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glamorizethechaos · 2 months ago

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Bruises Pt 2 | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: When you find yourself in an abusive relationship, you never thought your attending Jack Abbot would become your protector and saving grace.

TW: domestic violence, addiction, alcohol, age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s & Jack is 49), fluff, thoughts of su!cide, mentions of not eating, vomiting, gun violence, violence against women, Jack beats ass, angst, eventual smut. Not beta read. Likely typos. Lmk if there is anything else!

Word Count: 4.5k

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Omg TYSM for all the love on Part 1. I love you all.

& thank you to @lavenderdaisychain for helping me brainstorm a bit !!

"Wait, what?" you asked, following Jack down the stairs, struggling to keep up. For a guy with a prosthetic foot, he sure was fast. You protested all the way down the elevator; as you gathered your things, on the walk to the parking garage, but you still found yourself in the front seat of his truck. Your mind said one thing, yet your body said another. It was like he was a magnet, and no matter hard you tried, you could not fight the gravitational pull.

"You like Pearl Jam?" he asked, playing with the radio as the cars engine warmed up.

"Uh, yeah, they're okay."

"Well then who do you like?"

"Oh I dont know, lots of stuff..."

"Such as?"

"Pearl Jam is fine, Jack." You slumped back into the seat, your heart beating out of your chest at the situation you found yourself in. You weren’t entirely sure you’d make it to his house without vomiting.

Jack turned the music up a little bit, trying to cut the tension between you two.

“I just want to scream hello” he sang to himself as “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” played quietly over the hum of the cars engine. You were a bit shocked, he actually had a nice voice. Smooth, soft and quiet. As the two of you drove, the lively crowded city streets of downtown Pittsburgh soon faded into the affluent suburbs of Upper St. Clair.

He pulled into the long driveway, and turned the engine off with a click. He watch as you studied his home, looking at the brick exterior and the perfectly landscaped lawn. You didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t something as charming at this. It looked homey and welcoming. You were so preoccupied, you didn’t even notice Jack hop out and walk around to the passenger side. He opened the door and offered you a hand.

Each step closer to the front door you felt more and more nauseous. Before stepping inside the mud room you swallowed the impending vomiting rising in your stomach. He sat down on the bench sat by the front door and removed his prosthetic. He groaned a bit as he massaged his sore stump before grabbing his crutches and making his way to the kitchen.

“When’s the last time you iced your eye?” He asked, pulling out a frozen bag of peas. He flipped on the TV to watch the reruns of the Pirates game. It was strange to see Jack in his natural habitat, moving around his home with ease.

“Uh not since yesterday morning.” Your phone buzzed with a call from Charlie, and you tried to silence it before Jack could notice.

“That Charlie?” He asked, his face almost turning a shade of crimson as the anger bubbled in his chest.

“No uh- just a scam call.” He knew you were lying again as he handed you the peas. You couldn’t get anything past him. Jack nodded and disappeared down his hallway only to come back with some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"I can run you a shower and you can change into this. Unfortunately, my nightgown days are long behind me, so I hope you dont mind settling for these." he showed you the bathroom and set them on the sink.

"Nightgown? Im 28, not 82." you chuckled. "These are fine... thank you, Jack."

He stood there in the door frame staring at you, those damn hazel eyes always staring at you, into you. It wasn't until you raised your brow at him that he snapped out of his daze and excused himself. As you waited for the water to heat up you took the time to water the dying plant on the windowsill. He could crack a chest, crike a man under gunfire, and do a REBOA with his eyes shut, but couldn't keep a plant alive?

Before you knew it, you were snooping in his medicine cabinet. It was just typical first aid supplies- gauze pads, Neosporin, Advil, but what caught your eye was the bottle of oxy. You assumed it was for his injury and the pain that still lingered. However, the dust that collected on the lid made it safe to assume its been mostly untouched. Nevertheless, it didnt stop you from popping the lid off and pouring a few into your hand. The temptation was there. Just take them. Swallow them. You'll fall asleep and hopefully never wake up. Painless. But Jack- he would be the one to break down the door and find your lifeless body. You physically tried to shake the image from your mind as you quickly put the bottle back where you found it.

Climbing into the hot shower, the water stung your fresh wounds. You had been afraid to look at your back, you just knew it was bad. You weren't exactly sure what he beat you with, a cord of some sort. Each lash feeling like hot coals on your back. The way your scrub top rubbed against the raw flesh made your breath shake and words falter. You could wash away the dirt and grime of the day, but you could not wash away the feeling of Charlie's hands on your body.

As you hopped out you wrapped the towel loosely around your chest, not wanting to further irritate your back any further. Shutting your eyes you braced yourself for the mirror. Opening, your breath caught in your throat as you choked back a sob. One lesion in particular was red, hot, and weeping; sure sign of an infection, and you needed antibiotics before cellulitis set in. You raided his medicine cabinet one more time, looking high and low for something so you didnt have to ask Jack to write you a fucking prescription. You found some amoxicillin which didnt you much good since:

A. It was expired.

B. You were allergic.

When you exited the bathroom wearing Jacks baggy sweats, you found him camped out in the living room, his arm draped over the back of the couch.

"Hey," he said softly "Feeling any better? Figured you could take the bedroom and go get some sleep."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch. That cant be comfortable."

"I spent 3 tours sleeping in the middle of the desert. I think I'll manage." he furrowed his brow and sat up, flipping off the TV. "What's wrong?"

How the fuck did he know you so well? Was your poker face really that bad? Or could he just read your mind.

"Can you write me a script for antibiotics?"

"For what?"

"Just a little something on my back. Might be infected."

"Let me take a look" he said, patting the couch next to him, motioning you to sit down.

"It's in a really awkward spot, I'm just not sure I'm comfortable..."

Jacks face fell, his jaw clenching even tighter.

"How bad is it?" he asked, almost demanding an answer from you. You bit your lip, looking up at the ceiling to stop the tears that were rising in your eyes. He grabbed your hand, pulling you down next to him on the couch, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Umm," your voice began to shake, "It's not great. But I'm sure its not as bad as it looks. I mean- Charlie always says I'm a bit dramatic when it comes to my own health. Probably all the stuff we see at work, ya know?"

Jack cupped the side of your neck, his thumb moving back and forth across your cheek. The feeling nearly took your breath away, and you werent entirely sure you didnt let out a small gasp at his touch.

"If you want me to write a script, I need to see what I am treating. Can I please look at what is bothering you?" Jack was practically pleading. If he had not been studying your face, he'd have missed your subtle nod.

He began to talk you through it, his hands finding the bottom of your shirt- well, his shirt, gently pulling it away from your skin. He began to raise the shirt higher and higher as he exposed your back, covered in zig-zagged cuts that almost resembled a Pollock painting. When he reached the particular spot on your back- the spot you were worried about- his hands froze. He clenched his jaw so tightly that he thought his teeth would shatter.

“It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it looks…” you try and break the tension.

“This looks like the start of cellulitis. I think I have some amoxicillin in the medicine cabinet. I’ll be right back…” he stood up but you stopped him before he could get too far.

“I’m allergic… plus it’s expired. I already looked…” his frowned slightly at your admission. “I was hoping I’d find something so I wouldn’t have to show you. I’m sorry.” Jack shook his head assuring you it was okay, that he understood.

“What did he hit you with?” He asked, pulling up your shirt once more to see the damage. His fingers brushing delicately against your skin. You shrugged your shoulders, because again, you didn’t know what he used. What he used to lash you with, over and over and over again, like you were some animal. You can still hear the sound of it making contact with your skin, your eyes shut, begging, pleading, praying for it to stop.

Jack knelt in front of you, steadying himself by placing his hand firmly on your knee.

“I’m gonna run back to the hospital and get you some IV antibiotics and some lidocaine injections for your back. You rest…in the bedroom not the couch. And I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Jack you’re exhausted, I can go pick something up if you call it in.” He shook his head, putting his prosthetic back on. He pointed down the hallway to his bedroom before once again speaking, “rest. I mean it. You need to rest.”

After he left you made your way down the hallway. A few photos were on the wall. Childhood photos, one with his family after what you can only assume was basic training, and some artwork Robby’s daughter made for him. It was a portrait of Jack in his Army uniform, holding an American flag. She made note to draw an arrow pointing to the shortened leg and write in all caps “YOUR FAKE LEG.” You audibly chuckled at not only the drawing, but the fact he decided to frame it and hang it up.

Walking into his room felt you were traveling into some unknown territory. Somewhere you know you shouldn’t be. It felt taboo. Forbidden. Your stomach flipped as you sat at the edge of the bed, trying to figure out which side was his. Eventually you crawled under the covers, the pillows smelled like him- minus the hospital. Warm, cozy, and inviting. Your eyelids began to grow heavy as his scent lulled you to sleep.

Hours later you woke up in a cold sweat, your heart racing. Something was attached to your arm, and it took a few moments and the flick of the bedside lamp to realize it was an IV.

He started the IV when you were asleep? How didn’t you wake up?

You checked the IV bags and found an empty bag of antibiotics and an empty bag of saline. Poor Jack stayed up to change the IV bags for you. You checked the clock and it was 6:15. There were 35 missed calls and over 100 texts from Charlie.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Called the hospital. They said you left."

"When you get home you are in for it."

"Stop being a fucking bitch and answer your phone."

"Come on baby, I miss you. Come home please?"

"You fucking cunt."

Walking down the hallway you found him asleep on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest. You smiled at how peaceful he looked, but still somehow seemed to be on guard. He sat up quickly causing you to jump backwards.

“Shit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Likewise…you gave me IV fluids?”

“Your lips were chapped, you’re dehydrated.”

“You’re a good stick, I didn’t even wake up.”

“Either that or you sleep like a brick.”

"Take the compliment, Jack."

Your phone buzzed again, another call from Charlie, and then a pound on the door. Did you ever turn off your location? Fuck. Jack stood quickly, ushering you back into the bedroom.

"Lock the door." he demanded before opening his gun safe, and pulling out his handgun. Your eyes widened as you crouched down beside his bed, away from the view of the door and windows. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt as if all air has escaped your lungs. Your legs were shaking, your hands were tingling, and with each gasp of breath, your vision got more and more blurry. You saw stars. When Jack knocked on the door, you barely heard it.

"It was a pizza delivery man, wrong house, for the Hamiltons next door. You can open up." when you didnt answer, he knocked again but this time a little harder. "You okay?" He tried the handle once more before pressing his ear against the door. He heard your quiet sobs, and gasps as you struggled to catch your breath.

Your head began to fall forward as the darkness crept in. There were two loud bangs and suddenly you felt hands on you, scooping you up and laying you on the bed. You couldn't see, your eyes still glazed over with darkness.

"NO! NO! NO!" You began to scream, kick, hit, and scratch.

"No, no, its Jack. Take a deep breath for me. Slow your breathing for me, baby." he tried his best to restrain your trashing body. His words were fuzzy as the adrenaline and cortisol coursed through every inch of your body. A cold compress on your forehead made your entire body jolt. As Jack gently wiped away the perspiration it began to slowly bring to back down to earth.

"J-j-j-" your teeth chattered and eyes fluttered as he slowly shushed you.

"You're okay, I got you. You gotta slow your breathing for me." he placed his hand firmly on your stomach, his other still gently wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead and chest with the cold rag. "You gotta breathe with your diaphragm. Feel my hand? Make my hand go up and down, okay?"

He tried to ground you as you let out a slow, long, shaky breath. His hand rising and falling on your stomach.

"That's it, good girl." he whispered. "It's almost over."

You dont know how long it took you to come out of your panic attack, but suddenly you felt like you got hit by a bus. Jack standing over you as your body dripped with sweat, teeth still chattering.

"I'm- I'm s-" you tried to apologize as the room spun. Your eyes shut as Jack began to rub his hand across your hair.

"Shhh, shhh...its okay. Catch your breath." he whispered as he wiped away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. You let out a soft moan at his soft touch, causing his stomach to do a flip.

He came back with a glass of water and his backpack, pulling out a prescription bottle from the front pocket.

"I'm gonna give you something to relax. I take this when I...it'll help." Jack cleared his throat and pulled out a Klonopin. Helping you sit up, he held the glass to your lips.

He took out his pulse ox and put it on your finger, showing you that your oxygen saturation was 99%, assuring you that you were getting enough oxygen as you waited for your breathing to normalize. He took your blood pressure and checked your heart rate.

"BP is a bit low, 90/60. Your heart is compensating for that so your a little tachy at 125. But I got you, you're safe."

It took about 15 minutes for the Klonopin to lower your heart rate enough to feel like you could breathe again. You were exhausted, sore, and a sweaty mess. The door was broken off the hinges, splinters of wood strewn about the floor. When the reality of what happened began to sink in, you were mortified. He broke down the door. You head fell forward and he began to massage your shoulders that were still incredibly tense.

"I'm so sorry, Jack." the words came out muffled as your head was buried in your hands.

"Dont apologize..."

"But your door! I'll pay for a new one. I promise."

"Screw the door. I'm just glad you're okay. You scared me for a second."

Scared? Jack Abbot didnt get scared. This was the man who has been elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity performing internal chest compressions. The many who has done a thoracotomy under gunfire. The man who has quite literally lost his leg to an IED.

“I just thought that…”

“That it was him… I know. Look at me.” Jack took your face in his hands. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, understand? He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As the medicine began to kick in, your body started to grow heavy against the pillow, eyelids fluttering.

“Lay with me until I fall asleep?” You asked in a sleepy delirium. Jack hesitated but crawled into bed next to you. He tested the waters to see how close he could get, inching closer and closer when you said, almost incoherently “I feel safe with you, Jack.” It was almost an invitation.

“I like keeping you safe.” He whispered into your neck, wrapping his arm around your midsection. He didn’t want to let you go, and as you drifted into a deep sleep, you melted deeper and deeper into him.

As morning broke, the suns rays shone through the cracks in his blackout curtains. He tightened his grasp around you as your stirred beneath him, his arm still tethering you to him. You felt puffs of air on the back of your neck, and you smiled to yourself at the sensation. The broken bedroom door snapped you back to reality; the reality of the night prior; the reality you were in Jacks arms and not your fiancés. You only remember bits pieces of the panic attack that consumed you, clouding your mind and judgement. Your body jolted which shook Jack awake.

“Hey, hey, hey, you okay?” He sat up quickly, his curly hair sticking in every which direction. God he looked absolutely perfect.

“We slept together?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that. You had a rough night and you asked me to lay with you. I must have fallen asleep.” This was unlike Jack. He didn’t sleep. Especially at night. He thrived in the darkness, sought comfort in it. Not to mention is circadian rhythm was totally fucked from working the night shift.

Jack got up and made some eggs, which you pushed around the plate with your fork.

"What you dont like my cooking?" he chuckled as he watched you frown at your plate.

"No, I dont have much of an appetite, probably from the antibiotics." In reality, you dont remember the last time you had a full meal. You had lost a considerable about of weight and Jack noticed, hell, everyone in the Pitt noticed. It wasn't something that was intentional, but you couldn't seem to stomach anything without a mouth watering gag. But you didnt want to seem rude, so you held your breath and took a bite. It wasn't until you swallowed that things turned sour. Your skin was soon cast with a green hue and you sprinted to the bathroom. Jack followed to find you with your head in the toilet, your stomach revolting against you from only one solitary bite. He held your hair back and you gagged and heaved, and then placed a cool rag on the back of your neck.

"I know I'm no Gordon Ramsay, but I didnt think my cooking was that bad." he joked as you wiped your mouth and slumped against the wall. Despite the circumstance, a chuckle managed to escape your lips.

Suddenly Jacks face fell and he quickly stood, using the bathroom sink to steady himself.

"Jack?" you called out to him, "Jack what wr-"

"Shhh" he whispered, signaling with his index finger to his lips.

"Shots fired, shots fired, Pittfest. Multiple victims."

His police scanner blared as police, fire, and EMS were dispatched to the scene.

"I gotta go. They'll all be going to The Pitt." he quickly threw on a scrub top that was probably still dirty from the night before.

"I'm going with you." you grabbed your things.

"No, you've got broken ribs, a broken face, and an infection. You're staying here."

"Jack." you repeated "I'm going with you. I'll triage, but I'm coming with you."

"Triage, thats it. Not traumas. Got it?" he grabbed his go-bag and the both of you sped out the door. The sirens blared as you inched closer to PTMC, the traffic and chaos already ensuing outside. Jack ran towards the ER like he was back in the army running towards gunfire. You set up your post in the ambulance bay with Shen and Ellis. People came by ambulance, police car, work vans, its was nothing you had ever seen before. Body after body, they just kept coming. Suddenly your heard a voice, and your blood ran cold.

"Hey!" it was Charlie, his face darkening as he saw you. "It's Jeff! He's been hit. You gotta save him." You leapt into the back of the pickup and felt for a pulse. When you didnt feel a thing, you screamed for a gurney and immediately started administering chest compressions. You could hear Jack's voice in the back of your mind with each thrust,

"Triage, thats it. Not traumas. Got it?"

You felt your own ribs cracking with each compression, the air nearly escaping from your lungs as you pushed through the pain. The cuts on your back that begun to close were now opening again. Jack was too busy with his hand in someones intestines that he didnt see you wheeled into Trauma 3, Charlie following. After 45 minutes, multiple rounds of epi, and 2 bags of O neg, you knew he had no chance. The bullet went straight through his heart, it was unsurvivable.

"Time of death.. 13:4-"

"Where the fuck have you been?" Charlie hissed.

"Charlie...I-I-"

"What the fuck are you doing? Why'd you stop? Go save him! Save Jeff!"

"I did all that I could, I'm so-"

"You fucking killed him!"

"Charlie, the injuries were too severe. There was nothing else I could do. The bullet hit his heart." he was taking slow steps towards you, until you finally hit the wall with a humpf. Before you knew it, his hands were around your throat. You tried to scream but nothing came out, no words, no screams, just silence. You frantically searched for the code blue button on the wall, kicking, pawing and scratching at him. He was trying to kill you, and he was succeeding. Your legs began to buckle beneath you as your airways were desperate for oxygen, your vision blurring as you saw stars. You clawed at his face, tried to pry his hands away from your neck, but thats when you felt the first crack. Your head slamming against the wall over and over before you were hit with an unknown force.

As you fell to the ground, gasping for air you heard Robby scream.

