really?” He looked at you, the hope flickering in his gaze almost enough to make you lean in and kiss him.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You grinned, feeling the air shift between you, filled with the promise of something more.

Suddenly, Oscar’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, urgent and loud. “Lando, it’s time for the race!”

Lando groaned, clearly annoyed at being forced back into reality. “I guess I can’t hide in here forever, huh?”

“Nope. Now come on, let’s get you out there and show them what you’re made of.” You smiled, standing abruptly and holding out your hand to him.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before taking it, and you felt that warm pull between you. The brief moment of intimacy melded into something more solid as he clasped your fingers. He rose to his feet, tilting his head slightly to find your gaze once again.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice clear and stronger now. “For everything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably get a lot more nervous,” you teased lightly, nudging him playfully. “But seriously, let’s go. You’ve got a race to win.”

As Lando Norris crossed the finish line for the fourth time that season, the entire track erupted in a symphony of cheers and celebrations.

You could barely contain your excitement, adrenaline surging through you as you pulled off your headphones, the sounds of the race still echoing in your mind.

All that mattered was Lando—your brilliant, talented Lando.

You joined the staff, a vibrant mix of engineers, mechanics, and strategists, who were all equally charged up. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with the scent of burnt rubber and victory champagne.

You barely noticed the chaos unfolding around you as everyone rallied around the pit area. The crew, those unwavering supporters who had helped you get closer to Lando before, ushered you closer, their enthusiasm infectious.

“Come on! Right this way!” one of the crew members shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand and leading you through the throng.

You felt your heart race as the crowd’s energy swirled around you, anticipation making you giddy.

“Lando! Lando! Over here!” you shouted, waving your arms above your head like a lunatic.

A couple of crew members pointed in your direction, assisting the chaotic dance of the crowd.

And then it happened. His eyes met yours—green and bright like emeralds sparkling in sunlight. Time seemed to slow as he brightened at the sight, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

Without hesitation, he tore away from the crowd, sprinting toward you. The world blurred around you, the cheers fading until nothing mattered but the two of you.

When he reached you, it was like everything else faded away. He enveloped you in the biggest hug, his head tucked tightly against your neck.

Warmth washed over you, and you couldn’t help but laugh with pure joy.

“You did it! I knew you could!” you shouted, the excitement lacing your words as your arms wrapped around his neck.

His grip tightened as he pulled back to look into your eyes, the sexual tension thick between you. Lando's gaze lingered on your lips momentarily, and something about the way he held his gaze left your heart racing.

“I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on,” he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” you teased playfully. “You’ve got the talent, but I like to think I add a bit of magic.”

Lando chuckled, a sound like music that echoed around you, making your heart flutter. “Well, keep that magic close then, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, just a breath away from your lips. Your breath hitched as the world fell away again, your cheeks flushed with warmth and perhaps a bit more than embarrassment.

“I—I should let you go celebrate with everyone,” you said, almost feeling shy as you took a step back, the rest of the team rallying around him with congratulations.

“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze never wavering as he reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “You’re coming with me, right? We have to celebrate together after!”

You blinked, surprised. “Really? Don't you want to celebrate with only your team?”

“I want to celebrate with you too!” He smiled, an infectious grin that made your heart skip a beat. “We’ll carve out our own little celebration. Just us after.”

Your heart soared. You nodded eagerly. “Okay!”

After the podium celebrations ended, the crowd dispersed, and the atmosphere filled with the crackling excitement of victory turned to an afterglow.

Lando Norris, with his signature grin and a trophy held high, had basked in the limelight, soaking up the roaring applause of the fans.

But that was only a moment for him; now, he was dragged away to the media center, leaving you standing at the edge of the pit lane, heart fluttering with the kiss he had planted on your cheek moments before.

You leaned against the pit wall, watching as he disappeared behind a barrage of cameras and reporters.

The warmth of his fleeting affection lingered on your skin, and a smile crept across your face despite the noise around you.

“Thinking about him, I see,” a voice interrupted your thoughts. You jumped slightly, caught off guard as you turned to see Ethan approaching.

He wore a knowing smirk, one that made your stomach twist of embarrassment.

“Oh, hi Ethan, what are you talking about?” You feigned nonchalance, crossing your arms.

“Lando, I’m talking about Lando,” Ethan replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Look, it’s clear you’ve got this enormous crush on him, but let’s not kid ourselves. He doesn’t like you like that. He’s just being friendly.”

Your heartbeat quickened for a different reason now—a mix of frustration and hurt. “What do you mean he doesn’t like me? He just won a race, and he kissed me, it was sweet.” You tried to sound more confident than you felt.

“Sweet?” Ethan scoffed. “That was just a celebratory peck. You know how he is with his fans. He flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean he has a thing for you.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing back against his doubt. “But it felt different. The way he looked at me before he left… Ethan, we’ve talked, we’ve laughed.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Look, you’re a great person, and I get that you want to believe he’s into you. But do you really think he’s capable of liking someone with all of this fame and pressure around him? He’s got a busy life, and girlfriends are just more trouble in that world.”

The frustration bubbled in your chest. “You sound like my mom,” you shot back, unable to hide the sharpness in your tone. “You don’t even know him like I do.”

“Fair enough,” Ethan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you’ve got to admit, you’re setting yourself up for a huge disappointment here. Just... don’t get your hopes too high. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

His exasperation was genuine, but it only deepened your resolve. “And I wouldn’t want to live my life scared to try because of what ‘might’ happen.”

Ethan sighed. “Okay, I’m not trying to ruin your fantasy. I just want you to be realistic.”

“Realistic or pessimistic?” you countered.

He laughed softly, the tension in the air easing just a bit. “Alright, let’s call it realistic, then.”

“Lando doesn’t like you that way,” Ethan had said, concern etched on his features.

Those words replayed in your head like a broken record, setting a tight knot in your stomach every time you thought of the charming driver.

Just as you attempted to shake off the lingering doubt, a staff member materialized out of thin air, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Lando wants to see you now.”

“Thanks!” you called out, excusing yourself from Ethan’s company.

You felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety as you navigated through the hubbub of the garage, pushing aside doubts that had lingered since your morning conversation with Ethan.

Finally standing before Lando’s driver’s room, you raised your hand and knocked gently. “Come in,” his voice called out, warm and inviting.

You opened the door to find Lando leaning against the wall, a genuine smile lighting his face, so different from the frown of earlier that day. “Hi, champ!” you greeted him, a spark of joy igniting within you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, standing upright as he approached you. “I’m really glad you’re here.” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, and you could feel an electric tension crackling in the air between you.

You both settled into a rhythm of lighthearted conversation, laughing and reminiscing about the week’s events, but underneath every playful jab and shared joke, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the chemistry that simmered between you.

Lando’s gaze felt heavy on you, filled with unexpressed words that lingered just beyond reach.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension as you stare into Lando's eyes, a mix of confusion and yearning coursing through every nerve in your body.

You can feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you, a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you try to decipher the myriad emotions swirling between you.

“So,” Lando began, his voice almost a whisper, eyes glistening with something serious, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His voice quivers with uncertainty, the weight of his unexpressed feelings hanging heavily in the atmosphere, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your mind raced back to Ethan’s words: “Lando doesn’t like you, Y/N. He’s just playing around.” You shook your head slightly. You wouldn’t let yourself believe that.

You couldn’t allow the confusion between friendship and something more to blur in your mind; it was too painful.

He said, his tone firm yet tender. “I like you, Y/N.”

“You don’t, you can’t,” you protest meekly, recalling the stinging words Ethan had casually tossed your way, words that left a lingering ache in your chest.

The notion that Lando might not harbor genuine feelings for you feels like a betrayal, an unwelcome specter haunting the edges of this beautiful moment.

“Y/N—” His voice was earnest, but you shook your head, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay.

“Please don’t joke about that. If you don’t like me—if you’re just messing around—then don’t joke about it.” Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the bubble of hope forming in your chest.

“Why do you think I’m saying this?” he asked, his voice low and laced with emotion. “Why would I bother if I didn’t mean it? This isn’t just some casual fling for me. I care about you, and it’s driving me insane keeping it all bottled up!”

You took a step back, your back hitting the closed door. “Lando, please, you can’t say that!” Tears began to stream down your cheeks unbidden.

“Why not?” he challenged softly, moving closer again, his gaze intense. “Why can’t I? Are you really going to deny what’s been between us? You feel it too right?”

The truth in his words shattered your defenses. “Lando, I—” Your voice broke, and the words tumbled out, heavier than you imagined.

“I’ve never been someone’s first choice before. It’s hard to believe that you actually want me.”

“Then believe me,” he urged, his hand gently cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

Lando’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “You deserve to hear it, and I mean every word.”

You melted into him, your head resting against his chest while he held you tightly—firmly yet gently, a safe haven amidst your unraveling emotions.

He didn’t flinch as the tears soaked his shirt.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, sniffling against his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t lose me. Not ever,” he promised, pulling back slightly so he could look into your eyes. “Just give us a chance. I won’t hurt you.”

After a long while, you managed to calm down, your heart still racing but your breaths a little steadier. Lando pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes; the concern etched on his face warmed you.

“Can I kiss you?” Lando asked, his voice laced with just a hint of uncertainty, as if he feared this moment would evaporate into thin air.

Time seemed to stand still as you considered his question. You could feel the heat radiating between you, a magnetic pull that drew you closer.

This was the moment you had both been dancing around, the very reason for the tension that crackled in the air.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at the question, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. “Yes,” you finally breathed out, the single word filled with yearning.

His eyes sparkled, and he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t; if anything, your heart raced as he brushed his lips against yours, soft and hesitant at first.

His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes of the feelings you both had kept hidden for too long. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a warm embrace, filled with the promise of love and acceptance.

As the kiss deepened, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. It was as if everything you had fought against—the doubt, the fear—melted away, replaced with the certainty of Lando’s affection.

You knew, right then and there, that you had finally found someone who would stay, who truly wanted you for who you were.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your hearts still racing from the intensity of it all. “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you murmured.

“Don’t be,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I finally got to you.”

And in that moment, surrounded by a haze of newfound love and vulnerability, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

Something that you both deserved. . . . .

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after-witch · 1 year ago

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Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve escaped from Geto–but for how long?

Word count: 3200ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon sex scene, female reader, degradation

Despite everything that has happened to you within the last year, your hands have never shook so much; your breath has never been this ragged, this desperate; your chest has never heaved and pleaded with the most fervent of thoughts: please, please, for the love of everything I used to believe in, answer your door!

It feels like your knuckles will begin to bleed against the wood grain but then, the door opens so swiftly that your hand falls forward and you nearly stumble over the threshold.

A man is standing in the doorway. A man with a button down sweater and a concerned, fretful expression--well, no wonder, with the way you’d been rapping on his door.

The man is your psychologist. Mr. Mayeda. You’ve been going to him for several years–or at least, you were going to him, before everything happened. Before you were taken and kept and–

His eyes widen. He takes in your state. Oh, how you must look. Forehead beaded with sweat, eyes round and pleading.

And then there is the matter of the collar around your neck.

“Come in,” he says, sounding dazed and concerned all in one breath. “Tell me what’s happened.”

–

“Will you miss me, pet?”

