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stardustquills · 3 months ago

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here is the full fic for everyone who wanted it! (you can read the trailer here)

thinking about caleb’s first time with mc… 18+ mdni.

cw; smut, unprotected, p in v, creampie, mentions of baby trapping, pet names (pipsqueak, pips, baby), caleb being obessed, caleb being loud

wc; 2.1k

when caleb sinks into you for the first time, he thinks he’s in fucking heaven with the way you fluttered around him and your voice called his name.

one thing lead to another, and now you’re almost naked on his couch, taking his dick like all of the times he’d dreamed. except this is so much better than his fist, or the stupid fleshlight he bought all of those years ago. now, he can finally stop pretending.

fuck, teenage caleb would be losing his mind right now. current caleb is losing his mind.

he can stop pretending his fist is yours instead, that the damn, cold fleshlight is your cunt, that all those girls he fucked during high school was you.

now he finally has you all to himself, and there’s no way in hell he’ll ever let you go.

“o-oh, pipsqueak,” he moans, and loudly. his head helplessly falls into the crook of your neck, taking in that familiar, vanilla scent. the same scent that he’s been yearning for god knows how long. the same scent that tells his mind ‘relax, you’re home.’

you are his home.

your hands wrap around him. one of them hide in his hair, deliciously scratching his scalp as you other one drags your nails down his back. he fucking whimpers into your neck, planting a kiss onto your skin because what else can he do? normally so strong for you, he’s been reduced to nothing but a lovesick, pussy drunk fool.

caleb gets in his head, thinking you must think he’s absolutely pathetic for being like this. but honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

the hero of your childhood, the big, strong man you always knew, a deepspace pilot reduced to a needy, lovelorn puddle! how romantic; what a dream come true.

so when he bottoms out, he’s trembling like a madman. it’s taking every ounce of his self control not to grab your waist and absolutely ruin you, dick slamming into your cunt like he desperately aches to. but he can’t do that. not to his precious pipsqueak - not to the girl that’s finally under him after all these years of pining.

not yet, at least.

he gives you a second to adjust, like the thoughtful man he is. “doin’ okay?” he whispers softly, pulling his face away from your neck, eyes flitting over your face, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. one of his hands come up and cups your cheek, touching so tenderly, like you might break. he treats you like you’re made of porcelain, as if you’ll shatter if he’s too rough.

your eyes are closed, jaw slack as you breathed through your mouth. caleb’s eyes are fixated on your lips, the one’s he’d seen wrapped around his cock so many time is his dreams.

he could feel himself twitch just at the thought. not now, caleb, that’s for another day.

“mhmm,” you hummed, delightful voice like music to his ears. your lids fluttered open, seeing him already staring down at you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen his gaze so loving before, hearts bouncing around his eyes like the dvd logo on a black screen.

truth is, he’s had heart eyes for you for as long as he can remember. caleb looks at you like you’ve hung the fucking moon and embroidered stars into the sky, but you’ve just been too fucking blind to see it. it drove him beyond crazy. still, he knew you’d find out one day—one day you’ll realize how much love he harbours for you. that day is finally here, and he couldn’t be happier.

slowly, cautiously, he pulls out all the way, puckering hole unhappily releasing with with a pop! before he pushes back in. his face helplessly falls back into the crook of your neck as you mewled into his ear, cock deliciously stretching you open.

“mmf-aah,” his mouth falls open against your skin, hot breath panting against your neck. he whimpers like a virgin, arms shaking around your head as he practices his self control. “better than i fucking dreamed, baby.”

“caleb!” he thinks he’s never heard your voice so high pitched.

he cradles your head in his arms, lips planting open mouthed kisses on your pulse point. it’s the perfect spot for him to moan into your ear while also taking in your scent, the natural one under your perfume. one of his thumbs trace the shell of your ear as he continued his slow, shallow thrusts.

“ca- nngh, caleb,” you keen, and he swears to god your throbbing around him. “hah, harder!”

“don’t wanna hurt you, pips…” he lets himself go deeper with a groan, the syrupy slick of your arousal dipping down the rest of his length. he wants to be careful, wants to take his sweet time with you. but when he feels his mushroom head kiss your cervix, all former resolve goes out the window.

“please?” you hand in his hair tugged every so slightly, manicured nails scratching delectably.

oh. he couldn’t say no to that. he could never say no to you. what type of jerk would he be if he denies his beloved pipsqueak? not him. no one would ever catch him disappointing you—never in a million years.

he obeys without a word, a hand coming down to your waist. he’ll ease you into it, he decides. he can’t just started slamming his cock into you as much as he wants to. that wouldn’t be nice of him.

bit by bit, his tempo increases. in music terms, he’s going adante. he doesn’t even notice when he starts bitching and whining louder than you. he can’t hear himself either; he’s too enamoured by the way you’ll call his name as your cunt quivers. strings of your name along with noises and mumbles of praise leave him, muffled by the skin of your neck.

“squeezing so good,”

“shit, you’re unreal.”

“mmmh, pipsqueak, fuck!”

he starts kissing your neck again, balls slapping onto the flesh of your ass as he thrusts into you. the only thing occupying his mind was you. your sounds, scent, taste, feel—his mind was screaming at him, ‘mine, mine, all mine!’

his little pecks turn into kitten licks, then into sucking and biting at the skin. he’ll suckle on your skin, bruising it, leaving his mark before he bites. then, caleb licks it over as an apology before moving an inch over and repeating.

soon, the left side of your neck is covered in his dark purple love bites. you’ll need a shit ton of colour corrector and concealer to cover it up, but that’s a problem you’re not even aware of yet.

his hips snap into yours earnestly, tip of his cock crashing against your cervix.

it hurts so good!

he pulls back from your neck, admiring his art before his eyes flick to your face. your eyes are closed, blissfully fucked out expression as he pleasured you. he smiles, leaning down to sweetly kiss your lips, biting your bottom lip teasingly before he shoves his tongue into your mouth.

you stay like that for a while, getting fucked on the couch by your childhood best friend. your head is propped up against the arm rest, one leg dangling off the edge as the other one is propped against his waist, opening up your hips so he could jam his into yours. caleb is going feral, but he doesn’t let it show. ever the considerate one. he grins against your lips, almost laughs as he devours your sounds, swallowing them up. he thinks back to high school, to all the times he could be making love to you instead of those other sluts.

then a thought crosses his mind—how many guys had you been with? how many others had you let into you like this, at your most vulnerable?

it makes caleb upset—it disturbs him to no end. it gets to the point where he’s speeding up his pace, gaining more momentum the more he thinks about it. moderato, allegro, presto, then prestissimo! he’s going faster than you could even imagine and it makes you dizzy with lust.

lewd, nasty sounds of skin slapping skin and mixed moans from both of you fill the living room.

“caleb, o-oh! there!”

“a-aah, shit, baby!”

your back arches as he repeatedly rams into that sweet, spongy spot. eyes screwed shut as both you hands scratch his back, nails dragging down his rippling muscles. if you pressed any harder, you might’ve drawn blood.

one of your hands trails down your body, quickly finding your neglected clit. you started rubbing quick, tight circles, wanting that extra push to get to your long awaited release.

no, not on his watch! that’s his job, caleb decides, swatting your hand away and replacing it with his own. you happily whined into his lips, voice turning up at the end. his fingers felt so much better than yours, you think you’d never be able to recreate the feeling.

