#3 parts...and maybe a sequel? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ramonathinks · 1 year ago

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matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 months ago

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──── EVEN WHEN IT'S HARD... ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka the one where even when it's hard...sim jaeyun will always choose you.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 1.1k ⌗ angst angst ANGST, reader is a lil self-sabotaging, jakey gets v v sad :(, but then comfort, reassurance, & fluff<3

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's �� .ᐟ ── hello pls don't be mad at me for this one,,,decided to throw another angsty one into the mix because once again─i really wanna make this series realistic and i totally see yn still getting into her own head every now & then. and it's totally normal & realistic for couples to have lil moments of miscommunication and i feel like this is how jake would handle it :') bc at the end of the day, he will always choose yn...

You don’t even know how you got here.

It probably started small.

Something barely noticeable—something as small as a mere thought in the back of your head. A flicker of doubt—the kind that’s been fading, slowly but surely, over time.

But still lingers.

Like a crack in glass you don’t notice until the whole thing shatters.

Maybe it was a comment.

A look.

Maybe the restaurant you recommended but it ended up being mediocre.

The too-long silence during the drive back home from dinner.

And now here you are.

Standing in the middle of your living room, your bag still half-slung off your shoulder, while Jake stands from across the space—watching you with his arms limp at his side, a pout on his lips, confused and concerned, like he doesn’t know what’s happening.

And you don’t even remember what you said.

Only the way Jake’s face fell.

The way his shoulders sank immediately, like something slipped through his fingers and he didn’t even realize he was holding it.

The way he blinked, slow and stunned—like he felt the crack before he could make sense of it.

“I just think—” you sigh, sharper than you mean to be, your arms folding across yourself, “I don’t know—maybe you shouldn’t assume things about how I feel.”

Jake’s brows knit together, his voice low but steady, “I’m not assuming anything, Y/N. I’m asking. You won’t talk to me, and I’m—I just…I’m trying to figure out where your head’s at.”

You turn away.

Try to blink it back—the tightness rising in your chest. The frustration.

You don’t even know why you’re upset.

At him? At yourself?

“Well maybe my head’s a mess right now,” you say, a bubble rising to your throat. “And I don’t need you trying to fix it.”

There’s a pause.

A shift in the air.

Jake lets out a soft breath. Barely audible.

But you hear it.

And you see it, too—the subtle way his expression drops.

And god, it hurts.

“Okay.” He nods slowly, his voice suddenly quieter, barely above a whisper. “So what do you need, then?”

You hesitate.

Because that’s just the thing. You don’t know.

Because it’s not him. Never him.

It’s not the quiet car ride home. Or the under-cooked steak at the restaurant. Or the stupid thing he said about maybe meeting his parents next month.

It’s you.

It’s everything else.

The pressure. The doubt. The sinking feeling in your chest that you don’t deserve something this good. Something as good as him.

“I think…” you start, your eyes meeting his, swallowing hard. “I think I need space.”

And it’s like you ripped the floor out from right under him.

You watch the words hit him.

Watch how he stumbles without even moving.

His eyes flick to yours like he misheard. His breath catches like you knocked the wind out of him.

His fingers tremble at his sides, helpless and twitching, like he doesn’t know what to hold on to anymore.

He exhales a shaky breath and—

“No.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I’m not giving you space.” His voice cracks. Barely holding it together. “Not like this. Not when I don’t even know what I did—”

“You didn’t do anything, Jake—”

“Then I’m staying.”

His voice breaks again. And when you look at him again—his eyes are glassy. His voice trembles in a way that shatters your heart more than you’ve ever known before.

And before you know it—

Jake crosses the living room and closes the distance between you two—like he’s trying to reach the part of you that’s slipping through his fingers.

And when he’s right in front of you, he stops.

Just looks at you.

Like you’re the only thing he sees. Like he’s begging you to see him too.

“Let me stay,” his voice unsteady, more desperate now. “Please.”

Your throat closes.

“You’re shutting me out again and I can feel it and I know I’m not perfect, but—God, Y/N—I love you.”

A breath. A blink. A beat.

“I’m trying. I’m here,” Jake continues, his eyes pleading. Breaking. “Please don’t push me away when I’m trying to stay.”

You stare at him.

And you hate it.

You hate how much he means it.

How sincere he sounds—how shattered he looks.

How his hands are clenched at his sides like he’s holding himself back from reaching for you, like he’s not sure he can.

And you hate that you’re the one making him feel that way.

Like love has limits.

Like maybe even he isn’t allowed to cross the invisible line you drew without even realizing it.

Because deep down—

You’re terrified.

Terrified that one day he’ll just say okay and walk out.

That he’ll stop trying. Stop fighting.

That your worst fear will come true: that you are too much. That you’re not worth all this effort.

“Jake…I’m scared,” you whisper—and it breaks.

The dam. The silence. You.

“I’m scared you’ll realize I’m not worth this,” you choke, your own vision blurring. “That I’m just—too much. Or not enough. Or both.”

Jake’s face crumbles.

Completely.

“Y/N.”

You shake your head, blinking fast—it’s all spilling now, messy and unfiltered and real.

“You could have anyone. You could find someone easier. Someone who doesn’t blow up over nothing or pull away every time it gets hard or—”

“Don’t.”

The sudden edge in his voice stops you—not sharp, but urgent.

Urgent, wrecked, and aching.

“Don’t you dare try to write me out of this story when I already know how it ends. Like I haven’t already chosen you.”

He takes a step forward.

“I don’t want easy. I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Another step.

“Even when it’s messy. Even when you’re mad. Even when it’s hard.”

And before you can stop him, Jake’s hands cup your face—gentle, steady—like you’re something fragile and priceless at the same time.

“This is still you,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against your own. “And I still love you.”

Your lip quivers.

He brushes his thumb along your cheek—and only then do you realize you’re crying.

A broken breath escapes your lips.

“…I’m sorry,” you choke out, the tears falling out faster now—completely open and raw.

Jake lets out a small, breathy, almost sad laugh.

“Me too.”

And god.

You think that might’ve been the moment you fell completely, absolutely, irreversibly in love with him.

In a way you can’t describe.

In a way that sits in your chest and says this is it—even if you don’t know how to say it out loud yet.

So for now—

“Please stay.”

Jake smiles. It’s small. But so full of relief.

“Always, pretty.”

And he does.

Jake stays through the silence. Through the ache.

Through the heavy nights and the mornings when it’s better.

Because real love doesn’t run.

It reaches. And it stays.