You nod, and keep your eyes downcast. He likes your eyes downcast when you’re in the presence of anyone else–like now. Unless he tells you to look at him. But even when you’re alone with Geto, you’re prone to keeping your eyes glued to the floor, your lap, the ceiling. Anywhere but his face.

“Do speak up,” he says, trailing a finger possessively along your cheek.

“Yes, master Geto,” you murmur. “Please return quickly.”

He pats your head. Like a dog, like a pet. Because that’s what you’ve become, isn’t it? His pet. You even sit at his knees when he’s addressing his legions of followers, most of whom you can’t stand; and the ones you can stand only possess that particular description because you haven’t really met them yet.

This one, the woman Geto is leaving to monitor you while he’s off on some awful errand, is not someone new. She’s someone who dislikes you out of jealousy or supremacy or perhaps a bubbling mixture of both.

But there’s an advantage in that. She doesn’t try to talk with you, like some of the milder ones do. As soon as Geto is gone, she throws a disdainful glare your way and gets out her phone. She doesn’t even bother staying in the room with you; she goes into the next room and slides the door shut. She’ll talk to her boyfriend until she hears the telltale sound of Geto’s footsteps leading up to the room, then pretend like she’s been happily watching over you the whole time.

Which means she won’t notice when you pry open a loose floorboard and retrieve a backpack you’ve stuffed with papers, with cash, with a few necessities.

Which means you’ll have an easier time escaping.

Which means you’ll finally be free.

It almost seems too easy, when you make it out of the compound. You expect Geto to pounce on you at any moment. But you make it out, you do, and you make it to a bus station and slide some of the money you stole from Geto’s room over to the ticket counter.

You could call the police. But Geto would look for you there first. He would know you’d run, little rabbit that you are, to the only authority you could think of; but they couldn’t protect you. Not from him.

So your mind drums up the only address you can really remember–that of your psychologist’s office–and you ask the ticket taker for the next bus to the city.

–

Mr. Mayeda does not say anything at first.

Even though what you’ve told him sounds wild. And crazy. And wholly made up. That is to say, you’ve told him everything. About how Geto Suguru can control monsters, only they’re not simply monsters, but curses. About how he sees them and eats them and hoards them, like he’s tucking them away for some awful winter. About how he kidnapped you and kept you, how he treated you like a pet, how he wouldn’t let you go.

About how you escaped and didn’t know where else to turn.

“I know,” you say, leaning forward, arms crossed over yourself. “I know it sounds crazy. But you have to believe me.”

Mr. Mayeda frowns.

You pull your backpack into your lap and rummage through it, until

“I didn’t believe any of it myself at first.” Memories come flooding in. Those early days,, spent crying, gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw ached for a week, unbelieving everything Geto told you in the calmest, most horrible tones. “But it’s true. And–and I don’t know where to go or what to do. He’ll try to find me, and, and…” Your breath begins to quicken, your heart pounds. How could you think you’d be free? Oh, he’ll find you, and kill poor Mr. Mayeda, and then where will you be? What will he do?

You’re only barely aware of your hyperventilation when Mr. Mayeda places a firm hand on your shoulder. He says your name. He says it again. And again. And when you look at him, eyes bleary with tears, he speaks again.

“You have to calm down. I can’t help you until you calm down.”

His voice is an anchor in the storm. Help you, he said. Help.

Your hand shakily goes up to clasp his; it’s a foreign touch, the first person that you’ve touched since Geto took you. No one else was allowed to, except Manami, but that was only in case of emergencies.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Your voice is a hoarse croak.

Mr. Mayeda gives your fingers a squeeze, and then lets you go. He stands up and looks down at you with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re very upset, and need someone to listen to you.” He sighs and looks you over. “I’d like to grab your file from my office. Would you like anything? A glass of water? Food?”

“Oh–oh yes, water, please. If it’s not any trouble.” Your stomach growls, but you don’t think you could keep anything down right now, anyway.

And what does food matter, when he’s going to help you? When he believes you? You’d imagined this conversation so many times. In some of them, he escorts you out of the building and slams the door in your face. In others, he has you picked up by ambulance and committed to a hospital for delusions. In others, he yells at you for wasting his time.

But instead he doesn’t think you’re crazy and he’s going to help and it’s the best possible outcome. One that you, in your hopeless state, didn’t even foresee.

By the time he returns with a glass of water, your breathing has returned. You smile wearily and wipe your clammy hands before you take the glass. The water is cool and refreshing down your sore throat.

Mr. Mayeda gives you a few moments before he begins to speak. He has your file now, and opens it up on his lap.

“I need to ask you a few things. Just to get an idea of how we should proceed, all right? Please let me know if you feel uncomfortable.”

You set the empty water glass down and nod. What’s a few questions, compared to the hell you’ve been living?

“Have you been to your home, since you’ve left this mysterious compound?”

“No.”

He scratches the answer on the pad.

“Did you call anyone else, or contact anyone else except for me?”

“No.”

Scratch-scratch.

“So no one else knows you’re here?”

“No.” You bite your lip, and ask questions of your own. “What are we going to do? Where can we go? Do you know anyone that can help?”

He raises his hand.

“One thing at a time. First, I’d like to get everything straight on your end.”

You nod, and bring your knees up on the chair, feeling like a child in a doctor’s office for the first time in ages.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, I’m just…” You don’t finish.

Mr. Mayeda simply smiles, pity in his expression. You don’t need to explain to him what you are “just,” because he’s confident and calm and he knows exactly what to do. “That’s all right. I understand this is stressful. I’m going to go make a call, and then we’ll talk about what we can do next. Okay?”

You nod. You don’t want him to leave you–he’s going to help you–and worries begin to creep in about Geto somehow finding you here. Maybe you had a tracker on you that you didn’t know about. Maybe there was a curse attached to your shoulder and he’d simply sniff it out.

Maybe you were too anxious to think straight.

By the time he returns, your knee is bouncing. He regards it with a frown, and you force yourself to stop. You don’t want him to be mad at you–you want him to help you. He said he’d help you. You just don’t know what he can do to save you from Geto. What anyone could do.

But he sits down, and gets out your file again. Then he begins to go through every detail of your story, confirming, questioning, writing down notes. It’s hard–you start to cry, thinking about everything–but it’s necessary to create a plan of action. Right?

In the midst of all this, the doorbell buzzes.

He sighs, and his frown deepens. He must have forgotten an appointment–you can’t blame him, with your sudden arrival. “Let me get that. I’ll just have them reschedule the appointment.” When he gets up from his chair, he looks older in the moment; more tired and slow. Well, the stress of you dropping your predicament in his lap can’t exactly be easy to take.

You wipe your teary eyes, and grab a tissue to blow your nose. You hope he doesn’t have to reschedule too many clients because of you. You don’t want to be too much trouble. You just want to be safe and free and–

Geto and Manami walk through the open doorway of the office, and your stomach drops to your shoes.

Behind them, Mr. Mayeda looks remorseful.

“I had to,” he says, voice quavering. “My daughter–she… she’s used his services, you see.”

Geto looks back at Mr. Mayeda, who immediately shuts up and stares at the floor.

Ah. So he threw you back to the wolves to protect someone he loved. You can’t begrudge him for it. Not really.

But it doesn’t change the loss of your short-lived freedom.

–

Manami drives. You don’t have the strength to look anywhere but your own lap, at your hands curled up so tight that they hurt, resting on your thighs.

Geto hasn’t said a thing since he collected you.

“Suguru,” you say, voice shaking through the words. “I… ” You’re about to lie. He knows this. You know this. But he’s never minded you lying, before, as long as you said what he wanted. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” Still, he says nothing.

“Suguru–” you try again. He finally looks at you, a slow, languid turn of his head. His lips curl just a little. Not in a way that makes you feel good.

His voice is soft and sweet as honey. His words are anything but.

“You think you have the right to address me right now?”

He’s angry. Not just annoyed, not just mad, not just disappointed. Angry. It’s a heavy, dreadful feeling that glues you to the seat just as well as any bonds.

Gravity seems to pull your chin down, until you’re once again staring at your lap.

This time, you clench your fingernails so hard that your palm bleeds.

–

You don’t remember the walk back into the compound. You didn’t dare look up from the ground underneath your feet–walking step by step behind Geto, even though you wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction–to see the expressions of those devout followers. No doubt some were glaring as much as they dared.

It’s not until you’re back in Geto’s quarters and Manami has been dismissed that you hazard a glance at something other than your shoes, now dirty from your short journey outside these walls.

You look up at Geto, who is standing, silent, head tilted just-so as he stares at you. When he finally opens his mouth, he issues a command.

“Go to the bedroom.”

They are words to be obeyed, and you do.

He’s not yet in the room when he continues the orders.

“Disrobe. Lay on the bed. Spread your legs. Do not speak.”

Dread pools in your stomach, thick and slimy. It makes you want to run into the bathroom and hurl the contents of your last meal into the toilet. But you dare not deviate from what he’s said, not when the world feels so heavy; not when you know he’s angry with you.

So you slip off your clothing and lay on the bed and spread your legs. The cool air of the bedroom does nothing but increase your trembling as thoughts come one by one.

What does Geto intend to do? Something related to sex, surely. Maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that you can’t sit properly for days. Maybe he’ll make you lay here, naked, simply for his own amusement. Maybe he’ll hurt you, finally, and that underlying, coil-tight fear you’ve had since the moment you were kidnapped can finally release.

After far too long for your mental sanity, Geto finally does come into the room, stripped down to only an undershirt and thin cotton pants. Casual clothing he only wears around you, and no one else. Maybe he expects that to be flattering, but for whom, you can’t quite tell.

He crawls on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.

He places his hands on either thigh, and pushes your legs further apart.

You wait for some pain–the pain of him entering you without preparation, perhaps, or something more insidious. The crack of his hand. The crack of a leather belt.

But you wait in vain, because instead of pain–instead of something harsh and cruel–you instead feel the soft touch of his fingers against your folds. His thumb rests softly against your clit, and begins to rub, sending an unwelcome jolt through you.

“Suguru?” You ask, and boldly prop yourself up on your elbows.

“I told you not to speak,” he murmurs, and you press your lips together. Now, you think, surely he will hit you.

But no. Instead he returns to his former ministrations, gently rubbing against your clit, other fingers gently squeezing the flesh of your pussy. It almost tickles, pleasantly. After a while, the dull pleasure begins to heighten, and you can feel a mild orgasm beginning to reach its peak.

He stops. The pleasure hovers for a moment, and then begins to fade.

He begins again.

You want to ask him what he’s doing; you want to ask him why he stopped. But his order to remain quiet thrums through your head and you merely keep your head back on the bed, staring at the plain ceiling above you.

The pleasure is different now. Sharper. Wetter. Instead of a dull, mild orgasm, it begins to feel like the ones you’ve had with him before; the ones where he spends a while building you up, getting you wet, wanting to hear you moan.

Your breath begins to catch in your throat, and you can’t help but squirm your hips. It feels good, you don’t want it, but he knows your body well enough to make it feel good.

And like before, you can feel yourself starting to reach your peak, getting to the point when pleasure becomes sparks. And–like before.

He stops.

And begins again.

And stops.

And begins again.