“o-ooh, you’re pulsing!” he chimes, pulling back from your lips. he looks down, watching as he disappears into you. the sight has him in a chokehold.

he sits up, still ramming into you. he takes his hand away from your clit temporarily, earning a displeased whine from you, so he can angle your hips to go deeper.

his fingers return to your nub, playfully pinching it before his thumb starts rubbing again. his free hand goes to that little bulge on your lower stomach, pressing down. caleb can feel himself through your flesh, feel himself rutting in and out of you. “gonna come, pipsqueak? h-hah, oh p-please do, you feel so good, please please please,” he’s rambling. he’s so far gone. stupid, pussy drunk fool.

a brief thought flashes across his mind—baby trapping you.

that would be awful, caleb, don’t do that! but he doesn’t want you to ever leave him. it would be terrible for your career too, being a hunter and all.

but how else is he supposed to ensure your safety? he can’t sleep at night when you’re out, never knowing what kind of monster you’re fighting and what type of horrible injuries you could be dealing with. this would be perfect, his pipsqueak staying home all day as she grew their child inside of her. and then soon, a little version of his beloved pipsqueak would be running around!

he’s not actually going to do it. he’s not actually going to baby trap you.

“caleb!” his eyes snap to yours. he didn’t even realize he was staring at the spot where you two connected. “so- a-ahh, ‘m so close! keep going!”

he planned on doing exactly that. “whatever you say, baby,”

he’s too far away for you to grab, so your hands instinctively come down to your tits. you groped and grabbed, squeezing them together as you pinched and rolled your hardened nipples under your nimble fingers.

caleb and his perverted gaze could help but watch. mesmerized as he wished it was own hands instead. but his hands didn’t father, still pressing on your lower belly and caressing your swollen pearl like his life depends on it.

he throws your leg over his shoulder, tilting his head to place a brief kiss on your ankle as your body quivers and shakes, rope in your stomach hanging in by a thread.

“gonna- mmf! gon’ come!” you moaned, lip quickly catching under your teeth as it happened just a second later. “c-coming!”

“i know, pips,” caleb drunkenly grins, watching as his girl comes undone under him, around him. his rubbing on your clit doesn’t slow, his own lip catching under his teeth as he hungrily watches you ride out the shockwaves of your high.

shit! he doesn’t have time to pull out before he’s spilling into you, eyes wide as his jaw grows slack, mouth open as his own string of curses and moans escape him. and once more, he’s louder than you.

“shit shit shit,” he cusses under his breath, quickly coming to his senses once he comes down from his own high. the twisted part of him feels how’d he came in you, but he knows that now it’s happened, it won’t stop. “i’m sorry pipsqueak. fuck! i didn’t mean for that to happen-“

much to his dismay, you laugh. you fucking laugh at him.

“it’s okay,” you say softly, after you’ve calmed down and your breathing has slowed. “it’s okay.”

“really?” he thinks he might’ve just baby trapped you. he wants to feel bad, he really does! …but he just can’t bring himself to.

“yeah.” you smile up at him. you’re on birth control, he just doesn’t know yet.

but in that moment, caleb thinks he’s seen an angel. an absolute goddess, are his. his goddess. he leans down, wrapping his hands around your waist as his thickness softens in you. his face naturally finds its place in your neck again, peppering kisses all over your sweet, sweaty skin.

this is the first of many, many other firsts, he thinks.

tags: @dummiebunny @b1mb0b33 @lillycore @onlythepurplemoon @mcdepressed290 @cordidy

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated:)

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shaiyasstuff · 3 months ago

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fate | rafayel

synopsis : Who are we to stand in the line of fate? content : rafayel x non-mc!reader, cannon/non-cannon, Shaiya is an OC, angst

(Very very inspired by this here.)

To you, he was the star, the moon, and the sky—the entire universe strung together in the shape of a boy who laughed too brightly and looked too beautiful in the sunlight.

To him?

You were background noise. A quiet, fleeting presence. Someone he could blink away and never miss.

You stare at Rafayel now, his smile too wide, his hands squishing his own cheeks as he pouts at Shaiya in that annoyingly endearing way of his.

He’s rambling—something about the lack of dessert in the break room or the injustice of early morning patrols—but his voice has faded into white noise.

You’ve been somewhere else for the past five minutes.

Somewhere darker, quieter, lonelier.

Somewhere where your heart isn’t being wrung out like this.

You ignore the way it hurts.

Ignore the way his laugh, meant for someone else, sits like broken glass in your ribs.

He once told you, voice soft and almost reverent, the story of how he gave Shaiya his scale in another life.

My heart belongs to hers eternally, he’d said.

You only nodded. What else could you do?

The other option was crying until your chest cracked open and all your feelings poured out in ruin.

You glance at Shaiya.

She’s everything you’re not—effortlessly charming, golden and kind, with a laugh that people lean toward and a presence that feels like sunlight after winter.

She’s the first person who ever looked at you at the Hunter’s Association and didn’t look away.

She reached out, befriended you, made space for you in a world that never did.

That’s how you met Rafayel.

And now here you are—watching him fall in love with the person who led him to you.

How poetic.

How cruel.

You push yourself off the table, fingers curling against the edge as the nausea rises in your throat like a tide you can’t hold back.

“Alright, guys. I’m off,” you say, forcing your voice to sound normal—light, detached, as if you weren’t quietly bleeding beneath the skin.

Shaiya turns to you immediately, concern softening her features. “Wait, already? You sure you’re okay—?”

But him?

He doesn’t even look up.

Just lifts a hand in a lazy, distracted wave, eyes still locked on her like she hung the constellations he dreams under.

That’s what undoes you.

Not the pain—the indifference.

You offer them both a small smile, the kind you’ve mastered over time—the kind that hides everything and says nothing.

Then you walk away, not daring to look back.

If you did, you knew you’d shatter.

Once outside, the cold hits you like truth—sharp and biting. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, but it does nothing for the chill burrowed deep in your bones.

You feel stupid. So, so stupid.

What they have—it’s fate.

Already written, already woven into the threads of the world long before you even existed in it.

A love etched into lifetimes. A bond sealed by gods or stars or whatever cruel thing governs soulmates.

You knew that.

You always knew that.

So then why—

Why does your heart still break like this?

Why does it feel like you’re standing in the ruins of something that never even belonged to you?

Why does it hurt so much to love someone who was never yours to begin with?

You clench your jaw, breathe in the frost-laced air, and blink up at the sky, hoping the cold will numb more than just your fingers.

But it doesn’t.

It never does.

Because nothing numbs the kind of ache that lives inside your chest when you’re the leftover in someone else’s love story.

—•

You tap your finger against the desk absentmindedly, the rhythm uneven, fading in and out like a heartbeat too tired to keep pretending it’s whole.

Your mind drifts—

To the curve of his face in golden light, the way his smile tilts crooked when he’s teasing, how his hair falls into his eyes when he’s sketching, utterly focused and beautiful in a way that feels unreal.

And those eyes—striking, impossible, burning with colors that don’t belong in this world.

You used to think they saw you.

Really saw you.

Not just the way you lingered too long in his shadow or how you always laughed a little too late at his jokes.

But the quiet parts. The aching ones. The version of you that never quite fit anywhere.

But maybe that was just another illusion you spun for yourself—another thread you tugged loose in hopes it might unravel into something real.

You press your finger harder against the wood.

When did your heart become so traitorous?