"STOP IT JACK!"

Dana rushed to your side as you started to become more coherent, the reality of what just happened sinking in.

"I'm fine, Dana. They need you out there." Your voice was hoarse, you could feel the warm blood soaking the back of your head. Your nose began to run.

But with each passing second you begin to deteriorate.

"No, you need me in here. I'm not going anywhere." she started to assess you, but the sound of Jacks fists hitting Charlies face were deafening, both of your heads were turned in his direction.

"YOU SON OF A" a punch landed across his face "FUCKING" and another "BITCH" and another. You held your breath as blood splattered across the cold tile floor.

"ENOUGH JACK, HE'S OUT! HE'S OUT! YOU'RE GONNA KILL HIM!" Robby tried being the voice of reason and finally got a firm grip on him, yanking him backwards. Not before Jack got in one last kick, his titanium prosthetic shattering Charlies jaw.

"You touch her again," Jacks spit, he panted as his chest heaved with each ragged breath, "You touch her again and I'll finish the fucking job." He looked down at his bloody hands, his knuckles already beginning to swell.

Robby knelt down to check for a pulse on Charlie, not entire sure that Jack didnt kill the man. He cant say he would have lost sleep over it if he did. As he pressed against his carotid, he felt the mans jaw shift, it had been completely eviscerate. His pulse was faint but it was there.

"J-j-" you tried to call out to him, your head laying in Dana's lap. You looked so small and helpless lying there on the floor. Your pupils were fixed and dilated and you kept wiping your nose.

What kept coming out of your nose? You asked yourself.

"She is leaking cerebrospinal fluid, Jack..." Dana looked up in worry. "She has a probable basal skull fracture. We need CT immediately."

"CT is backed up for hours." Robby muttered "They'll want t-"

"Like fuck it is." Jack hissed, and without hesitation, he scooped you up. No gurney, no wheelchair, just holding you in his arms.

Dana and Robby called out to him but he began to almost run to radiology, holding you tight against his chest. You felt his uneven gait become more and more uneven as he walked faster and faster.

The bruising on your face already began to show up under your eyes. You groaned as the artificial lights blinded your eyes. You tried to hold your head up but the weight was too heavy.

“Stay awake for me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes, okay?”

“It hurts” you cried out. Everything hurt. Your eyes fluttered open.

“There she is. There’s my pretty girl” Jack smiled.

When he reached radiology, and he called for Maxine, everything went black.

Tag list //

@michasia24 @emma8895eb @nosebeers @runawaybaby3 @antisocialfiore @xxxkat3xxx @livingavilaloca @lavenderdaisychain

#the pitt #noah wyle #shawn hatosy #michael robinavitch #dr abbott #hbo max #dr abbot #fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt hbo #dr abbott x reader #dr abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbott #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #dr abbot x you

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flux1563 · 3 months ago

Text

FIRST OF ALL

tags : squirting, anal, pussy gaping, ass gaping, golden shower, kidnapping, gangbang

Words : 9k

Kim Minju was a picture of poise and elegance as she stepped onto the crimson carpet. Her heart raced in time with the flashing bulbs of the paparazzi cameras. She had spent hours perfecting her makeup and selecting the right dress, a delicate dance of silk that whispered around her legs with every step she took. The air had excitement, the kind that only comes from a night of glitz and glamour.

Minju's eyes searched the sea of faces, looking for her manager, Mr. Park. He was always there, guiding her through the labyrinth of smiles and small talk that made up these events. Tonight was no different; the award show promised to be a pivotal moment in her career. She had been nominated for Best Supporting Actress, and the buzz surrounding her performance was electric.

As the final award was announced, Minju felt a strange sense of calmness wash over her. It was almost as if the world had gone mute, the only sound being the rhythmic beating of her heart. Her name wasn't called. She forced a smile and clapped for the winner, her thoughts racing. Was she disappointed? Yes. But she also knew she had given her all. It was a learning experience, another stepping stone in her journey.

Mr. Park, noticing her expression, gave her a reassuring pat on the back as they exited the venue. The cool evening air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the auditorium. She took a deep breath, the scent of her favorite gardenia perfume lingering faintly on the breeze. The car was waiting, a sleek black sedan, its engine humming quietly.

When Minju opened the door, she was shocked to find four men already inside, leaving only one seat for her. They were strangers, their faces unfamiliar and expressions unreadable. Panic began to creep in as she scanned the vehicle. One man, tall and broad-shouldered, took up the entire backseat, his arms crossed over his chest. Another, with piercing eyes and a sharp jawline, sat next to him, his legs stretched out, filling the space. The remaining two were in the front, both dressed in black suits, one driving, the other glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

Mr. Park's voice was firm, but not unkind, as he urged her to sit down. "Just for tonight, Minju," he said, his eyes holding a glint of excitement she hadn't seen before. "I've arranged something special to cheer you up." She hesitated, the situation feeling eerily wrong, but his assurance washed over her like a warm blanket, and she found herself slipping into the car, the door closing with a soft thud that echoed through her mind.

The man with the sharp jawline leaned closer and placed a cool, damp cloth over her eyes. "Don't worry, Miss," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "This will help you relax." The scent of mint filled her nose, and she felt a gentle pressure on the back of her neck. Her eyes grew heavy, and she didn't fight it. The last thing she heard was the soft rumble of Mr. Park's voice, promising that she'd be safe.

When Minju's eyes fluttered open again, the world was a blur. Her senses slowly returned, and she realized she was no longer in the car. The scent of the mint cloth lingered, but it was replaced by the faint smell of fresh paint and new carpets. She felt the cushioned leather beneath her, and the murmur of distant voices grew clearer. Her head swam with confusion as she tried to sit up, her body feeling weightless and disoriented.

The man with the piercing eyes and sharp jawline was the first to come into focus. He offered her a warm smile, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the situation. "Welcome to your surprise, Miss Kim," he said, his voice now a gentle purr. The room she was in was dimly lit, with walls lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes she knew she would never read. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the twinkling lights of the city skyline, a stark contrast to the cozy cocoon she found herself in.

"Where am I? What's going on?" she asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty. The men exchanged glances, and Mr. Park stepped forward, his own smile a little too forced. "You're in a safe place, Minju," he assured her. "We're just taking a small detour from the usual post-show festivities." The room spun, and she had to grip the armrest of the chair to steady herself. "But why? Where is everyone else?"

"Tonight, you're ours," the man in the backseat said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him, watching her with a hunger she couldn't place. "We've got a special evening planned for you."

Before Minju could protest, two of the men had moved swiftly and grabbed her hands, their grip firm and unyielding. The other two approached her from either side, and with a quick jerk, they began to rip at the delicate fabric of her gown. She gasped as the dress gave way, revealing her bare skin. The material fell around her in a pool of silk, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. A part of her wanted to scream, to fight, but she was paralyzed, her mind racing with the implications of this nightmare unfolding before her.

Her attempts to struggle were met with laughter from the men, their grips tightening around her wrists and ankles as they easily overpowered her. Despite her training in self-defense, she found herself utterly helpless. The man with the sharp jawline leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You're not going anywhere, Miss Kim," he whispered, his fingers digging into her skin. Panic set in, and she tried to pull away, but her efforts were futile against their collective strength.

The AC in the room hummed softly, blowing cold air across her exposed skin. Goosebumps prickled along her arms and legs, and she shivered. The two men who had been holding her hands moved to her sides, each placing a hand on the clasp of her bra. The anticipation was palpable, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. With a flick of their thumbs, her bra fell away, leaving her bare and vulnerable before them. The cool air from the vent kissed her skin, making her nipples peak, and she felt a warm rush of embarrassment spread through her.

The man with the piercing eyes and sharp jawline leaned in and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh. She gasped, her eyes flying open. The shock of his touch was like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolting mix of fear and a strange, unwelcome arousal through her body. The tall, broad-shouldered man on the other side of her followed suit, his mouth moving down her stomach to the edge of her panties. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine, and she tried to squirm away, but the other two held her firmly in place.

"Please stop," she managed to whimper, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I'll do anything." The men laughed, their grips tightening even more as they continued to explore her body. The man at her breasts bit down gently, and she felt the sharp sting of pain followed by a warm wetness as he sucked. Her body responded despite her mind's screaming protest, and she couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips.

The man between her legs spoke up, his voice gruff with excitement. "It's getting wet here, are you sure you don't want to do this?" The question hung in the air, thick with malice and lust. Minju felt a rush of cold dread as she realized the gravity of her situation. Her body was betraying her, her arousal growing against her will. She knew she had to find a way out of this, to regain control.

With surprising strength, she jerked her legs up, catching the tall man off guard. He stumbled back, cursing under his breath. The man with the sharp jawline released her nipple with a wet pop, his eyes narrowing. "Feisty, aren't we?" He said, smiling wickedly. Before she could react, the two men holding her down had torn away her last shred of dignity, leaving her panties in their hands. They tossed them aside, revealing her shaved pussy to their hungry gazes.

The second man, the one who had been watching her struggle with a twisted smile, leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Wow, you treat your pussy so well, Minju. It's like a sweet, ripe peach." His words were like a slap in the face, a cruel twist to the knot in her stomach. She had never felt so exposed, so violated. Yet, she couldn't ignore the way her body responded to his voice, the way her clit throbbed at his words.

The first man's wild suckling grew more intense, his teeth grazing her sensitive nipple, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, the taste of blood mingling with the mint from the cloth. The man between her legs chuckled, his breath warm and humid against her inner thigh. "I can see why they call it a peach," he murmured, his tongue tracing the delicate folds of her sex. She felt his rough hands spread her open, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be anywhere but here.

Minju moaned "ahh..." as the second man's tongue replaced his fingers, delving into her with a fervor that made her toes curl. His expertise was clear, his touch calculated to elicit the maximum response from her traitorous body. Her hips bucked, trying to escape the sensation, but the men held her in place, their laughter echoing through the room. She could feel herself getting wetter, a betrayal that only served to fuel their excitement. The man at her breasts took his cue, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh before his tongue soothed the sting.

"I can't, please stop," she gasped, the words barely coherent. She felt the man holding her hand tighten his grip, his thumb stroking her palm in a mockery of comfort.

"Are you going to cum, Minju?" he asked, his tone a blend of amusement and demand. Her heart raced as she felt the pressure building inside her, the man's relentless mouth on her sex pushing her closer to the edge she desperately wanted to avoid. Her body was a maelstrom of conflicting sensations, each touch and kiss sending waves of both fear and arousal crashing through her.

"Noo," she whimpered, trying to pull away, but her body was a traitor. Her hips bucked upward, seeking more, and she could feel the wetness of her pussy smearing against the leather chair. The man between her legs took this as an invitation, his tongue swirling around her clit with the precision of a maestro. The sensation was overwhelming, and she knew she was going to come.

"It's so much, I can't take it," she gasped out, her voice trembling. The man's mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking and stroking with a ferocity that had her nails digging into the armrest. The man at her breasts took the opportunity to bite down harder, the sting of pain sending her spiraling into a whirlwind of sensation. She felt the first wave of her orgasm building, her breath hitching in her throat.

The dam broke, and she squirted, her juices spraying out like a fountain, drenching the man's face and soaking the chair beneath her. Her legs shook violently, and she screamed out her climax, unable to hold back any longer. The men laughed, their grips loosening slightly in amazement. The one who had been teasing her clit looked up, her fluids dripping from his chin, a look of triumph in his eyes. "Look at that," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Our little peach is ripe for the picking."

The room spun as Minju's body convulsed through the orgasm she hadn't wanted to give them. She felt their hands on her, touching her everywhere, their breath hot and ragged in her ears. Her mind was a tumult of thoughts, a mix of horror and unwanted pleasure. "You're such a squirter, Minju," the man whispered, his voice a mix of awe and disgust. "And a slut." The word hung in the air, a knife twisting in her gut.

Her legs felt like jelly, but they released her, and she collapsed onto the floor, her ass up and her face down. The cool leather was a stark contrast to the heat of the room, the heat of her body. She trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the fabric of the chair sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. The men stepped away, giving her a moment of respite, their eyes still hungry as they took in the sight of her exposed body.

Minju's mind raced as she lay on the floor, her body still quaking from the forced climax. She knew she had to find a way out of this nightmare, but her limbs felt like lead. The sound of a zipper echoed through the room, and she felt the panic rising again. Before she could even process the thought, the man with the sharp jawline had scooped her up and placed her on the chair, straddling him. Her legs were shaking, but she felt the unyielding grip of the other man as he stood behind her, his erection pressing into her back.

The tall, broad-shouldered man took position in front of her, his own arousal evident as he unbuckled his belt.

Minju's eyes widened in horror as she saw the massive erection sprouting from his pants, the tip glistening with precum. He mustered a twisted smile as he took his cock in hand and began to stroke it, his eyes never leaving hers. The sight was overwhelming, a monstrous spectacle that made her knees go weak. The thought of that thing inside her was unbearable, but she knew she had no choice. She braced herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the first man's hands spreading her thighs wider. The head of his cock nudged against her wetness, the sheer size of it making her quiver with dread.

With a cruel chuckle, he pushed the tip in, stretching her pussy to its limits. She bit her lip to hold back a scream, her eyes watering as the pain shot through her. The man's girth was unbelievable, and she couldn't fathom how much more of him there was to come. The room around her grew fuzzy, the pain consuming her, as he inched his way deeper and deeper. The stretch was agonizing, but she knew that the worst was yet to come. He took his time, relishing her discomfort, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he watched her face contort in pain.

"Ahh, so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. Minju's nails dug into the man back as she tried to push herself away, but the other men held her in place, their hands roaming her body. The man behind her leaned in, his breath hot against her neck. "You're going to love this, baby," he whispered.

The first thrust was like a punch to the gut, the pain stealing the breath from her lungs. She felt herself stretch around him, the invasion both terrifying and exhilarating. Her body trembled, her pussy clenching around the thick, unyielding intrusion. Yet, amidst the horror, there was a spark of something else, a flicker of the pleasure that had betrayed her earlier. Her mind screamed for her to fight, but her body was already responding to the rhythmic motion, her muscles contracting around him in a desperate attempt to escape and yet, paradoxically, to feel more.

"Already orgasm?" The man with the sharp jawline mocked, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and disdain. "We didn't even start yet, you're such a slut." His words were like a slap in the face, a cold reminder of her helplessness. He began to move, his hips rising and falling with a brutal precision that had her teeth gritted. Each stroke sent a new wave of agony through her, but it was tinged with a dark, unwelcome craving. Her body was a traitor, her pussy greedily devouring every inch of him as he pushed deeper.

Minju's mind was a battleground of fear and arousal. She didn't want this, didn't want any of it, but she couldn't deny the way her body was responding. Her voice, shaky and desperate, broke through the cacophony of her thoughts. "Please move, I want it," she whispered, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The room grew quiet, the only sound the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the ragged gasps of the men holding her down.

The man with the sharp jawline took her invitation and began to pound into her with a ferocity that made her eyes water. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body, the pain melding with the pleasure until she could no longer tell them apart. She felt the man's mouth move to her nipple again, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before he sucked it into his mouth. The sensation was intense, a symphony of pleasure that washed over the agony of the intrusion below.

"Ahh, yess," she found herself moaning, the words slipping out despite her best efforts to remain silent. "So big, fuck..." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, a plea that she didn't even realize she was making. The man's hips ground against her, his cock filling her completely, stretching her to the point of pain. But it was a pain that she was beginning to crave, a pain that seemed to hold the key to some twisted form of relief.

"Suck my nipples more," she begged, arching her back as the pleasure began to build again. The man took the cue, his teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh before he took one peak into his mouth, sucking hard. The sensation was exquisite, a sharp contrast to the brutal pounding she was receiving. She could feel the man's erection pulsing against her back, and she knew he was getting off on her suffering. But she didn't care anymore, she just needed the release.

The second man's breath was hot on her neck, his hand moving from her hip to the small of her back. His fingers began to trace the cleft of her ass, teasing her puckered hole. The sensation was alien and terrifying, but it sent a thrill through her body that she couldn't ignore. He chuckled darkly as she tensed, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "You're so tight here too," he murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against her asshole. "But we'll loosen you up, don't worry."

Minju's voice was a desperate whisper. "No, no, not there," she pleaded, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to ignore the way her body responded to his touch. The first man took a moment to admire the look of fear and need on her face before resuming his relentless assault on her pussy. "Please," she gasped, her voice hoarse with need. "I can't, it's too much."

But the man didn't care; he kept trying to push his dick deeper into Minju's asshole. His thumb circled the tight ring of muscle, applying pressure that made her body spasm. She could feel her own wetness mingling with his spit, the slickness of it making her skin crawl. "You're going to take all of us," he said, his voice a promise of more torment. "And you're going to love it."

"Ahh, it feels weird," she whined, her body tensing up as his thumb breached her ass, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. The pain was intense, a stark contrast to the pleasure still pulsing through her pussy from the first man's relentless pounding. She could feel the head of the second man's cock pressing against her, the blunt pressure a stark reminder of the new violation that awaited her.

But then, something strange happened. The pain began to morph into something else, something that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. The pressure grew, building into a crescendo that matched the rhythm of the man's strokes inside her. Her pussy tightened around him, desperately seeking more, and she felt her orgasm start to crest. "Ahh, no," she moaned, her voice a mix of agony and ecstasy. "I can't take it, I'm cumming again, ahh, ahh, ahh..."

Her body convulsed, her pussy spasming around the thick cock that filled her so completely. The man's grip on her hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he felt her climax. She could hear his grunts of pleasure, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass with each plunge. And then, as if on cue, the third man grabbed her head, his grip like a vice as he pushed his own erection into her mouth. "You're talking too much, Minju," he grunted, his voice low and menacing.

Her jaw ached from the stretch, but she took him in willingly, the taste of her own juices mingling with the saltiness of his cock. The sound of her own slurps filled her ears, the obscene sounds of her mouth working his shaft almost as degrading as the pain in her ass. "Glukkk glukk glukk," she moaned around the thick meat, the words muffled but clear in their meaning. She enjoyed it, the feeling of being used, of being their plaything. The humiliation only served to heighten her arousal, a dark thrill that she never knew existed within her.