Until you are wet, and sweating, and squirming. Until your breath is not mildly catching in your throat but coming out in desperate pants. Until your hands are clenching the sheets.

Until you are crying out, not because of pain and a sharp slap against your skin, but the unbearable heat that has built between your legs. A heat which Geto has carefully stoked with his fingers and his mouth, and the unrelenting pattern of bringing you to the top, only to let you fall before bringing you there once again.

You know you’re not supposed to speak. But you can’t help it, you just can’t help it. Not with the way his thumb is idly circling your clit. Not with the sweat clinging to your back. Not with the way your head begins to turn side to side of its own accord, unable to deal with the teasing.

“Suguru–” Your voice is a needy whine. “Please, please–”

“Apologize,” he says, simply. Calmly. All the while continuing to slowly rub your clit with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

His thumb pauses, and you can feel your clit twitching against it.

“But do you mean it?”

“Yes!” You don’t hesitate. Tears leak from your eyes. Wetness leaks from in between your legs.

“Then beg.” He keeps his thumb hovered above your clit. “Beg like you’re my pet. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Your thighs tremble. Your lips quiver.

“Please, Suguru.” Your cheeks heat in shame, but what shame can you truly hold onto, when your pussy is this wet, when you’re gyrating against him so pathetically? You say everything you think he wants to hear. “I’m your pet, I won’t run again, I’ll do what you say–”

You feel half-delirious, raising your hips towards the air to try to get some friction against his finger. All you succeed in doing is humping yourself against him, teasing your swollen clit with the promise of an orgasm that can only come from his fingers.

After a while, your words trail off into a pathetic whimper.

It’s then that Geto crawls up further on the bed and plants a kiss on your forehead.

You sigh in relief.

“No,” he says. “Bad pets don’t get rewarded, do they?”

You have only a moment to think before he yanks your sweaty wrists up and ties them to the headboard with cuffs he must have put there before he even collected you from Mr. Mayeda’s office. You pull against them once before he gives you a harsh look that makes you freeze. Once he’s satisfied with your stillness, he begins to take off his own clothes.

“I would make you sleep on the floor,” he murmurs, shrugging off his shirt. “But that would be a punishment to me, to deny myself your body, no?”

You can only shake your head in response as you shift your legs, trying to catch the fleeting orgasm that has begun to fade even further from your grasp. Geto raises an eyebrow and places his palm firmly on your hip to keep you in place.

Once you stop squirming–it’s useless, you realize–he sighs and cuddles against you. It might be sweet, if he wasn’t who he was; if you weren’t in the position that you’re in. If there wasn’t an aching, warm soreness between your legs that has gone unfulfilled.

His voice is not so sweet when he whispers against your ear.

“If you ever try something so foolish again, I won’t be kind about it.”

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #afterwitch writes

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keeryhours · 2 months ago

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thankful - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You, Rafe, and Iris spend Thanksgiving with the Camerons.

Request: “maybe baby daddy rafe and y/n spend thanksgiving together as a fam? With some smut? 🤭”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, Rafe has a slight breeding kink and refers to himself as daddy 🙃

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

I seriously get so excited when you guys request things, and this one is so timely! I went back in time for this one, so hopefully that’s okay. I hope you enjoy! I’m so glad you guys are loving this series <3 Requests are still open and if you’ve already sent one, I’ll be getting to it!

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“You look beautiful.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when you opened the door on Thanksgiving, ready to ride with him to eat dinner with the Camerons. You had dressed in a slightly oversized sage green sweater and a short black skirt with heeled boots. His eyes trailed over your body.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look good yourself, Cameron.”

A smile lit up his handsome face. And he did look really nice. Rafe wore a dark gray button up with khaki slacks, the sleeves of his shirt hugging his biceps deliciously.

“Where’s my girl?” he asked. You were honestly surprised that wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth.

“JJ has her,” you explained, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “He’s getting her in the car seat.”

Rafe followed you into the house and into the living room, where JJ was just finishing up tightening the straps of Iris’ seat. “All set, pretty girl,” JJ announced to the baby, ignoring Rafe’s presence.

Iris cooed happily at her uncle. She was days away from turning 6 months old, just beginning to learn to sit up on her own. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Rafe, and she squealed.

Rafe grinned widely, practically pushing JJ out of the way as he walked up to the seat and crouched to be eye level with his daughter. “Hi, baby girl,” he greeted her, holding out his hand and letting her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. “You ready for your first Cameron Thanksgiving?”

Iris blew bubbles at him, which he took for a yes as he laughed. Iris was dressed in a brown Thanksgiving-themed dress, white tights on her chubby legs to help keep her warm. She had a matching bow in her light brown hair. Her big blue eyes looked right into her father’s matching ones.

Rafe stood, picking up the infant carrier. “Ready to go?” he asked you, and you nodded in confirmation.

Rafe was already out the door and on the way to his truck. JJ gave you a hug before you followed after him. He was baby talking to Iris as he locked her seat into the base. He turned as you approached, a smile on his face.

“Both my girls look stunning today,” he said as he closed the truck door. “I’m a lucky guy.”

You blushed deeply as you both climbed into your sides of the vehicle - you hadn’t officially been Rafe’s girl in a long time, but he seemed to have no intentions of dropping the nickname.

You felt a little nervous on the drive over. It’s not like you weren’t incredibly familiar with the Camerons, but it also felt like a big deal. This was your first Thanksgiving together as a family (well, kind of), and you felt the pressure of it. Not that Iris would care how things went, she’d never remember it obviously, but you would, and you wanted the evening to go well, for the day to be special.

Rafe pulled into the long driveway of Tannyhill, the gorgeous Cameron estate that you had admired your whole life. You used to be incredibly jealous when you were younger, truthfully. You and JJ had a rough home life with an abusive father, so you both spent much of your childhoods dreaming of something better. Tannyhill made frequent appearances in your fantasies. So did Rafe.

At the time, you felt you could never admit your crush on the eldest Cameron to anyone, especially not your best friend Sarah. Because how lame would that have been for you to admit to crushing on her jerk of a big brother? It’s funny how things worked out in the end. You had dated Rafe secretly for a while, but when it came out (awkwardly, with Sarah walking in on you two in a very compromising position), you realized you had worried for nothing because Sarah actually loved the two of you together. She said you brought out the best in Rafe. For a while, at least.

You smoothed your skirt as you climbed out of the truck, watching Rafe retrieve the car seat from the back. You walked side by side to the house, nerves buzzing in your stomach.

The smell of the house hits you immediately - it smells delicious. Your mouth practically waters as you take in the smell of the different foods waiting in the dining room. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

The Cameron family greeted you warmly when the three of you walked into the dining room. Ward and Rose both gave you a big hug, followed by Sarah launching herself into your arms and an attack by a nearly-as-excited Wheezie.

You were nothing compared to the little girl bundled in her seat, though. Rafe watched on with a proud smile as his family crowded around the carrier, baby talking to Iris. Ward is the one who unbuckles her and lifts her from her carrier first, holding her to his chest and looking like the proud grandpa he is while the others crowd around. It leaves you feeling warm inside.

The food was already spread across the large table. A huge selection - a perfect looking turkey, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, any Thanksgiving food you could dream of was prepared to perfection and displayed on the Cameron’s dining table.

When it was time to eat, you took a seat next to Rafe. Iris had a high chair set up for her, but she spent the meal bouncing from lap to lap. The conversation is comfortable and you find yourself laughing through most of the meal. The food is as delicious as it smelled, and you happily eat as much of it as you can.

After dinner, a football game is turned on the huge TV in the living room. Ward retired with a drink in hand to watch, while Wheezie lounged on the couch and Sarah joined Rose in the kitchen, Iris on her hip.

You stood, about to join the girls in the kitchen, when you felt large hands making themselves at home on your waist, warm breath against your ear.

“Let’s sneak off somewhere,” Rafe whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Rafe…” you scolded, turning around to look at him. “We can’t. And we’re literally surrounded by your family-“

“We can,” he interrupted you, hands wandering along your sides, around to grab onto your ass. “C‘mon…”

He grabbed onto your hand and pulled on it, a mischievous smile on his handsome face. You looked around, making sure no one was paying any attention to you. Rafe knew you would give in, but the delight on his face when you move your feet to follow after him is unmatched.

He pulls you down the hall to one of the downstairs bathrooms, quickly pulling you inside and locking the door behind you as you flip on the light switch. You barely have time to take in your surroundings before Rafe’s pressing you up against the door, his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

Rafe’s hands explored every inch of your body he could reach, tracing over your curves, moaning into your mouth as he grabbed your ass again before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Rafe…” you breathed out against his lips, head going dizzy already from the way he was already everywhere all over you at once.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby,” he mumbled, fingers pushing your panties to the side, rubbing against your already throbbing clit. You gasped, eyes falling shut. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you promised him, desperate for him to just keep going. You’d do anything as long as he didn’t stop.

Rafe pushed a finger into your entrance, making your head fall back against the door with a thud as your mouth fell open. He began to pump his finger in and out of your tight heat while you tried to keep your legs from collapsing.

“So tight…” Rafe commented as he added a second finger, readying you to take him. “Been missin’ me?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you confessed easily, causing Rafe to chuckle as he placed kisses along your jaw. He had you losing your mind on nothing but two of his fingers and a few kisses - you never stood a chance with Rafe.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he said lowly, mouth moving to your neck to suck and bite along all the sensitive spots he knows by heart.

He used his palm to rub against your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers into your pussy, curling them deep inside to hit that perfect spot that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor if it wasn’t for Rafe’s strong arm around your waist. You let yourself melt into him as he expertly took you apart.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the feeling of your walls clenching around him in the most familiar way.

“‘m so close…” you mumbled, head falling forward onto Rafe’s shoulder. He laughed at how weak you became for him, and how easy it was for him to get you there. He couldn’t get enough.

He thrusted his fingers faster, making sure to press against that perfect spot with every push inside. Your legs trembled, whole body electric as you grabbed onto Rafe for dear life, biting down on his shoulder to stifle your moans as your release rocked through you intensely. Your cunt spasmed around his fingers as he worked you through it, mumbling whispers of “Good girl, that’s it, fall apart for me, cum all over my fingers pretty girl, that’s fuckin’ right…”

Rafe didn’t even care about your teeth digging into his shoulder, like he barely even noticed it. He pulled out of you slowly and you whined, a cocky smirk growing across his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a groan. “Still so sweet, baby.”

“Rafe, I need you,” you begged, legs hardly able to hold your weight as you leaned against the bathroom door. You felt pretty pathetic right now.

“Yeah? You still need my cock even after you just came all over my fingers?” Rafe asked, eyes darkened with lust as he grabbed your waist and roughly positioned you to lean over the countertop. “Greedy little cunt.” He smacked your ass hard, making you jump and stifle a moan with your hand.

You watched in the mirror as Rafe pulled your skirt up around your waist, harshly pulling your panties down your legs and stuffing them in his pocket. His eyes met yours in the mirror, mischievous smirk on his lips.

His hands quickly undid his belt and slacks, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You wanted to turn around and get a good look at it - it had been a minute since you’d seen it, but you could never forget how nice it is - but Rafe had you pinned to the counter.