When did longing become your default state?

You’re not foolish enough to believe you’re the first to fall in love with someone unreachable.

But it doesn’t make the ache any less specific.

Any less sharp.

You wonder what it would’ve felt like—

If he had looked at you the way he looks at her.

If fate had been kinder.

If you had met in a different life, one where his heart wasn’t already spoken for by memory and myth.

But you didn’t.

And here you are, loving him quietly, like a secret you’ll never speak out loud.

Like a prayer that never deserved to be answered.

You’re broken out of your trance when Shaiya slides onto your desk, her voice lilting and warm.

“What’s up with you?”

She’s smiling—always smiling—but there’s something softer tucked beneath it. Concern, maybe. Or pity.

You blink up at her, disoriented by how suddenly you’ve been pulled back into reality.

For a second, you forget how to hold your own expression together.

What do you even say to that?

I’m in love with someone who will never love me back, and it just so happens to be the person you’re bound to for eternity?

You don’t say anything.

You just look at her. Really look.

And for the first time, you realize how cruel the universe truly is.

Because it didn’t just give Rafayel someone to love.

It gave him her.

Bright, kind, magnetic Shaiya. The kind of person people gravitate toward without meaning to. The kind of person who lights up a room without even trying.

Even you weren’t immune. You liked her the moment you met her.

How could you not?

There isn’t a single flaw to cling to. Nothing to resent. Nothing to hate. She’s warm where you are quiet. Effortless where you are struggling. She talks to you like you matter. Makes space for you even when she doesn’t have to.

And somehow, that just makes everything hurt more.

You offer a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Just tired,” you say, voice barely above a murmur.

She doesn’t press. Just swings her legs lightly and chatters on about something—about Rafayel, probably. You’re not listening anymore.

Not really.

All you can think is that maybe the universe didn’t create her to laugh at you.

It created her to show you just how deeply you could never compare.

You punch down the ugly, snarling thing inside you—the one with claws made of envy and teeth that whisper you’ll never be enough.

It writhes in your chest anyway, bitter and relentless, but you school your features into something calmer, quieter, safer.

You turn to her, your voice casual, even light. “Don’t you have a mission today?”

Shaiya blinks, caught off guard for half a second before her usual brightness returns. “I do—later tonight. Some rogue activity in Sector Twelve. Nothing serious.”

Of course not. Nothing ever seems serious for her. She always makes it look easy—missions, friendships, love.

Even Rafayel.

Especially Rafayel.

She stretches her arms above her head and hums, “Figured I’d hang around until then. Besides, someone’s got to keep you company.”

You give her a short, noncommittal nod, forcing your lips into a half-smile you hope passes for polite.

She stays perched on your desk, legs swinging, babbling about field reports and malfunctioning tech, her words drifting around you like static.

And you let them. Because it’s easier than the silence. Easier than admitting that the monster inside you isn’t just jealousy—it’s grief.

Grief for a love that never had a beginning.

Grief for a story where you were never meant to be anything more than a footnote.

And still, you stay.

Because it’s better to be near him—near them—than to be alone with how empty you feel without him.

You found yourself at the shooting range, fingers trembling as you loaded the magazine, one round after another. The metallic clicks were sharp, final—like closing the door on every hope you didn’t have the courage to voice aloud.

You raised the pistol, lined your sight, and fired.

Each bullet was an echo of grief you never gave a voice to.

Bang. You’ll never be enough.

Bang. You’ll never compare.

Bang. He will never love you.

Bang. He won’t even look in your direction.

The sounds reverberated through the still air like accusations, like truths carved into the bones of the room. Your heart thudded violently against your ribs, not from the recoil—but from the crushing, bitter clarity of it all.

You reload, slow and methodical, the movement almost ritualistic now. One last round. One last truth.

You take aim.

Bang.

Who are you to stand in the line of fate?

The silence that follows is deafening. The smoke curls like regret in the air, wrapping around your wrists, your breath, your chest.

And you stand there, unmoving, with hands that remember his warmth and a heart that remembers how it felt to believe—if only for a moment—that maybe, maybe you were meant for something more than watching him love someone else.

But fate is cruel.

And you are just a girl with a gun in her hands and grief buried beneath her skin.

—•

“Have you seen Shaiya?” Rafayel asks as he strolls into your apartment like he owns the place—like you aren’t sitting on the floor trying to hold yourself together with fraying threads and shallow breaths.

You don’t look at him right away. Just tilt your head lazily over the couch, eyes heavy with exhaustion you can’t name. “She’s on a mission,” you murmur. “Sector 12.”

You wave him off, dismissive. Hoping he’ll get the hint and leave before you break.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he plops down beside your legs with that same careless grace he always has, as if he belongs here, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The warmth of him seeps into your space, your solitude, your silence. Uninvited. Unbothered.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer now, dipping into something almost tender.

Your breath catches, barely, like his words had teeth. You stare straight ahead, not at him—never at him.

Because if you do, your mask might slip. And he might see everything he was never meant to.

You laugh under your breath, hollow and sharp. “Do I look okay to you?”

There’s a pause.

And still, you don’t look at him. You can’t. Because he’s here—he’s here—and all you want to do is scream Why now? Why only when she’s not?

Why not when it could have meant something?

You hug your knees tighter, pressing your cheek to the fabric of your sleeve, trying to keep yourself from unraveling.

“Rafayel,” you whisper, the syllables fragile in your mouth. “What are you doing here?”

And though you don’t say it out loud, the real question lingers in the air between you:

Why are you always here when it’s too late?

His eyes narrow, the usual spark of mischief dulled into something sharper, something dangerous.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, low and serious, like he’s ready to burn down the world for an answer.

You almost laugh.

Not because it’s funny, but because he doesn’t see it—because the irony stings more than it soothes.

You, you want to say. You did this. Without even trying. Without even knowing.

But the words die in your throat, swallowed by pride, by fear, by the pathetic hope that maybe he’ll stay if you just keep pretending.

So you swallow the ache like you always do and shrug, smoothing the cracks in your voice until it almost sounds normal.

“It’s just a bad day,” you say, brushing him off with a weak smile. “Forget about it.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

Just stares at you like he’s trying to unravel a puzzle that’s missing too many pieces. And still, you keep smiling, keep pretending you’re whole.

Because if he knew—

If he really knew—

He might never come back.

And even if it hurts like hell, you’d rather have the ghost of him in your life than nothing at all.

Naturally. Because the universe doesn’t believe in mercy—only in timing that wounds with surgical precision.

One minute, you’re curled in on yourself, trying to disappear into the quiet, and the next, Rafayel is sweeping you off the floor like it’s instinct.

As if your heartbreak is his responsibility now, when it never was before.

“What are you doing?!” you burst out, hands gripping the front of his shirt, more startled than anything else.

He barely blinks.

“You’re going to sit,” he says, already nudging open your bedroom door with his foot, “and I’m going to take care of you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

He lays you down at the edge of your bed like you’re made of something breakable. His touch is gentle, absurdly so. As if he’s trying to patch up wounds he can’t even see.

Your lips tighten, your breath catching at the back of your throat.

You look at him, really look—and the pain in your chest coils tighter.

“Why now?” you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it. Raw. Unshielded.

Rafayel freezes.

His brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face, like he’s hearing a language he was never taught. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice low, uncertain.

And gods, that’s the worst part.

That he doesn’t know.

That he truly doesn’t see what he’s done to you.