For what felt like an eternity, the three men took turns using her body, their rhythmic thrusts becoming a symphony of depravity. The man in her pussy pounded with a relentlessness that was almost soothing in its consistency, filling her up completely. The man in her ass took his time, stretching her open with each slow, deliberate push until she was taking his full length, her cries of pain muffled by the cock in her throat. And the third, the one who had claimed her mouth, fucked her face with a vigor that had her eyes watering.

"I think I'm gonna cum, Minju," the man in her ass grunted, his grip on her hips tightening until it felt like he was trying to split her in two. His words were a declaration, a warning of the impending climax that she could feel building within him. And as if on cue, the man in her pussy sped up, his strokes becoming more erratic, his breathing ragged. She knew she was close too, the tension in her own body coiling tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap.

The room was a blur of movement, the men's bodies a tapestry of sweat and power as they used her. The pain was a living thing, pulsing through her, but it had transformed into something else. Something that made her body beg for more. And when the man in her mouth finally came, his hot seed spurting down her throat, she felt a strange sense of accomplishment. It was as if she had been given a role to play, and she was playing it to perfection.

The man in her pussy grunted, his hips bucking wildly as he reached his climax. He pulled out just in time to shoot his load all over her stomach, the hot, sticky fluid spattering her skin. The sight of his release only made the man in her ass more eager, his thrusts becoming more demanding, more primal. He grunted and pushed in deeper, the pressure building until she felt his cock swell and throb inside her. And then, with a roar, he came too, filling her up with his seed, the sensation so intense it brought tears to her eyes.

Gasping for air, Minju felt the men pull out of her in unison, their cocks slick with her juices. The sudden emptiness was almost as intense as the fullness she had just endured, and she couldn't help the whine of protest that escaped her lips. The sharp-jawed man chuckled, stroking her cheek with a gentle touch that seemed almost tender in the aftermath of the brutal assault. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine.

She could feel their eyes on her, their gazes raking over her trembling form, assessing her reactions. "But we're not done yet," he said, his voice a promise of more to come. "Each one of us gets a turn in every hole. That's the deal."

Minju's body felt like it had been wrung out like a wet towel, her muscles quivering with exhaustion. Yet, she couldn't deny the need that still thrummed through her veins. She didn't know if she could take it, if she could handle the onslaught of pleasure and pain that awaited her. The men seemed to sense her hesitation, their smiles growing more predatory as they looked at her.

The sharp-jawed man took a step back, his cock still glistening with her juices. "Time to switch places," he said, his voice a low growl. The man who had been fucking her mouth stepped forward, his own erection bobbing eagerly as he took position behind her. He didn't bother with any pretense of gentleness, pushing into her ass without warning.

The pain was immediate and intense, but she found herself pushing back, her body craving the fullness she had just felt moments ago. The man behind her took the hint, his strokes growing faster and deeper until she was crying out around the cock that filled her pussy. The man who had just her pussy come to her mouth, stroking his member as he watched the scene unfold before him. "Look at her," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Such a good little slut."

The second man's grip on her pussy was like iron, his thumb pressing against her clit as he drove into her ass. She squirted again, the force of her orgasm surprising her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the warmth of his cum fill her, his grunts of pleasure echoing through the room. And then, it was the third man's turn, his cock sliding into her pussy with a wet, gasping sound. She felt so full, so stretched, that she thought she might split apart.

But she didn't. Instead, she took it, her body moving with the rhythm of their abuse, her hips rising and falling as she was used in ways she had never imagined. The man in her ass began to spank her, each smack sending a shockwave of sensation through her. She could feel her orgasm building again, her pussy clenching around his cock, her ass tightening around the other. The sharp sting of the slaps only heightened the pleasure, sending her spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

And then, with a roar, the man in her ass came, his cum flooding her bowels, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. She felt his cock jerk inside her, the pulse of his release sending her own orgasm crashing over her. She screamed around the cock in her mouth, her body shaking with the force of it. The man in her pussy took his cue, his thrusts growing more frantic, his grip on her hips almost painful.

And when he came, it was with a snarl, his cum spurting out in hot, thick ropes that coated her inner thighs and dripped down to the floor. The man who had been watching stepped forward, his own erection now fully restored. He pulled out of her mouth, his cock shiny with her saliva, and moved to take his place in her ass.

The cycle continued, each man taking her in a different combination of holes, their pleasure becoming a symphony of grunts and slaps, moans and whimpers. She was theirs to use, to fill, to claim. And as the night went on, Minju realized she didn't just want them to cum inside her; she needed it. The thought of their seed filling her, marking her as theirs, was intoxicating.

With each new thrust, she felt herself slipping further into a dark, depraved world that she had never known existed. But she didn't care. All she cared about was the feeling of their hands on her body, their cocks inside her, the taste of their desire. And when the last man finally came, his hot cum spurting into her mouth, she swallowed it down greedily, her eyes never leaving his.

"Good girl," he murmured, stroking her cheek. And in that moment, she knew she was theirs. She had been broken, reshaped into a vessel for their pleasure. And she liked it. She liked it more than she could ever admit. The room was a blur of satiated bodies, their breaths heavy with satisfaction. But Minju's mind was already racing, planning how she could get more of this twisted game.

As she lay there, her body trembling from the exertion, she felt a hand on her chin, tilting her head up to look into the sharp-jawed man's eyes.

"How many squirt do you have for us today, Minju?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Her eyes searched his, desperation melding with the haze of pleasure that still clouded her judgment. "I don't know... maybe 10 or 15... I can't think," she replied, her voice a soft whimper. The idea of being able to squirt that many times seemed impossible, yet her body had already proven it could handle more than she had ever thought possible.

The sharp-jawed man chuckled, his hand moving to cup her chin. "Good, because we're not done with you yet," he said, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "We're going to drain you, Minju. Every last drop of cum you're worth."

The fourth man, who had been watching the whole time with a mix of envy and anticipation, stood up from the couch. He was the most muscular of them all, his broad chest heaving with excitement as he unzipped his pants. His erection sprang out, thick and veiny, a testament to his desire. He stepped forward, the smirk on his face growing as he took in the sight of her used body, glistening with their cum.

Minju's eyes widened as he approached, her mind reeling from the sheer size of his cock. It was easily the biggest she had ever seen, dwarfing the others that had already claimed her. A bolt of fear shot through her, but her body, now a willing accomplice in her degradation, responded with a fresh wave of arousal. "No, no," she whispered, her voice a mix of fear and lust. "It won't fit."

The sharp-jawed man leaned in closer, his smile cold and cruel. "Just shut up," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Because you can't run anymore." His words sent a chill down her spine, a stark reminder of her captivity. She was theirs, and she knew it. The fourth man stepped closer, his hand stroking the length of his erection as he looked down at her with a hunger that was almost palpable.

With trembling hands, Minju reached up and took the head of his cock in her mouth, feeling it stretch her lips to the point of pain. He was so thick, so much more than she had ever had before, and she knew it would be a challenge to take all of him. But she was determined to try, her need for their approval overriding any sense of self-preservation she might have once had.

Her tongue swirled around the tip, tasting the salty precum that had begun to leak out. He groaned in pleasure, his hand coming to the back of her head to guide her movements. His grip grew firmer, pushing her down further, and she felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she took a deep breath through her nose and relaxed her throat, willing herself to accommodate his monstrous size.

The fourth man's eyes lit up as she took more of him, his hips starting to rock gently, pushing deeper with each stroke. "Ur throat is so tight and wet," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. His words sent a shiver of excitement down her spine, the praise fueling her determination. She took him as deep as she could, her throat convulsing around his shaft as she fought the urge to gag.

The sharp-jawed man watched with a sadistic grin, his hand moving to fondle her breasts as he whispered, "Good girl, take it all." The words were a command, and she obeyed, her mouth moving up and down the thick length of the fourth man's cock. His hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, his strokes growing more forceful.

The pressure built in her throat, the taste of him becoming more intense with each passing second. She could feel him swelling, his cock growing even bigger, and she knew he was close. "Aghh, fuck," he groaned, his hips jerking as he buried himself deep into her mouth. "I'm gonna cum, don't you dare spill it out." The threat was clear, and she responded with a muffled moan of understanding, her eyes watering as she braced herself for the onslaught.

And then, with a roar, he did. His cum shot into her throat, hot and thick, filling her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on not choking. He pulled out, his cock still twitching as he stepped back, panting. "Look at her," the sharp-jawed man said, his voice filled with amusement. "Such a good little cockslut."

Minju felt a twisted sense of pride at the words, her cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. The men around her chuckled, their eyes gleaming with lust. "Now, let's see if you can handle this," .

This one was different, she realized with a sinking feeling. His cock was longer and thicker than the others, a weapon of pure pleasure and pain. She tried to sit up, her body already feeling the strain of the previous assaults, but the sharp-jawed man pushed her back down. "No more games, Minju," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're going to take him, and you're going to enjoy it."

The fourth man took position between her legs, his cock bobbing as he stared down at her trembling form. "Please," she whispered, her voice a hoarse plea. "I can't..." But it was too late. With a brutal shove, he plunged into her pussy, the sound of her wetness mingling with her whimpers of pain. Her body was so sensitive, so overwhelmed, that it was all she could do to not scream.

He began to move, his strokes long and deep, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Please, no more," she whimpered, her pussy clenching around his cock. But he paid her no heed, his focus solely on his own pleasure.

"You're too tight," he grunted, his grip on her hips tightening as he pushed in harder.

The sharp-jawed man leaned in, his hand moving to her clit, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You'll get used to it," he whispered, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves.

And then, with a suddenness that took her breath away, the pain disappeared, replaced by a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Her body arched off the bed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she came again, her pussy contracting around the invading cock. The fourth man took her through the motions, his strokes growing more forceful, more demanding. She felt like she was being split in two, the sensation so overwhelming she didn't know if she could handle it.

But she did. Each thrust sent her spiraling higher and higher, until she was a writhing mess of pleasure and pain, her body a canvas for their depravity. "Fuck me," she moaned, the words slipping from her lips unbidden. "Fuck me harder."

The sharp-jawed man chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he watched her degradation. "Look at you," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You're loving this."

The fourth man took her words to heart, his strokes becoming more punishing, his cock stretching her pussy to its limits. She felt herself climbing again, the pressure building until she was on the edge, her body trembling with the effort to hold back. "Agh, I'm gonna cum," she screamed, her voice raw and desperate.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving her feeling empty and exposed. "Do it," he said, his voice a demand. "Squirt on my cock." He stroked himself, his cock slick with her juices, and she could see the challenge in his eyes.

With a trembling hand, she reached down between her legs, her fingers finding her clit. It was swollen and sensitive, the slightest touch sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She began to rub it, her eyes locked on his, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. The sharp-jawed man leaned in closer, his hand moving to her hip, his grip firm and possessive. "Come on," he urged, his voice low and hungry. "Show us how much of a slut you really are."

The pressure grew, her body coiled like a spring about to snap. With a final, desperate cry, she let go, her pussy clenching around the fourth man's cock as she squirted. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before, a deluge of wetness that soaked the bed beneath her. The men cheered, their eyes alight with excitement as they watched her body convulse with pleasure.

The fourth man leaned in, his hand moving from her hip to her chin, tilting her head back so he could kiss her. His tongue invaded her mouth, tasting the remnants of the fourth man's cum. "Keep going," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "We want more."

Her hand moved faster on her clit, her hips rising off the bed as she felt the next orgasm building. The sharp-jawed man's cock was back in her mouth, his movements growing more urgent as he felt her body tighten around his shaft. She squirted again.

Her whole body was trembling uncontrollably now, the intensity of her orgasms threatening to overwhelm her. It was as if her body had taken on a mind of its own, the need for more pleasure an insatiable beast that demanded to be fed. "It's too much," she gasped . "I think I'm gonna collapse."

But the fourth man just chuckled, his eyes glinting with malicious excitement. "No, you can't," he said, his voice a dark caress. "We're not done with you yet." He reached down, his hand grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're going to keep squirting for us, no matter what."

With a grunt, he pulled her to the edge of the bed and flipped her over, so she was ass up and face down. Her cheek pressed into the wet, sticky mattress, she could feel the coolness of the spilled cum against her skin. The sharp-jawed man stepped back, watching with a cruel smile as the fourth man took his place. His cock was still hard, still thick and demanding, and she knew what was coming.

He didn't bother with preamble, simply pushing her legs apart and sinking into her pussy with a ferocity that took her breath away. Her squirt had only made him hungrier, and now he was going to feast. The first few thrusts were so hard she thought she'd pass out, her body unprepared for the intensity. But she didn't. Instead, she felt her pussy stretch to accommodate him, her walls tightening around him as she took him in, inch by brutal inch.

The sharp-jawed man watched, stroking his own cock as he observed the scene with a sadistic smile. "That's it," he encouraged. "Make her squirt like the slut she is." The other men murmured in agreement, their eyes glued to her ass as it bounced with every punishing thrust.

The fourth man's strokes grew more erratic. With a snarl, he grabbed her hips, his cock slamming into her with a force that made the bed shake. "Do it," he grunted, his voice strained. "Give me your squirt."

And she did. With a scream that was equal parts pleasure and pain, Minju's pussy clenched around him, sending a jet of fluid shooting out, soaking the bed even more. He groaned, his movements becoming more frenzied, his grip on her hips bruising. The sharp-jawed man watched with a mix of fascination and hunger, his own hand moving faster on his erection. "So good," he murmured, his voice tight with his own need.

The fourth man's rhythm grew erratic, his hips slamming into her ass with a force that made her teeth chatter. She felt his cock swell, the pressure inside her building until she thought she'd burst. And then, with a final, guttural roar, he came, his cum filling her to the brim. She could feel it leaking out of her, running down her thighs, mixing with the mess that was already there.

"Yes, yes," she moaned, her body shaking with the intensity of her own orgasm. She had never felt so used, so completely owned.

The fourth man's cock twitched inside her, the final pulses of his cum filling her until she felt like she would overflow. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of fullness and satisfaction that she had never experienced before. Her pussy quivered around him, the muscles clenching involuntarily, eager to milk every last drop.

It's so full," Minju murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow she was face-first in, her body still shaking from the last round of brutal ecstasy. The fourth man's cum was still dripping from her pussy, leaving a sticky trail down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. The sharp-jawed man took a step closer, his cock still standing at attention despite the depraved scene that had just played out. "Look at what a mess you've made," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and disgust.

The fourth man chuckled, his hand moving to her hip as he pulled her back onto her knees. "Don't worry, baby," he said, his voice a sickly sweet promise. "I've got plenty more where that came from." His grip tightened, his cock, which had only just begun to soften, now growing hard again with the renewed interest in her body.

The sharp-jawed man took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. "You think you're special?" he sneered. "You think we won't use you up and spit you out?" His hand came down, slapping her ass with a wet sound that echoed through the room. "You're nothing but a cum dumpster to us."

The words stung, but Minju couldn't deny the truth. She was theirs to use, their toy to discard when they were done. Yet, the thought only made her more eager, her body begging for another round of their brutal attentions. "No," she whispered, the word barely audible. "I'm not... I can't..." But she knew she could. Some twisted part of her wanted to, needed to prove she could take it all.

The fourth man grinned, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the challenge. He bent down, his grip strong as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he positioned his cock at her soaking entrance. The sharp-jawed man moved in, his hand reaching for her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You're going to take it all," he said, his voice a low growl. "Every drop ."

With a roar, the fourth man thrust into her, lifting her off the bed as he began to pound her from behind. The sharp-jawed man held her hand, their fingers entwined as he watched the scene unfold, his own arousal evident in the tight grip and the way he licked his lips. She could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes raked over her body, and it only made her more wet, her pussy clenching around the thick cock invading her.

"Ahh... yes," she moaned, her voice a desperate cry. "So good, I'm cumming again." The words were torn from her as she felt the familiar tightening in her belly, her muscles contracting as the orgasm built. It was a sweet agony, the kind that made her want to scream and beg for mercy, all while pushing back against the man inside her, urging him to go deeper.

The fourth man's grip on her hips tightened, his own hips slapping against her ass as he drove into her with renewed vigor. "That's it," he grunted, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "Squirt for me, baby. Squirt like the slut you are."

Minju's body responded to his words, the muscles in her pussy clenching around his cock as she began to squirt uncontrollably. The sensation was overwhelming, her body seemingly having a mind of its own as it sought to please the men who had so completely claimed her. The sharp-jawed man's eyes widened in amazement as he watched the spectacle, his hand moving to stroke his own cock faster. "Fuck, look at her," he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "She's like a fucking fountain."

The fourth man's eyes glazed over with pleasure, his strokes becoming more erratic as he felt his own climax approaching. "Yeah, baby," he grunted. "Come on, let's do it together." His hand moved from her hip to her clit, his thumb rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. "I'm gonna fill you up so good."

Minju's body responded to his touch, the sensation of his cock inside her combined with the pressure on her clit pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel another orgasm building, the tension in her abdomen tightening with each passing second. "Yes," she moaned, her voice barely recognizable. "I'm gonna cum again."

The sharp-jawed man's grip on her hand tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he whispered, "Show us, baby. Let us see it all." His words were a command, one that she desperately wanted to obey. She felt her pussy clench around the fourth man's cock, her body begging for more, for the release she knew was just a heartbeat away.

"I think this is my last squirt," Minju gasped as the fourth man's cock swelled inside her, his cum shooting into her with a force that made her entire body shake. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that left her gasping for breath.

And then, with a grunt of his own release, the fourth man pulled out, leaving her pussy gaping and empty. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, her body trembling uncontrollably. The sticky wetness of her squirt and their combined cum coated the floor beneath her, a stark reminder of her newfound role.

Minju's eyes had gone blurry, the world spinning around her in a haze of pleasure and pain. She felt like she was going to faint, the intensity of her orgasms leaving her dizzy and weak. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort to fill her lungs. The sharp-jawed man stepped closer, a look of dark satisfaction on his face. "Look at you," he said, his voice a mix of amazement and contempt. "So fucking pathetic."

The other men chuckled, their eyes glinting with lust as they watched her collapse. The fourth man reached down, his hand wrapping around her arm, and hauled her to her feet. "Come on," he said, his voice gruff. "You're not done yet." He tugged her along behind him, her legs wobbly and unsteady. She could feel the warmth of the cum running down her thighs, a sticky mess that seemed to cling to her skin.