He gave his already rock hard length a couple quick pumps as his other hand rested on your hip, rubbing circles into the skin. He took the time to take in the view before him - his favorite view. You all bent over for him, pussy soaking wet and spread wide for him to fuck however he pleased. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He lined himself up at your entrance, thick cockhead pressing against you eagerly, precum smeared across his tip. His eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You started that birth control, yeah?” he asked, but he was pretty sure he was about to fuck you raw no matter what your answer was.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, pushing your hips back against him. “Been on it for a few weeks. We’re good.”

Rafe didn’t think he could have stopped himself either way, but he felt relieved as he pushed his hips forward, tip breaching your tight hole. You watched his face in the mirror as he slowly filled you, his face completely contorted in pleasure. His brow was furrowed, mouth hanging open as he let out a low, quiet groan, trying his best to hold onto his restraint and not alert the entire household to what you were up to.

His hands dug into your hips harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. His own thighs were trembling, he couldn’t believe the way your pussy was holding onto him, squeezing his cock perfectly like you were made to take him.

“Good, baby?” He gritted out, looking into your eyes in your reflection. You nodded frantically.

“Yeah, baby, want you to fuck me,” you begged.

Rafe let out another quiet groan at your words - fuck, he felt like you would be the absolute death of him sometimes - but it’s exactly what he wanted to hear as he drags his hips back painfully slowly before snapping back into you.

You smack a hand over your mouth just in time for him to thrust back in, the strangled moan that escaped your lips blessedly muffled by your hand. Rafe chuckled darkly, setting a quick pace as he fucked into your tight cunt from behind.

Your free hand gripped onto the side of the counter for some kind of stability. You felt completely at his mercy, your body utterly weak and held up only by the counter beneath you and Rafe’s rough hold on your hips as he pulled your body back against his ruthless thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, take it,” Rafe grunted out quietly, unable to keep his dirty mouth from running even when you were very much at risk of getting caught. His eyes fluttered closed as his hips snapped into you at a frantic, near desperate pace.

You felt another orgasm building inside as he fucked you just right, cock hitting that same perfect spot with every movement. Rafe leaned over you, placing kisses all over your shoulders and getting close enough to hear the breathy whines and moans he was pulling from your chest.

“Sound so pretty like that…” he huffed, hands sliding up under your sweater to grab at your tits. He impulsively pulled the sweater over your head, messing your hair up in the process before dropping it to the bathroom floor. “Need to see you,” is all the explanation you get. He unclasped your bra to free your naked chest to his hungry eyes. God, how he loved your tits. Especially since having a baby - they were perfect before, but now they’d nearly doubled in size and Rafe was obsessed.

He watched them bounce as he fucked you, the sight pushing him closer and closer to his own release. He wrapped his hands around them, squeezing and playing with your nipples, making you let out the most delicious whines whenever he’d pinch at them. You wished he had taken his shirt off so you could see his gorgeous chest, the way his ab muscles would flex as he pounded into you, biceps contracting as he pulled your body against his own.

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you moaned quietly, wanting to let him know how good he was making you feel, how good he always was to you. “I love your cock.”

Rafe groaned. “I know you do, baby.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you even harder as he felt both of your releases approaching rapidly. “I love this perfect pussy, she’s always so good for me…”

Rafe’s hands went back to your hips as he started chasing his release, the power and speed of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, and shoving you up against the counter so hard you were sure you’d have bruises all over tomorrow. “‘m close again, baby…” you whined.

Rafe removed his right hand from your hip and wrapped his arm around your body, fingers going right for your swollen clit to rub quick, precise circles. “Cum for me again, baby, please, wanna feel you cum all over my cock, just for daddy, please baby girl-“

The combination of his words and his actions violently shoved you over the edge, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as it crashed through you for the second time, but infinitely more intense. Your pussy clenched around his girth over and over as you chanted his name into your own hand, ecstasy coursing through your body like a drug.

Your body practically dragged Rafe into his own release and he leaned over to bury his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you up with his load as he continued to slowly pump his hips through his orgasm while you pulsed around him. “Jesus baby, holy fuck…” You hear his muffled voice against your skin, feel his shaking body laying on top of you.

You both took a minute to calm down before Rafe was pulling out of you, leaving you feeling much more empty than before. He stepped back and admired his work, fingers collecting his release that had dripped out of you and pushing it back inside, making you tremble.

“Don’t want to waste a drop, baby,” he said with that cocky grin back on his face. You’d both made sure to always use protection any time you hooked up since Iris was born, but at the same time Rafe loved the idea of filling you up, the idea of you potentially giving him another perfect baby.

Rafe tucked himself back into his pants as you tried your best to compose yourself, pulling your clothes back on and trying to make them look like they hadn’t just been on the floor and shoved around your waist. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. “To dinner,” he clarified, an amused glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. You fussed with your hair, trying your hardest to not leave this bathroom looking freshly fucked. “How do I always let you pull me into these situations?”

“It’s because you can’t resist me,” he said, hands trailing up and down your sides. He squeezed your hips one last time before he pulled away.

“I’m gonna head back out there so we don’t walk out of here together. You take your time.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your lips, then smacked your ass hard before he slipped out the door.

You sighed to your own reflection. Your hair had been thoroughly ruined, lipstick a little smudged. You did your best to pull yourself back together before you exited the bathroom and rejoined the Camerons, who were all gathered in the living room now, Rafe included, Iris on his lap.

“Where have you two been?” Ward asked, completely oblivious. “You missed half the game,” he directed towards Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes darted to yours, smirk still on his lips as he took a sip of his beer. You were grateful you were saved from having to answer when one of whatever teams were playing scored a touchdown, stealing Ward’s attention away entirely.

You didn’t miss the knowing look Sarah gave you, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head with a laugh. You felt your cheeks heating.

When Rafe brought you home, Iris had already passed out. She slept soundly in her car seat as Rafe drove through the dark island, music playing softly from the truck’s speakers to not disturb her rest.

He reached a hand over and rested it on your thigh. You stared at his hand, unsure what to do, until you dropped your hand atop his and interlinked your fingers together. Rafe smiled, looking more content than you’d seen him for most of his life.

“Seriously, thank you for coming,” he said as he put the truck in park in your driveway. He still held your hand as he turned to look at you. “I know it’s still weird, trying to figure out how to…do things, how to…co-parent. But I’m glad we can get along and be a family without her having to be with one or the other.”

You smiled softly at the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad, too. I had a good time.”

Rafe smirked at you then. “Yeah? You had a good time with me?”

You felt yourself blushing - you had meant the whole event, but admittedly that had been the best part. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

Rafe laughed as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your lips. The biggest part of you loved it, still cherished every opportunity to be affectionate with Rafe, to feel any part of him, to be close to him. But a small part of you wished he wouldn’t do things like this anymore because all it did was confuse feelings and make things complicated all over again. You didn’t like the way your heart fluttered in your chest as your ex boyfriend kissed you in the darkness of his truck.

When he pulled away, he looked at you like he could tell what you were thinking about. He looked almost apologetic, although he didn’t regret it. He never regretted the things you did together.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” you told him, knowing it’s Rafe’s weekend with your daughter.

He nodded. “I’ll be here. Do you want me to carry her inside?”

You thought about it. You didn’t want to inconvenience him, but that carrier was heavy as hell now that she had grown so much. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Rafe hopped out of the truck without a complaint, reaching into the backseat to unlock her carrier and lift it from the car seat base. He followed you to the door as you let the three of you inside.

JJ was gone, spending Thanksgiving with the pogues. You had planned to go, too, before Rafe asked you about spending the holiday with his family. You felt a little bad that you didn’t get to spend it with your twin brother, but you knew he understood and probably didn’t even care.

Rafe carefully unbuckled his sleeping daughter from her seat. She snuggled into his chest and he rested his large hand on her back, rocking her gently so she’d stay asleep. You trailed after him as he walked to the nursery and laid her in her crib.

Back in the hallway with Iris’ bedroom door closed, you both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

“JJ probably isn’t coming back tonight,” you blurted out, not even sure why you said it.

But Rafe’s face lit up, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah? You’re alone for the night?”

You blushed, looking down at your feet to work up the courage for what you say next. “I don’t have to spend it alone.”

Rafe’s smirk only grew as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as you giggled. His lips came down to press against yours again, and you didn’t care about your relationship status, or whether you belonged together, or how much you loved him despite telling yourself you didn’t. All that mattered was that he was here now, and he was yours for the night.

You were thankful for that, at least.

985 notes · View notes

marauder-misprint · 1 month ago

Note

Eek I’m the one that asked about requests, so excited you’re taking them!

My idea was fem!reader x whichever marauder you want (not Pete sorry not sorry) where the reader is flirty but not in a hitting on everyone and pickup lines type of way. It’s in a she’s very friendly, likes to give out compliments just cause she wanted to, and is just warm and open to people type of way.

Ngl im a sucker for some angst with a happy ending so if that somehow works with whatever idea you come up with that would be cool but no pressure!

I hope this sounds like something you’d wnjiy writing but again no pressure at all<3

I hope this has that kind of vibe you were going for! Thank you for being my first request - I'm very excited and very nervous for this. ♡

Sunshine Incarnate

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

1.8k words

cw: fluff, angst

“God, she’s such a fucking tease,” Sirius sighs, leaning back in a plush armchair in the library.

“Who is?” Remus asks, not looking up from his book.

“Her,” he answers, gesturing toward you. “Little Miss Sunshine herself.”

Remus’ gaze shoots up, first looking at Sirius and then at you. You were talking with some Ravenclaw boy, absorbed in the conversation and oblivious to the rest of the library.

“A tease?” Remus asks.

Sirius hums. “Whenever you talk to her, she gives you these eyes. Then she’ll give you some flirty comment and walk away. Fucking. Tease.”

“Don’t talk about her that way,” Remus growls, still not looking away from you.

“Remus, you’ve experienced what he’s talking about though, right?” Peter asks. “She sits next to you in Herbology.”

Remus has experienced the eyes that Sirius is describing. When you talked to someone, they had your entire attention. You were fully engaged. He’d also been on the receiving end of your compliments before as well; he replayed them in his head when he was feeling low. But Remus would be an idiot to ignore that you did this with everyone.

“Oh my god, I love your hair like that!”

“That’s brilliant! You’re a genius.”

“I haven’t read that book before. Is it any good?” “Yeah, It’s my favorite.” “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

It’s who you are. As Sirius had called you, you are Little Miss Sunshine. You brightened every room you entered and made everyone feel important. Remus didn’t think there was a single person in all of Hogwarts who didn’t like you. How could they?

“Remus?” Peter repeats, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment at him.

“Huh? What?”

“Wormy asked you about Sunshine’s eyes and you zoned,” James says. He’s busy working on an essay that the rest of the group had already finished.

“Of course. Yes. Although I think it’s called active listening,” Remus says, sounding more irritated than he intended. “Something you could work on,” he adds on in a grumble.

“My ears work just fine, thank you very much,” Sirius says.

Then his face lights up and he waves at you. You had briefly turned away from the Ravenclaw boy and Sirius’ wave caught your eye. You wave back, excuse yourself and make your way to the Gryffindors.

“Hi!” you say cheerfully. “Remus, that sweater looks really soft.”

His face flushed at your words. He could barely mutter out a thanks.