You look away, because it’s too much—his kindness, his nearness, his obliviousness.

Because in his world, you were never anything more than a friend with a quiet smile.

But in yours?

He was everything.

“It’s nothing, just…”

Your voice falters, cracking like thin ice under too much weight.

“Just leave me alone.”

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You already feel too bare, too close to unraveling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shift in his expression—hesitation, confusion, something close to hurt.

And for a moment, it nearly breaks you.

He looks hurt.

He looks conflicted.

You almost laugh.

Because isn’t that just the punchline?

Why does he get to be wounded when you’re the one who’s been quietly carrying the torch, burning for him in silence?

When you’ve been holding the candle for someone who never even thought to look for the light?

Your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into fabric to keep yourself grounded.

He has no idea what he’s done.

No idea what it’s like to stand this close to someone and feel a thousand miles away.

To watch him reach for someone else with the same hands you used to dream would hold you.

So you swallow the laugh. The scream. The truth.

Because what good would it do now?

“Please,” you whisper, barely audible. “Just go.”

And this time, you don’t look to see if he does.

You hear it—soft shuffling behind you, hesitant footsteps on the floorboard, the faint rustle of fabric. He hasn’t left.

You turn around, ready to say it again, sharper this time. “Raf—”

But the word barely leaves your lips before his face is right there, inches from yours.

So close you can see the way his lashes catch the light, the faint flush along his cheekbones, the way his lips part like he wants to speak but can’t.

And then—those eyes.

Those impossible eyes, glowing somewhere between dusk and dawn, blue and pink and something otherworldly in between, all of it filled with a concern so raw it knocks the breath clean out of your lungs.

He doesn’t say a word.

He just looks at you. Like you’re not breaking. Like you’re not pushing him away with everything you have. Like you matter.

And you?

You go still.

Because what do you even say, when the person who’s been slowly undoing you without even realizing it is suddenly close enough to memorize the shape of your sadness?

Your throat tightens. Words vanish.

You’re left speechless, caught in the gravity of him, wondering what it means that he’s finally looking—but you’re not sure your heart can survive it.

“Wha—”

The sound barely scrapes past your lips before he cuts in, his voice low, careful, like he’s walking across something delicate.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he says. “Shaiya told me you’ve been staring off into the distance at work. Not answering when people call your name.”

You blink.

The words hit like a pebble tossed into still water—small, but enough to send everything rippling.

Shaiya told him?

He asked?

You stare at him, stunned.

For a second, the ache in your chest forgets how to twist. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the fact that, somewhere in his orbit, your name had drifted into conversation. That he noticed.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You hadn’t prepared for this—for him to see through you, even just a little.

“I…” you try, voice softer, unsteady. “You asked about me?”

His brows furrow slightly, like the answer should be obvious. “Of course I did.”

And just like that, your world tilts—just enough to make you wonder what it would’ve been like if he’d looked at you like this before you broke.

You couldn’t breathe.

The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and his gaze—so full of something you’d wanted for far too long—was suffocating.

You needed to get out.

Your chest tightened, pulse racing as the weight of everything—his nearness, his concern, the unbearable hope clawing its way back into your throat—crashed over you all at once.

“I— I need some air,” you muttered, already rising to your feet, heart in your throat, limbs moving before your mind could catch up.

You didn’t wait for him to respond.

You couldn’t. You just needed to move. To run. To escape before whatever held you together came undone.

Because if you stayed a second longer, you might’ve said it.

You might’ve said I love you.

And that was a truth you couldn’t afford to let slip—not when he was still in love with someone else.

Rafayel stared at the space you left behind, still warm with your presence, still echoing with the sound of your retreating footsteps.

His fists clenched slowly at his sides, jaw tightening as something sharp and unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

You were slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know why.

He replayed every word, every look, every tremble in your voice—and it hit him, sudden and brutal, like the tail-end of a wave he didn’t see coming.

There was something wrong.

And he’d seen it too late.

The air felt heavier without you in the room, the silence deafening.

And for the first time, Rafayel didn’t know what to say, or how to fix it, or why it hurt this much to watch you walk away.

His fingers flexed.

Because if someone had hurt you, he’d burn the world down.

—•

Your phone rang the next morning, cutting through the hush of waves and the distant cry of gulls. The sharp vibration against your thigh jolted you awake.

You blinked against the early light, skin damp with ocean mist, mouth dry with sleep and silence. It took a moment to realize where you were.

The beach.

You’d fallen asleep in the sand, curled in on yourself like the tide might take you if you let it.

Your jacket was pulled tight around you, half-covered in grains of salt and moonlight. The ache in your bones reminded you of last night—the panic, the closeness, the way Rafayel had looked at you like he finally saw you.

The phone kept ringing.

You fumbled for it, thumb swiping across the screen with sleep-clumsy hands, heart already sinking at the name that might be waiting.

Part of you hoped it was him.

Part of you hated that you hoped.

Because even now—with your cheeks kissed by cold wind and your heart cracked from trying to outrun the truth—he was still there. Still in your thoughts.

Still in the space where love had no business surviving.

“Where are you?”

Shaiya’s voice bursts through the speaker, sharp with worry, echoing in the quiet morning air. It makes you flinch, like guilt has teeth and just sank into your shoulder.

“I—” you begin, but your voice barely holds shape.

Then his voice cuts through hers—low, urgent, too close.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Rafayel.

“I’ll come get you right now.”

You go still, the phone pressed against your ear like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. The sea murmurs behind you, waves brushing the shore like it’s breathing beside you.

Your heart pounds, wild and disoriented.

“Is that the sea?” he asks, sharp, and then—

“I’m coming. Stay where you are.”

The line goes dead.

You sit there in stunned silence, the phone still pressed to your ear long after the call ends. The wind brushes your cheeks, and for a moment you wonder if you imagined the entire thing.

Because… why now?

Why did he sound like you mattered? Why did his voice shake like that?

Why did he suddenly care—when you’d already convinced yourself he never did?

You sit there, still dazed, the phone limp in your hand, the sea brushing gently against the shore like it’s trying to comfort you.

And then—

You hear it.

Your name. Carried over the wind, frantic and raw.

“Y/N!”

You turn slowly, like your body’s moving through water, and there he is—Rafayel—running toward you across the sand, hair windswept, eyes wide, breathing like he’d sprinted across the whole city to get here.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate.

He drops to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your frame in a crushing embrace, pulling you into him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Oh god,” he breathes against your shoulder, voice trembling. “You’re okay.”

And for one fleeting, trembling moment—you feel it.

Hope.

Soft and shimmering in your chest like seafoam, fragile and glistening. You close your eyes and let yourself believe—just for a heartbeat—that maybe he came for you.

Maybe he chose you.

But fate has never been kind.

“Do you know how Shaiya felt after she found out you were missing?” he says, pulling back slightly, his hands still on your arms.

And just like that—

the moment shatters.

His words echo, cruel and sharp, ringing in your ears like a bell tolling for your delusion.

Of course.

He wasn’t worried because you were gone.

He was worried because she was.

You smile—small, broken, empty—and nod like it doesn’t hurt.

Like you hadn’t just imagined an entire world where he ran for you.

And as if the world hadn’t twisted the knife deep enough—she appeared.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Shaiya gasped, breathless as she stumbled down the dunes, cheeks flushed, hair tousled from running.