Even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

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summer-oil · 1 year ago

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oughhhh i’m thinking abt no place in nature!reader again……………

#i still love that fic soso much :’3 #i have a sequel and prequel planned n everything but. im thinking maybe i should save the enthusiam for curse user!reader & teacher!sugu..#bc those fics overlap a bit #IT’S JUST. i’m just!! :((( i rlly love their dynamic #reader being sooo tired of being haunted/loved by geto…. lashing out and being snarky……#they’re still one of my fav readers i think. drinking their cup ramen and sulking…… calling his robes ugly <33 #i wanna go back to that fic n add some stuff bc!!!!#i like the idea of reader leaving the jujutsu society w a bit of a bang… maybe injuring an elder or smth similar #before becoming a civilian #and geto would obv catch wind of it #and i think . he’d be . not Proud but very amused. and maybe worried bc it’s so unlike them . his defection made them soo cynical #as for the prequel i just . have Thoughts abt the two of them….#reader being a bit like a meek kitten who follows after sugu LMAO… but they’re soso sweet and he loves them :(((((#AND THEN. the sequel would be the ending where reader chooses to join him after all!!! and gets to know him all over again :3 #equal parts angst and fluff …. mostly reader being pissed and sad and him being absolutely whipped for them #sniffleeeee i love them so dearly </3 #ari noises ✩

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jaeminify · 1 month ago

Text

kiss, marry, f#%! ☆ na jaemin.

synopsis ☆ within your friend group, haena's father was commonly known as the daddy they'd love to fu— and while you've frequently imagined him treating you more than just his daughter's best friend, you think it starts to manifest itself into reality when haena brings you home and jaemin's eyes linger on your figure a little longer when it's just the two of you with nobody watching.

warning(s) ☆ legal age, jaemin is 20 years older so forty, daddy kink (duh), spitting kink, cum eating, dry humping, semi-rough sex, both are consenting adults! a lot of pet names, jaemin's horny. so are you. yeah

author's note. urmmm lengthy smut one shot that doesn't really make sense so technically not really porn with a plot? idk let me know if u enjoyed this! thinking of making a part two or a sequel or something cause im ovulating and was feeling extra horny for jaemin and this was sitting in my drafts for weeks so now seemed like the perfect time to finish it LMAO sorry if it isn't up to par or as good as my other works <3 reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

"Haena, your dad's a total dilf." Jimin gushes for the second time during your movie marathon with the girls. Haena, who's become numb to the annoying comments, rolls her eyes.

"Jimin's holding herself back from calling him a Daddy." You chuckle, earning a squeal from her. Haena is the only one unamused.

"Jimin, please shut up. He's an old man who's growing grey hair and, is my dad, thank you very much." She replies, annoyed that she's had to repeat herself. "Guys seriously, we're watching cruel intentions and all you're thinking about is my dad? Gross."

You give Haena an apologetic smile, knowing the girls weren't going to stop talking about her dad anytime soon, or ever. Haena's father has been a hot topic ever since he attended her graduation. He was the centre of attention of every single women in attendance and while you did find him attractive, you cared about Haena and respected her wishes to not sexualise her father.

At least, you wouldn't ever do it in front of her.

Two nights after that, Jimin and you are having dinner at a fancy restaurant in town. Jimin having received her bonus pay-check and you finally getting your TA request accepted, you both decided to treat yourselves. Take each other out while you both talked about your accomplishments over the week.

"I can't believe it took Professor Cha ages to read your email. If Jisung hadn't reminded him of the TA opening?" Jimin expresses her annoyance on behalf of you, making you chuckle.

"I know. It's ridiculous, but he saved my ass by asking that question. I'm pretty sure Yuta was the one who asked him to ask, he doesn't speak much."

"That's 'cause he's reserved. Have you seen him at the club? Boy is quiet but knows how to bust a move."

"I know. I'm thinking of signing up for one of his dance workshops— y'know, the one he set up for charity? All donations are going to an animal shelter."

"Ugh, and he's an animal lover too? I swear if I wasn't already head over heels for Haena's dad, I would have a crush on Yuta."

You take a sip out of your drink. It was a mix of Vodka, sprite, and something sweet. It was tangy, maybe a hint of citrus was in it too.

"Are you serious about your crush on Jaemin?" You ask, bewildered at your friend. You've all joked about liking Mr. Na, Haena's dad was named Jaemin, but Jimin actually seemed infatuated.

You couldn't really blame her. He was an attractive man, and it was rare for a forty year old to look that good.

"Serious? No. Definitely not, I'd never do that to Haena, but in another life? Yes. Girl, have you seen his body? I bet he works out when he's not handling court cases."

You chuckle, "You'd think so."

"Hey," Jimin softly tapped your shoulder then pointed at the table behind you. "Isn't that Mr. Na?"

"Okay, Jimin, I know you like him but there's no way he'd be here," You turn around to prove your point but widen your eyes when Jaemin walks in, and he isn't alone.

"He's here. Oh my God— Is he on a date?" Jimin asks, bewildered although slightly amused. You, on the other hand, have a confused look on your face. He doesn't seem too interested in his date, in fact he's looking at the interior of the restaurant instead of her.

"Ugh, there goes my one-sided love," Jimin sinks into her chair, feigning sadness. You laugh at your friend and nudge her feet with your heel. "It was nice while it was lasted."

"Haena's gonna be happy." You smile, picking at your salad. "Do you think she knows?"

Jimin's playful demeanour switches to a much more serious look, both concern and sympathy wash over the two of you as you think about your close friend.

"It hasn't been that long since they divorced, right? Maybe she does." Jimin glances at them over your shoulder again then shrugs, "I hope she does."

"Yeah," You nod and continue eating your dinner together.

The two of you continue to talk about your week; Jimin lets you know she's having an art exhibition for a charity event at the end of this week and you let her know you'll be there. Jimin was an incredible artist who ventured out with local artists outside of university to branch out and make connections.

She's had three solo exhibitions and one collaboration exhibition coming up. Proud was an understatement when it came to Jimin.

After some time, you excuse yourself to powder your face, literally, because you could feel your makeup sweating off you from the bright lights in the restaurant.

On the way back to the table, you spot a figure standing by your table talking to Jimin, who's eager to call you over once she sees you standing from afar.

"Y/N! Guess who came over to say hi," Jimin's eyes were giving you a hint. A glaringly obvious hint that at first was not received very well until you turned your head and saw who it was.

You controlled your face muscles from showing a reaction, only briefly widening your eyes back at Jimin as you looked back at Mr. Na.

"Mr. Na, what a coincidence! Jimin and I were just having a girls night out."

Jaemin is calm and collected, quiet confidence radiating off him from the way he stands. He's quiet, always the polite man he is and gives a kind smile to you and Jimin.

"Jimin's mentioned. I hear you girls have accomplished a lot since your graduation," Jaemin's eyes linger on you, they dart lower but before he gets caught he looks back at Jimin.

"Is that Haena over-exaggerating again?" Jimin asks, earning a laugh from Jaemin.

"I'm sure it isn't at all." He nods his head, "I should get back to my appointment. You girls enjoy dinner."

"Thank you, Mr. Na." Jimin says on behalf of you two.

You're subconsciously playing with the bracelets that adorn your wrists, catching Jaemin's attention. Your hands were right by the slit of your dress that stopped mid-thigh.

You don't notice his gaze on your exposed thigh, talking to Jimin about what dessert to order.

He clears his throat, "Please, call me Jaemin." He says, looking at Jimin then you. "I'll see you girls around."

Jaemin walks away without turning back, giving you and Jimin the chance the gawk at his back. He may be a man of few words but he was a very, very suave and attractive fella.

"God, his voice and that suit. Sign me up."

"Jimin!" You scold as you sit back down in your chair, taking your napkin to rest on your lap.

Jimin and you end up ordering a slice of lemon cheesecake for dessert. Halfway through your conversation you look around the restaurant and lock eyes with Jaemin, who's staring at your table. The two of you look at each other, giving each other a polite smile, then you go back to listening to Jimin.

Before leaving, Jimin and you are getting ready to pay for dinner when the waiter comes over to tell you that it's been taken care of.

Jaemin meets you and Jimin at the receptionist.

"Mr. Na— I mean, Jaemin. Thank you for paying for our dinner. You really didn't have to." Jimin began, speaking of behalf of you and her.

"Nonsense, it was my pleasure." Jaemin says, "Did you two have a good meal?" Jaemin turns to look at you.

You smile, "We did. Dessert was good." You say, thinking nothing of it. Jaemin smiles at your comment, nodding his head to himself.