“What’re you working on?” you ask, standing next to Remus. You’re looking at the pages of the book he’s reading, hoping to see a title at the top of the pages but there’s nothing to go off of, not even a diagram to say if it was a Herbology or Charms book.

“That damned Potions essay,” James answers.

“Good thing you’re not too shabby in that class then,” you say with a smile. “Can’t be too difficult.”

James looks up from his essay to return your smile. “It’s not. Just annoying to do.”

“Annoying to do is my Divination dream journal!” you reply with a giggle. “Like I need a teacher knowing what happens in my subconscious.”

“I’d like to know what happens in your subconscious,” Sirius says, now leaning forward.

You give him an eye roll. “Become a Divination tutor and maybe. Remus, did you do that Herbology worksheet yet?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. Yesterday.”

“Shoot, I was hoping we could work on it together. You’re so much better at Herbology than I am.”

“Oh, it’s not too difficult,” he says, briefly looking up from his book to give you a smile.

You’re already looking at him with those eyes and a smile. Butterflies take flight in his stomach. He has to look away quickly, despite not wanting to.

“Okay,” you say, bouncing on your toes. “I’ll see you later.”

As you walk away, Peter hits Remus with a roll of parchment.

“Are you daft?” he whispers, unsure if you’re out of earshot yet. “She was flirting with you.”

He shakes his head. “No, she wasn’t.”

“She wanted to work on Herbology homework with you.”

“Because we share the class? And I’m smart?”

“You’re daft,” James confirms.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Remus is replaying the conversation. Had you been flirting with him? Actually flirting or being your kind self? Even if you were flirting with him, you’d certainly stop as soon as you found out that he was a werewolf. Sunshine incarnate could not be with someone who turns with the moon. He was Moony for goodness sake. But she had complimented both his sweater and Herbology skills in one conversation with only James also receiving a compliment. How had he earned two compliments over Sirius? With all of your kindness and Sirius’ natural charisma, you two usually bantered like an entertaining yet sickening tennis match.

“You know, the things I would do to her if she said the word,” Sirius says, bringing Remus out of his thoughts.

“Still on about Sunshine, are you?” James asks.

“Still on about Evans?” Sirius retorts.

“Would it kill you to shut up and stay away from her?” Remus snaps.

Sirius and James shoot him a confused look. He had been mostly quiet since leaving the library, but it was Remus. He just did that sometimes.

“Stay away from her?” Sirius repeats. “From Madam Sunshine herself? Why would I do that?”

“She’s the sweetest,” James adds with a smirk.

“Yeah, I know,” Remus grumbles. “She doesn’t need you assholes to bring her down.”

“I’m not bringing her down,” James says defensively.

“Just leave her out of your… fantasies.”

“Why?” Sirius presses.

“Just, it’s… it’s you,” Remus says, gesturing wildly.

“Yeah, and?” Sirius asks, leaning forward toward Remus with narrowing eyes.

“You’re messy.” Remus pauses. “We’re messy.”

“So we’re all staying away from her?” Peter asks.

“I, uh, I guess so.”

Remus couldn’t tell his three closest friends to stay away from her because they were messy and not include himself, possibly the messiest of the group. But, god, he wanted to be close to you. He wanted to hold you and be held by you. He wanted to kiss your perfect smile that was ever present on your perfect lips. He wanted to be the reason your gorgeous eyes lit up. He wanted you to look for him in the room. He wanted you to be his sunshine.

Sirius shares a knowing look with James and Peter that Remus misses. Though he had tried to be subtle, his friends know when Remus is down bad, and he is for you.

---

In Remus’ presence, you’re no longer a topic of discussion. The boys successfully steer all conversations away from you. Remus doesn’t think anything of it, assuming they actually listened to him and are staying away from you and all your perfectness.

That is, until you walk over and sit next to Remus at lunch. You set your books down gently and give the boys a smile.

“That’s our cue to leave. See you in Dark Arts, Moony,” Sirius says with a grin. James and Peter follow him away from the table, leaving you alone with him.

“That was… weird,” Remus mumbles, watching them leave before turning his attention back to you.

He tries to hide the confusion on his face, but you see it anyway.

“Did you not… did you not ask me to practice nonverbal spells with you?”

Remus stares at you blankly. “No?”

You pull out a piece of parchment and hand it to him.

“I got this at breakfast.”

It was a note, in Sirius’ handwriting no less, asking you to meet at lunch to practice spells. When he looks up from the note, you are biting your lip with a hopeful look on your face.

“Even if it’s not from you, would you mind practicing? I’m rubbish at them and, well, you’re great at everything.”

Remus feels his face heat at the compliment.

“You’re not rubbish at them.”

“No, I really am! I try them all the time and they never work! I’ve tried to levitate notes to you in Transfiguration and the stupid notes never lift more than a centimeter off the desk!” you ramble.

“Notes… to me?”

It’s your turn to blush. You had never successfully passed a note to him. The notes that never made it to him often had compliments on them; the most recent had been to ask him to Hogsmeade. But when you continuous failed to get them to him, you had taken that as a sign from the universe that it wasn’t meant to be, but you weren’t one to give up easily. Maybe you were misreading the signs and you needed to go to him for help. So when you received the note from fake Remus, you were over the moon.

“Oh, yeah. Just little comments about lessons. Nothing too important,” you lie.

“You were trying to give me notes…” Remus mutters, still in disbelief that you were writing notes to him in the first place, even if they were ‘little comments.’

“Yes?”

You’re not sure what gives you the boldness, but you dig through your bag again and pull out some of the notes. You’re not sure why you kept them, but you did.

“Okay, little comments, yes. About the lessons, not really.”

You hold out one for him to take.

You mastered teacup to gerbil quickly. You’re amazing!

“That, uh, that should be the first one.”

His hands are shaking as he reads it over and over.

“You kept them?”

You nod, a little unsure. He reaches out and takes the rest from your hands. You feel your blush grow as he reads each other. It’s only a slight comfort that his blush is also increasing with each note.

He looks up at you with a curious expression that’s topped with hopeful eyes.

“You were going to ask me to Hogsmeade?”

You open your mouth to speak but words don’t come out. You nod.

“If the offer still stands, I’d, uh, I’d love you. I’d love to. Ahem. I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

You’re certain your face is as red as his.

“This weekend then?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

You lean in and kiss his cheek, your own boldness surprising you yet again.

“We can, erm, work on nonverbals later. I’ll see you later, Remus.”

He watches you leave the Great Hall in a hurry. His hand slowly comes up to touch the spot where you had kissed him. Maybe, just maybe, you had been flirting with him.

---

“How did that go, Moony?”

“You are bastards. All of you.”

“How did it go?”

“She kissed me,” he says, still blushing furiously.

“I told you!” Sirius cheers. “I told you he was projecting.”

“Projecting?”

“Mate, you called us messy. I mean, yeah, we are, but it’s your tell.”

#marauders fic #marauders #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #requests #marauder-misprint

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buck-star · 4 months ago

Text

Heart sweater | B.B

Your daughter got a present for his daddy and Bucky isn’t afraid to show everyone what his little girl got for him.

Pairing: Mob!Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Wordcount: 2.033 Words

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff

Authors Note: I couldn’t help myself. This sweater is just so adorable and imagine Bucky’s little girl getting it for him. So yes, soft spot, feeling soft right now. Hope you enjoy!

Events: Winds of autumn challenge | Candy corn 🍬 a sweet surprise, Balance ⚖️ as the equinox approaches, the day and night balance out. Write about finding peace | @the-slumberparty

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Daddyyyy! We gots you a present!" A childish voice echoes through the hallway of the building. Your and your little — big — families home. Others may say that you, Bucky, and your daughter are family, but there are so many more; they aren’t from the same blood but with the same big hearts.

Bucky’s men, who not only needed to earn his trust but also needed to earn their place in the family, are more than just his men. They are Bucky’s friends, your friends, and your daughter's uncles. None of them would let anything happen to you or the little girl — not just because Bucky told them to take care, but because you’re a family.

Your little daughter runs further through the hallway until she finally reaches her dad's office door. The second floor of the building is just an office — for Bucky and his men. And since he had an important meeting, he suggested that you could go out with her to get some new toys and clothes.

Of course, your little baby girl didn’t go to the toy store first. She loves it, but you’re shopping? She has to get a present for her daddy. She kind of gives herself a treat after finding the perfect present for Bucky — and then she uses all the money she can to get a lot of toys and stuff for herself.

You watch the toddler with amused eyes whenever you’re shopping without Bucky. Mostly Steve comes with you, keeping the two of you safe and just giving you a helping hand so you don’t have to carry all of these bags yourself.

“Sweetheart,” you chuckle while she already jumps to reach the handle and almost falls into her dad's office. You laugh softly, shaking your head — she is just as stubborn as her daddy when it comes to letting someone help or listen once they get excited.

Bucky’s head shoots up the moment the door swings open. He smiles at his little girl, then his eyes wander further toward you. The ocean blue orbs glistening when his lips curl up into a soft smile — one he reserves only for you and your little girl.

“Take care, my sweet little plum. Don’t want ya to get hurt, do we?” He asks, his voice soft but still a bit firm, so the little girl will listen to him. Her eyes — which are just as blue as Bucky’s — roam over her daddy’s body, from his legs up to his face, before she smirks with the widest grin ever.

“We gots you something’, daddy!” She says, excitedly. Bucky crouches down, resting his arms on his knees while he waits for his little girl to continue talking. “Mommy! Daddy waits fo’ you!”

You chuckle, looking for the bag in your hand she wants to have before placing all the others down and handing her the one she put her daddy’s present into. Bucky’s eyes move toward you; without any words, he makes sure you’re okay and that you can be without a kiss for a few more minutes while he focuses on his baby girl.

Once he’s sure you’re fine — after you settle down on the couch in his office and sigh softly — he mouths, ‘I love you, my pretty girl’ to you. And oh damn, you know why you fell in love with that man. He may be a big, feared mafia boss, but around you he is the sweetest, most loving, caring, and perfect husband — and father for your daughter — you could have wished for.

Bucky may be mad because of work sometimes; he may be annoyed, but he never lets it out on you. He would rather punch himself than make you feel like he doesn’t appreciate you or that you’re a burden for him. For your husband, you’re the most precious woman, and he will do everything to keep you safe and loved. He does the same for your little girl.

Luckily, Bucky discovered immediately that whenever he's mad, he just needs you, and everything is perfect. Preferably when he can keep you on his lap. His arms are tightly wrapped around your waist and pull you as close as possible while he presses his face into your chest. You will run your fingers through his hair, and he knows he’s safe — no reason for anger or annoyance, just love and affection, so he calms down without needing anything but you.

“So what do you have for me, my little plum?” Bucky asks, looking with amusement and curiosity at the little girl in front of him. She giggles, her tiny hands grasping his cheeks, and she runs her small fingers over his stubbles.

“Sc’atchy,” she mumbles and squeezes his cheeks together. Bucky lets out a low chuckle, letting her play with his scratchy stubbles. He knows how much his sweet little girl likes his stubbles; she is just like her mommy loving his metal arm and his stubbles — even though you have other intentions when it comes to his metal arm or his stubbles. But those are secrets that stay in the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you wanted to show Daddy what you got for him,” you remind her when you notice that she got lost in her little game to play with her daddies cheek. But she was so excited to get him his present, plus you know that Bucky’s curious as well.