They brought her to the bathroom, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the heat of the room she'd just left. The sharp-jawed man flipped on the lights, and she blinked against the harsh brightness. The room was large, with a claw-footed bathtub in the center and a gleaming chrome shower in the corner.

The fourth man held her up, his grip unyielding as he positioned her in front of the mirror. She looked at her reflection, not recognizing the woman who stared back at her. Her makeup was smeared, her dress torn and stained, her eyes swollen from crying. She was a mess, a shell of the glamorous starlet she had been just hours ago.

"Look at yourself," the sharp-jawed man said, his voice a mix of amusement and disgust. "You're nothing but a used cum rag now." The words hit her like a slap in the face.

Minju's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. Her legs felt like jelly, her body utterly drained from the onslaught of pleasure and pain she'd endured. She lay there, her eyes unfocused, staring at the reflection in the mirror. She could see the bruises already beginning to form on her hips and thighs, the marks of their possession etched into her skin.

The men formed a circle around her, their cocks still hard and glistening with her juices. The sharp-jawed man stepped forward, his expression a twisted mix of amusement and cruelty. "Time to clean up," he announced, his voice echoing in the bathroom. And with that, they began to piss all over her. The warm streams of urine rained down on her body, washing away the cum and sweat that coated her.

Minju's eyes widened in horror, her body tense with humiliation. She had never felt so degraded, so utterly used. Yet, as the urine hit her skin, she felt a strange sense of relief, as if the sting of it was washing away the last remnants of her dignity. The smell was overpowering, the stench of piss mingling with the musky scent of sex that filled the room. She tried to look away, but the sharp-jawed man grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze in the mirror.

"Look at yourself," he said, his voice cold and mocking. "This is what you are now. A dirty little cum slut." His words sent a shiver down her spine, even as her pussy clenched around the emptiness inside her. It was as if her body had been rewired to crave their degradation, to thrive on their contempt.

As the last of their piss rained down on her, she felt herself slipping away, the world going dark around the edges. Her breathing grew shallow, her vision swimming as she teetered on the brink of consciousness. The sharp-jawed man stepped back, his smile fading as he took in her condition. "Looks like she's had enough for now," he said, his voice deceptively casual.

The fourth man chuckled, zipping up his pants. "Let's leave her here to clean up. Maybe she'll learn to appreciate her new role." The others laughed, their footsteps echoing through the room as they left, the door slamming shut behind them.

Alone, Minju lay on the cold floor, her body a map of bruises and cum stains. She could feel the stickiness between her cheeks, the result of the fourth man's merciless assault. The smell of piss hung heavy in the air, a humiliating reminder of her submission.

Her vision swam, and she felt the room spin as the last of her strength gave way. With a final whimper, she passed out, her body giving in to the relentless waves of pain and pleasure that had overtaken her.

When she awoke, it was to the harsh light of morning filtering through the bathroom window. The floor was cold and sticky beneath her, and she could feel the crust of dried cum and piss on her skin. Her eyes felt gritty, and her throat was parched, the taste of bile and semen still lingering in her mouth. She tried to sit up, but her body protested, the ache in her ass and pussy a stark reminder of the night's events.

With a groan, she managed to push herself onto her hands and knees, her head spinning as she took in the room. The bathtub was stained, the floor around it a mess of cum and urine. Her reflection in the mirror was a horror show, her face puffy from crying, her once-pristine dress torn and stained beyond recognition. The sharp-jawed man's words echoed in her mind, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust and shame.

Mr. Park's voice grew louder as he approached the bathroom door, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. "Minju," he called out, his tone one of forced concern. "Are you okay in there?" The sound of his voice was like a knife in her gut, a stark reminder of the betrayal that had led to her current state. She didn't bother to respond, knowing that her voice would only betray her.

The door swung open, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately going to the mess on the floor. His expression shifted from concern to one of cold calculation. "You've made quite a mess," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. She could see the disgust in his eyes as he took in the state of her body, cum spurted from her ass and pussy like some grotesque art project.

Minju's eyes fell to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, the only sign of the turmoil inside her. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But she knew that sorry wasn't enough. Not for what she'd done, and not for the way she'd let them treat her.

Mr. Park sighed, his eyes scanning the room before returning to her. "Look at you," he said, his voice a mix of pity and revulsion. "What have you become?" He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch her face. She flinched away, the simple contact feeling like a brand of ownership she didn't want.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I can't..."

"You can," he said, his tone firm. "You will." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "This is your new life now. Get used to it."

Minju felt a spark of defiance flare up inside her, but it was quickly snuffed out by the weight of his stare. She knew he was right. She had no choice but to submit to their desires, to embrace the slut that she had become. With a heavy heart, she nodded. "Yes, Mr. Park."

The week passed in a blur of pain and pleasure, the men taking her whenever and however they wanted. Her body was a playground for their desires, a canvas for their depravity. Yet, amidst the pain and humiliation, she found a strange solace in her new role. Each time she squirted for them, each time she took their cum, she felt a sense of belonging, of purpose.

When she finally returned to work, she was a different woman. She walked with a newfound confidence, her eyes downcast in submission. The other employees whispered about her, wondering what had changed. But she knew. She was theirs, their little cum slut, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

One night, after a particularly grueling session with the sharp-jawed man and his friends, she sent a message to Mr. Park. "Thanks for that surprise," she wrote, her thumbs moving over the screen with surprising ease. "Right now, I know the truth about myself. I am a slut for a big cock."

The response was almost instant. "Good girl," he texted back. "Keep that in mind. We have more surprises in store for you."

Her stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and dread. She knew she had no say in the matter, that she would take whatever they gave her and ask for more. And she liked it. The thought of it made her wet, her pussy clenching with anticipation.

The next week at work was a blur of meetings and shoots, each one more grueling than the last. But she never forgot her message to Mr. Park. It played on repeat in her mind, a constant reminder of who and what she was. And she liked it. The idea of being used by those powerful men again, of feeling their cocks fill her up and empty her out, was a thrill she couldn't resist.

On her lunch break, she found herself in the bathroom, her hand slipping into her panties to touch her still-sensitive clit. The thought of their next meeting had her pussy soaked, and she couldn't help but wonder what they had planned for her. Would it be more of the same, or would they find new ways to break her, to make her squirt for them?

The anticipation was almost too much to bear. But she knew she could handle it. She had to. She was their cum slut, after all.

#kpop smut #minju smut #gg smut #kpop gg #girl group smut #izone minju smut #izone smut #male reader

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xo100 · 10 months ago

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i’ve been thinking about this for so longgg

okay so basically a fic where lando and you met at a grand prix while you were doing a tour of the paddock you accidentally meet and start talking and lando asks for your number, you and your whole family have always been huge f1 fans and so you hide it from them when you start dating him but eventually bring him to meet them and it’s a big surprise and everyone is so shocked that lando is your boyfriend

Under the radar - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1384

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

You were on a tour of the paddock, weaving through the bustle of teams prepping for race day, while you tried not to be overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Your family had always been Formula 1 fanatics, and being here was a dream come true. You were taking it all in—savoring every moment of walking through the garages and team areas that you'd only ever seen on TV.

Your family had been buzzing with excitement when you told them you won tickets for the paddock tour at the Grand Prix. They were envious, of course, but you had promised to snap plenty of pictures for them. None of them could imagine the turn your day would take.

As you followed the group through the McLaren garage, something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw a figure rushing toward you. You stepped to the side instinctively, trying to avoid a collision, but your foot snagged on something, and before you could blink, you were falling backward.

Except, you didn’t hit the ground.

A pair of strong hands caught your shoulders, and you gasped, steadying yourself as you regained your balance. When you looked up, your eyes met warm brown ones, sparkling with amusement and a hint of concern. Lando Norris.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a grin slowly tugging at his lips.

For a second, your brain went blank. Was this actually happening? Was Lando Norris—McLaren's star driver, F1 wonderkid, and easily one of the funniest guys on the grid—really holding onto you?

“I—yeah, sorry!” you blurted, trying to compose yourself, though your heart was beating too fast. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No worries, happens to the best of us,” he chuckled, still holding onto your arms. “But I have to say, it’s not every day someone literally falls for me.”

You blinked at him, then laughed, the tension breaking. “Does that line work often?”

“More than you'd think.” He winked, releasing his hold on you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

The tour group was already moving on, but you hesitated, still standing in front of Lando, unsure of what to say or do next.

He tilted his head slightly, noticing your uncertainty. “Are you with the group?”

“Yeah, but…” You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. They won’t miss me.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your response. “Hmm, playing hooky already?”

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, if you’re gonna skip out, you might as well do it properly. Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the pit wall. “Let me show you around.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Why not? You already tripped into me—seems like fate, doesn’t it?” His grin was contagious, and despite the voice in your head screaming that this was all surreal, you found yourself walking beside him as he led you past the rows of McLaren engineers, their heads down in concentration, and into areas the tour definitely wasn’t going to cover.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur—Lando showed you parts of the garage up close, pointing out the intricacies of the car, telling you little jokes about his teammates, and talking about life on the circuit. It felt strangely…normal. The kind of normal where you could forget he was a famous Formula 1 driver and just see him as the charming, cheeky guy he was.

By the time you both circled back around to the paddock entrance, you’d learned that he loved golf, he was obsessed with video games, and he had a dry sense of humor that had you laughing far too easily.

You didn’t want the conversation to end, but you knew it had to eventually. “Thanks for, um, the tour,” you said, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“No problem. You should come back, you know.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder toward his team, who were undoubtedly waiting for him to rejoin them. Then he turned back to you with that grin that made your stomach flip. “Give me your number.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

He chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Your number. So we can keep in touch.”

You blinked, processing what he was asking. Lando Norris wants your number? This was a conversation you were definitely not ready for. But despite the swarm of butterflies in your chest, you handed over your phone.

As you typed in your number, you couldn’t help but wonder how you were going to explain this to your family. Oh, nothing major, just met Lando Norris today…

You didn’t tell anyone. Not at first, at least.

After that day, Lando had texted you the very next evening, something casual about how he hoped you hadn’t tripped over anything else after you left. You laughed out loud, and your reply had been easy, comfortable. Before you knew it, the two of you were talking almost daily—texts that quickly evolved into phone calls and, eventually, meeting up at a few more races.

By the time you realized what was happening, you and Lando were dating. Quietly, but officially.

Your family had no idea.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them—it was just…complicated. Your parents, your siblings—everyone in your family was obsessed with Formula 1. They knew every driver, every stat, every bit of news before it even hit the headlines. The idea of telling them you were dating an F1 driver—their favorite driver—felt impossible. You could already picture their reactions. The shouting, the questions, the disbelief.

So you kept it to yourself. For now, at least.

Months passed, and things with Lando grew deeper, more serious. He wasn’t just the famous driver anymore—he was Lando, the guy who made you laugh when you were stressed, who sent you goofy selfies from the hotel on race weekends, and who listened when you vented about your day. He was sweet, thoughtful, and maybe a little too good to be true.

Eventually, the time came when hiding him from your family wasn’t an option anymore. You had to tell them.

“I have a surprise for you guys,” you said nervously, standing in your living room with Lando by your side. You hadn’t told them yet—hadn’t explained who your ‘guest’ was.

Your mom and dad were sitting on the couch, your siblings sprawled around the living room, all eyes on you.

“What kind of surprise?” your sister asked suspiciously, glancing at Lando with a raised brow. He was wearing a baseball cap, pulled low enough that it wasn’t obvious who he was, but it wasn’t going to take long for them to figure it out.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Lando, who gave you a reassuring smile. He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently before stepping forward, taking off his cap and revealing his face.

For a split second, there was silence.

Then your dad nearly choked on his drink. “L-Lando Norris?” he stammered, eyes wide. Your siblings were frozen, mouths hanging open as they stared at him in disbelief.

“Surprise!” you said, giving them a nervous smile.

Lando, ever the charmer, grinned and waved. “Hi, nice to meet you all.”

Your family erupted into chaos. Your mom jumped up, asking a million questions at once, while your siblings started shouting over each other, and your dad was still trying to process what was happening.

“I can’t believe it,” your brother said, eyes wide as he stared at Lando. “Are you really dating my sister?”

Lando chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. “Yep. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding through you as you realized everything was going to be okay. Your family was shocked, yes—but in the best way possible.

And as you stood there, watching Lando joke with your siblings, you realized something else.

You weren’t just dating an F1 driver. You were dating Lando, and somehow, that was even better.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

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ozzgin · 11 months ago

Text

I've kept my promise and returned with dino smut. Switch it to a dinosaur hybrid if you're too afraid of the full package. Content: gender neutral reader, NSFW (gangbang), monster dinosaur smut

"You've got to be kidding me."

You kick the wheel and walk away, trying to steady your breathing. This can’t be happening. Behind you, the guide continues to tinker with the car engine. He has a reassuring smile plastered on his face, but you can tell from the cold beads of sweat that he’s just as terrified.

You are stranded in a desert filled with dinosaurs. Scientific miracle? Sure. Presently your death sentence, too.

“Don’t walk too far from the vehicle, (Y/N), otherwise I can’t reach you in time if something happens.”

“What, you have a black belt in dinosaur fighting or something?” you scoff at the man.

“Now listen, do you think we didn’t anticipate these scenarios? I am equipped with this little guy here”, he says, pulling out a small, electric device. “Has enough juice in it to shock a T-Rex.”

Maybe he has a point. The Jurassic Park proudly dons a reputation of flawless service and guaranteed safety. Surely they must be equipped to deal with something as insignificant as a car breaking down in the middle of a guided tour.

You attempt to smile back, gathering some courage. In your newfound peace you didn’t really notice that the massive rock behind the car has moved, or that it was never a rock to begin with.

A wide row of razor teeth engulfs your official tour guide, and the enormous mandible closes with a loud snap. The upper half of the man detaches in a surreal, surgical cleanliness. You stare, mouth agape. It takes you a second to process the execution you’ve just witnessed, but the ear-shattering screech swiftly wakes you out of your trance.

Escaping from an entire pack of ancient predators feels rather futile, but that doesn't stop you from crawling up the steep hill, hoping the damned creatures can't follow. Had you known your comfortable car ride required survival skills, you would've worn a different pair of pants.

What's even more ridiculous is the nature of your perpetrator. Of course, you tell yourself, you had to trust a company that can't differentiate between the Cretaceous and the Jurassic. What's one or two million years? What's one or two dead humans in the grand statistics of their park?

You finally reach the top of the hill, and trip over some overgrown roots. Your collapse is cushioned by the scarce bushes patching the ground. Suddenly, you feel the branches vibrating against your burnt cheeks. Dear Lord, futile indeed. The heavy, bulky legs of the Carnotaurus approach you in a chaotic trample, nonchalantly stepping over your last bits of hope.

Knees scraping against the rocks, you close your eyes and shield your face, bent over like some beggar awaiting punishment. You're petrified. Did the guide feel anything when his innards stretched and tore under the unforgiving mouth?

The rough, scaly skin of the monster brushes against the back of your thighs. There it is! Flesh coming undone, bones giving in to the...wait. What are they doing, exactly? You subtly tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange event.

It seems that your resigned position has given them different ideas. The horned beasts investigate your scent with peculiar interest. A brief altercation ensues, in which they lock their horns together and their tails swing around threateningly, nearly crushing you in their blind aggression. You cry out and try to distance yourself from the thundering scene, but a clawed foot pins you back into the ground.

You suspect your present captor is the winner of the conflict, standing above you triumphantly as the others wait aside. Is this the part where you become a grand meal? Its enormous teeth graze your clothing, and the threads come undone.

In a most unexpected turn of events, it's you who ends up stuffed. You don't know what pain to focus on: your back hurts from the rhythmic swaying, bare skin grating against the parched earth; your privacy is burning from the sudden, invasive stretch, as the creature buries itself deeper with each hungry pound.

Eventually, a familiar knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach. The thrusts become smoother, your legs weaker. Shameless moans begin to roll out of your drooling mouth, and you hold onto the Carnotaurus' rugged hips. Its mouth is slightly open, panting and groaning, blowing hot air against your already feverish body.

Your own high is interrupted by a thick, hot wave of fluid abruptly crashing against your inner walls. The beast detaches itself from you, leaving you heaving, dripping and sighing in disappointment. The least you could've gotten from this erotic absurdity was a decent orgasm.

Your naked body is suddenly shrouded in shadow. You look up to see a different member of the pack positioning itself between your legs. Glancing at the others, a horrifying, perverted thought occurs to you: they're taking turns, fucking you relentlessly.

Perhaps you will get your chance, after all. Or multiple.

#monster imagine #monster x reader #monster x human #carnotaurus x reader #monster romance #monster smut #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker

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love0nstrike · 4 months ago

Text

☆彡He’s a D*ck, So She’s Tess?

Bill Dickey x Reader

Summary: A new girl transfers to Eltingville high and Bill writes her off as another bimbo who’ll hardly look at him. Until he spots her Dick Tracy comics. He’s in over his head after that.

TW: literally all kinds of misogyny. This is Bill Dickey we’re talking about. I might’ve made him a little nicer than usual, but that's just because I think if he was ever with a girl he had a real chance with he’d be too shocked to actually be an asshole. At first at least.

“Captain, are you alright?” buzzed a serene voice from Bill’s radio.

He set his phaser rifle down and sends a transmission over, “I’m alright, sweetheart. I’ve always got things under control.”

He puts a hand above his eyes as he surveys the area. He had just landed on an unknown planet with his crew of bombshell broads. The power cell on his phaser rifle was fully charged and he still had some kiss marks from the crew.

He was ready to conquer any potential threats.

The ground beneath him was hot and sand-like, but firm enough to act like gravel. There wasn’t much he knew about this strange planet. The sun was much stronger out here, and it was evident on the ridiculous amount of sweat that had begun accumulating on him. These damn Starfleet uniforms weren’t made for this kind of weather. Fighting against the glare of the sun, he squinted for some sort of sign of life.

He had been wandering for quite a while, and yet he hadn’t seen a single moving thing beyond the particles of sand he kicked as he walked. Sick of the overbearing weather, he sighs and gets ready to head back.

Until he spots it. Not too far in the distance is a figure. Immediately back on alert, he lifts his rifle and stomps toward it. The form gets clearer, but the shine of the sun prohibits him from seeing much.