Jaemin's guest pushes herself against Jaemin's arms, looking upset over something none of you have a clue about.

Jimin's eyes widened when his guest brazenly pushes her breasts against his arm. Jaemin, unaffected by the action, keeps his eyes on you as he nods.

"Do you girls need a ride home?"

"No, thank you." Jimin is quick to say, meanwhile you glance at the glare his guest is directing at you. After saying goodbye, with a confused look, you wave and follow after Jimin.

You barely miss the words, "Why do you keep staring at her?" slip through her lips while you walk out.

A month later you were helping Haena move out of her childhood bedroom.

Yuna was away for holiday, Jimin was caught up in work, so you were the only person aside from Jaemin, to help Haena out. You spent a good chunk of the day packing all of her things with her, then when it was time to load up the things into the truck, the movers and Jaemin took over. That left you and Haena to relax in the kitchen.

"Thanks again for helping me, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Of course," You smiled, taking a sip out of your orange juice. "What are friends for, Haena."

"Darling," Haena looked up from her phone to her father calling her by the kitchen doorway. You ignored the fluttering feeling in your stomach. He was talking to his daughter — who was your friend!

"Yeah, dad?"

Jaemin's eyes flickered to you then back to Haena. He was dressed in all black; black sweater with slacks that suited him perfectly.

"The movers need you to be there since they don't have a key to the apartment. Is your roommate home? You girls need me to drop you off?" Jaemin asked, looking at the two of you.

You got up to follow after Haena but she shook her head.

"No it's okay, I can drive. Yeri won't be back yet so I have to be there. I'll be quick though, Y/N. You can stay here and rest."

"What?" You asked, "I can go with you it's no problem, Hae."

"No, you've helped enough. I don't wanna be at the apartment long anyway, I'm coming back." Haena grabbed her car keys and smiled, "Y/N, just make yourself comfortable. This is practically your second home."

You laughed at Haena's words but hugged her goodbye, telling her you'd be in her room while waiting for her. Most of your things were in her room and you needed to sort out the classroom files on your laptop.

Once Haena left, it was just you in the kitchen as Jaemin walked Haena to her car. You typed away on your phone when you heard a clink of a mug right across from you.

"Coffee?" Jaemin asked, holding up a jug of black coffee which was not unusual, but it was already midday and from habit you remember Haena mentioning Jaemin's spike in coffee addiction.

"No, that's okay. I'm not a fan of bitter things." You politely declined, "Haena mentioned you were getting a promotion, Mr. Na?"

Jaemin smiled to himself as he put the jug away, taking moment to drink his coffee as he leaned against the counter across from you.

"Not really," He said. "I don't really get promotions, I just submit potential applicants who are qualified for the promotions." He informed kindly, "And I've told you to call me Jaemin, Y/N."

"Right," You say sheepishly.

"How has work been for you? Any troubles?" Jaemin asked.

The two of you indulge in small talk until Jaemin gets a call, that he takes in front of you. By the end of it, he's pissed. He doesn't yell, in fact it's impressive that he keeps his cool, but his strict demeanour is almost mesmerising to watch. Jaemin's stern voice triggers a memory.

Jaemin's eyes catches yours while he talks in business, the words don't make sense to you but his actions and his attitude does. Something in your body language shifts that makes Jaemin turn his attention solely on you.

When he hangs up, he tilts his head at you.

"Was there something on me?"

You snap out of your daze and shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"No, Mr. Na." Quickly, you cleared your throat then looked at him seriously. Jaemin matches your stance by titling his head. "The other day, when Jimin and I saw you at the restaurant, did I cause any trouble between you and your... guest?"

Jaemin's eyebrows crease together, then he remembered.

"Oh," Jaemin chuckled. "You didn't cause any trouble at all. Chaeyoung hates when the attention isn't on her."

Your mind fixates on his words. Who was he paying attention to?

"So, you two... serious?"

Jaemin laughs, a hearty one that almost makes you smile. For an older man, he had a boyish laugh — you found that attractive.

"Are you asking for Haena or for you?" Jaemin asked. Before you can respond, he continues, "She was a date. Just one, though. Didn't click very well with her."

"That's a shame." You nodded. "Does Haena know...?"

You supposed it was weird to be talking about love and the topic of dates with your friend's father but Jaemin always treated Haena's friends as adults and if the girls were with you, they'd be prying into his love life too.

There were many occasions where Jimin and Yuna had to be stopped by Haena the last time Jaemin accompanied the girls to a dinner.

Jaemin lips the corner of his lips as he contemplates how to answer that. Haena's mother and Jaemin got divorced recently, this topic could be too fresh to handle, but Jaemin didn't exactly try to hide that he was on a date.

"No." He said, as though it was finalised. "There are some things that are... well, they don't do well if they were known so openly." His eyes stay on yours then very slowly, as if intentionally, he drags his gaze down over your top, back up to your face, lingering on your lips?

"Mr. Na?" You can't help but feel giddy at the look he's giving you, but you don't want to entertain delusional hope. Not that you hoped for him to do something.

That would be crazy, right?

The energy buzzes. You don't know how it happens or what causes it to, but you're certain it isn't you. Jaemin takes three steps to stand in front of you, your nose is barely an inch away from his chest, almost grazing the material of his shirt when you look up at him.

He delicately tucks a stray hair behind your ear, leans in close and almost brushes his lips against your ear.

"Jaemin." You can hear the smile in his voice, yet you still turn to look at him. He doesn't move away, he only watches your expression change into curiosity. "Just Jaemin."

In a blink of an eye he's walking away from you and you're left with an aching feeling between your legs as you grip the marble counter with a sigh.

Jimin would scream if she was here. You, however, try to take your mind off of it while you're doing work in Haena's room.

Time flies by quick the longer you're stuck in your document that by the time Jaemin comes up to tell you dinner is ready, the sun has set and it's a quarter to eight. Haena still isn't home and you haven't gotten a text from her, which was weird.

Haena no matter how busy always kept you in the loop, especially if she was with you the hour before. Or, hours before.

As if to tell you something, it thunders outside and a second later, you get a call from Haena.

"Hey, are you okay?" You take the call as you watch the rain pour from her window. It's too heavy, even if you wanted to drive home, you couldn't get to your car.

"I'm okay! I got caught in the rain and decided to turn back so I'm gonna be staying in the apartment until the rain dies down. You okay at home?" Haena asks, her sweet voice asking out of concern.

"I am, just feels weird to be staying here without you actually here." You mutter to yourself, trying to find your car, but the rain is adamant on the opposite.

"I don't think I can drive home either. I can't find my damn car." You complain, rolling your eyes when Haena laughs.

"I told you to park in the garage. You're just so stubborn."

"Not the time," You groan. "Do you have food, at least? It doesn't look like it's gonna stop anytime soon."

"Yeah, I've got things to cook here. Thank God." Haena moves around in the apartment, "Where's my dad?"

At the mention of Jaemin, your mind drifts back to the tiny kitchen incident. You play with the hem of your sweater.

"Probably somewhere in the house," You say, "I've been in your room the whole time. He probably thinks I fell asleep."

Haena laughs, "Most likely. Look, just make yourself comfortable. You know where your clothes are in my closet."

"I know," You smile, "Call me if you need anything okay? I'll let your dad know where you are."

"Thanks. I texted him but he hasn't replied." Haena sighs, "I'll see you later. Hopefully."

You look at the clock above her bed and frown. It was nearing midnight, you doubt that the rain would rain before then.