Her voice was laced with relief, eyes wide and glassy as they landed on you. She looked like she had been worried sick—like you were someone she couldn’t bear to lose.

You stared at her, stunned, caught between guilt and something heavier.

She was panting, hands on her knees, chest heaving with effort.

And beside you, Rafayel stood quickly, like gravity had suddenly remembered who he was supposed to be standing next to.

He took a step toward her. Not you.

Always her.

And in that moment, you realized the world didn’t just forget you—it remembered you only in relation to someone else.

A side character in their story. A shadow at the edge of someone else’s light.

You pressed your hands to the sand to steady yourself, head bowed, heart splintering in silence.

Because it was never really about you.

And it never would be.

“I didn’t realize,” you say quietly, your voice barely louder than the wind. “I fell asleep.”

It’s the truth, and not.

You fell asleep, yes—but more than that, you slipped. Out of yourself. Out of control. Out of hope.

Before the words can settle, Shaiya’s already moving—reaching out, pulling you to your feet with a strength that surprises you.

And then she hugs you. Tight.

Arms around your shoulders, face buried in your neck like she was afraid she wouldn’t find you again. You freeze for a moment, caught in the shock of it—her warmth, her worry, the weight of how much she cares.

And for a moment, you let yourself be held. Let yourself pretend this closeness doesn’t sting.

But your eyes lift, instinctively, over her shoulder—to him.

Rafayel is watching. Quiet. Still.

His expression unreadable, but his body turned slightly toward her. As always.

And as her arms tighten around you, all you can think is that,

You’re holding the person who loves him.

And he’s watching the person he loves.

And you are simply—

There.

—•

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again,” Shaiya scolds, her voice stern, hands working deftly as she wraps the bandages around your scraped, sand-bitten feet.

You hadn’t even realized you were barefoot. Hadn’t felt the sting of the shoreline or the rocks beneath your heels.

You’d been too caught in everything else—your thoughts, your feelings, your unspoken heartbreak.

You look down at her—at the way her brows furrow in concentration, the way her hands tremble just slightly despite how steady she tries to be.

She cares. Of course she does. She always has.

“Sorry,” you murmur, offering her a small, worn smile. One that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Because you weren’t sorry for falling asleep on the beach.

You were sorry for wanting to disappear.

To the side, Rafayel stands silent.

He hasn’t spoken since she arrived. Hasn’t moved from that spot.

But you can feel his gaze on you—steady, unreadable, heavy with something you’re too tired to decipher.

You don’t look at him. Not this time.

Because if you do, you’re afraid you’ll start to hope again.

And you’re not sure your heart can survive another betrayal like that.

Soon, Shaiya is called away—duty tugging her back into the world, into action, into a place where she belongs.

She gives you one last look, lingering at the door, her fingers squeezing your shoulder with silent affection before she’s gone, leaving only the sound of waves and the hush of your shallow breath behind.

And then—

you’re alone.

With him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak right away. The silence stretches between you, tense and brittle, until he takes a single, tentative step forward.

You flinch.

It’s instinctive. Small. But enough.

He freezes.

And then you see it—the way his expression falters, confusion folding into realization. His brows knit together, not in anger, but in something closer to hurt.

As if it hadn’t occurred to him—not really—that you might be afraid of him. Not because he’s dangerous, but because he’s the one holding the dagger you kept running into.

He frowns, quietly. As if he’s only now starting to see the shape of the damage. The bruises he left without ever laying a hand.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Like he knows now that any closer, and you might shatter.

“Why?” he says, quietly. Barely above a whisper.

It hangs in the air like smoke, curling into your chest, choking before you even have the chance to breathe it in.

You finally look at him.

His eyes are on you—soft, searching, and so unbearably gentle it makes you want to scream.

Because he doesn’t get to be gentle. Not now. Not when your heart has already learned to ache in silence.

Feigning ignorance, you offer the easiest escape:

“What do you mean?”

Your voice is hollow, even to your own ears.

Because you can’t say it.

You won’t say it.

You can’t tell him that it hurts—god, it hurts—seeing him with her, the way he smiles when he’s around her, the way his voice softens just for her. The way his whole world shifts in her direction, like it never had to for you.

You can’t say that every time he looks at her, it feels like a thousand quiet deaths.

That there’s nothing you can do about it.

No fate to change. No mark to rewrite.

That he was never meant to be yours.

You clench your jaw, lowering your gaze again before your eyes betray you.

Because how do you confess to a man who was written for someone else?

And worse—how do you stop loving him, when even silence tastes like his name?

His jaw tightens—just barely, but enough to see the flicker of something shift behind his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Frustration. Maybe both.

And then he turns.

No parting word. No final glance.

Just silence—cold and absolute—as he strides toward the door.

And then,

Bang.

The door slams shut behind him, loud enough to make you flinch, to rattle the air in your lungs.

It echoes through the room like an exclamation point to a conversation that never really began.

You’re left standing in the quiet aftermath, staring at the space where he’d been.

You’d wanted him to leave.

But not like that.

Not so angry. Not so broken.

Not without understanding the why behind your silence.

But maybe that’s what you deserve—for loving him in secret, for hoping in spite of fate, for carrying a heart that was never yours to offer.

The silence stretches.

And all at once, you realize—

you’ve never felt so completely, devastatingly alone.

masterlist

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angelicblondie · 7 months ago

Text

popstar!reader x bodyguard!rafe ~~~ pre-award show ride 18 + MINORS DNI

the scent of tom fords tobacco vanilla and victoria secret tease wafted in the back of the limo, filling your nostrils with the sweetest fusion. kind of symbolic, you thought, of you and rafe - the perfect pair.

your heel tapped on the floor of the car as you sat poised in your seat, rafe sitting to your right, arms rested on the tinted window seal as he gazed out onto the streets.

your eyes flickered to him every so often, almost like you couldn't help it, almost like there was simply a magnetic pull - always has been with the two of you.

tonight was the VMAs, and unlike the very beginning of your carreer, award shows were a lot less daunting. you were up for a couple categories, and even thus far into your career you couldn't shake the pre-show nerves.

rafe looked over, noticing the tapping of your heel which he had come to realize as a nervous habit by now. "hey," he called out, "you good?"

you look over, fluttering your lashes a bit. "why? lookin' to make me better?"

rafe, used to your flirting by now, rolled his eyes with a breathy laugh. "jesus, kid, next time i wont ask."

you bit your lip, moving your leg over to nudge his. "sorry," you held back a giggle, yet you words were sincere. "m'good, just nerves."

he hummed in understanding, looking down as your legs before looking back out the window, his hand wordlessly coming down to grip above your knee, his thumb smoothing over the skin.

you swallowed, taking a breath and attempting to relax into your seat. it was crazy how one little touch from him sent your heart aflame, beating against your chest as warmness spread throughout you. rafe just had that affect on you.

sure, you played it cool - being charismatic was an essential part of your job, you were a master at it. but rafe....he was different. you covered it up by quick remarks and flirty liners, but deep down you both knew that what you two shared - the connection you - was a lot more than that.

a lot more than that time in your dressing room back on tour.

since then, you two had gone back to normal...in your own way. except this time, normal consisted of sly touches and longing looks. heated makeouts once in a blue moon (if your lucky), and knowing stares.

it was exciting, exhilarating, even. you felt in control, even though you had never really felt more helpless. but really, it made sense - everything else in your life was hardly your decision. you didn't get to pick the tour dates, you didn't get to pick which cities, which stadiums. you don't get to pick what events you go to, or when the album deadline is, or who your paired up with on PR dates - thats the managments choice, not yours. a lot of the time, it feels likes your life isnt yours.

but when your with rafe...that all changes.

you could hear the faint sound of classical music that the driver mustve been playing, muffled by the closed divider. the silence between you and rafe was comfortable, his thumb continuing to rub your skin as you tried to pull your eyes away from the contact.

after a moment, rafe speaks up. "when we get there, walk straight to the carpet. take a couple photos, answer a couple questions from reporters, and meet us on the other side."

you sigh softly, rolling your eyes. "i know, i know. its the same every time, rafey," you say, faux annoyed.