It was a girl, that much he could make out. Oh.

It’s a girl.

A smirk immediately plasters itself on his face as he holsters his rifle and confidently walks forward. He would never miss an opportunity to add another fine woman to his ship.

When he feels close enough he puts his hands on his hips, “Need any help, princess?”.

The figure stays quiet. He puts a hand above his eyes in an attempt to shield the sun. He still can’t fully see her and it’s really starting to get on his nerves. Part of her ankle comes into view, which is enough to satiate his impatience, for now.

He could tell that she was wearing a loose dress. What kind, specifically? How was he to know? He didn’t care for that girly bullshit. It was short enough for him to see her beautiful legs. While his eyes hungrily raked over them, he noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes either.

“What the hell?” he muttered, furrowing his brows. He motioned toward her feet with his hand, “how aren’t you fucking melting out here?”.

As if at the mention of it, he suddenly realized just how hot he had gotten. His sweat was leaving pools in his uniform and he felt much, much weaker. His vision wavered as he tried to keep his balance. He looked back up at her but the figure was gone. Before he could search for her, the alarm on his ship started to blare. His head shot up and turned to see the emergency lights shining. He reached for his radio but it was gone.

It was then that he realized just how close the sun had gotten. Way too close. And way too fast. And somehow it was getting even closer. Fuck. He abandoned any visions he had for the girl. She was probably ugly anyways. He had more than enough women to keep him company onboard. He realized if he wanted to keep his crew and his life, he needed to head back immediately.

He dropped his rifle and ran for his life. The sun was moving impossibly closer and his skin felt like it was burning up. As he neared the ship, his heart dropped at the sound of the engine starting. It was going to lift off without him!

Had even his beautiful crew decided to abandon him?

His despair was interrupted at the sight of the figure from earlier. The girl was alive. And on his ship.

She stood on the edge, holding her hand out. Bill could hardly breathe as the sun overtook half the sky and his skin ached. Yet, he kept running. He would be damned if he let his ship of beauties leave him to die like this.

As he neared the ship, he heard the girl scream at him to jump and it gave him one last kick of energy. As the ship lifted, it kicked up a flurry of sand that blinded him. Moving blindly, he jumped forward as she caught his hand. She held onto him as the spaceship lifted and he dangled by one hand. He looked down as the planet below him burst into a grand ball of flames. The flames seemed to get closer and closer and closer till—

He woke with a start.

Panting and sweaty, his eyes were wide open. He immediately groaned and threw his hand across his face. The sun was beating down on his face through his curtains, and he felt like he was back in his dream. Another stupid dream about imaginary women, and this time he doesn’t even get to see the damn broad. He can even still hear the stupid alarm. Wait. Alarm? Christ, it’s his alarm. He furiously rubs his eyes and sighs. If he’s tardy again, that’s his 4th absence of the month. He’ll get another call from the attendance office and his bitch mom will ground him right on time for the Star Trek marathon on Friday.

He quickly rose, staggering toward his drawer. No brushing or washing today, not like he cared for it usually. He shoved the first shit he could find on and walked to the bathroom. His clock glowing an angry red as he walked past. 7:30. Fuck, not even enough time for a morning sesh. He shoved his porn mag to the side and walked right up to the sink. Splashing cold water on his face, he ran his hand through his hair. Eh, good enough. He slipped his bag on and hurried out the door. What a shitty start to the day.

—----------------------------------

There was one thing he would never get over. He was on his 4th year of high school and there was one question he could never answer. Why was everyone so fucking loud in the morning?

A pack of stupid broads in the corner, laughing and huddled together, throwing glares at the rest of the class. The nerdy, but boring freaks at the front. The sounds of zippers and books slamming as they prepped for class unusually early. Try-hards. Deep laughs hit like nails on a chalkboard in front of him as he watched the meathead jocks shadow box each other and leave a whiff of axe body spray as they moved. At the very front sat his old hag of a teacher who was probably too close to a retirement home to hear a damn thing anymore.

He sighed, trying to look away. Sat in his usual seat, it felt like he never woke up as the bright sun hit him right in the eyes as he turned. He dropped his head into the safety of his arms. Between the usual chatter and the blinding light, he felt like his head would explode. So caught up in feeling like shit, he hardly noticed the new silence.

Shifting in his now unusually loud seat, he finally caught up to reality. Slowly lifting his head, his eyes followed the still class to the front of the room.

There was a girl.

With the glare of the sun, he could hardly see more than her outline. He shoved his hand up like a shield, and finally, he saw her clearly.

Had he died and gone to Valhalla?

Surely, he died in his valiant dedication to fandom and was finally being rewarded for his efforts. With a heavenly glow surrounding her, there stood the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. His eyes raked her top to bottom, from her shining eyes to her shifting feet. Christ, she was a wet dream reincarnated.

As his jaw hung slightly open and his eyes stayed glued to her form, he finally noticed his teacher motion her forwards. There was movement from the girl’s beautiful lips. Only it was too late. He had no idea what she said and she was walking right toward him. He forced his jaw to close and stood up in his seat slightly. Don’t wanna look like a pussy. He gulped as she got clearer and prettier. There was an empty seat next to him and he was certain she was gonna take it.

Visions overtook him of suavely talking her over as she laid her head on her hand, looking at him with the most desperate fuck-me eyes.

He’d hand her a pencil, maybe an eraser too. She’d flutter her lashes at him and laugh at his jokes. She’d put her hand on his shoulder as she laughed and she’d follow him as class ended right to the band room. He didn’t even take band, but he heard from Josh that kids got up to some freaky shit in the closets over there. He’d undress her slowly and– Nope, can’t think that far right now. Think of something else.

As his hopes soared, they were smashed into the fucking ground with the force of Mjölnir as she turned left. Oh, Fuck off. The stupid popular bitches were waving right at her, motioning her towards them. Just like that, he knew it was over. He felt like the world's biggest moron. Every bitch is the same, he knew it. He dropped his head in his hands again. It was going to be a long morning.

The bell brutally tore him from his nap and he immediately scrambled to get out. He speed walked toward the bathrooms, aching to get his one moment of peace going over Pete’s "Sci-fi’s Hottest Whores" scrapbook he made with magazines he stole from the supermarket. Obviously, hanging out by the bathrooms that had an air of shit from the broken plumbing wasn’t his favorite, but it was the club’s only safehaven from bullies. He felt his tense shoulders relax as the club came into sight. As he nodded towards the boys and set his bag down, Jerry asked him how he was doing.

Bill groaned and his eyes narrowed. Jerry immediately regretted asking, but Bill already began his (first) rant of the day as he opened his leaky lunch bag. The club all brought their own lunches to school. They knew better than to go to the lunchline, where they’d get robbed before they even got a glimpse of the food.

Bill ate and spoke at the same time, dropping crumbs everywhere. As he got to the part where he saw the new girl, he set his sandwich down and paused his messy bites. “I’m telling you, she was the most beautiful bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on. I almost bent her over my desk and took her right there,” he grumbled as Pete raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill sighed and looked down, “For a second, she looked just like the girl in my dreams. I really thought I had a good premonition going on there.”

Josh was scarfing down his mom’s meatloaf, not entirely interested in the conversation. “So?” he muttered through his mouth full of food.

Bill slammed his hand down as he continued, “She was walking right to me! Till the stupid cheer whores motioned her over. And of course, she took the bait. Just like that, the love of my life is gone.”

Pete rubbed his hands along his knees, ”She might not be yours, but if she’s that hot she might be mine. Send her my way, ya’?” he smirked.

Bill sent him a deep glare, “Over my dead body. She won’t want your shrimp dick, freak.”

Josh laughed, again with his mouth full, “Like she’d want yours. She’d need to be Bionic-1 to see a thing on you.”

Jerry sighed, “She won’t want any of ours if she joins cheer. She’s gonna get passed around the jocks like a football.” He fumbled through his magic cards, trying to sort his sliver deck. He was half listening to the conversation, too distracted by the task in front of him.

Bill kicked the cards right out of his hands, “Don’t say some shit like that around me. You got a cuck fetish or something?” he sneered.

Jerry scrambled to pick up his cards, now definitely too distracted to listen to the conversation. Bill hardly had an appetite after that, realizing how right Jerry might be. He shoved his sandwich down his bag and wiped his hands on his pants. He took Pete’s scrapbook from Josh’s hands, “Gimme that. Like you can see it over your fat fupa,” he grumbled. Josh protested for it back but it fell on deaf ears.

______________________________

He hadn’t thought about her again for the rest of the school day. Once he was free from hell, anything school related trickled right out of his mind. He was walking out the main gate with the club, arguing about the X-Men Age of Apocalypse comic that made a totally bullshit turn in his opinion. His day had seemed to finally even out.

With a gentle breeze flowing through the trees and his jacket tied around his waist, he felt much lighter in the moment. The clumsy steps of the group against the pavement was all he could hear as he passionately continued his rant. He had just finished slapping Jerry across the head and cackling with Pete when a movement in front of him caught his eye.

He almost bit down on his tongue as he realized who it was. He felt a sudden lump in his throat and didn’t even notice the pause in his steps till the rest of the group were a few feet ahead of him.

It was her. She was walking in the opposite direction as the group, straight toward them. He stood in the middle of the path and anyone with an ounce of awareness in the moment would notice that he was in her way. Luckily, he was the dumbest motherfucker in the world at the moment. He failed to move out of the collision course and her gaze was too busy with her bag as she fumbled to get something out.

She rammed right into him and they fell with a thud.

He took note of her heavenly scent before anything else. It was almost good enough to distract him from how much of a fool he had just made out of himself. He didn’t have much time to ponder over it though, as he sat up on his knees and noticed her bag’s contents littered along the ground. His eyes lazily raked over the pile in his daze.

Until he spotted it.

If he was dazed before, he felt on the verge of a stroke now. His blood rushed to his head and his heart thundered like it would burst out of his chest. He started breathing manually as he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. His hands fumbled at his sides in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Comics. Not just any comics. Not the stupid, girly romance kind. Dick Tracy comics. It didn’t take a detective to realize what that meant. As if his body was moving on its own, his hands shakily picked up the comics and he turned toward her.

The angel rubbed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a small smile on her shiny lips. Her eyes were soft and glittered as she looked at him. At least he thought so.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking at all,” she said sheepishly.

Her voice felt like warm honey and the light seeping through the trees enveloped her in a beautiful glowing frame. Her head tilted and he felt as if he could see the gears turn in her mind. “We have a class together, right? I remember you,” she said with a smile.

At his newfound discovery that he had just gone mute, she continued. “I remember you because of your Magik shirt, I think you’ve got good taste.” His mind short circuited as he looked down. He had no memory of even picking it out this morning and it was slightly stained… wait, how did she know who Magik was?

He felt like he was going to pass out and struggled to find his voice. It cracked as he choked the question out, “Are these yours?” he questioned as he held out the comics. Her eyes widened and she quickly reached out for them.

“Oh fuck, yeah, those are mine. Hope I didn’t scratch them up, they were in mint condition when I got them,” she said as she squinted and flipped them around to inspect them.

And he was a goner.

He smiled at her. A real, albeit shy, smile. Maybe he had never woken from his dream after all.

Still in amazement, his thoughts stumbled out of his upturned lips, “You’re heavy.” She tilted her head at him with a blank expression. Oh. Wait, fuck. “I. I meant your bag. It looks heavy. Ya need help?” he stammered as his face burned.

She smiled softly and nodded “Yeah, thanks.” She dusted her knees as she rose, “so, you like Dick Tracy too?” she asked.

He nodded, suddenly growing uncharacteristically shy. Fuck. How the hell do you talk to girls? He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he rushed to pick up the rest of her things. It was the only thing he could think to do as his mind scrambled to think of a pick-up line. Should he tell her he had a 10 pack of condoms ready if she could handle it? He wiped the thought from his mind, he didn’t even know where to get condoms or how they worked. Although, obviously she liked him if she was keeping up a conversation with him for this long. Maybe it was worth looking into. He hurriedly stuffed her things back in her bag before putting it on. Was he seriously gonna carry a girl’s bag for her? He looked up, ready to protest.

His words died on his tongue when she held her hand out and smiled at him. Christ, l need to see her in some erotic cosplay. As his shaky hand touched hers, he felt like he was born again. Her soft skin made his heart throb and he felt like he just came down with a fever. I’m touching a real life girl. His knees felt weak as he attempted to rise. Any issue he had with carrying her bag was gone.

He’d kick a kid into oncoming traffic if she asked, as long as she’d keep touching him like that.

____________________________

Unbeknownst to Bill, his friends stood frozen in place a few feet away. The club was too shocked to do anything but watch. A cold, eerie feeling washed over them all. A girl being nice to Bill. And Bill being nice to a girl. They’ve got to be in hell. The world has to be ending. Someone’s gotta call the fucking police.

“What the fuck,” muttered Pete.

Jerry stood slack jawed and Josh hadn’t even noticed he dropped his brand new Superboy comic.

A cold breeze carried their silence. Yet, Bill had never felt warmer.

#welcome to eltingville #bill dickey x reader #bill dickey #josh levy #jerry stokes #pete dinunzio #the eltingville club #eltingville jerry #eltingville bill #eltingville pete #eltingville josh #bill dickey x you #eltingville fanfic #eltingville x reader #bill probably stinks in this & reader doesnt know him well enough to tell him to brush his shit #dorkin look away from this pls #eltingville oc #eltingville self insert

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satori-runa · 9 months ago

Text

—Ghost Trap

Summary: Daisuke gets scared after you tease him with a ghost story, and now he seeks protection from you.

Words: 1,2k

Tags: Fluff, OOC

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Daisuke and you sat in the utility room. He was perched comfortably on Swansea’s desk, reading a thick manual about the safety foam and its “unique properties,” while you sat cross-legged on the floor, screwdriver in hand, prying screws from a broken toaster.

“I don’t think I can memorize all this.” Daisuke mumbled, pouting as he tapped his head with a pencil.

“You have to.” You hummed, tugging out another screw. “Swansea will have your head if you don’t get it right. And if it’s not Swansea who gets you… then it’ll be the ghosts.”

Daisuke froze, glancing up with wide, doe-like eyes, his mouth falling open in shock. “G-Ghosts?”

“You didn’t know?” You asked, stifling a laugh and leaning in to make your voice as eerie as possible. “Late at night, there are… strange sounds. Eerie laughter. And if you’re alone, sometimes you can feel a cold chill crawling up your back. That’s the ship’s ghost.” You said it with a dramatic flair, knowing he’d fall for it—he was just so trusting and genuine.

Daisuke’s eyes grew wide as he clutched the manual like it could save him from the paranormal. “W-Wait, are you serious? But I—I don’t even know how to deal with ghosts! They didn’t cover that in Safety Foam 101!”

You stifled another laugh, watching him inch closer to the edge of Swansea’s desk, still keeping a wide-eyed lookout as if expecting a ghost to swoop in at any moment. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a certified ghost deterrent.” You whispered, putting the screwdriver down with a conspiratorial grin. “If you hear any spooky sounds, just call for me.”

Daisuke’s face lit up, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “R-Really? I’ll… I’ll definitely call you then! I’d feel way safer.”

“Good.” You chuckled, adding with a wink, “But just so you know, I don’t work for free. My ghost-busting fee is one chocolate bar per ghost scare.”

Daisuke let out a soft laugh, nodding earnestly as if you’d just made an official deal. “Deal! I’ll keep my stash ready!” He paused, glancing nervously around. “So… um, about the noises… have you… have you heard them a lot?”

“Oh, definitely.” You nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “Last week, I even saw a shadow in the break room! Right near the snack machine.”

Daisuke gasped, then shivered a little, almost instinctively scooting closer to you. “You’re… really brave, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, nudging his arm. “What can I say? Just another day on the spaceship for me. Besides, if any ghosts show up, I’ll protect you.”

Daisuke looked down, his blush deepening. “Thanks… you’re, um, kinda the coolest person on this ship.” He looked away quickly, scratching his head with the pencil, pretending to focus on the manual as if he hadn’t just made his crush on you totally obvious.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It was late, the spaceship quiet except for the soft hum of the engines. You were half-asleep when you heard a timid knock on your cabin door. Groggily, you shuffled out of bed and opened it to find Daisuke standing there, clutching his pillow with wide, nervous eyes.

“Hey… uh… sorry, were you asleep?” he asked, glancing down, clearly embarrassed.

“A little.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with a sleepy smile. “What’s up?”

Daisuke shifted on his feet, looking down the darkened hallway. “I, uh… kept thinking about… you know, the ghost. Every little sound is freaking me out, and I… I was wondering if I could, maybe… sleep here? Just for tonight?” His cheeks were tinged pink, his voice a nervous whisper.

You stifled a laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on, ghost hunter. You’re safe here.”

He visibly relaxed as he stepped in, setting his pillow down next to yours on the bed. You both settled in under the blankets, Daisuke glancing nervously around as he tried to focus on anything but ghostly thoughts.

“Thanks.” He murmured, voice soft in the darkness. “I know it’s silly, but it’s like… every time I close my eyes, I imagine some spooky shadow hovering over me.”

“It’s not silly.” You replied with a grin. “I get it. Plus, I did kinda scare you earlier.”

Daisuke gave a small laugh, looking over at you. “I believed you way too easily, huh?”

You smiled. “Just a little.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, exchanging soft, sleepy comments, his laugh warming the quiet room. But then, suddenly, a loud metallic clank echoed from somewhere in the ship. Daisuke froze, eyes wide, before he immediately scooted over and clung onto your arm, his grip tight.

“W-What was that?” He whispered, his face practically buried in your shoulder.

You stifled a laugh, feeling his warm breath against your shoulder. “Probably just Jimmy knocking over a toolbox again.”

He relaxed a little but still held on, cheeks flushed. “O-Oh… right.” He hesitated, but his grip didn’t loosen. “I’ll… just stay close in case there is a ghost, you know?”

“Good idea.” You replied, chuckling as you wrapped an arm around him. “Ghost or no ghost, I’ve got you covered.” It was too dark, else he could see the faint blush on your cheeks as you felt his body against yours.

Daisuke snuggled closer, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks… you’re the best,” before his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder. You smiled, feeling warm and content as you drifted off too, Daisuke still nestled at your side.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Morning light from the big screen filtered softly through the small cabin, and Daisuke stirred, slowly waking up. He blinked, his mind foggy with sleep, and then suddenly became aware of a gentle weight against him. Glancing down, he realized he was completely tangled in your arms, his face inches from yours.