"Okay, but be careful."

"You sound like my mom." Haena snorts, "Okay, bye. Love you. See ya, loser."

"Bye Haena." You chuckle, waiting for her to hang up first. Once she does, you stretch your body and make your way out of her room, looking for Jaemin to relay her message.

No matter how long you've been to her house, it was still incredibly massive to you. The foyer was the size of two rooms combined and the living room was even bigger. Usually, Jaemin would be in the kitchen anytime the girls were over, but it was quiet downstairs.

Not wanting to wander around the house without Haena there, you sat in the dining room. Haena always made sure to have little snacks in the house if she had guests over, so you reached out in the middle of the table to grab a granola bar.

You hummed to yourself as you tore the plastic wrapper open, then heard a door closing from somewhere in the room.

"Mr.—" You caught yourself, clearing your throat. "Jaemin?"

Walking into the house from the other side of the hallway was Jaemin. Drenched from head to toe in a white shirt and track pants. You widen your eyes at the sight of his shirt clinging to his skin and hurriedly look up at him, pretending to not have noticed his... attire.

"Y/N," He doesn't seem to notice your embarrassment, instead he's drying out his shirt and his hair with a towel. "I didn't hear you. I was making sure Haena's plants were okay."

Ah, your best friend and her green thumb.

"Admirable gesture, but are you okay? You could catch a cold." This time you weren't bashful or shy, you walked up to him and grabbed the towel to wipe the raindrops from his face.

Jaemin doesn't stop you from doing so. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. He drops his hands to his side and lets you dab the towel against his face, shoulders, arms and body.

You do it without thinking, honestly. You were worried about Jaemin catching a chill because you had caught a cold in the rain and it took weeks to recover. But maybe Jaemin's immune system was much more efficient than yours, right?

Jaemin's hand stops you from going any lower when you start to reach his pants. His grip is strong, but it doesn't hurt you.

Only then, do you realise what you're doing.

"Oh." You say, "Oh my God. Jaemin— Mr. Na. I am so sorry. I didn't even— Oh dear God." You let go of the towel and look up at him, nervous.

Jaemin isn't affected. At least, it doesn't seem like it. But his gaze on you doesn't falter, instead it feels as thought it's stuck on you.

"Tell me, Y/N," Jaemin's voice is low and sultry as he talks to you now, his hand is still on your wrist. He tugs you closer so you're chest to chest.

You're trembling, but not because you're scared. You just can't believe this is happening. You can't believe you're enjoying it.

"Are you scared of me?" Jaemin asks."

"N-No, Sir."

Jaemin tilts his head.

"Do you like being this close to me?" He asks.

"S-Sorry?"

"If you aren't scared of me like you say so, then why, my dear girl, are you shaking in my arms?" He asks, tauntingly. You don't know if you should recoil, but you inch a little closer, subconsciously wanting him to hold you.

He smiles down at you, and it feels like very, very dangerous territory.

"Mr. Na—"

"Uh-uh." He tuts, deciding that since you two were already crossing a physical boundary, he could be more casual. You inhale sharply at the feel of his hand sliding up your waist. "Jaemin, darling." He smirks.

"Unless you like calling me... What was it that you girls were saying— Daddy?"

Your eyes widen at his words, surprised he was even aware that you were talking about him with your friend group. Damn you, Jimin. You silently curse.

Despite the shock, you rub your thighs together and Jaemin has to restrain himself from sliding his hands lower. He wouldn't do it without your consent. Even if you were gripping his shirt tightly, he wouldn't.

"You heard us."

"Hard not to when it echoes in the house, sweetheart." He says softly.

"Jaemin..." Your eyes dart down to his lips and even if the entire situation is wrong, your mind is screaming at you, yelling at you to take this chance. To hold him closer and have him kiss you.

Jaemin does the same, watching your lips say his name then staring deep into your eyes.

"Y/N, I've always thought you were the most genuine out of all of Haena's friends." Jaemin murmurs, close to your lips, "Therefore, if we cross the line here, I'd like to know if you want this."

You pull away slightly, "This...?"

Jaemin smiles, genuine and soft, kind. This is the man you knew under all the hotness and tension.

He glances down at your lips again, "This," His hand trials down to cup your clothed pussy. "This."

You gasp and tug at his shirt, licking your lips at the thought of Jaemin fingering you, of him eating yoh out, of him making you scream his name at the top of your lungs because only he can— you know he could.

"Do you want this, pretty girl? If not, we can pretend it never happened." He whispers, but you're only focused on the way his fingers lightly rub your slit over the cloth of your leggings and it's enough to throw all sensible thoughts, out the window.

"But, before you make your decision I will tell you. I think you're a very attractive girl, Y/N. And you are intelligent, intuitive and too good for any other man." He says, "Haena has mentioned the boys you've seen. None very impressionable, if I may add."

You exhale a chuckle. He wasn't wrong. Even if you didn't find Jaemin attractive, you agreed with his last statement. None of the boys you went out with were ever this forward or assertive. You liked a man who was confident but not arrogant. Many of the men you met were only the latter.

Jaemin's hands on your body anchor you back to reality.

"Tell me what you want," He says lowly. "Let me know what's going on inside that pretty little head."

After a beat, you give in.

Fuck it, right?

"I want you." You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I want you, so so much."

"Atta girl," He moans before taking control of the kiss he lands on your lips, capturing the pretty sounds you make from having his arms all over you.

Jaemin is swift in slipping his hands under your leggings, gripping your ass and running a hand up your back just to feel your skin and the strap of your bra. It seems like the thin clothing that's restricting him from feeling you is enough to make him growl.

"Fuck, you're mesmerising." He groans against your lips, hooking his arms under your thighs to carry you in his arms. Naturally, as if you've done this countless of times, you wrap your legs around his middle.

The two of you don't stop kissing, enraptured by the feeling of each other that even a second spent apart drew you crazy. You rolled your body against his, whispering how much you needed him against his lips while he licked your bottom lip, wanting you more and more and more.

He lays you down on a bed, and you realise under a glance that this is his bedroom. The door is close, giving you more privacy but the idea of someone finding you two only arouses you.

God, this was so wrong.

Jaemin's hand slipped under your thong and you moaned out loud, clamping a hand over your mouth.

But it felt so damn good.

"Yeah? You like that, don't you pretty girl? Barely even touched you and you're a mess." He coos, ripping off your leggings and spreading your wetness all over your core. "God, look at you. You're so fucking beautiful."

"Jaemin..." You whine, wanting more from him. His tongue. His fingers. Anything.

"I know," He crawls onto the bed, hovering over you, "You need me, don't you?" He kisses you. "Pretty girl. Pretty little thing just for Daddy."

The sound of his voice calling himself Daddy should not have you this wet, but you were horny and needy and you loved how dominating he was. Only with you. You smirked to yourself, having an idea to stir him up.

You ran your hands up against his chest, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him closer, writhing your hips as his fingers played with your pussy.

"I think Daddy needs to show me how good he is for me."

Jaemin smirks against your cheek, licking a stripe onto your cheek before gliding his tongue into your mouth, giving you the messiest kiss you've ever had with anyone, but you enjoy it. You moan into his mouth when you feel him grind against you. His pants move against your clit snd it feels too good. Too much to handle.

"Ha... Jaemin..." You whine, "Don't want to cum so early." You whimper, "Want to please you."

Jaemin can't help but chuckle as he gets up, missing your warmth around him but gladly helping you up as you get on your knees to suck him off. He's dreamt of it ever since he saw you during dinner. You looked too good in that dress to be sent off home.