He hums, squeezing your leg. "just lookin' out f'you," he grumbles, turning away.

you giggle under your breath, seeing his frustration. you reach over to his leg teasingly, squeezing his lower thigh. "aw, c'mon, m'sorry," you mumble, as he looks back, scoffing out a laugh. "whatever, kid. feeling less nervous?"

your heart beat faster against your chest at your now closer proximity. whilst you certainly feel less nervous, you didn't want him to know that. your bit your lip. "not really," your murmur, to which his lips tilt up a bit, sensing your bluff. "no?" he questions.

you nod in agreement, you eyes locked on his, transfixed by the blue. you bit your lip, sitting up straighter in your seat. "yeah...i dunno, i was kind of hoping for a distraction?"

rafe lets out a laugh, catching your drift, leaning back on his seat. "nah, kid, thats bad. m'not gonna mess you up when you got all pretty. the press would love that."

you pout. "i dont mind..." you trail of, keeping eye contacy as your hands trails up his thigh. "please?" you all but whisper.

rafe purses his lips, hand rubbing his jaw. after a moment, he flicks his head in a nod. "alright, c'mon."

with his signal your slowly lean over, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. when the kiss starts slow, rafe breaks apart, smirking. "gone all soft on me?" he whispers. you swallow as your eyes remain on his lips as his do yours. "maybe," you whisper back, reconnection your lips in a more heated kiss, climbing up on his lap.

rafe moves your long dress to pool over the two of you, his hands holding the silky thin material covering your back. your hands gripped his biceps through his suit, humming into his mouth as your lips continued to dance.

your panties brushed over his lap and each time you moved you took in a sharp inhale of breath, causing him to grin into the kiss. his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the plump covered skin, resulting in you arching your back into him, pressing you into his chest.

"so needy," he mumbled against you, hands still laid flat on your backside. with rosy cheeks, you murmur a flustered, "shut up," but dont deny his words.

with your lips still attached, rafe slipped his hands under the silk, his hands hot over your skin. i hum against him, reaching down to fiddle with his belt, breathing into him.

he hummed back, toying with the lacy sides of your panties. "sure you want to?" he questions breathlessly in a low voice.

"mhm, m'sure," you respond, eyes flickering up from his belt to meet his, cheeks red under his hot gaze. all of the sudden you felt shy, your movement faltering.

his lips quirked up warm smirk, he slid his hands off your skin and moved them down to his belt, finishing the job for you. "i got it," he murmurs, eyes locked on yous.

you bite your lip and looks down, watching as he slides his pants and boxers down to his ankles as you sit up a little. his hands move to your waist, moving you back up his body to hover over his lap. you look back up to him sliding you panties to the side and lining up your entrance with his dick.

you sink down, both of you sucking in breaths at the contact. rafe throws his head back, eyes shutting at the sensation and squeezing your waist, letting out a low groan. you clench around him at the sounds and bite back a whimper, hands pressing against his shoulders.

"oh, rafe," you sigh, body slumping in pleasure as he fills you slowly. "i know princess, i know," he murmurs, voice filled with the same lightness as yours.

"doing so good," he praises, leaning forwards to place a kiss on your shoulder. you hum, starting to lift yourself up, before slowly sliding back down.

rafe guides you, helping to ride him, slowly. every movement pleasurably stings, his length filling you up, causing you to squeeze around him.

euphoria fills you as does he. you feel the warmth of his hot breath against your skin and his hands over the silk covering your hips, the soft grunts and graon coming from his perfect lips. his throbbing head hits your spot, causing you to let out a breathy moan and grip his chiseled shoulders.

when he feels you clench around him, he grins, sliding his rough hands up your back. "close, yeah?" he whispers, and you quickly nod, a pout on your lips and your brows furrowed. "mhm," you answer, biting down on your lip as you look down, watching as you lift up, your dress moving aside to reveal the sight of your around him, causing you to take in a sharp inhale of air.

rafe follows your line of sight, and bites his lip, concentrated on the movement. he looks back up at you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, bringing you focus to him. "hey, look at me," he orders, "want you lookin at me when i make you cum."

you hum, folding your lips inwards as you continue to ride him, not looking away from his face.

"rafe," you whimper, movement getting sloppy. "i know, i've got you," he mumbles, his hands moving down to once again guide you up and down his cock.

"shit," you curse, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten. "m'close."

"let go, baby, c'mon. i've got you."

at his word, the coil burst, euphoria washing over you as your throw your head back, eyes rolling back.

rafe marveled at the sight, in awe as he watched you come down. his hands kept moving you up and down him, letting you ride out your high.

you collapse on top of him, panting into his neck as he let out a chuckle, holding you close to him. you two sit in silence, chests heaving up and down with every breath. "feelin less nervous?" rafe humorously whispers, causing you to let out a breathy laugh, lifting up to dismount him. his words lead you back to reality, remembering that in just a few short minutes, you would be strutting on a red carpet.

you hum. "much. how do i look?"

rafe tilts his head as he tugs his pants back up, considering you. "like you just got your shit rocked."

you scoff out a laugh. "seriouslly."

he laughs. "you look good. you always do."

your cheeks get rosy. your lips form in a pout though, once you realize that you were the only one who came.

he sees your guilty expressions and smiles slightly, waving it off. "dont worry, i'll be ok."

your lips lift in a coy smile. "im not worried," you say, your voice tilting seductively. "we may not have enough time right now but..." you trail off, sliding your panties back up your legs. "i have a good feeling im going to need to slip off to the bathroom somtime during the show, and of course i'll need my bodyguard to escort me," you say, playfully.

he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head. "your trouble."

you dont respond to his statement, simply shrugging before slumping back into your seat, pulling out your lipgloss and hand mirror, fixing the smudge. after checking over the rest of your appearance, you put everything back in your purse, smacking your lips and looking out the window.

you watch as the car rolls up, the sight of fans, paparazzi, and flashes filling your view.

you sigh, look to the side to see rafe getting ready to step out. he tilts his brows. "ready?"

you nod, biting your lip. "ready."

#rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #outerbanks fanfiction #rafexreader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #popstar!reader #bodyguard!rafe #popstar!reader x bodyguard!rafe #bodyguard!rafe x popstar!reader

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heyitspapayaontop · 27 days ago

Text

But what about Oscar? (!)

Request: anon <3

Pairing: Brother!Max Verstappen x Sister!reader

Themes: max fluff is back my books

Warnings: favoritism (with a child okay chill)

Summary: Cheering for her brother? Nope! Oscar is so much better.

“Pole just means you go first,” she deadpanned, looking about as excited as someone waiting for a dentist appointment. Max honestly felt like he’d just been dunked on by a moody pre-teen in a Lightning McQueen tee.