She removes her small hands and grasps the paper bag again, opening it before hiding her face almost inside of it. You would never leave her with a bag without anyone else around her, but as long as you and Bucky are there, you don’t feel scared if she puts her head slightly into it to tease her daddy a bit.

“Yeah, my little plum. What do you got Daddy, huh?” He asks, bringing his big hands to her small sides to poke his fingers into her soft flesh. The little girl laughs, throwing her head back while she wiggles in his grip.

She pulls her tiny hands out of the bag and holds a big, white sweater with hearts on it in front of her. Her smile grows and her eyes sparkle as she shows it to Bucky. And the big, most feared mafia boss has the sweetest expression on his face.

His eyes shine, and it looks like the sun is brightening them. His smile reaches almost his ears as he stares at the fabric in his daughter's hands. Bucky’s eyes wander to you for a second, then back to his little girl.

“Thank you, my little plum,” he coos, taking the sweater out of her hands to admire it a moment longer. Your daughter watches Bucky intensely — the same intense stare Bucky has if he wants to find out how you think about something. “You want me to take it on right now?”

She nods, letting herself fall backward into her butt while she holds his gaze. He nods, smirking softly. Bucky leans forward, his big hand placed at the back of her head, and he brings her closer to press his plump lips against her forehead.

“Then I will do that,” he says, getting up from the stop he was kneeling. His eyes land on you, and before he leaves the room to change into the new sweater, he makes his way over to you.

He towers over you, both of his hands finding their way to your thighs, and he leans closer. His lips almost brush yours when he grins at you. “She chose the sweater all by herself, but you allowed her to buy it, didn’t you?”

You shiver under his intense stare and his rough voice. “S-she’s just really convincing. I know you said you don’t want presents, but I guess— I guess she got that from you,” you giggle and Lena closer to chase his lips for a soft kiss. Bucky chuckles, kissing you once again before he pushes himself up and makes his way out of the room to change into the sweater you and your daughter got him.

Your daughter gets one of her new toys out of the bag and shows it to you. It’s not like you don’t know what she bought, but she loves to show you and explain everything about it anyway.

“Mommy, wants book or wants dolly?” She asks, lifting her small arms and holding both up to let you decide which of these she should show and explain to you.

“Do you want me to tell you more about the book you got?” You ask. She nods and puts the doll down, walking with the book in her hands toward you. The little girl places the book on the couch next to you, her small fingers digging into your thighs, and she tries to push herself up onto the couch. “Do you want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Nuuu, ‘m big girl!” She nods, underlining her words. You chuckle; let her climb up without help. Your hand is still behind her back just in case she falls backwards, but she doesn’t.

Once she is on top and next to you, she wiggles a bit and takes the book, placing it in your lap. She just wants to explain why she got the book, who’s on the cover, and what she knows about her favorite series — the book is about it — when Bucky walks back into the room.

Her eyes widen, and she giggles as she sees her big daddy in this pretty sweater she got him. You smile softly at him, reaching your hands out for him to come closer. “You’re pretty, Bucky,” you say and run your fingers over the back of his flash hand, then over the fabric of the sweater.

“Didn’t know I would look that good in that sweater,” he jokes. Stroking one of his hands over the fabric. And he really does look adorable with his middle long hair, his broad chest, and his big arms — the feared mafia boss — wearing a sweater with a lot of hearts on it because his sweet little plum got it just for him. “So, my little plum, what do you think?”

Bucky gets down on his knees in front of the couch, looking at the little girl. Her ocean blue eyes roam over him a little longer before she giggles. “Looks pwetty, daddy! Now we can go back to work!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought I could take out my girls for dinner.” Bucky tilts his head. His fleshy hand holds yours tightly while he watches the little girl, considering if she wants to work or prefers to have dinner with the two of you.

“Do we gets my favorite food?” She asks, taking her book and making grabby hands, waiting for Bucky to pick her up. He nods, wrapping his arms around her to lift her onto his waist before he holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pull you up.

Bucky doesn’t care that people could look weird at him for wearing a sweater with hearts on it. His sweet girl got it for him, and he knows that no one will disrespect him — not even when he looks like a sweet puppy with an adorable sweater.

“You know, babydoll,” Bucky says, looking at you as he wraps his free hand around your waist to pull you into his side. His nose brushes over your cheek until his lips press against your temple. “Thank you for letting out sweet plum to buy me such a pretty sweater. Now I’m wearing your necklace, our wedding band, and my little girl's sweater. I love you, my babydoll, pretty momma.”

Bucky’s voice is low, and he smirks against your skin as you shiver. You knew he would love the sweater — he loves everything you or your daughter get him. “I love you too, Buck,” you mumble before you make your way to the restaurant — letting Bucky show his sweater around to let everyone see how proud he is to have his family, how much he loves you and his little plum, and how much he appreciates you and your love.

Taglist -> @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @im-alestan @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @fanfictionreaderfan @iris-xoxo-juhu @holylulusworld @bucks-babe @whatever-lmaoo @thevillainswhore

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 1 month ago

Text

What's My Name? - R.B.

Bully!Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: you’ve befriended the emeralds and few other Slytherin’s. Regulus is drawn to you like a magnet, but knows you have no business associating with them or their families, so he tries to scare you off. It backfires spectacularly.

cw: MDNI 18+ Regulus tries to white fang you. degradation, bullying, toxic relationships and friend groups, future death-eaters, trauma, Black Family Angst, choking, dry-humping, p in v sex

an: Ik everyone has a different marauders!era slytherin group, so here’s a quick breakdown of my personal headcanon:

Inner circle: Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr., Pandora, and Dorcas Meadowes (the emeralds)

Outer circle: Severus Snape, Avery, Mulciber, Emma Vanity, Charity Burbage, Aurora Sinistra, and Wilkes.

Circle-adjacent: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, and the Marauders

There is also the much darker group with Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, and the Carrow’s, who actively prey on some of the others for Voldemort’s Cause.

────────────────────────

No matter how hard Regulus tried, you refused to leave his orbit. You had no business affiliating with him and his friends, and had no idea what that affiliation truly meant. It meant darkness. It meant bloodshed. It met imminent and very real danger. A war was brewing right under your nose.

Regulus had been born and bred for this, as had most of his friends, but you…you were an innocent. Intelligent, witty, trusting. As much as he tried not to care, he couldn’t stand to watch your light be snuffed out for simply existing around them: metaphorically or literally.

But no matter how many times Regulus tried to run you off, spare you from what came next, you would not heed. In fact, you seemed to take his animosity as a challenge, leaving him in the predicament of being your unwitting adversary.

You were in the Slytherin common room now, curled up by the fireplace with Pandora, Evan, Barty and a few others, doing more gossiping than studying despite the piles of books and parchment on the floor around you. The greenish light of the lake contrasted with the glow of the fire against your face, creating an otherworldly halo around you.

You hair was pulled back, revealing the slender curve of your neck, the dip in your v-neck sweater where a silver pendant rested against your clavicle.

You laughed at whatever terrible joke Barty made and Regulus rolled his eyes, turning back to the spell book in his lap. He was studying alone, having told Evan a number of times to fuck off and let him work on his assignments in peace.

“Regulus!” Emma called suddenly, and he cringed, pretending he didn't hear his Quidditch captain. “Reg!” She called again.

He closed his eyes, willing them all to disappear.

“Regulus fucking Black!” She hollered, loud enough for the whole common room to fall silent.

He clapped his book shut and stalked over to where you all were sitting, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other clamped on his book.

“Yes?” He droned, leaning against the arm chair Emma was sitting in.

“Can you help me with this?” Emma asked, holding up her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

Annoyance prickled along his skin. “What good is a genius pet if she doesn't help with your work?” He asked, leveling you with his coldest stare.

You tilted your head, eyes flicking from his black, curly hair to his leather shoes, and didn't respond.

“She said she wouldn't help me,” Emma pouted.

“I said I wouldn't do it for you,” you corrected.

“Barty, then?”

“No can do, Reg,” Barty responded, coughing up a lungful of pungent smoke, waggling a joint in Regulus’ direction.

Emma waved the smoke from her face. “Will you help, Reg? I have to get a good grade in the class or I could lose my spot on the team. And you know these lot are useless at spells.”

He sighed and took the assignment from her hands, flipping through the pages. It was rudimentary work, things she really should know in order to defend herself.

“Can't help you,” Regulus said, handing it back to her. “If you can't do this, maybe you should be demoted.”

The group ooooh’d at his dig.

“Reg!” Emma whined.

“Ignore him, Em. Not everyone takes to dark magic as easily as the ancient and most bitchy house of Black,” you quipped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Regulus resisted the urge to clench his jaw, feigning the nonchalance you wore like a second skin. The group swiveled to look at him.

“All magic, really. But thank you, darling,” he purred, winking at you.

“You should have seen Sirius in advanced Transfiguration last semester, he's a natural. Truly a gifted wizard,” you continued.

“Hot as fuck, too,” Evan added, just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

Regulus’ blood began to simmer, his temperature rising beneath his dark robes. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head. “I thought you'd be smart enough to not fall for his clown act.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Evidently not.”

“I wouldn't touch a Black with a twenty foot pole,” you replied, leaning back on your hands, stretching your long legs out in front of you, your skirt sitting high on your thighs.

“Who said anything about a pole?” Regulus replied, mimicking your condescending head tilt.

The group snickered, watching your verbal sparring like it was a duel.

“You sound a bit jealous, Reggie. Need a little attention?”

Reggie. His mask nearly slipped, he was so caught off guard by the nickname on your sharp tongue. “May as well, since you give it out so freely.” He glanced down at your shapely legs, punctuating his point.

Your head fell back as you laughed, your chest pressing up and tits bouncing, and he felt an irritating kick in his trouser as the heat of his anger took a new, sinful shape.

“It's the 70’s, love. Are you still so prudish?” You lifted your head, pining him with eyes fierce enough to cleave him in half.

He smirked. “Far from it. Just selective.”

“Don't see much of a selection to chose from,” you chuckled, earning another spike of laughter from the group. “What I see is a spoiled youngest son with nothing better to do than needle the people around him to fill the hole in his chest.” You got to your feet, shouldering your bag.

Regulus felt like he'd been punched clean through the sternum, your words never failing to cut to the quik.

“Spoken by a girl with nothing better to do than fish for a rich husband that might save her from her home in the gutter. Trust me, nothing can fill the hole of inadequacy, y/l/n.”

You stepped over Evan and Barty's tangled limbs and left without another word, leaving Regulus’ cruelty to echo off the glass and stone, the group silent.

Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared into the boys dormitory, guilt dogging every step.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The Quidditch match was in full swing, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the score was neck and neck. It was up to Regulus and the Gryffindor Seeker now, since neither team could get a leg up through the rings.

You sat in the stands sipping hot chocolate with Marlene, Pandora, and Dorcas, Barty pouting to your left because he couldn't sit with Evan in the Slytherin stands.

Regulus hovered a few meters away, his eyes trained upwards, catching every falling leaf and ripple of air around him. You hated how handsome he looked in his Quidditch robes, his lean body relaxed on the broom despite the stakes.