"Look at you, wanting to please Daddy. Who knew you were such a nasty girl under that sweet smile?" His question is rhetorical but it makes you clench your thighs together.

You had always had this inside of you. You always wanted more from every one of your partner, sexually, but you had never been comfortable enough to express just how kinky you were. You kept telling yourself that the right person wouldn't question it or make you feel bad about it.

And here you were, on your knees in Na Jaemin's room sucking his cock like your life depended on it.

"Oooh fuck. Easy baby." Jaemin guides, running his hand through your hair and making a makeshift ponytail in his hands. He doesn't thrust into your mouth like any other guy would.

No, he talks you through it, asking you to take him deeper but when you can't, he tells you you're doing a good job. A great job at making him feel good.

"That's it, right there baby." He exhales, lightly thrusting his hips.

You run your tongue over his tip and that's when he loses it. He lets out a yell as he fucks your mouth, making you go crazy with need. You start grinding against his carpeted floor, making him groan.

"Fuck. Come here, sweet thing. I'll make you feel so damn good." He says, barely letting you get up when he scoops you in his arms and throws you onto his bed.

"How do you want it, Y/N?" He asks, "How does my baby like to get fucked?"

At his words you whimper and reach out for him, pulling him in for a kiss as you tug at his pants, desperate for him to lose them and his shirt.

"Baby's needy already, isn't she? Needs my cock, doesn't she?"

"Yes." You whine, "Want you to fuck me, Daddy. Don't care how. Just need you inside. Now."

Jaemin doesn't need to be told twice, but he does himself into you. His cock was heavy on your lips, but having him inside you felt heavenly.

"Oh, my God...!" You moan, rolling your eyes back at his thrust. He was big. Too big to fit in your mouth but he seemed to fit nicely in you, despite the slight pain, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

"Fuck, your pussy's so tight." Jaemin groans, "Taking me in so damn well— You're such a nasty girl, Y/N. Look at you, creaming all over my cock when I've barely done anything. Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

"Jaemin!" You scream out, clawing at his back while he increases the pace of his thrusts. "So... Too... Good..." You're at a loss for words, trying to describe what you're feeling but the sensation is too much.

"That's it, baby." He holds you close as he fucks you, barely pulling out entirely before he thrusts roughly into you. "Shit. You feel so good, Angel."

Jaemin doesn't stop thrusting into you. You lose count after your second orgasm just how long it's been since you guys started, but you don't care. You didn't want it to stop. The storm gets heavier but you're not sure which is louder; the thunderstorm or your screams.

"I'm close, baby." Jaemin moans, gripping your waist as he quickens his pace. You're dazed and too drunk on his cock to barely process what he says.

"Hey, hey," Jaemin leans down and cups your face. "Where do you want me, sweetheart? Need words."

You tug Jaemin close and kiss him, slowly and sensually, savouring the feeling of his lips against yours.

"Wherever you want, Daddy."

Jaemin grunts against your lips and manhandles you, carrying you so he's holding you by your waist. He's guiding your body against him, thrusting in and out with you in his arms and it feels heavenly. You were so entranced by this man, you didn't care what happened after this. You just needed him. Now, tomorrow— You don't think you could move on very quickly after knowing what a night with Jaemin entailed.

"You take me so well, baby. So fucking good, swallowing my big cock." Jaemin grunts, he's riled up and almost ready to cum. You expect him to finish inside of you when suddenly he pulls out, ignoring your protests.

"Next time, Princess. Right now, I need to see your pretty face."

At the mention of a next time, you get giddy and obediently place your face below his cock, hanging your tongue out as he jerks himself off over you.

"Fuck— so pretty. Where have you been all my life." He says to himself but it makes you giggle as you realise you've finally given in to the lust and attraction you had for Jaemin.

You could already feel the guilt clouding over your shoulder, but seeing Jaemin release over you surpassed that. You made him feel this way. He wanted you, and he got you. You felt smug in a way.

"Come here." Jaemin cups your face again, licking at his cum all over your face then finally kissing you. You moan when his tongue enters your mouth, forcefully feeding you his seed.

"You like that, huh?" Jaemin grins, "You know how to make a man go crazy for you, Y/N."

You smile against his lips, lazily kissing him while he massaged your hips, letting you straddle his lap as you both sat on the floor of his room.

When you pull away, you trail your fingers down his chest, openly admiring his toned abs and strong muscles.

"So, there'll be a next time?" You ask coyly, feeling brave enough to openly ask such a question. Especially after that.

Jaemin smirks, grabbing your hand in his to leave kisses over your knuckles.

"Sweetheart, whenever you need me I'll be at your door the second you call my phone." He lands a peck on your lips and carries you to the bed.

#jaemin dilf #jaemin smut #jaemin one shot #jaemin dilf smut #jaemin imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream one shot #nct dream scenarios #jaemin hard thoughts #na jaemin smut #na jaemin one shot #na jaemin dilf #nct smut

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abbeyofcyn · 11 months ago

Text

PHANTOM PAIN

Let me give you a hand

Part 1 / 2(maybe 3?)

Since I don't plan on finishing Phantom Pain I decided to skip to the end!

You can start reading Phantom Pain here

Phantom Pain is a sequel to Krang Infection

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #phantom pain comic

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fayes-fics · 3 months ago

Text

Bright Star

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Yet again, your husband lures you to the billiards room of Bridgerton House in the early hours. Sequel to Sonnet #29.

Warnings: 18+, smut, minors dni, smoking (cigars), dom/sub dynamics, fingering, dirty talk, mild sensory deprivation (blindfold), smidge of spanking, exhibitionism, window sex, vaginal sex, unauthorised weaponisation of poetry.

Word count: 3.7k

Author note: Sequel to my very first fic and posted on its 3rd anniversary. Not necessary to have read it, but there are callbacks. Use of ‘my lord’ is part of their d/s play. Yes, I know the Keats poem he recites here, also the title of the fic, was not published until 1838; please forgive the artistic liberties taken. Beta read by the amazing @colettebronte. Enjoy! <3

“Must I always find you here, Mr Bridgerton?”

Your greeting is laden with faux grievance as you quietly close the door behind you.

Benedict’s chuckle is warm and laid back, his hazy hooded eyes tracking your barefooted movement toward him, his strong jaw accented by the only sconce still lit, off to his left. He is sat much as he was last time you found him here—feet planted far apart as he rests in a wingback chair, a tumbler of whiskey on a side table by his elbow. This time, a lit cigar is in his hand, tendrils of smoke curling above him into the darkness.

Another evening’s carousing at Bridgerton House with his brothers has run late. And yet again, he has out-drunk both, them likely skulked to their rooms worse for wear. Part of you thinks his staying behind is by design, practically luring you back into this billiards room in the small hours of the night.

“Are you hoping for a revisit, darling?”

His husky tone confirms your suspicions as you climb onto his lap. The wool of his trousers tickles your inner thighs as you settle, straddling him in just your gauzy cotton nightgown.

“Maybe…” you coquette, glancing briefly over to the billiards table.

As he raises the cigar to his quirked lips, you snatch it and take a drag for yourself. His brow arches at your insolence, but the flex of his quad muscles under you as the fragrant smoke fills your lungs tells you how much he approves. You exhale in a swirl, curling your tongue, staring him down with a glint of challenge. Eager for him to take you right here in this room, something about an encore so very alluring

“Do you know Anthony made me pay to have that table rebaised,” he murmurs, more than a hint of hubris laced through his words, a hand on your thigh dragging upwards, rucking your nightgown with it.