His heart leapt into his throat as his cheeks flushed a deep red. Oh no, oh no, he thought, trying to process the situation. You looked so peaceful, completely at ease, while he was doing his best not to panic. One of his arms was wrapped around your back, his fingers resting against your shoulder, while his other arm was awkwardly pinned beneath you.

How did this even happen?! He tried to pull away slightly, but that only made him feel the warmth of your arm around his waist, pulling him closer in your sleep. For a second, he considered slipping out of your hold, but the thought made him hesitate. Gradually, his heart started to calm down as he watched you, realizing that he didn’t mind this as much as he thought he would.

This… actually feels nice, he admitted to himself, a soft, shy smile forming on his face. His initial embarrassment gave way to a warm, quiet happiness.

Taking a deep breath, Daisuke let himself settle back into the pillows, pulling you a little closer with a gentle, tentative movement. He rested his forehead lightly against yours, his heart fluttering as he closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace, savoring the quiet moment with you by his side.

For now, he was content just to stay like this, tangled up together, as he waited for you to wake up.

#⊹₊⟡⋆satori.speaks #⊹₊⟡⋆writings #⊹₊⟡⋆mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #mouthwashing

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bluemantics · 23 days ago

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JULANCE DAY 1: GARRISON

“Oh, Lance, you look so tired! And pale. Are you getting time outside, or do they hide you in metal rooms away from the light? You need sun, and rest!”

“Ma—“

“We have paid for you to go to a fancy pilot school! They should be treating you better. I’ll talk to the teachers.”

“I got scholarship—“

“They better not be feeding you slop!”

“Mama, stop!”

A pause settled over the small dorm room, finally giving Lance space to breathe. He sighed, letting his back slope and blinking back the exhaustion that threatened to consume his whole body. Overhead, LED lighting washed out his skin, the effect only enhanced by the shitty camera on his tablet. He leaned back in his desk chair after a moment, embarrassed to have snapped.

“I’m sorry,” he began, apologetically looking away from Maria McClain’s expectant face hovering onscreen. I’m having a great time, Mama.”

The words tasted like a lie.

“Good. I just worry because I love you,” she reminded him, her smile lines tugging into a slight frown. God, Lance hated to see that expression on her face. He mustered up his best plastered-on smile for her benefit.

“Seriously! I’m eating great food. Lots of friends, but it’s only week one, so who knows what’ll happen? And I’m learning loads. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” his mom relented, voice quieter. “I miss you. Please call again soon, we all would like it.”

“Even Rachel?” Lance teased.

“Especially Rachel,” she laughed. “Te quiero mucho, hijo.”

“Te quiero,” Lance replied, leaping to end the call. Finally met with a blank, dark screen, he threw his head back and groaned.

A face appeared over his, blinking down at him curiously.

“Gah!” Lance reeled forward in shock, which was a mistake, as it led to him banging his forehead against the other boy’s.

“Ow!” They both shouted in unison. Scrunching his face, Lance rubbed at his forehead and glared at the offender. “Hunk, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Hunk blurted, his lip trembling as he gingerly poked at what would likely become a bruise. “I was just listening— well, that sounds creepy, I’m not a stalker! I promise! It’s hard to believe me ‘cause we’ve only known each other a week, I bet. Just, y’know, I could hear from my bed and I get how it is when moms worry— I have two of them, they worry lots. And I was just wondering why, if you don’t mind—“

“Spit it out, man!” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. Honestly, he hadn’t talked to his roommate, Hunk Garrett, much since they’d started at the Garrison. He hadn’t talked to anyone, really.

It had only been a single week since classes began and Lance had moved into the dorms. In that time, he’d tried his best to make a few connections. Even though they all started at the same time, Lance felt like everyone already had a clique. No one was outright rude to him, save James Griffin (who had actually turned around when Lance introduced himself). Still, he’d been unable to get past a simple “where are you from?”

Anxiety held Lance tight in its clutches without a person to lean on. He hadn’t even had the chance to get to know Hunk because of their alternate orientation schedules, separated by engineer and pilot classes. After the first three days of constantly being kept busy, it just became too awkward for Lance to feel like reintroducing himself. He wasn’t new to sharing a space, but it definitely seemed like Hunk was nervous about it, with the way he ran to the bathrooms to change.

Lance decided he wouldn’t judge Hunk, despite the odd behavior. The Garrison was nothing like the comforts of home, and everything felt strange. Maybe he was an only child.

Now, though, after a week of quietly shuffling around each other, this interruption was very, very strange.

“Why did you lie to your mom?”

Lance blinked at his roommate. He wasn’t expecting that question. “I didn’t lie.”

“You did, though,” Hunk pressed, shifting his weight and looking away from Lance. He twisted his hands. “You said you have a lot of friends.”

“Okay, wow, that’s rude.” Lance blinked, taken off guard.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Hunk quickly changed course. “I’m in the same boat! I… just saw you sitting alone at lunch today. I didn’t realize we have the same lunch, and, um, I’m really, really sick of eating alone.”

A pang struck through Lance’s chest. He connected deeply to that sentiment, even if he was ashamed to be caught in his lies. “Oh, uh, okay.”

“Look, my moms are freaked out about this school. I had to twist arms to get here. I really, really don’t want them to get even more upset if they figure out I’m eating alone,” he rambled, now looking at Lance directly. “We could eat together? Maybe? You could also tell your mom.”

“Yeah! Yeah, okay,” Lance tried to cover up his eagerness, crossing his arms and attempting a nonplussed facade. “Sounds… cool.”

“Cool!” Hunk beamed, sticking out his hand. “Shake on it?”

“You’re funny, Hunk,” Lance decided, shaking his hand with a small, lopsided smile. “It’s a deal.”

Hunk’s hand fit warmly around Lance’s, and something clicked.

“So.” Hunk beamed while he fidgeted with the hem of his uniform. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Garlic knots.”

“Oh, man! We’re totally gonna be friends.”

“Because of garlic knots?”

“Absolutely because of garlic knots.”

The next night, when they had garlic and oil smeared across their hands under the harsh lights in the restricted kitchens, Lance discovered that Hunk was right, and maybe always would be.

#happy Julance and surprise guys!!!!!!!!#I am still alive and was so inspired by today’s prompt. I forgot it was Julance so pardon any errors in this #I did write it up in snatches throughout dinner and after #I love Lance mcclain almost as much as I DESPISE HIM/j #I love him I jest.#yk who else I love? hunk.#voltron #lance mcclain #klance #vld #lance voltron #julance2025 #2025julance #julance #julance 2025 #hunk garrett

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qinche-cvmslvt · 2 months ago

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The First Date

A Professor Sylus and MC, “Forbidden”, side story.

Content Warning: SMUT, NSFW, Early relationship, dating. Age gap. Fluff.

A/N: This doesn’t impact our main story and is not an official chapter but yall, I wasn’t kidding when I said I loved that prompt from anon. So enjoy ❤️

The movie was halfway through, dialogue forgotten. You're in one of his t-shirts, it's too big even with the sleeves bunched up at your elbows. Your thighs are bare and your legs are thrown across his lap like it's your rightful throne. The air between you is thick and lazy. A slow make-out session that started with a laugh and has turned into something softer and deeper. Sylus didn't rush, not since the first time you two ever kissed. No, now he takes his time. One hand on your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck as he kisses you like he's studying you and memorizing.

Your fingers graze the hem of his shirt, slowly sliding underneath just to feel him. his skin is warm, tight over muscle and he smirks against your mouth.

“You keep doing that,” he murmurs, voice low and smug, “and this movie’s going to end with you flat on your back, Kitten.”

You hum all innocent. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

His laugh rumbles through his chest. He leans back just enough to look at you. Then his eyes flick to the movie still playing in the background, then back to your kiss-bitten lips.

“We should go out.”

You blink, almost shocked. “Right now?”

He leans in, nips at your bottom lip before answering.

“Yeah. I’m taking you out of Linkon for a few hours.”

You tilt your head, suspicious. “Where?”

Sylus just smirks, that signature curve of mischief and challenge. “Does it matter?”

You roll your eyes but your pulse quickens. Of course it matters, this would be your first date with him. The one thing you couldn't do like regular couples. You look at him and feel a strange mix of calm and anticipation wash over you.

“You’ve got that look again,” You mutter.

“What look?” He smirks, a twinkle in those ruby eyes.

“The one that means I’m about to end up doing something reckless and pretending it was my idea.”

His grin sharpens. “Exactly. Now go grab a hoodie. No one’s recognizing you where we’re going.”

The door closes shut behind you as you step outside. The sun is high in the sky and clouds are stretched across blue. You tug one of his hoodies over your frame, it swallows you whole and your cheeks are flushed from the rush. Sylus stands there in a black leather jacket open over a black tee, boots laced over jeans and a helmet already held by opened finger gloves. When you step out onto the curb, he tosses you a second helmet like it’s an invitation and a dare all wrapped in one.

“You ever been on a bike before?” he asks, eyebrow cocked.

You hesitate, "No..." you admit softly, "...But I trust you.".

That little soft admission does something to Sylus. Your voice was low, honest and reckless in the best way. His smirk softens just enough to make it dangerous.

“Then hold on tight, Kitten.”

The engine roars to life, wind tears through the silence and brush against your skin like a thousand whispered promises. You're pressed flush against his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist and Linkon shrinks behind you along with the chaos, the rules and the expectations. All of it is swallowed by the blur of asphalt and adrenaline.

You don't speak during the drive. Neither does he because every lean of his body, every shift of the gears is the conversation and every time you squeeze him tighter, is your excited and trusting reply.

Sylus pulls up near a tucked-away outlet mall called The Zone. He parks the bike in the shade and climbs off first before offering you his hand. You take it instantly and let him help you off the bike and you stretch your legs while laughing breathlessly.

“I feel like we just robbed a bank.”

He grins. “Nah. We’re just fugitives from reality.”

The automatic doors part with a sigh, letting you in like ghosts in plain sight. The buzz of the centre is soft and hums low with life. Couples were strolling hand in hand, groups of kids were laughing and the shop was lit with a warm and inviting gold. Then there was the two of you. Shadows walking side by side, fingers interlaced and walking hand in hand just like every other couple there. He pulled you in with every step and you leaned into him like you've known this forever. You squeeze his hand once and he looks down at you with one brow slightly raised.

“What?” he murmurs, amused.

You shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “Just making sure you’re real.”

He stops walking and pulls you gently to a halt. He presses your linked hands to his chest.

“Feel that?” His heartbeat, steady and deep beneath your fingers.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sweetie.”

Damn. The way he says it, not loud or dramatic. Just a truth bomb dropped like a promise and it makes your knees weak.

You continue to walk without a destination. Blending in with the crowds, going past perfume counters and candle shops. Past glittering phone cases and keychains shaped like cats. Everything is filtered through the low hum of flirtation and that quiet energy that crackles just under the skin. Then Sylus stops at a sunglasses kiosk and picks up a ridiculous oversized pair of glitter heart frames.

You stare blankly at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He puts them on anyways and your laughter bounces of the walls, pure and breathless.

“Oh my god, you look like you just stepped out of an early 2000's rave.”

He lifts your hand and kisses the back of it through his ridiculous disguise. “And yet you’re still holding my hand. What’s that say about you, sweetie?”

You eventually find a little shop that smells like lavender and fake leather. The shelves are crowded with useless adorable things, tiny candles, sequin-covered notebooks, and plushies the size of fists. You're halfway through laughing at a rack of vibrating cat pens when you spot it. A small and soft plushie keychain. It's black with tiny bat wings, vampire teeth stitched into a cartoon snarl and bright red plastic eyes. It was ridiculous but you pluck it off the hook and turn to him, holding it up between two fingers.

“It’s you.”

Sylus raises a brow behind his sunglasses, stepping closer and invading your space, as always. “That’s me?”

You nod, lips twitching with amusement. “Tiny. Grumpy. Bites.”

He takes the plush from you and studies it with faux seriousness. “Do I look like a vampire?”

You don't answer right away. Instead, you take a step closer to him. One hand slides up into his hoodie, fingers brushing through silver hair. Your other hand rises to his face and your thumb gently brushes just beneath his eye, right where the red bleeds brightest.

“Well,” you murmur, voice soft but charged, “you are cold to the touch… and you only come alive at night.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips and he doesn’t blink or move.

“Pale skin. Red eyes. Very active during the night…” His hand circles your waist without even thinking. “I guess I do sound like a vampire.”

You grin. “Dangerous.”

He leans down, whispering into your ear. “Only if you beg me to be.”

And just like that, a goddamn plushie just turned into foreplay. Your laugh is breathless and teasing but there's a flicker of warmth under your skin now. You tap his chest with the plush keychain still clutched in your hand.

“You bully people too.”

Sylus tilts his head, feigning offense like it’s a slow, elegant undress. “Me? Bully?” His smirk returns, laced with sin. “How does a vampire bully someone, hmm?”

Before you can speak, he moves. One hand anchors low on your back, the other cradles tighter around your waist. Firm and possessive. He pulls you against him like gravity just gave up trying to keep you apart. He leaned in again, slowly, like a threat and his lips brush the line of your neck.

“Like this?” His voice is barely audible before he kisses you just beneath your ear.

Right where your pulse flutters. The kiss is soft at first and lingers. Then a second kiss comes. Firmer and closer to the edge of a bite. Your breath catches and your hands tighten in his hoodie. God, you hate how fast you melt for him.

Your voice is smaller now. “You—mm—you’re impossible.”

He doesn't move away or let you go.

“You like it.”

After a moment Sylus pulled back just enough to see your face. Your lips were parted, your cheeks were flushed and your pupils were blown wide. One more second like this and you two were going to get kicked out for indecency in the keychain aisle.

“I need a minute,” he muttered, catching your hand. “Before I pin you against this display rack.”

“Wh—where are we going?”

He nodded toward the back of the store. “That tiny photobooth? C’mon.”

“What? Sylus—”

But he was already tugging you toward it.

The booth looked comically small next to him. He ducked his head to fit, pulling you onto his lap without hesitation. His legs took up most of the floor, leaving you nowhere else to sit. You landed with a yelp, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

“This is not why photobooths were invented,” you hissed.

He adjusted you on his lap, hands deceptively casual as they slid to your waist. “Sure it is. Two people. One camera. No space to lie.”

The first flash went off before you could form a comeback. Your face was still flushed from the vampire flirting and his grin was lazy and cocky, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

In the second photo you covered your face with your hands, laughing, while his mouth was close to your jaw, teeth moving to graze just below your ear again.

The third photo flashed when you were mid-whisper. You leaned in close to say something flirty and he responded with something filthier and the camera caught it in your eyes.

By the fourth photo you were making out. No hesitation, just hands moving and the soft sounds of your sighs against his lips.

When the strip printed you reached for it but Sylus' reflexes were faster. He grabbed them first then held it high, playfully out of your reach while you swatted his chest.

“I hate you,” you said, laughing breathlessly.

“Uh-huh. Sure you do.” He glanced down at the photos, then back at you, expression unreadable for a moment. “This one’s mine.”

You paused. “Oh?”

He folded the strip carefully and slid it into his wallet, right behind his ID. “Just in case I need proof. Of how you really look at me.”

With the strip of photos safely tucked away in his wallet you two had decided to leave the store. Your hands were brushing just slightly until Sylus caught yours with his. No other words were said between you, just long fingers wrapping around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You walked in comfortable silence for a minute. Enjoying the shopping centres warm light. Your fingers squeezed his and he returned the squeeze without missing a beat. Then you tugged him toward a smaller boutique off to the side, it had pastel signs, minimalist decor and everything looked overpriced. As soon as you entered, it smelt like rosewater and vanilla.

“A skincare store?” he said, eyeing the shelves full of glass jars and tiny droppers.

“You’ll survive,” you smirked.

He watched as you flitted from shelf to shelf, reading ingredients like you were decoding spells. He didn't know a damn thing about toner or hyaluronic acid but he liked the way your brow furrowed when you were deep in thought.

You held up two products. “Okay, these are both really good—”

“Get both,” he said, without even glancing at the price tags.

You blinked. “I wasn’t asking you to—”

“I know,” he said smoothly. “But I’m still paying.”

“Sylus…”

He stepped closer, hand on the small of your back. “Don’t make a scene, sweetheart. It’s just skincare. I’m not asking you to name our firstborn.”

You huffed, but your eyes were warm. “Fine. But I’m using it on you, too.”

He smirked. “Can’t wait.”

As you turned to grab one last bottle, he snagged something from the lip balm stand near the counter. It was cherry-flavoured, tinted and a silky red like temptation in a tube. You were too distracted to notice that he added it to the pile and as you stepped up to the counter, Sylus handed the items over before you could argue about payment again. His card was out and tapped before the clerk could even announce the total.

Once they were outside again, he pulled the bag from your hands and fished out the lip balm.

“Here,” he said, holding it up.

You narrowed your eyes. “That wasn’t mine.”

“It is now.”

“What’s the catch?”

His eyes gleamed. “Put it on.”

“Why?”

He leaned down, voice dropping. “So I can see what cherry tastes like when I kiss you.”

Your breath caught again but you reached up and took the lip balm. You uncapped it slowly and swiped it across your lips. He watched every movement, like a man caught under a spell.

You smacked your lips together, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Satisfied?”

“Not even close,” he said, before leaning down and stealing a kiss that tasted like cherries and mischief and everything he hadn’t admitted yet.

You stepped back into the flow of shoppers, your hand still nestled in his, but everything felt different now. Your lips were tingling, and not just from the cherry balm.

Sylus was quiet and smirking. Of course he was. The bastard knew exactly what he’d done.

You caught a glimpse of him as you passed a display window, his sharp profile and silver hair catching the overhead light… and a faint red sheen clinging to his mouth.

Your knees nearly gave out.

“You have…” You started, your voice barely above a whisper as you walked, “a bit of the lip balm still on your mouth.”

He turned to you slightly, still walking. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, looking down.

He stopped just before the exit of the centre, tugging you aside into a little alcove.

His thumb tilted your chin up and his gaze was intense. “You’re blushing.”

“You’re wearing tinted balm.”