That was Regulus, un-fucking-shakeable. And it drove you insane that you could never get a rise out of him, but he managed to needle one out of you time and time again.

He was as relentless as a northern wind, and you couldn't help but be swept away.

His dark curls framed his angular face, those perpetually sleepy eyes the most arresting green. Sure, everyone thought Sirius was hot, but Regulus was beautiful, ethereal almost, and he wrapped around your mind like a constrictor.

You watched as the other Seeker suddenly took off above the Hufflepuff stands, in pursuit of something, and the Gryffindor stands cheered. But Regulus remained motionless, watching his opponent like a cat trailing a mouse. Even as Slytherin urged him to take up the chase, he remained unmoved, bidding his time.

His bottomless patience would be awe-inspiring if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

You wouldn't have an issue with Regulus, maybe even could have been friends with him, if he hadn't taken issue with you first. You had no idea what his fucking problem was, whether it was because your family was poor, you had better grades than him, or what. He loathed you from the moment you showed up in the Slytherin common room, and you've yet to receive an explanation.

You'd been saddled with a one-sided rivalry, but you'd be damned if you let him defeat you now after a full semester of back and forth.

The other Seeker pulled up short, whipping his head around like he'd lost something, and you saw Regulus crack a smirk, his canines white and sharp.

Regulus turned his head suddenly, quick like a bird, and then he was off in a blur of motion. His opponent was all the way across the pitch, entirely too far to get there in time.

A moment later— “Regulus Black has caught the snitch for 150 points! Slytherin wins!”

The Slytherin stands erupted with cheers while every other house booed, including your own. But you knew a Slytherin victory meant a rager in the dungeons, so you kept your lips sealed.

Instead, you watched Regulus land at the center of the pitch, the golden snitch held lazily between his pointer finger and thumb above his head. Any other Seeker would have been parading around the field, or flying in wide circles over the stands, screaming their head off, but Regulus was silent. His victory spoke for him.

Although, you knew he'd still be smug as fuck later.

As soon as the stands began to drain, you, Pandora, and Barty caught up with the rest of your Slytherin friends, all of them buzzing about the victory, even melancholic Severus. By the time you all reached the dungeons, a party was already in full swing.

Music thrummed along the walls, so loud it caused ripples in the Black Lake, making the emerald-tinged moonlight shift and dance along the floor. You happily accepted a shot of gin, then another before letting Evan cajole you out onto the dance floor.

Sweat pooled along your spine as the music wore on, your hair wild and loose down your back as you danced, electric energy flowing through you.

A cheer came up from the entrance and everyone turned towards the commotion. The Slytherin Quidditch team strode into the room, black robes billowing behind them. Regulus stood at the front, of course. Even from several meters away, you could see the confident glimmer in his eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chiseled jaw.

Fucking Black’s.

Like a magnet, his eyes found yours across the room, and you nearly tripped over Evan’s feet at the venom they held. But he looked away as quickly as he found you, getting swept up by the crowd and disappearing from your line of sight.

You tracked down another shot and rejoined Evan and Barty on the dance floor, squished between them in a tangle of limbs. Impossible to tell who’s hands were where, just a mess of sensation and touch. The temperature in the common room was rising expontentially, so you shed your sweater, leaving you in your skirt and a white camisole, sweat making the fabric cling to your skin.

A few songs passed like that, and a blonde guy you barely know, Rowle, you thought, took your friends place when they tapped out to smoke. You rolled your body against his, enjoying the way his thick muscles felt beneath his robes, the hungry way he was staring down at you. But you were about ready to take a break yourself, the musky smell of weed calling your name from across the room, when the hair on the back of your neck suddenly rose.

You looked around, searching for the source of your bodies response, when you locked eyes, once again, with Regulus.

He was sitting in a circle of couches against the glass wall with your shared friends, a halo of smoke around his head, a girl perched on his lap, sucking at his neck while he took a drag off of a cigarette. But his eyes were glued to you, tracking every movement you made with the same intensity he tracked the golden snitch.

Confidence wafted through you, and you wrapped your arms around your dance partners neck, letting him dip you so low your hair pooled on the floor, your tits nearly falling out of your shirt. You rolled back up slowly, articulating every vertebrae in your spine until you were chest to chest with your partner, sharing the same breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus choke on the smoke, dislodging the girl from his skin, and you smirked.

You let your partner turn you, showing every angle of your body, and you dropped low, circling your hips in time with the resinous goth song as you rose back up.

Regulus' cigarette hung limp between his fingers, his perfect jaw a little slack.

Emboldened, you broke away from your partner, letting yourself get lost in the sensuous, thrumming beat. Your arms rose above your head, your shoulders and hips swaying in time. It felt like you were hypnotizing him, his eyes glued to every undulation of your hips, and you couldn't recall a time where you felt more alive.

Too soon, though, the music changed to a more electro-pop vibe, and you slipped reluctantly off the dance floor, the taste of smoke beckoning you across the room.

You sauntered over to the circle, pointedly ignoring Regulus as you approached.

“There she is,” Even cooed, extending an arm to you. “You looked amazing out there.”

You smiled, sliding into his lap and taking a drag from the joint between his fingers. “Thank you, lovely.” You smiled sweetly up at him, and you could have sworn he started drooling.

“Feels even better,” Barty teased, sprawled out on the couch beside Evan, clearly a little too inebriated already.

You winked at him, and he flushed a deep scarlet. Pandora, who was resting on the floor between Dorcas’ legs, chuckled at his expense.

Regulus was quiet, per usual, watching as the group chattered around him, turning the golden snitch he caught over and over in his long fingers.

The smoke made your mind a little hazy, your tired muscles from dancing going loose, and you sagged into Evan’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Regulus’ fingers tightened on the snitch, his jaw feathering, and your stomach swooped with nervous excitement. You’d never been able to rattle him before. Had you finally knocked the monolithic Regulus Black off of his axis?

“Reg, why so quiet?” Evan asked, nudging his leg with his boot.

Regulus raised a brow. “What would you like to talk about, Rosier? Fucking Junior? Or eye-fucking y/l/n?”

“We can talk about eye-fucking y/n.” Evan winked down at you, and you rolled your eyes. Avery barked a laugh from his spot on the other side of Regulus.

“Yes, let's,” Barty added, raking his willowly fingers through your hair draped over Evan’s arm. You hummed under the attention, knowing it was all in good, hedonistic Slytherin fun.

Well, almost all in good fun.

As always, Regulus couldn't let your ego inflate too much. “It's hard not indulge in a little novelty, no matter how ineffectual.”

Ouch. His words landed like barbs on your skin, but you ignored him, leaning into Barty’s attention with light moan.

Regulus shifted a little in his seat, his hands falling over his lap, and you nearly smiled. Regulus may act all high and mighty, but he wasn't impervious.

“Look at you,” Even purred, blowing smoke over your heated skin, your decolletage exposed as you stretched towards Barty. “Prettiest girl at Hogwarts, stretched across my lap.” You flushed, squirming a little in his lap, and Evan groaned. “You're torturing me, baby.”

Barty tugged on your hair, sending a skitter of pleasure down your spine and craning your head back even further. “Oh, keep doing that. He loves being tortured.”

“What a good girl,” Regulus hummed, and your pussy throbbed, soaking through your underwear. It was a rush, being admired by the heirs of some of the most powerful families in the magical world. But hearing those sweet words from Regulus, twisted into degradation, did sick things to your mind. “She's on track to graduate with her perfect, filthy-rich husband, and spend the rest of her days as mindless, fertile eye candy.”

You flinched, not that the boys noticed, and sat up a little, suddenly self-conscious in your barely-there shirt.

“We volunteer,” Avery and Wilkes said at the same time.

Evan’s arm tightened around you. “You'll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands,” he replied.

Claustrophobia clawed at your throat, but you couldn't let Regulus know how thoroughly he'd flipped your night upside down.

Wilkes drew their wand, pointing it at Evan’s head. “That can be arranged.”

“A no-name isn't worth it, children,” Regulus sneered. “Save your Azkaban trips for nobler pursuits than cunt.”

That's it. You swung your legs to the ground and rose, stalking towards Regulus. The group whistled and hooted, excited by the oncoming storm of drama.

You climbed into Regulus’ lap, straddling him and stealing the golden snitch from his hands. He was warm and solid beneath you, his expensive, amber cologne swirling with the smoke to create an addicting combination.

His hands immediately fell to your bare thighs, the cold of his rings biting into your heated flesh. His green eyes darkened, lids growing heavy as he looked up at you, his ebony lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks.

“Regulus Black,” you murmured in his ear while loosening his tie. His hands tensing on your thighs for a split second before he relaxed them. “You will never find someone that can withstand your thorns the way I do.”

He loosed a breath, chin lifting a little closer to your face like a wilted rose tilting towards the sun.

“You will never scare me off.” You brushed your nose along his temple, feeling his heart rate increase, his breath turn shallow. “I will ruin you, and you will thank me for it.”

Before he could respond, you slipped away, taking his prize snitch with you all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. Unreachable, even for the boy that had everything.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus turned your words over and over in his mind, an endless, torturous loop. The others seemed obvious to his torment, prattling on and on while he burned through cigarette after cigarette, his tongue raw and throat scratchy.

Nothing would numb the ache on his chest, the pulsing strain of his cock beneath his robes. He'd already been painfully hard watching you move, watching you stretch across Evan and Barty like a contented kitten, preening under their devoted attention.

But when you climbed into his lap…fuck.

He was a heartbeat away from coming in his pants. One roll of your hips and he would have been done for, and you had no idea.

Or, maybe you did.

I will ruin you.

It was a miracle that you'd climbed off of him and stormed away, because the only thought he could formulate was please.

Eventually, he couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't even say goodnight to his friends, just disappeared into the dormitory and locked the door behind him.

He shirked his robe and grabbed a spare Slytherin scarf from his drawer. He flopped onto his bed and freed his aching cock, the head and angry red and shiny. He wrapped the scarf around it, squeezing hard for a semblance of relief.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, pumping his cock slowly as your voice filled his mind again, the feeling of your weight on top of him, your sweet breath on his neck, your perfume rewiring the synopsis in his brain.

His hand started to move quicker, breath coming out in desperate pants. He imagined licking across your dewy chest, tasting the salt on your skin, gin on your tongue. Blowing his cigarette smoke over your naked body, into your open mouth. So eager and flayed open for him to ravage—his innocent lamb to ruin.

“Fuck, y/n!” Your name wrenched itself from his throat as he came hard into his scarf, imaging it was deep inside your greedy cunt. His whole body shuddered with the force of it, his jaw hanging open as he pumped himself through the orgasm until he'd milked every drop from himself, wondering if your pussy, your mouth, would do the same.

He slumped back onto the pillows, completely exhausted, and shoved the scarf under his bed.

You were right, you would fucking ruin him, ruin his plans. And he wasn't sure if he hated or loved you for it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus avoided you for two weeks after that party, going so far as to skip your shared Potions class entirely. It was for the better really, you still felt a little raw after that night, the dull ache of his words combined with the unresolved arousal has left you out of sorts, to put it mildly.

If you ran into him, you weren’t sure if you’d throttle or fuck him to death.