“Perhaps you should not have ruined me quite so thoroughly upon it, husband,” you cluck, raising a brow of your own.

There’s a flash of admiration in his eyes, even though his answering inflexion is casual: “Well, that is the crux of the dilemma, is it not, dear wife…..”

He plucks the cigar back from you, balancing it on an ornate pewter ashtray adjacent to his drink, the air heavy with its pungent earthiness as it continues burning. His other hand burrows under your hem, and without preamble, he slides two fingers into your slit, making you gasp loudly.

“... For I doubt any man could resist such a lush bounty as yours,” Benedict posits with a crooked, victorious smile, feeling just how aroused you are. “Least of all me.”

You grab the arms of the chair as he plays you like an instrument, fingers strumming expertly over your clit, your hips flexing, rocking yourself on his fingertips.

“That's it; ride my hand…” he incites lowly, leaning back with a prideful expression, so pleased at what he can wreak with just a few well-deployed words.

You pitch forward, hotly demanding a kiss. He obliges, opening you to his sensual onslaught, his tongue parrying with yours in a dance. His hand twists, his thumb pressing your pearl as his fingers hook into your channel, breaching your body, teasing that spot which makes you pliant, needy, moaning into his mouth as he greedily swallows your noises.

“So very concupiscent this evening. You would do anything I told you to right now, would you not?” He muses, burying his fingers deeper as if to punctuate his point.

You moan and bite your lip, nodding as you ride harder, that addictive shiver racing down your spine as the slick sounds of your arousal fill the air.

But then, his hand is gone, and you whimper at the all-too-sudden loss. He makes a show of raising those glistening fingers and sucking upon them. A light flicks on behind his hazy eyes, his pupils dilating rapidly, and his nostrils flaring; your taste ignites something. He releases his fingers in a wet pop to give you a brusque order.

“Stand up, my love.”

You scramble to obey, climbing out of his lap, on your feet before you realise it, facing him, your skin flushing warm at the rich timbre he employs.

“Undress for me.”

A command that you happily follow, crossing your arms and gathering your nightgown, quickly whipping it over your head and tossing it aside.

Now you stand before him, utterly naked, a tingle all over from sheer anticipation. His stare is almost predatory, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. His eyes rake over you covetously, lingering upon your nipples, pebbling in the slightly cool room - the fire only glowing with ashy embers now - then at the apex of your thighs. His tongue flicks out to trace his lower lip before he speaks anew.

“Loathed as I am to repeat myself, I am most certainly fighting the urge to bind you in my silks,” he declares, your mind flooding with the memory of him tying your hands with his cravat as you perched upon the nearby billiards table.

You offer your wrists forward for him to repeat that whim—an open invitation to play as you sometimes do. It has him snarling and jumping hungrily out of the chair, rounding upon you with athletic alacrity.

He stops so close you can feel his breath puffing onto your collarbone. You cannot help but gaze up at him as he looms over you, mesmerised by how he can so wholly inhabit a role when you ask it of him, one so opposite to his affable, tender nature. Even the contours of his face seem altered, more angular, in the low flickering candlelight.

“I shall not bind your wrists, but I shall employ my cravat elsewhere.” He pauses to cup your cheek tenderly, his middle fingers stretching up to lower your eyelids softly. “I rather want you blindfolded, my love.”

A fizz erupts in your belly, and you can't help but whisper: “Yes, please, my lord.”

The invocation of his play title is akin to lighting a touchpaper; suddenly, he is kissing you again. One of his arms bandies your waist to pull you flush into him, the brocade of his waistcoat rough on your skin as he plunders your mouth, all heat and teeth, almost biting in intensity. His other hand at his neck, discarding the jewelled pin that holds his cravat in place and rapidly unfurling the fabric.

He steps back, holding the cravat loosely between his two outheld hands, a tacit request for your approval. You merely smile and nod, turning your back to him so he may secure it around your face. The cornflower blue silk is luxuriously soft and smells of his cologne. He loops the fabric around your head one more time so your view is blotted out completely, his breath ghosting your nape as he ties a secure knot at the back of your head.

“Your other senses should be heightened…” he pronounces, appearing to circle you, the slight creak of the floorboards your guide. Indeed, robbed of your sight, everything else feels dialled up.

“Hearing…”

That word is exhaled right into your ear from behind, the proximity making you jump a fraction, his breath gusting through the tendrils of your hair. Indeed, you swear you can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock out in the hallway as he withdraws. A flutter under your ribs as you sense his renewed movement.

“Touch….”

You inhale sharply as his thumbnail hooks onto your left nipple, flicking up and dragging slowly down. You can tell he is cataloguing the way your skin erupts into goosebumps; just know there is a victorious quirk on his lips.

His other hand then cups your right breast and treats it with the same care. You moan gently and rock forward onto the balls of your feet, him plucking the swollen, darkened nubs between his dextrous fingertips. All too soon, though, the touch is gone, and you try not to pout. Swaying into the space he has just left.

It seems like an eternity on tenterhooks as he prowls around, so close you can smell him, his cologne, and feel the occasional waft of breeze where he passes, trying to modulate your breathing, your thighs rubbing together reflexively, seeking friction.

“Scent…”

Suddenly, your nostrils are filled with the peaty, smoky aroma of expensive scotch, assuming he has grabbed the glass to hold close to your face. You inhale deeply, cognisant of his desire for you to indulge in each sense.

“And finally, taste….”

That last word is like velvet as he gently tilts your chin up, a drop of liquid falling onto your cupid's bow. You open reflexively to swipe it with your tongue - only for his wet fingers to hook over your bottom teeth. It appears he did not use the glass after all; just soaked his fingers.

On instinct, you close around them and suck, an intentional provocation that has a strangled noise catch in his throat. He tastes of the liquor but also traces of the ashy tang of charcoal and your own arousal from when he teased you before. Your eyelashes flutter against the softness of his cravat as you suckle harder, as if it were his cock, hollowing your cheeks and pulling his fingers deeper so the tips brush the roof of your mouth, lathing with your tongue.

“You utter vixen,” he growls, wholly commendatory, always pleased when you instinctively follow your desires without shame. And your desire for him appears boundless, infinite.

You chase after his hand as it withdraws, a touch petulant at his continuous tease. But this is what he does so well: keeping your desire simmering for what can seem like an eternity until you are almost mindless.

“What will you do next?”

You do not even realise you have vocalised your thoughts until you hear his amused noise.

“‘Tis a good question,” he concedes, as you sense him circling you again, feeling the weight of his stare on your bare flesh.

And again, you find yourself fidgeting, craving to sate the insistent throb between your legs.

“Stay still…” he warns in a seductive rumble, a quelling hand landing on your lumbar spine, seeming to span across your whole back.

“I desire you too much, my lord,” you appeal brazenly.

“I know you do, my sweet girl….” He burrows his nose into your hair, that hand sliding down to the globe of your left bottom cheek. “...That is what makes this all the more delectable for me.”

He lightly spanks you, a gentle slap that makes you sway back into him.

“More… please…” you appeal sotto voce, twisting over your shoulder, the instinct ingrained to seek his gaze even though you are unable to see him.

He taps your other cheek, an amused huff at how responsive you are to it.

“My lord…” you whine, arching your back to accentuate your bottom, begging for his hand.