“Your fault.” He leaned in, brushing his mouth beside your ear. “You told me to kiss you.”

“I didn’t—!”

“You didn’t stop me either.”

You shoved his chest and your cheeks were burning. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“And you’re a menace.”

“Yet here you are,” he teased, pulling open the door so you could step outside.

The sun had shifted lower in the sky, painting everything gold. The air was crisper now and the breeze was cooler. You shivered slightly, and his arm slid around your waist like it belonged there.

You walked back to the carpark and you tried not to stare at his lips again but it was no use. The pink-red tint was faint now but it was still there. Every time you looked at him your lips tingled in memory of the kiss, his hands and his mouth. Sylus noticed, of course he did.

“You gonna keep staring at my mouth, sweetheart?” he murmured, not looking at you. “Or are you waiting for another taste?”

You choked on a laugh. “I’m considering fishing that lip balm right out of the bag and tossing it.”

He reached into the bag and pulled the tube out like a weapon. “This one?”

You snatched it from his hand.

“Keep it,” he said, watching you put it back in the bag “That way, when I’m not around, you’ve still got something to make your lips taste like me.”

Your blush came back with a vengeance as you watched him straddle the bike. He handed you the helmet, and smirked. “C’mon, Kitten. Let’s get you home before I find another excuse to kiss you in public.”

You went to sit behind him but he stopped you and scooted back on the bike.

“You’re driving,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Just the start. I’ll guide you.” He pulled you closer, helmet in one hand, the other now tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“I—” you swallowed. “Of course I do.”

“Good girl.”

He patted the space in front of him and you climbed on, your back pressed flush against his chest. His arms curled around you like steel cables wrapped in velvet, hands settling over yours on the handlebars, heavy and sure.

“Feet up, balance your hips,” he murmured, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

The engine purred to life beneath you and you could feel every vibration ripple up through your thighs. He was behind you like a rock, solid and warm. His breath fanning across your neck. You rolled out of the lot smooth and slow, your hands twitching nervously under his as he guided the motions.

“Little left,” he said, voice low, right against your pulse. “Good… now throttle—not that much, baby, easy…”

“Why does it feel like I’m flying?”

“Because you are,” he said, and he kissed your neck.

You squeaked, nearly losing your balance. He chuckled and his hands tightened just enough to keep you centered.

“You’re doing perfect,” he rasped. “Can’t wait to get you home.”

You slipped through the highway, gold dusk lighting the road in front of you. His arms never left your body, fingers occassionally shifting your grip and steadying you on turns. For the most part, they just rested. A thumb stroking the edge of your palm. His chest rising and falling against your back. His knees snug at either side of your hips. Every part of you felt caged in, guided and claimed.

When you finally pulled up outside of his apartment, you didn't move. You couldn't. Your heart was thundering, your thighs were like jelly and your palms were sweating from more than just nerves. Sylus reached up and popped your helmet strap loose and set it aside. His lips grazed your jaw.

“You alright?” he asked softly.

You turned your head slightly. “You did that on purpose.”

He smirked. “Taught you how to drive. What else did I do?”

“You—you sat there like—like a heat source and a distraction—”

“And you loved every second.”

You then tried to get off the bike but your knees wobbled. Sylus caught you.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, quieter now. “Always.”

Once you were inside Sylus' apartment the mood had shifted from soft to playful. You made him sit on the couch after tugging his shirt off. He relaxed into it, shirtless and smug and stretched out like the couch was a damn throne that was built just for him. You climbed onto his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and pulled out the little jar from the bag. A face mask. It was pale pink and smelled like roses and your smug satisfaction.

“I’m about to make you prettier,” you said, dipping your fingers in.

His brow arched. “I’m insulted you think that’s possible.”

“Mm, it’s not about what you are, it’s about what you could be,” you teased, swirling a generous dollop across one cheek.

He twitched. “Cold.”

“Oh no, Professor, are you going to give me detention?” you cooed, swiping more across his jawline.

“Detention wouldn’t cover it, Kitten. You’d need an entire semester.”

You laughed, working the mask in gentle strokes, deliberately slow as your fingers painted across his face, nose and forehead. You smoothed the last line of cream just under his eyes and gave a proud little hum.

“There. Perfect. Your skin’s gonna be soft enough to sell kisses.”

His grin was wide, amused and dangerous.

“And what if I only want to sell them to you?”

Your body stilled and you blushed hard. You started digging through the bag like you were looking for another product but really, you were hiding the way your thighs wanted to squeeze around him.

“Don’t distract me while I’m doing your skincare.”

“Then don’t straddle me like this unless you want to be distracted.”

“I’m multitasking.”

His hands slid to your hips, and you could see the grin even under the drying mask. “And I’m barely restrained. We’re not the same.”

“I’m trying to help you, Sylus.”

“Oh, you are. But not in the way you think.”

Your fingers stilled as your eyes met. Face mask or not, his face card was still lethal. Still a storm in disguise.

You licked your lips, still tasting the essence of cherry. “You like being pampered?”

He leaned in. The mask cracked a little at his cheek.

“I like when you touch me,” he murmured. “No matter the excuse.”

The mask was nearly dry now, patchy and cracked, especially around Sylus' smirk. You had been fussing over it for a few minutes now, giggling under your breath as you peeled a piece off his chin with maddening precision.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered, eyes tracking every movement of your hands.

You grinned. “You’re lucky I like high-maintenance men.”

“Oh? That what you think I am?”

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned in, tugging gently at the corner of the mask on his nose. “Fussy. Difficult. But hot enough to get away with it.”

He didn't move or blink. Just sat there like a loaded weapon you hadn't finished disarming. That was until you reached for another bit of dried face mask under his eye. Then he struck. A quick whip of his mouth, his teeth caught the tip of your finger, a gentle nip but sharp enough to make you gasp and jolt on his lap.

“Sylus!” you yelped, laughing as you tried to pull your hand back.

He didn’t let go right away. Just held your finger between his teeth, eyes burning red behind the cracks of a rose-colored face mask, and spoke around the grip.

“I told you… don’t touch me unless you want a reaction.”

You wriggled, still laughing and flushed. “That wasn’t even sexy touching!”

“You’re on my lap. You’re playing with my face. You’re straddling me. It’s all sexy.”

You finally freed your finger and he chased it with his tongue. You playfully smacked his chest.

“God, you’re impossible.”

“Mm. But soft now,” he said, tapping his cheek. “You did a good job.”

You scoffed, trying to bite back your smile. “You’re such a brat.”

He leaned in, lips ghosting your jaw. “Then discipline me.”

You didn't back away. In-fact, you accepted his challenge. You slid your fingers into his silver hair and tugged just hard enough to warn him and he froze just for a moment as he processed the shift in your demeanour.

“Oh,” he murmured, smile curling. “Is that how it’s gonna be?”

“You said to discipline you,” you whispered, dragging your nails down the back of his neck. “So shut up and take it.”

His pupils dilated instantly, like a match to gasoline and he stayed still like a good boy.

You leaned forward thumb brushing over his cheek-bone just to taunt him. “Pale skin,” you whispered, “red eyes… And you’re practically begging for my blood.”

Sylus growled low in his throat, hips shifting under you.

You smirked. “What? Vampire got your tongue?”

He reached for your waist but you pinned his wrists against the backrest of the couch. Straddling him tighter and pressing your chest to his. “Uh-uh. You said you were soft now. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

His head tipped back against the cushions, laughter low and ragged. “You are going to ruin me.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Then you leaned in to kiss him slowly and possessively and he let you do it. Your lips were slick, breath ragged and your thighs were squeezing around his hips. The faintest scent of cherry and rose hanging thick in the air between you. Then you started to grind against him, rolling your hips slowly, needy and dangerously. His hands clenched into fists, and his jaw clenched as if he was trying to hold himself together under you but then you rolled your hips just right. A guttural sound slips out of him.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

You grin against his jaw, lips brushing over his skin ever so slightly. Your voice was sugar-sweet and venom-laced. “Then give in. Let go. Let me take control.”

You move your hips again and his twitch in response. His hands break free from your grip, catching your waist and holding you still. His voice drops lower.

“So you want control?” His thumb slides under the hem of your shirt, dragging against bare skin. “Unfortunately, I can’t give it to you…”He leans in, brushing his lips against the corner of yours. His breath hot and aching. “Not yet.” He pauses as he notices your body trembling under his touch. Then he kisses you hard, his tongue claiming and sweeping deep as if to steal your breath and sanity all in one motion. One hand slides up your spine, the other pressing you tighter into his lap and grinding you down against the thick and unmistakable denim-clad erection beneath you. Your hands fist in his silver hair as his mouth moves along your jaw hot and slow. You gasp when his hips buck, reminding you exactly how much power he's still holding back.

“Sylus…” you breathe out, voice trembling with desire.

He groans against your skin, his hands dragging the hoodie up your body until it's over your head and tossed somewhere behind you. Your tank top follows, fingers grazing along your ribs like he's memorising every inch of you. Your bra strap slips off your shoulder as he kisses you there, leaving heat in his wake.

The bag of skincare creams, perched precariously beside you, tumbles to the floor with a thud, forgotten. No more teasing with masks or cherry balm. This was raw, building and inevitable.

“You keep thinking I’ll let you stay in charge,” he murmurs against your collarbone, tugging your bra strap further down with his teeth. “But I like watching you try.”

You shiver, still in your jeans and your thighs still pressed tight around his hips but your whole body was buzzing under his touch. He grips the back of your knees and shifts them, adjusting you just right, so you can really feel him. Trapped beneath denim and painfully hard.

“Feel what you’re doing to me, Kitten?” His voice drops. “This is how much I want you.”

You moan softly and with desperate fingers you reached for your own jeans but he catches your hands.

“No,” he growls. “That’s my job.”

He unbuttons your jeans slowly, locking eyes with you the whole time. There's no rush, just deliberate seduction. His fingers slid down, dragging denim and lace in one smooth motion. You lift your hips to help, your heart pounding like a war drum.

“There she is,” he whispers when your bare skin finally presses against his abdomen. “The girl who thought she could take control…”

Then his hands cup your ass, guiding you back down, pressing you against the bulge still tenting his jeans. Your bare cunt to denim now, nothing between you but self-control that's rapidly fraying. Your hands slide down against his bare chest, your body is flushed and feverish, lips swollen from too many kisses that never last long enough. His jeans dig into your thighs as you rock your hips in slow, tormenting circles. Creating just enough friction to make his breath hitch. His hands tighten on your waist, jaw clenched. The usual sharp control in his gaze fracturing and you see it. So you lean in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear and you speak with a low and sultry voice.

“You talk a lot about control…for a man that’s slowly losing it.”

Just like that his grip falters, his hands twitch sliding down from your waist to the curve of your ass. His hips involuntarily stutter upwards, chasing that rhythm you've been feeding him in maddening doses. His eyes darken a smouldering and dangerous red.

“Huh…” he breathes, a little laugh in his throat. “Is that so?” His fingers flex, grabbing tighter. “Tell me, Sweetie… was that bold little mouth of yours worth what’s coming next?”

He shifts beneath you, slamming his up, just once but hard enough that you gasp and grip his shoulders like a lifeline. “Because if you’re gonna challenge me…” he murmurs against your throat, biting just enough to make you whimper, “you better finish what you start.”

You quickly recover yourself and slip your fingers between you. Tracing the outline of his cock straining beneath his pants. He was hot, thick and aching. You shift your weight a little bit, grinding harder against him. Leaving behind evidence of your arousal on him. He groans, low and guttural, fingers digging into your hips like you're the only thing anchoring him to this goddamn earth. “Fuck, kitten…You’re soaked.”

You smirk as you drag your nails lightly over his stomach, watching as his ab muscles twitch from your touch. “Guess I like the idea of breaking a control freak.”

His eyes snap to yours, they look like they're glowing but before he can speak, you're popping the button on his jeans. Slowly and deliberately you tug down the zipper and slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hard cock. His breath catches. “Thought you were gonna teach me a lesson,” you whisper, stroking him slow. “But you’re the one trembling now, Professor.”

He grabs your wrist. Not to stop you, but to hold your hand in place as his hips buck into your palm.

“Keep talking, and I swear to God, I’ll make you forget your own damn name.”

You lean down, lips brushing his. “Then make me.”

His mouth parted and his breath was shallow. The grip on your wrist loosens, not because he wants to let go but because he's slipping. You feel it in the tremble under his fingertips and the way his hips twitch like he's seconds from losing the plot completely. That's when you strike, still holding his stare, you push yourself up on your knees and guide him out of his jeans. You lined yourself up over his hard, flushed and already leaking cock. Your slick and aching, wet from all the teasing and your thighs tremble from the tension.

“Eyes on me,” You breathe. “Don’t look away.”

Sylus keeps his eyes on you. You sink down on him in one slow and aching glide. Stretching around him, taking every inch while his jaw locks and his hands fly up to your hips, gripping you tightly.

“Jesus Christ…” He barely says it before you roll your hips forward, seating him deep and buried inside you. His head tips back with a guttural groan, muscles in his stomach twitching from the effort it takes not to pin you down and ruin you. But you’re not done. Oh no. You lean in, lips brushing his ear, voice soft and devastating.

“Still in control, Professor?”

A growl rips from his throat as he snaps his head forward, nose brushing yours. His voice is wrecked, dark and shredded by restraint. “Only if you let me be.”

Fuck, that look in your eye nearly takes him out right then and there. It was a look that says ‘try me.' And he fucking loved it.

Sylus lies back, barely breathing. His hands loosely grip your hips, just resting there while you have your moment of control. You were glowing above him, your hair tousled, your skin flushed and your lips were parted in soft breathless moans that echo in the corners of his apartment like some kind of goddamn siren song. Your eyes flick down to him, they were hungry and teasing and all he thought was how fucked he was and utterly wrecked. Because the way you were moving over him, slow, confident and hungry. Like you own him, body and soul and all he could think was that maybe you do.

His voice is hoarse when it finally breaks out of him. “You’re… fuck—you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pause, only for a second, hips still rolling and dragging your cunt up and down his thick, veiny cock. Your fingers trace over his chest and you lean down, close enough for your breath to tickle his lips.

"Yeah?” You whisper, a smirk ghosting your mouth. “Even like this? When I’m riding you into the fucking couch?

"Especially like this,” he growls, hands tightening again. “You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

Suddenly, the awe turns to fire. The tension in his body snaps. His fingers dig into your hips again but he doesn’t flip you. Not yet. Not when you look so divine above him but he’s close. Too close and you know it but he adores looking up at you like that. Your hair sticking to your flushed cheeks, lips parted, and chest rising with each panting breath as you ride him like you own him. It was art. It was worship and for a moment Sylus let himself drown in it.

But it was too much. He grits his teeth groaning deep in his chest. One more second like this and he was gonna cum hard and fast. Sylus couldn’t have that. No, not yet. He wanted to feel you break first. So he grabs your waist, tightly and with one swift movement flips you onto your back and presses you into the couch cushions.

“You’re too good at this,” he growls, breath ragged as he looks down at you. “You make it impossible to think.”

You barely get a gasp out before he's sliding down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your skin, worshipping every inch of you like you're his altar. When he gets low enough, when your thighs part like they know what's coming, he smirks.

“Guess I’ll just have to return the favour.”

Then he devours you, no teasing, no slow build. Just eats like a man starving, tongue relentless, lips greedy and arms locked around your thighs to keep you right where he wants you. You writhe and claw your fingers at his scalp, you cry out his name with that desperate, high-pitched "Sylus!" and he moans into you like a praise. Your thighs tremble around his shoulders and your fingers grip tightly into his hair, like you're trying to anchor yourself but Sylus is in his element. His tongue moves slow and deliberate now, dragging through your slick cunt like he's tasting something he's been craving for years. He flicks the tip of his tongue just under your clit and hears that little gasp you make, the one you can't hide, the one that you always try to swallow. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to hear every sound and feel every tremble.

His grip tightens on your hips, dragging you just that inch closer to him, holding you steady when you buck against his mouth.

“Don’t run,” he murmurs against your soaked pussy, voice gravel and honey. “You started this.”

Then he flattens his tongue and devours you all over again, like it's a challenge, like you coming apart is the only goal that matters. You feel him groan into you, the vibrations roll through you cunt like thunder and it wrecks you. You back arches, your eyes flutter and a broken moan slips free as he draws tight circles with his tongue, again and again, just shy of pushing you over. You were close, so fucking close and that's when he stops. He looks up at you, his mouth glistening, his lips swollen and his red eyes locked on yours. Like you're the only goddamn thing in this world.

“Tell me, Sweetie,” he says low and rough, “you want to come on my tongue, or do you want my cock inside you when you do?”

You look him dead in the eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted and heart pounding. "Inside..." Your breath catches. "I want your cock..."

Sylus growls like a man on edge, like your words just set his fucking blood on fire. He moves up your body and crashes his mouth against yours. It was wet and hungry, you tasted yourself on him as he slid back inside you, slowly and deliberately. Like he wants you to feel every inch of him. You shudder beneath him and he doesn't wait. One strong hand hooks your leg over his shoulder, opening you up to him, and angling you just right. The other hand holds your waist and anchors you in place.

“There we go,” he mutters, voice frayed and filthy. “Look at that. Fucking perfect.”

Then he starts to move. Long and deep thrusts. He was controlled and focused. His hips roll forward driving into your sweet spot and again and again. It was too deep, too good and too much. Your head drops back against the couch cushions a strangled moan ripping from your throat. Your body arches, chest pressing into his as he keeps you folded like a doll, completely at his mercy but Sylus doesn't let up. Not even when your nails dig in his shoulders and not when your voice turns to breathy, desperate cries.

“That’s it. Take it, baby. You wanted this.” Each snap of his hips is brutal and precise, his grip unrelenting.

You're writhing, panting his name and toes curling. He leans in, his forehead pressed to yours and his red eyes were burning.

“Come on, Kitten,” he whispers, cock twitching inside you. “Give it to me. Come while I’m buried deep, just like you begged for.”

You gasp his name like a prayer turned sin, mouth open and body locking around him like you'll never let him go but Sylus doesn't stop. He groans through gritted teeth, hips slowing but still moving, still driving into your pulsing pussy. You're so tight and fluttering around him like your body is trying to keep him inside you forever.