He made another go at it, sounding a bit desperate. “But my car was the fastest.”

Y/N just shrugged, twirling the string of her Verstappen cap like it was the world’s most boring fidget toy. “Oscar’s cool.”

Savage. The brutality. Max started wondering if this was cosmic payback for every time he’d punted someone wide at turn one.

Lando wandered over, grinning like he’d just watched a cat fall off a table. “Yikes, mate. She’s ice cold.”

“Yeah, cheers, Lando. Super helpful.”

Later, in the drivers’ room, Oscar strolled in, halfway through a granola bar. Max gave him a look. Maybe a bit too much intensity there. Oscar froze, granola mid-chomp.

“Uh, you good?”

Max groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “She didn’t even care about pole. Just asked where you were.”

Oscar blinked, then smirked. “She’s got her favorites.”

“Yeah, and apparently, it’s not me. Betrayal.”

Oscar flopped into a chair, looking way too relaxed. “Would you rather she liked Lando?”

“God, no. He’d have her driving a golf cart into Lake Como.”

Oscar cracked up, and, honestly, Max couldn’t stay mad. Not at Oscar. The guy was like if a Labrador put on a bucket hat and learned to talk.

After the race, Y/N was waiting in the garage with a tiny McLaren plushie clutched in her hands. She didn’t even blink at Max’s champagne-soaked race suit—just bolted straight for Oscar, who scooped her up like it was the most normal thing ever.

“Good race, Y/N?” he asked.

She nodded so hard her hat nearly fell off. “You went so fast.”

Max, still dripping, threw his hands in the air. “I win at home and my little sister’s giving all the credit to Piastri. Unreal.”

Lando sidled over, smirking like a little gremlin. “Guess you’ll have to step up your game, champ.”

“Or just bribe her with cookies,” Max muttered.

Oscar glanced over, sheepish. “She, uh, gave me this.” He held up a crumpled, slightly sticky drawing. It was… probably him? Maybe? Hard to say.

Max squinted. “She’s never drawn me with that many hearts.”

Oscar tried not to look smug. He failed. Miserably.

Weeks ticked by. Max tried everything—matching socks, extra bedtime stories, even a sneaky turn in the Red Bull sim (Christian would actually combust if he found out). Didn’t matter. Oscar was still her sun, moon, and all the stars.

One night, after a long slog at the track, Max found Y/N crashed out next to Oscar in the hospitality lounge, mouth open, dead to the world. Oscar looked over, awkward but weirdly proud.

“Sorry, mate. Think she likes me more.”

Max just sighed, a little defeated but kinda okay with it. “Yeah. She’s got pretty solid taste.”

Oscar grinned. “Must run in the family.”

Max rolled his eyes, but his chest didn’t feel so tight.

Honestly? If his little sister was gonna worship someone, Oscar wasn’t the worst choice. Not even close.

And maybe Max could get used to sharing the spotlight—at least until Y/N decided Toto Wolff was her new obsession. At that point, all bets were off.

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stxrrywoo · 27 days ago

Text

HIGH FOR THIS ── p.sh

synopsis ; who would have thought getting high with your best friend on a late saturday night would lead to things that friend normally wouldn't do.

pairing(s) ; seonghwax f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 2.3k ☆ ── genre ; smut, bsf!seonghwa ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, smoking, hot boxing, high sex, car sex, dubcon(mostly bc they're both under the influence), shotgunning, kissing, sloppy makeout, usage of weed (obvi.), cussing, petnames (bunny, love, baby, sweetheart...), teasing, clit play, fingering, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia, biting/marking, creampie, edging, orgasm denial, praising, dom!seonghwa x sub!reader, dirty talk, begging, a tad bit of cockwarming at the end, lmk if I missed anything!!

It was maybe a quarter after midnight, the moon shining brightly in the cloudless sky as you sat in the passenger seat of Seonghwa's car. The air around the two of you was foggy and filled with wisps of smoke as you shared a blunt you had just rolled.

It didn't take too long before the effects of the weed started to take effect, your whole body feeling light and your head far more clear than it normally was.

“So you think you passed that test?” You breathed out slowly, letting the smoke cascade from your lips. Your eyes were half-lidded as you looked down at the half-smoked blunt that sat between your middle and forefinger.

Seonghwa chuckled deeply as he reached over the center console to pull the blunt from your fingers. "The chem test? Yeah, I don't think anyone is going to pass that one.”

He wasn't wrong; this semester's chemistry teacher was a total dictator. You were sure that she gave the class that test just for her own entertainment because none of what was written on that paper was anything you had gone over. Hell, some of it wasn't even in the damn textbook.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” You hummed softly to the soft music playing through the car speakers, completely unaware of the fact that the dark-haired male was staring at you.

Your face was illuminated by the purple lights from the led strips he had installed a few weeks back, and damn is he glad he did so. The purple, whispy air around you left you looking enchanting and out of this world. Your plump lips wrapped around the blunt once more, and the action alone left a burning warmth swarming through his body. He shifted in his seat as his pants started to grow tighter.

Noticing his gaze, you couldn't help but giggle internally, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Pulling the blunt from your lips you leaned over the console, your chest merely inches away from his arm that he had propped on top.

“Hey Hwa,” you called out to the male, catching his attention. However, his breath caught in his throat when he realized how close you were.

Swallowing thickly, he tried his best to keep eyes away from your parted lips. “What's up?”

“I wanna try something.” Your voice was low as you reached forward, tracing your finger down his throat, a smirk forming on your lips when you felt him swallow. His eyes locked with your hooded ones before nodding slowly, completely unaware of what he was getting himself into. “Move your seat back.”

Seonghwa did as told, and as soon as the seat was far enough back, you climbed over the center console, careful not to drop the blunt or burn Seonghwa. His breath hitched as you settled down in his lap, your thighs on either side of his hips.

“What are you–”

“Shhh…” You pressed your finger against his lips, followed by a small giggle. "Don’t be so uptight; I don’t bite,” you cooed, moving closer to his face until he was merely inches away. "Unless you want me to.”

Seonghwa swallowed thickly again, his hands finding a spot on your bare thighs. When did you become so bold when smoking? Not that he was gonna complain besides the fact that with every movement of your hips, you brushed against his half-hard dick.

“Have you ever shotgunned before?” You asked him, shifting your hips a bit but quickly bit back a moan when you felt his bulge against your clothed core.

“Yeah…” Seonghwa nodded, watching you intently as you brought the blunt back to your lips, getting the idea of what you were wanting to do. His hands rubbed up your thighs as he shifted a bit as you reached for his face.

Your eyes fluttered together as you held the smoke in your lungs, moving closer to the dark-haired male. He watched you through half-lidded eyes as you exhaled the smoke into his mouth, inhaling it until your lips were on his. His body filled with warmth as he got a taste of your lips, but they were gone just as soon as they were there, making him groan.

“Fuckkk.” His head fell back against his car seat, leaving you to watch his eyes flutter close. It was the hottest thing you’ve seen, and the heat that pooled in your lower gut was almost too much to bear, and you unintentionally rolled your hips against his. “Shit, don’t do that.” He hissed through gritted teeth, his hands gripping onto your hips.

“S-Sorry.” You stumbled over your words as his heated gaze fell on you, almost as if he were devouring you with just his eyes.

Seeing the pout on your plump lips, Seonghwa could feel all of his sanity fly out the window. “Fuck it.” He growled before taking the blunt from your hand and putting it out in the ashtray that sat in his cup holder.