Strong arms band around to pull you back flush to him. The ruffles of his shirt tease your shoulder blades; he must have shucked his waistcoat. He kisses down the column of your throat as his hands map your contours—one burying between your legs, the other wrapping loosely around your jaw, tipping your head back so you feel his lips on the shell of your ear through the delicate fabric.

“I do so love to watch you in heat for me,” he murmurs approvingly as you begin to ride his fingers a second time, needing more, so much more; this renewed tease has you all the more overwrought.

Your hands loop around the sinewy mass of his forearms, pleading with the curl of your fingers for him to take you. Pressing your hips backwards, mashing your pelvis to his, intent clear, elated by the hardness you feel there.

He growls lightly as you chafe his cock between your buttocks, rising onto your tiptoes and sinking back down, riding his fingers, rubbing yourself all over him akin to a cat in heat. And he lets you. Seems to revel in it based on the little huffs he makes, meeting your thrusts with a tilt of his hips as he frottages himself into your skin, likely turning a shade darker with the wool friction over your cheeks.

“Say you are mine,” he pleads hotly into your neck, his lips plush on your pulse point,

“I am yours, Benedict, my lord, my love, my husband,” you vow earnestly, calling him every epithet that comes to you, still squirming on his touch.”Always.”

With a low growl, he pulls off his shirt and flings it aside. Suddenly he is walking you forward, his smooth chest pressed into your back, propelling you across the room, skirting around the billiards table.

“Last time we were here, I seem to recall you being aroused by the idea of an audience of my brothers…”

You blush at the memory. But then, you really would do anything for him when he is like this. Under his thrall in a way that makes you reckless and wanton.

“Only if you wish it, my lord,” you demure, your toes gliding over the smooth, polished wood floor as he manhandles you a few more paces forward.

“Such a dilemma,” he sighs, as you feel a sudden coolness envelope your torso that can only be from proximity to glass. “For I do not ever wish to share you, but I do so want you to be watched...”

You inhale sharply as he tilts you forward, your cheekbone and nipples rasped by lace net curtains, then pressed into the cold window pane.

“My lord, we might be seen…” It’s barely a whisper.

There is a flutter in your gut as you realise that is precisely what he wants: for you to be seen, utterly naked and blindfolded, coveting him in a way polite society would deem uncivilised.

“I know,” he chimes, his breath hot on your temple.

There’s a world of meaning behind his tone; you can sense the smirk on his handsome face. Grateful your eyes are covered, the thrill enhanced by not knowing. The voiles likely provide partial obscurity; passersby may see bodies but may not be able to determine exactly whom.

A rush of blood pulses in your clit as you sense him fighting with the buttons of his trousers, the back of his wrists brushing your bottom. Without prompting, you place your hands on the window high above your head, fingertips curling into the delicate lace, readying yourself for him to slide into you roughly as you so desperately want him to do.

“Good girl.”

A moan escapes your lips, and a trickle of moisture trails down your inner thigh, a reflexive response to his velvet compliment, the solid mass of him against your bum unmistakable. You sense him hunch down a little, and you cry out as, indeed, he spears into you, hauling you upright onto tiptoes as he straightens his legs. Every time, the intense stretch and heat of him opening you up steals your breath—every single time.

He stutters delightfully, motionless and sheathed within you, burying his face in your hair, exhaling a hot gust into your scalp. His hands are seemingly everywhere on your body before settling on the flare of your hips, pressing you down further onto him.

“I can see your reflection, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek below the line of his cravat tied over your face.

Slowly, he withdraws, then snaps his hips, furrowing deeper into you, making you groan and slump further into the window, ceding to his control.

“What else do you see, my lord?” you inquire, needing his voice as much as his touch.

“The night sky, resplendent with stars,” he answers languidly, sliding out and back in.

Even without your sight, you are aware of something in his demeanour shifting, even as he begins a leisurely pace, pushing you up onto tiptoes with every thrust.

“Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art… he begins in a lyrical cadence.

The line seems familiar, but your mind is jumbled, recall fuzzy from the pleasure courses through your veins.

“Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night…. ”

His resonant voice seems to coil all around you, vibrating from his chest into your back. Each syllable settles over your flushed skin, seeping into your bones. He surges into you, your body rolling like a wave, the soft silk of his cravat snagging gently on your brows, your lips parched, yearning for his soft, damp kisses. You turn your head and nuzzle into his slightly stubbled jaw, seeking his mouth. He obliges, kissing you in sync with his thrusts, the following line of poetry dancing over your tongue.

“And watching, with eternal lids apart….” he chuckles at the irony of you being unable to see, your eyelids fluttering against his cravat. “Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite….”

“What is this poem, my lord?” you interject, curiosity getting the better of you. “I know it cannot be Byron,” you append cheekily.

He laughs heartily, which you feel inside as he stills. “Indeed it is not, my beautiful, bright star…” he offers, hinting obliquely.

Your brain rattles. Knowing you have read it. Indeed you believe he has recited it aloud at a dinner party held with friends at your country home.

“Keats?” you guess.

“My clever girl,” he lauds as you push your hips back into him, urging him to restart his thrusts.

Grabbing his left hand, you bring those whiskey-flavoured fingers back into your mouth, suckling. Even without sight, you know his gaze is on your lips, wrapped plumply around his knuckles.

“I quite forgot where I was; you distract me so,” he chides affectionately, his wedding ring clicking into the ivory of your teeth as you lathe your tongue between each digit.

“I recall there being something about moving waters around human shores,” he teases, punctuating his lilting with a well-timed thrust into your soaked channel. “And a soft fallen mask,” he adds as you suckle upon him, his nose tracing the line of your blindfold.

“You know all the words well,” you contend, releasing his fingers.

“Indeed I might,” he concedes, “but I may skip a few lines….”

His touch sweeps down to cup your breast in sizeable hands, squeezing softly.

“Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast…..”

“To feel forever its soft fall and swell….” The words seem filled with yearning but also so adroit to how he is pulling you along in a tide of passion. “Awake forever in a sweet unrest,”

He tweaks your nipples puckered from the cool glass they have been pressed into as he speeds up a little. A tinge of frantic to his panted words now. He cups your jaw and leans in so your lips brush the shell of his ear, his soft curls of hair tickling your forehead.

“Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath…”

He chooses that moment to slide his other hand between your legs, middle finger swiping your throbbing clit, making your breath hitch harshly.

“I veritably live for that sound,” he confesses over a groan, breaking from the poem, spiralling you higher as his movements speed up, chasing the high you are both so close to.

He tugs the cravat loose from your eyes; it flutters to a loop around your neck. You blink even though the light is feeble from the one sconce across the room.

Benedict twists so your mouths meet, one hand buried between your legs, the other sweeping up to your throat, holding onto the cravat almost as leverage as he takes ever more piercing thrusts, your pussy clinging to his onslaught, rippling as your peak rushes towards you.

“And so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

That last line, panted into your mouth, is when he breaks. A shudder wracking his whole frame, then he stills, the feel of him spurting deep, pushing you over the edge, too. He swallows your cries as you clench around him, every muscle tensing and releasing, your whole body a wildfire.

You slump bodily into the window, its frame creaking as it takes your weight and his, crushed into your back as he heaves breaths. The cold glass is a balm to your flushed, dewy skin, your legs twitchy and leaden with the exertion of withstanding his passions. Benedict wraps you in his arms and pulls you to the ground, curling around you in an embrace as you recover.

—

“Did you lure me down here just to have your wicked way with me again?” You quip lazily, basking in the afterglow, burrowing deeper into his comforting embrace.