Your friends were beginning to grow suspicious of his absence, and your squirrely behavior, and, unbeknownst to you, they set a trap to bring this stand-off to a finish once and for all.

Pandora chatted animatedly beside you as you walked together down the stairs to the dungeon, ranting about something Aurora did to piss her off. When you arrived to the dungeon, she suddenly paused to tie her shoelace, waving for you to go on ahead of her into the common room.

You did, and the large green door swung shut behind you.

“No! Fuck, Dora!” Regulus was right there, banging his fist on the door.

You looked around, bewildered, only to find the common room completely deserted. Except for Regulus, of course.

“Move,” you hissed, withdrawing your wand.

“I tried everything,” Regulus huffed, a hand raking through his dark hair.

“I said move,” you repeated, pointing your wand at him.

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, walking back into the common room. He dropped onto the couch by the fireplace, retrieving his book.

You threw every spell you could think of at the door, but it simply wouldn’t budge. “What the fuck!” You shouted, nearly throwing your wand across the room out of frustration.

“They left us a note,” Regulus said, not looking up from his reading.

You stalked over to him, finding an open piece of parchment on the coffee table. Immediately, you recognized Pandora’s loping hand.

“Just bone already.” You read aloud, and scoffed. “What the fuck does that mean?” You glared at Regulus, as if he was somehow responsible, but he still didn’t look up.

“I suspect they’re tired of our bickering,” he replied, turning the page.

“And what does locking us in the dungeon together accomplish?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe they’d lock you in a dungeon with your fucking nemesis. Your school yard bully. The bane of your goddamn existence.

Regulus shrugged. “Maybe they think you’ll kill me.”

You let out an exasperated sound and stormed away from him, trying the door to the girls dormitory.

“Locked,” he called a millisecond after you tried the handle.

“Maybe I am going to fucking kill him,” you muttered to yourself. Resigned, you sat on a chair by the glass wall, as far away from him as you could possibly get, and sulked.

You had no clue how much time passed, the only light filtering in through the murky lake. The cold leeched through the glass, chilling you to the bone, but you refused to move closer to him. You’d freeze to death in here if you had to.

“Y/l/n,” Regulus said after the fifth full body chill wracked through you. “Come sit by the fire.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back, and he snorted.

“Fine, freeze.” He returned to his book, not sparing you another glance.

Your hands started to ache from the cold, your jaw sore from your teeth chattering together. With a sigh, you got up and crossed the room. Regulus still didn’t look up, though you could feel his attention shift to you as you sat directly in front of the fire, holding your hands out to it.

“You really think they’ll leave us in here all night?” You asked, staring at the dancing flames.

“Absolutely,” Regulus answered, lowering his book to his lap.

You sighed, resigned. The only way out is through. “I’ll start.”

He tilted his head, dark brows drawing together in suspicion.

You cursed under your breath, and dove headfirst. “I don’t understand why you’re so shitty to me,” you blurted, refusing to look at him. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

He was quiet for so long, you finally caved and glanced over at him, only to find him staring back at you, expression unreadable.

“Regulus,” you huffed, frustrated.

“Y/n,” he mocked, and your stomach flipped despite his attitude. He’d never used your first name before.

“Just fucking talk to me.” You straightened your spine, folding your legs on the ground underneath you, the fire at your side.

He stared at you for a few more moments, his eyes dancing back and forth, before he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book.

“You’re a lot of things, Black, but I didn’t take you for a coward.”

His eyes flickered with anger, but he didn’t bite.

“Reg,” you murmured, softening your voice, and he rolled his eyes, the most unbelievably bored expression on his face. You shifted your weight, placing your hands on the ground, and lifted to your knees. Slowly, you began to crawl to him, being careful to not sway your hips too much, and he broke after only a few seconds.

“On your knees already, darling?” He teased, but the casual tone didn’t match his eyes. The fire in them, the way his hands tightened around the cover of his book, betrayed his true feelings.

Once you were directly in front on him, you sat back on your heels. “Be honest with me, Reggie, did it turn you on seeing me with Evan and Barty?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your question. In his lap, you saw his cock twitch, a small pulse along his right thigh.

Men are so fucking easy.

“What about when I was dancing with them? Sandwiched between their bodies?” You rolled your head on your shoulders, mimicking the way you danced and revealing the fragile plains of your throat, your hair falling around your face. “When Barty pulled my hair? When Evan blew smoke over my tits?”

Regulus swallowed hard, his eyes like melted jade.

“What about when I crawled into your lap?” You took the book from him and set it onto the table. Then, you placed your hands on his lean, muscular thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, straddling him the same way you did that night. His entire body was rigid beneath you, muscles coiled tight with tension. “Did you like when I whispered in your ear, Regulus? When I told you that I’d ruin you?”

“Y/n,” he rasped, breathing hard.

“Tell me the truth.” You were so close, your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. You committed to the contact, brushing your lips along his racing pulse, down his jugular vein. You fought to keep your thighs from clenching together, your own body responding to the feeling him slowly unraveling beneath you. “Do you hate me because you want me?”

“I don't,” he hissed through his teeth.

“If you say so,” you hummed, moving to slide off his lap.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising. “Don't you fucking dare."

“I thought you didn't want me?” You taunted, sitting back on his lap to look at him, a hand braced on his sternum.

When you shifted your weight, your pussy accidentally pressed against the hard outline of his cock. You had to force your hips to stay still, your pussy practically begging you to move when you felt him throb against your warm heat.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. All the malice had drained from his voice, his eyes locked on yours.

Then what the fuck did he mean?

You rolled your hips, biting back the moan that crept up your throat as pleasure snaked through you. Regulus was less successful, a broken groan falling from his pretty mouth.

“It would be so much easier to just tell me the truth,” you purred, slowly rocking your hips over his twitching length, allowing a hint of breathlessness to bleed into your voice. “It would feel so good, Reg, to let it all go. To lose control.”

“Shit,” he crushed under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” He grated, sliding his hands down to feel your thighs flex with each movement, his fingertips dimpling your flesh.

“What did you mean by ‘I don’t’?” You asked, tilting his chin up with a finger.

His jaw went a little slack as he stared up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and shining. “I don’t hate you,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why do you say such awful things?” You stopped your movements, and he made a small noise in his throat, nearly a whimper, but didn’t answer. “Regulus,” you prodded, lifting yourself from him entirely.

“N-no, please, fuck y/n,” he stammered, lifting his hips to grind against you. Another moan threatened to spill from you, his body felt so fucking good against yours, but you managed to restrain yourself. “I did it to try and push you away, I—”

You lowered back onto him, your hips grinding in tandem, and his head fell back against the couch, releasing a throaty groan. You couldn’t hold back a small squeak of pleasure when the hard head of his cock grazed your clit just right, and a wave of pleasure crashed through you.

“Why did you want to push me away?” You started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, lean muscles flexing as he thrusted up against you.

He shook his head, picking it up to look down at where your bodies met, a pool of your slick dampening his trousers. “Getting me all wet, lamb. You like toying with me?” he rasped, moving one of his hands to press a thumb against your clothed clit, his long fingers splayed across your pelvis. “Is that why I couldn’t scare you off?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, a full moan finally breaking free with the added pressure. You were embarrassingly close to coming, to banter combined with the friction between your bodies was a lethal cocktail, a drug you weren’t sure you’d be able to quit.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, applying enough pressure that he gasped, the sound vibrating your hand. “Why are you trying to push me away?” You leaned closer to his face, his strained pants fanning across your lips. He was so beautiful like this, ravaged by lust and desperate.

“You know why,” he growled, grabbing your wrists. He rolled suddenly, flipping you beneath him and pinning your hands above your head. “What’s my name, y/n?” His free hand slid under your skirt, palming your soaked panties.

“Regulus,” you gasped, arching into his chest.

“Regulus what?” He started rubbing the heel of his palm over your clit, electric pleasure burning through you.

“Regulus Black.” You were on the brink of coming, teetering on that torturous edge.

“Tell me then, my clever little Ravenclaw. What does that say about me and mine?” He leaned down and dragged his teeth along your pulse point, pausing to suck a mark under your ear.

“Fuck, Reg, I’m going to come,” you whined, fighting against his hold as the feeling started to overwhelm you.

His hand stopped suddenly, ruining the orgasm you had just begun to crest. You cried out in frustration, tears springing to your eyes as the pleasure bled out of you, leaving you desperate and humming with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, grabbing your jaw with his slick covered hand.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snapped, eyes blazing into his. “I know what the fuck it means. And I don’t care.”

He fell still, eyes searching your face. “Then maybe you are an idiot,” he murmured, eyes softening now that the truth was finally out. “But so am I.”

He closed the final inch between you, connecting your lips in a searing, devastating kiss that you felt all the way to your toes. He released your hands and you tangled your fingers into his curls, finally feeling their softness for yourself as you pulled him closer. Your mouth parted for him, his tongue delving in to taste you.

“Reg, please,” you whined against his mouth, pressing your hips to his again.

“Tell me what you want, lamb.” He kissed down your neck, one of his hands sliding down to grip your thigh and draw it over his hip.

“Fuck me, I need you inside of me.” You clawed at his belt, flipping the clasp and tugging down his zipper.

“Merlin, yes.” He finished undoing his pants and freed his cock, pulling aside your panties to glide the head through your slick folds, lubricating himself. He notched the head at your entrance, hissing at the warmth already kissing him, and eased himself in.

Regulus wasn’t overly large, but the stretch was still divine, filling you until you went cross-eyed, an unholy cry ripping from your chest. He drew his hips back and slammed back into you, over and over again until your were in shambles, a moaning, shaking mess, on the precipice of coming for the second time.

“Come for me, love. I want to feel you break.” He cupped your face, kissing you as he finally pushed you over the edge, an orgasm ripping you apart at the seams. You screamed into his mouth, your cunt clenching around him as your body convulsed. “God, I love this fucking cunt. So perfect for me,” he growled, his hips losing their rhythm as your walls bared down on him, sucking him back in every time he pulled out.

“Reg,” you whimpered, sagging against the couch as the strength bled out of of you.

He pulled out suddenly, pumping his cock in his fist, your honey coating him. “Stay just like that, pretty girl. All fucked out and used. All mine—” a guttural groan broke the final word as he came in his hand, spraying ropes of cum over your rumpled skirt and Ravenclaw sweater, his head thrown back. He looked gorgeous milking himself for you, his muscles flexing with the effort, sweat beading along his skin.

He slowly relaxed, chest heaving, and looked down at you, ruined and covered in his cum. You stared back, completely starstruck by what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, draping himself over you and pressing ksises to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I—”

“Me too,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know how hard things are for you, at home, I mean, and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have brought up your family—”

“But I kept—”

“I never meant too—”

You both exhaled, laughing softly at your rushed confessions, the sudden, giddy nervousness that bloomed between you where there once was glacial wit and razor-sharp banter. He sat you both up, removing your stained sweater and straightening your skirt, then righted himself.

“What now?” You asked when he finished fussing, studying his flushed cheeks, his tousled hair.

He sighed, suddenly looking grim, and your heart gave a nervous thump. “We find a way to keep you safe, lamb,” he said, meeting your eyes. “But until then, we should act like nothing’s changed. Okay?”

Uncertainty coiled in your stomach, but you nodded. “Okay.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!

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