“Fuck, Kitten…” he whispers, almost a whimper. “You’re—god, you’re so tight when you come. You make it so damn hard to hold on…”

He pants against your cheek, forehead damp with sweat and arms trembling as he keeps your leg hooked high over his shoulder. His other hand glued to your waist like he'll lose himself if he lets go. Then he looks at you, your flushed face and heaving chest. Your eyes were half-lidded and still dazed from your intense orgasm. Your lips parted like you were trying to catch your breath, like you could barely believe he was still going and that fucking look... undoes him. Because you're the most beautiful thing in the world, like this, under him, clinging to him and taking him deep. His breath catches and his rhythm stutters and that's when he finally breaks.

“Oh fuck—Sweetie—” He groans your name like it’s sacred, driving himself in one last time, deep as he can and comes, hard and helpless, buried inside you.

His whole body shudders, his fingers dig in and he holds you tight, like you're the only thing anchoring him to earth. Even as the tremors fade, he doesn't move. He just stays there, panting against your throat, letting your warmth swallow every last wave. Then he finally speaks, with a soft and broken grin.

“You… are gonna ruin me.”

You're tangled together on the couch, there's a quiet hum in the air like the world had finally decided to hush for you. The soft glow of the lamp paints his skin gold, the rise and fall of his chest steady under your cheek. You trace a slow, long line along his ribs with the tip of your finger, sighing like it's the safest place in the world. Your voice is gentle. Almost like you're speaking a secret out loud for the first time.

“You really are a work of art…”

Sylus blinks, the compliment hitting deeper than he expected. Not in a vain way because you weren't teasing. Your tone held weight and reverence, and even a mix of wonder. He shifts just enough to look at you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. Then, with a tenderness that tugs time to a crawl, he cups your cheek in his palm. He looks at you the way he had earlier, when you were above him, moving him like a dream and when he couldn't tear his eyes away from you. That same reverent awe and that same quiet ache.

“If you were also an art piece…” His thumb brushes your cheek. “Then whoever created you… must’ve loved you dearly.”

You swallow hard, blinking quickly. Your heart thuds so loud in your chest you're sure he can hear it. He smiles softly and sincere. Then leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead. Like it's worship and like you are art that he'll never stop looking at.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus smut #sylus x you

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strangeengineering · 21 days ago

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orphicdreamers-wp · 1 year ago

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Smaller Acts — Quinn Hughes

Summary; Quinn meets you and realizes you’re different from girls he’s previously dated and that’s something he loves about you

Content Warning: alcohol consumption, pure domesticity, mentions of the canucks losing a game(to a unspecified team), fluff.

Based on Smaller Acts by Zach Bryan.

She’s got a need to leave you wanting more.

Quinn was sure he’d died and gone to heaven the night he met you. He’d been out with a group of his teammates celebrating his newly appointed captaincy. Brock had been the first to spot you and the group of girls you were with. However Quinn was the one who couldn’t take his eyes away from you. He was typically a shy and introverted person but for some reason he had the burning desire to approach you. But he didn’t.

Your best friend, Lydia hadn’t taken her eyes off of the group of men who’d walked in about forty-five minutes after you did. You heard them toast to one of them becoming captain. You were strangely pulled to the one who’d become captain. You weren’t shy to put yourself out there. You approached the bar and waited to be acknowledged by the bartender, who approached you almost immediately as he drank in your appearance. Your dark hair in curls, glossy red lips and a tightly fitting outfit.

You grinned sheepishly as you made eye contact with the man who’d been made captain, “Another cherry vodka sour and whatever the captains having. On me.” The man looked up at you bewildered. You straddled the barstool next to him and sat, “So should I keeping calling you Captain or could I get a name?” The man looked like a deer in headlights, “Quinn.” You hummed as you lightly bit your lip, “Nah.I think Captain suits you better.” Quinn raised an eyebrow and spoke out in a rushed manner, “Really? Why’s that?”

You shrugged as you sipped your drink, “Captain sounds sexier. It fits you. Have a nice night Captain.” You winked at him as you began to walk away. Quinn’s eyes were glued to your ass as you departed, “Wait!” You spun around with a small smirk on your lips as he spoke again, “I didn’t catch your name.” You smirked as you stood in place, “I didn’t give you it. It’s y/n.” You spun around and walked out of the bar before he could speak again. Quinn was in awe as you walked away. He looked down at the bar to find a cherry stem tied in a knot by your empty glass. Damn you were good.

Leave your shoes off at the door, cause dinners waiting on you.

You and Quinn had got in touch not too long after the night you met at the bar. You two had become quick friends, although you flirted with him so much he was unsure if you wanted to be just his friend. Regardless he invited you to the lake house that summer. He and his brothers and Trevor had left you alone in the house for a good three hours while they were on the boat. They’d invited you but you declined as you got motion sickness easily on boats.

You were currently cleaning up the kitchen after you’d made dinner. Your ears were filled by the sound of the boat engine shutting off. You hurried onto the boat dock, sporting a wide smile, “Shoes off boys. I mopped I don’t want your dirty shoes messing up my work. Dinners done.” The four men looked between themselves and then at you before smiling and a chorus of thanks filled your ears.

Quinn hung back as the other three entered the house, “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled at him as you adjusted your crop top, “I know. I wanted to.” Quinn looked down at you with a small glint of something unreadable in his eyes, “You’re amazing, you know that?” You grinned up at him through glimmering eyes, “Tell me about it. Come eat before it gets cold or they eat it all.” Quinn laughed, “The second is probably more likely.”

Grand things don’t impress her much,she’s keen to smaller acts.

Quinn was less than happy when you met Noah. He found him incredibly irritating and extremely wrong for you. Quinn had been shocked when you opened the gift that Noah had gotten you for your birthday. It was a expensive and glamorous necklace that Quinn knew you would hate just by how expensive it looked. He noticed how the smile you sported when you opened it seemed forced and somehow didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He saw how your eyes lit up when you opened the gift he got you. It was a beautiful matching turquoise necklace and earrings set. You’d seen it on your trip to Nashville you took with the Hughes siblings to see Zach Bryan in concert. It was in a family antique store’s window. You inquired about the price and the woman told you the entire set was only $20. You gasped lightly as you looked at Quinn, “You didn’t. Quinn i don’t know what to say.”

Quinn smiled softly, “Don’t say anything. Put it on. It’ll go perfectly with your dress.” And you did that, the turquoise complimented your tan skin and dark hair and looked stunning against your white dress. Quinn made note of how your smile never fell after you opened his gift. He also took note of how he stopped seeing Noah after your birthday party.

Never needs much and sure knows how to dance.

Two months later, you joined the Hughes brothers, Trevor, Jamie and Nico on a spontaneous trip to Dallas. You and Quinn had been seeing each other for a good few weeks, but you had kept it from the rest of the guys. So when Trevor suggested you all go like dancing you agreed. You’d grown up in Fort Worth so you had a little bit of experience in line dancing. So you found yourself teaching Quinn, his hands rested on the small of your back and the two of you were unaware of the audience that you had.

You’d feel her in a room, if you was blind.

Quinn’s head was between his knees. He heard the door to to locker room open. He was the only occupant in the room. He didn’t even need to lift his head to know who’d entered the room. You had a calming presence that always affected Quinn. Your voice came out soft and feathery almost causing Quinn to forget the loss, “Hi Q.” Quinn didn’t look up, he couldn’t meet your eyes. He felt like he had disappointed you. You sat down on the bench next to your boyfriend, you began to reassuringly rub circles on his back, “It’s not your fault babe.” Quinn looked up, finally making eye contact with you.

His eyes were bloodshot and it was apparent he’d been crying. Your face softened as you pulled him into a tight embrace, “Oh Quinn.” Quinn melted into your touch, “I just feel like I failed the guys. I’m supposed to be a leader and someone they can look up to. I let them down. And I disappointed you.” You lifted his face up, “You could never disappoint me Quinn Hughes. You went out there and did your very best. Sometimes we fall short. You didn’t let the guys down. You will come in tomorrow and get back on top. You had a bad game not a bad season.” Quinn sniffled as he weakly smiled at you, “You really are the greatest aren’t you?”

There ain’t a thing a man can do. She’ll only love you for you.

Quinn Hughes was head over heels for you. He had been since the night he met you. But seeing you standing in his bathroom doing skin care wearing nothing but your panties and one of his Canucks shirts drove him crazy. He’d known for months he was in love with you, but he was unsure if he should tell you. But seeing the sight of you in his clothes looking so perfect was the selling point. His voice came out sure and smooth, “I love you.” You didn’t skip a beat as you rubbed your facial serum into your skin, “I love you too Quinnie.” Quinn sighed as your words filled his ears. He was finally at peace with you and the smaller acts that he would argue are the biggest things in the world.

#fanfic #hockey player x reader #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes fics #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #qh43 #qh 43 x reader #vancouver cancuks #vancover canucks #vancouver canucks #canucks hockey

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iceman-kazansky · 2 months ago

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Smiles, Sun, and Unsaid Feelings

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: anon, by ask

Request: "will you be writing any Mika Hakkinen or Kimi Raikkonen fics?"

Pairings: Kimi Raikkonen x f!reader

Warnings: Probably unrealistic dialogue, alcohol consumed, Nando is a flirt, 2006 F1 season

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: This kinda took awhile. I was going to write this a week ago (for the 7th,) and I had it ALMOST finished but had school shit thrown on me and now I'm away on holiday. So, what better time to do it then now?

Taglist: @anamiad00msday

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Kimi was a tough nut to crack.

He was aloof, appearing closed off to all onlookers. He was difficult for press and didn't have much of an opinion on anything, always giving short answers to in depth questions. Kimi didn't mind, though, as long as it kept nosy reporters and crowded cameras out of his face, he'd do anything.

Another factor of his personality was, in short, a lack of friends. Sure, he had plenty of acquaintances, but were they really friends? They didn’t know what he was like outside of racing. His personal life.

It wasn't that the iceman didn't want friends, rather that he couldn't be bothered to make new ones.

But he also was beyond content keeping many people in the acquaintance zone. He deeply cherished his privacy.

He stood off to the side of the garage, getting ready for qualifying.

The 2006 season was mid way through when Montoya left Mclaren for good.

Kimi didn't necessarily feel too down about it, he had remained purely cordial with the Columbian.

He saw you step into the garage, clad in racing gear with a helmet tucked under your arm and pressed to your side. At first, he didn't believe you were his team mate. Perhaps an engineer or a mechanic, but a fellow driver? No way.

You were the first to introduce yourself to him. Sauntering up to him without a speck of hesitancy, you reached out and offered to shake hands.

“Hi!” You said, voice cheery.

It was then that you smiled. You beamed a hearty smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Kimi could've sworn he'd been blinded. Teeth so bright they seemed to shine and shimmer. He'd never seen something so.. so bright. Friendly. Outgoing.

He didn't realize it, but from that moment onward, he was hooked.

Kimi didn't return the smile, only offering a small nod to you. His ears burned red hot and he felt strangely awkward.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Kimi wasn't particularly interested in being friends with you. He had made that much clear. Or atleast, that's what you'd made out his reserved persona as.

But you were determined.

Hot summer sun beat down on you, feeling like every second you stood under its gaze you darkened with tan.

So, what better day for a cold snack?

With two ice-cream cones in hand, you weaved through the many people on the grid to your team garage.

You managed to get close to Kimi, standing beside him. Gently nudging him with your shoulder you presented one of the cold treats to him.

For a long minute he just stared, ice blue eyes flickering from you to the ice cream cone. It looked like he was contemplating or considering something, his brows pinched together and a quizzical look fell into his gaze.

Eventually, Kimi took the ice cream cone, mumbling– or grumbling, you weren't quite sure– a very quiet ‘thank you’.

But what you could've swore you'd seen on his face a moment before was just an ounce of shock. And that was enough to keep you determined to befriend the reserved driver even more.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥

The minute you'd climbed out of your car you looked for Kimi.

Your team had reported that he'd had some technical malfunction mid lap but said nothing else.

It was only after the fact that you exited your car that you found out he had walked off the track and went straight to his yacht.

You imagined he'd be upset over the race; no racer would have been jumping with joy after his incident. Kimi had made it well over half way through the race before unfortunately ending up out on lap 50 due to a mechanical issue.

So, doing the only thing you thought suitable, you sought him out– bringing an offering that was in hope of comforting him and being a good friend.

Or atleast, being a good friend is what you'd told yourself. That there was nothing besides friendly intentions, is what you resorted to claiming. Only, your heart had it twisted. Your emotions had already acted like a fishing hook, thrown straight into the flesh of your heart by his cool blue eyes and ocean vast personality. Kimi had you hooked.

Others may not agree with the ‘ocean vast’, but they were very wrong. Kimi was unique. He was reserved yet still cared about those around him. He wasn't outgoing, eager to meet new people, but he wasn't disinterested in maintaining a friend once you'd gotten there. Sure, it may have taken a bit more effort on your side, but before long you'd chipped through that glacier-tough outside to discover his real self. The one he had put aside for friends only, tucked away from media and press and the other competitors. Kimi wasn't as he appeared, he never had been and it only took a bit of time and observation skills to see that.

Before long, you were at his yacht. Kimi looked shocked when you appeared on the ramp of his boat, still clad in your racing gear and a smile on your face. “Hey,” you greeted, raising a hand slightly to showcase the items you'd run to get as soon as you'd found out about his incident.

In your hand sparkled a bottle of liquor, glinting under the sun. Then, Kimi grinned. His lips tilted up and he genuinely smiled. The action almost made you drop the bottle in shock, luckily, however, you managed to snap out of it and keep your grip on the glass. He may have been feeling upset, but your inclination of bringing a comfort of sorts had him feeling grateful beyond his own words.

And his smile was worth a thousand words to you.

You were welcomed onto Kimi's boat then, the two of you cracking open the liquor and sitting in the shade provided by the boat.

The liquor goes by quicker than you'd imagined.

By the bottom of the bottle you've moved closer, sitting shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressing together while your hands almost touch, lingering a hair's breadth away from each other.

You converse animatedly with Kimi, even if you're the one doing a majority of the talking.

Kimi didn't mind it, though. His head, which previously felt weighted by the loud swirling thoughts, had cleared. Something likely because of your presence.

You're mid story, telling him about some childhood thing you remember when he closes that distance with his hand.

You stop talking, shocked by his action. In your chest, your heart does somersaults, flipping and beating wildly against your ribs. Your eyes dart down to his hand, which tentatively touches yours. Slowly, you reciprocate the action, moving to shift your hand into his. He spreads his fingers and you take the initiative to lace them together.

For Kimi, it's a grounding tactic and a way to show how grateful he is for you. He'd never been one for words, so instead he chose to show his emotion by holding your hand.

Nobody says anything, instead taking the moment silently. Neither of you know what it means to the other, or how the action mirrors an unknown, unspoken affection that’d been brewing for a while.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The end of the season rolled up quickly. The Monaco incident was far from forgotten to either of you, rather pushed away by the lightning-paced world of Formula 1. It was the evening after Brazil, the final race of the season.

Most of the drivers had gone out to a local bar, deciding to get shitfaced in celebration of what they would argue a successful season.

Kimi sips on a Hardwall Long, a drink of gin and grapefruit soda. The bitter yet sweet mixture dances on his lips as he swallows a mouthful.

Across the bar, you sip your own drink. You know Kimi is here, but you're content while off on your own or meeting new people.

A presence makes itself known to you, leaning against the bartop and flashing a charming smile at you. Immediately, you recognize the face of the Championship winner and fellow driver, Fernando Alonso. His hair peeks out from behind his ears, brown locks waving hello.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks politely, gesturing to your almost empty glass. When he speaks, his Spanish accent is thick and rather nice on your ears.

But you don't care for the Spaniards' speech, you've already got your own accented man – whose voice lingers even now in the back of your mind,– to charm your ears.

You smile at Fernando, but politely decline, “I'm good but thank you, Nando. Congratulations on winning the championship, by the way.”

Little did you know that on the other side of the bar, you've caught none other than The Iceman's attention.

It's rare for the Fin to change expressions often– he's simply a man wearing a neutral face most of the time. But as of now, his eyes have narrowed uncharacteristically more, face pulling together in an expression of pure jealousy. Though, Kimi wouldn't really admit that out loud.

Fernando doesn't stick around too long after that, he just flashes you another smile and makes a comment about ‘still being there if you change your mind, hermosa’ before slipping away.

It isn't long before another figure stands beside you, only this time he seems.. off.

You turn your eyes to look at Kimi. He's got this subtle, sour look on his face, like he's just sucked on a lemon. It's unnatural on him, something you're unaccustomed with.

“Is everything alright, Kimi?” you ask, feeling concern.

He doesn't look at you, instead glaring at some object across the bar. “What did he want?”

“Alonso?” you ask, eyeing Kimi suspiciously, “he just wanted to buy me a drink.”

Kimi's eyes dart to the bar top, where a half-finished drink of yours sits. You can see his jaw clench while he simply hums.

“Let me take you on a date.”

“What?”

Kimi stares at you now, icy blue eyes trained on yours. He's serious and there isn't a speck of joke or jab in his speech.

“I promise it'll be better than whatever that.. Kusipää,” the foreign word slides off his tongue smoothly, alien to your ears, “has to offer.”

To say you were speechless was an understatement. Out of everything you expected to come from Kimi's mouth, his offer to take you on a date was not one of them. It wasn't even in the ballpark.

“He didn't ask me on a date,” you say, feeling confused. This whole thing feels confusing and like a big misunderstanding. Like a trick.

“My offer still stands.”

Something in his voice has you doubting your previous thought. How could he sound so sincere and be deceiving? It would be far-fetched. Even more so when you meet his gaze and see the genuine ask present in his eyes.

“Then I'd be honoured, Kimi,” you say, smiling at last. Your heart has taken that leap of faith.

He nods, and for a split second a smile graces his lips. You're thrown back to Monaco, even just for a short time, where he's smiling at you and you're smiling at him with booze in hand. He checks his phone before turning back to you, “let's get out of this place.”

The night was still young, and outside of the bar, within the city of Sao Paulõ, it was alive. Kimi extended his hand and you took it instantly, letting him lead you out of the bar.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

#F1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 #f1 imagine #kimi raikkonen #kr7 x reader #KR7 #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi räikkönen #Kimi räikkönen x reader #iceman-kazansky #♤ Requests

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