“And what if I did, dear wife? Had you not noticed, our rooms here back onto Anthony’s. I thought it prudent not to raise his ire with our amorous activities so soon. I concede; I did also make doubly certain he was not in his office next door,” he concludes dryly.

“Wise,” you reply with a giggle, tilting your head to exchange sated smiles. “And he will no doubt be pleased his billiards table survived this time.”

At that, Benedict laughs heartily, his chest jostling yours as he looks upon you with a rekindled flame dancing in his hazy eyes.

“Is that a challenge, darling? Because I could be ready for you once more, should you wish it. I have more than the necessary funds to repay my brother. I just sold that landscape of Somerset.”

“You did?!? Benedict, that is wonderful!” You effuse, lighting up with pride, pulling his face to meet yours in a celebratory kiss, which rapidly turns heated, tongues tangling.

“Let us put that money to good use,” he asserts raggedly as you break apart.

You peal with delight as he stands up, hauling you into his arms and strides purposefully towards the billiards table with that trademark troublesome, lopsided grin….

… Which still seems to be in place the following day when he wordlessly hands a confused Anthony a wad of notes with a shrug and a surreptitious wink over to you. You have to stifle your giggle behind your gloved hand.

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Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaani @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @fern-reads @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette @mmontgomeryb

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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the-offside-rule · 6 months ago

Text

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Sports Car

The sequel to Two Hands

Two Hands Part I, Part II

Y/n sat in the dimly lit studio, headphones snug over her ears, as the beat played for what felt like the hundredth time. She leaned back in her chair, mouthing along to the lyrics she'd scribbled down a few hours earlier, occasionally tweaking a word or two in her notebook. The explicit undertones of the song didn’t faze her; it was raw, honest, and unapologetic, just like she wanted it to be. She hit replay again and again, trying to perfect every detail.

The door to the studio creaked open, and Y/n barely looked up as her best friend, Tate, strolled in holding two iced coffees. "Still working on that song, huh?" Tate teased, plopping down on the couch and pulling her phone out. "Yup." Y/n replied without missing a beat, scribbling something down and playing the demo back for the umpteenth time.

Tate listened in silence for a moment, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. But the more she absorbed the lyrics, the more her jaw slowly dropped. By the time Y/n got to the second chorus, Tate was staring at her like she’d grown another head.

"Are we gonna just ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Tate finally said, setting her phone down. Y/n arched a brow, leaning back in her chair. "What?" Y/n asked. "What?" Tate echoed in the same tone, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "This song! Who is this about, and why are you suddenly… so worked up?" Y/n rolled her eyes, spinning her chair lazily to face her friend. "It’s nothing. Just… a song."

Tate snorted, crossing her arms. "Right. A song that happens to be very… explicit about what you want to do to someone. Come on, Y/n. We both know it's about Papaya." Y/n rolled her eyes at the code name they gave Lando. It wasn't practical or secretive in any way possible. It was so dumb. And yet, the mention of his code name, Y/n’s cheeks warmed, but she shrugged it off. "It’s not about anyone in particular. It's...I don't know. It's just setting the tone for the album, I guess." She said, avoiding Tate’s knowing gaze. "Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him anytime soon. We only ever run into each other at races."

Tate narrowed her eyes, sliding the iced coffee across the table to her. "Uh-huh. Sure. But, girl, you need to stop lying to yourself. If this song is even half as honest as your feelings, you’re clearly still thinking about him. Just tell him what you want, he’s not a mind reader." Y/n sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. "I’m not telling him anything, Tate. It’s never going to go anywhere. We’re both too busy, and I’m not about to complicate things."

Tate groaned, throwing her head back. "Fine, fine. But let me see what you’ve got so far." She grabbed the notebook from the desk before Y/n could protest. Her eyes widened as she read the first line aloud. "Hey, cute jeans, take mine off me?" She burst out laughing, nearly dropping the notebook. "Are you kidding me?" Y/n shrugged, smirking. "You told me to be honest, so… that’s the energy I’m bringing to this song."

Tate kept flipping through the pages, her laughter growing louder. "Pretty blue streetlights and my hazel eyes, and if it feels right, we could go again like 3 or 4 more times? Y/n, who are you?" Y/n winked, leaning back in her chair. "My favourite part is the next bit. "On the corner of my bed, or maybe on the beach, you could do it on your own, while you're looking at- oh my god!" Tate squealed, chuking the notebook onto the table. "Think he’ll pick up on the hints?" Tate stared at her, utterly dumbfounded, before bursting into another fit of laughter. "This is not a hint, this is an open invitation. But honestly? If this doesn’t get his attention, nothing will."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Max Fewtrell’s stream was buzzing with activity. Thousands of viewers flooded the chat, firing off questions for him and his guest, none other than Lando Norris. The two were sitting in Max’s gaming setup, laughing about something dumb when a specific question caught Max’s eye. "Oi, Lando." Max said, grinning mischievously as he leaned closer to his monitor. "Chat wants to know what you think about Tate and Y/n’s new song."

Lando blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "They has a new song?" Max turned to him, his brows shooting up. "Mate, where have you been? It’s everywhere. There’s a music video too." Lando leaned back in his chair, his interest piqued. "Oh, I didn’t know. I mean, I like their stuff so… yeah, put it on I guess." He said ruffling his curls. "Alright, chat." Max said, smirking as he pulled up the song. "Let’s see what all the hype is about."

The track began, the sultry beat filling the room. On the screen, the music video played, showing Y/n moving effortlessly to the rhythm. Lando’s eyes were glued to the screen, his focus narrowing in on every word she sang and every move she made. "Hey, cute jeans, take mine off me." Y/n’s voice purred, her tone teasing yet commanding. Max burst out laughing, glancing at Lando. "This is… uh, quite forward, huh?" Lando, however, was silent, his gaze locked on the screen.

In the alley in the back

In the centre of this room,

With the windows rolled down,

Boy, don't make me choose

As the video continued, the lyrics grew bolder, the visuals more suggestive, and Lando couldn’t help the slight flush that crept up his neck.

Pretty blue streetlights and my hazel eyes,

And if it feels right, we could go again like 3 or 4 times.

Max snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. "Well, I mean, they know what they want." Lando let's out a soft chuckle at his remark.

On the corner of my bed,

Oh and maybe on the beach,

You can do it on your own,

While you're looking at me

Lando finally tore his gaze from the screen, a small, almost shy smile on his face. "Its a good song, actually." He smiles as the music seems to fade away for the time being. "You’ve met that one, right?" Max asked casually, still watching the video. Lando nodded. "Yeah, briefly. In Vegas."

"Vegas, huh? Sounds like a story there." Max wiggled his eyebrows knowing exactly what happened, but Lando just laughed it off, shaking his head. "Nah, nothing like that. She’s cool, though."

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/n and Tate were watching the stream from her apartment, Tate’s laptop propped up on the coffee table. At first, they’d been laughing at Max’s antics, but as Lando’s voice filled the room, the mood shifted. Tate frowned, glancing at Y/n. "Briefly? That’s all he’s going to say? What about everything else? The flirting, the sneaking ro his hotel room, the…" Y/n waved her off, her expression unreadable. "Doesn’t matter."

"It does, though." Tate pressed. "You’ve got to say something. You can’t just let this keep happening." Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You’re right. It’s time I did something about this." Tate’s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and disbelief on her face. "Wait, are you saying you’re finally going to tell him how you feel?" Y/n scoffed, looking almost repulsed by the idea. "God, no." Tate frowned. "Then what are you going to do?"

Y/n’s lips curled into a sly smile, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. "I have a better idea."

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