Then, in the next moment, his lips were on yours; the kiss was full of lust and need as he leaned against you. He pulled your hips flush against his, making sure you felt everything, swallowing all of the sweet noises that you made.

“Hwa.” You whined, head spinning as his lips left yours to find your neck. Your body felt like it was on fire, and with every roll of your hips against his, it felt like you were going to combust.

You blamed it on the weed for why you were so sensitive, but god, did it feel amazing. Seonghwa’s teeth grazed over your jugular, making you shiver, eyes fluttering for a second. He released his grip on your hips, but much to his amusement, you continued to rock against him.

“Does that feel good bunny?” He cooed against your ear and all you could do was whimper, chasing your high that was on the horizon. “Just wait until I stuff you full.”

His words made your head spin, your hips falter, and stars start to litter your vision. Seeing your reaction, he couldn’t help but chuckle, his hands going back to your hips. Just before you tipped over the edge, he halted your movements, causing you to whine loudly.

“Why?” You cried but were quickly silenced when his lips found yours again; he kissed you with so much fever that it was almost impossible to keep up with him.

He moved his hand down your thigh, dragging his finger across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Your breath hitched in your throat when he pressed against your clothed cunt, easily finding your clit.

“Were you planning for this baby? Wearing such a pretty skirt and my hoodie?” He teased you, gently rubbing your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your swollen lips. The purple lights were reflecting off of the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, making you glow as your head fell back.

“I need you, Hwa.” You whined, your hands balled into fists around his shirt, and the male just smirked at you, loving how easy he got you to fold for him.

He then hooked his finger around the hem of your panties, pulling them to the side before running his finger through your slick folds. His eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of how soaked you were, drenching his digits in seconds.

“Fuck bunny, you’re soaking wet.” He groaned, and you moaned right in his ear as your body slumped forward. “Sensitive, aren’t you, love?” Your hips bucked against his hand when he dipped a finger into your tight hole.

“Hwa– shit, please.” You begged, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, the need becoming almost unbearable.

Chuckling, he watched your face contort as he curled his finger in your wet heat, relishing in the way your walls clenched around him. All of the little sounds that you made were like music to his ears, you didn’t care about your volume, and fuck did it turn him on even more.

“Please, what bunny? I wanna hear you say it.” He smirked, pressing a chaste kiss against your temple as your jaw went slack after he brushed over your sweet spot. He wanted to play with you until you were begging, but the way his dick was straining against his sweats, begging to be released, told him otherwise.

“Fuck!” You cried out, face buried in his neck, and his scent was dizzying, and you could have sworn that you could cum from the scent alone.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth when he didn’t get an answer from you, so he reached up, running his fingers through your hair before grabbing a handful and tugging your face out of his neck. A strangled cry fell from your lips as you looked at him, tears dripping from your eyelashes. The fucked out look on your pretty face made his dick twitch, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“You gotta tell me what you want, baby, or you won’t get anything.” He told you, and you whined, your body feeling like it was on fire, and the way his fingers brushed against your velvet walls made your thighs quiver.

Not getting any response from you, he let out a faux disappointed sigh, removing his fingers from your needy cunt. You whined loudly at the sudden emptiness, eyes pleading with him, but he wasn’t going to give in that easily. So you swallowed thickly before pressing your hips down on his as much as you could with his hand still holding your head.

“I want your cock Hwa, please. I need it so bad.” You begged, teary eyes pleading with him and Seonghwa felt like his pants got even tighter at the sight of the tears that dripped down your flushed cheeks.

He released your hair, letting your body relax before leaning back in his seat, eyes staring you down. “See, it wasn’t that hard, bunny; go ahead.” He motioned down to his pants. You were quick to raise your hips to wrap your fingers around the waistband of his sweats.

Pulling them down just far enough for his cock to spring free, causing you to gasp as it slapped against his abdomen. It was by far the prettiest cock that you had ever seen, the flush tip a pretty shade of pink, beads of translucent precum adorning the slit. Your mouth watered as you wrapped your fingers around the base, jerking him off.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hips bucking up at your touch, his body felt like it was on fire, and your slow movements along his swollen cock only made it worse, “shit, don’t tease, sweetheart.” His tone held a warning and you glanced up at him, your walls clenching around nothing as his hungry eyes stared down at you.

Jerking him off a few more times, you rose to your knees before reaching down to move your panties to the side, far too impatient to take them off. A loud mewl fell from your lips when you lined his tip with your entrance, the feeling already addicting.

Seonghwa watched you with a clenched jaw as you slowly sunk yourself down on his length, watching as your eyes rolled back when you fully bottomed out. The way your walls were squeezing around him made his brain melt, his hands landing on your thighs as you wasted no time grinding against him.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby.” He groaned, head falling back as your pace picked up until you were bouncing on his cock.

“‘S so good, Hwa!” You cried out, hands clutching onto his shoulders for support. The feeling of his dick dragging against your walls made your mind turn to putty.

“Yeah?” Seonghwa chuckled before being cut off by a groan as you clenched around him, “You look so pretty bouncing on my dick bunny.” He leaned forward, latching his lips onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin until you were trembling in his hold, “so fucking pretty.”

“Hwa!” You screamed his name when he grabbed your hips and shifted you until your clit would brush against his pelvis bone every time you bottomed out.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He groaned, burying his face in your neck; his hold on you was almost bruising as he guided your movements.

“Hwa– fuck ‘m cumming! Oh my god!” You screamed as your vision turned white when your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, your nails digging into his shoulders as he helped you ride out your high. Your whole body trembled in his hold as your walls fluttered around his cock nearly sending him into orbit when he suddenly came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chanted, teeth biting down on the junction of your neck as he pulled you flush against him.

The both of you sat there in silence for a few moments as you caught your breath, the high slowly wearing off. Seonghwa was the first to move, detaching himself from your neck and looking at the bite mark he had left. He felt pride swell in his chest, knowing that you would have a hell of a time trying to hide it the next day.

“We should do that more often.” He teased, squeezing your hips making you laugh softly.

“What? Shotgunning or fuckng?” You asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he just smirked at you, hands moving under your skirt to squeeze your ass.

“Both.”

You laughed only to be cut off by a small whine, your hips rocking softly against Seonghwa’s. The sensitivity made a shiver run down your spine as you collapsed onto his chest, your warm breath fanning his neck as you spoke. “I’m sure we can make that happen.”

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

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motorsportbarbie13 · 7 months ago

Text

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 3

In which you and Max spend the next six months just being obsessed with each other.

Warnings: A little angst, but not 'break up with you' angst, just 'i really fucking miss you' angst so it's okay. And fluff. Tooth achingly sweet fluff. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 4.4k plus a shit ton of social media posts. - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - Master List

(a/n before we begin: Probably one more part to this. Thinking of doing an 'after Max gets you back to the hotel post-race' part to wrap things up nicely if anyone wants to see that.)

Monaco May 2024

F1GossipOfficial posted

34,028 likes F1GossipOfficial Seems as if our favorite Red Bull driver and sunny little podcaster are getting closer! The pair was spotted around Monaco this week ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix. The pair have been seen publicly a handful of times since Max made an appearance on her podcast The Yapping Hour in late April, most notably at the Miami Grand Prix at the beginning of the month and then the week later in New York City where she is based. Everyone who sent in photos said the pair were super cozy and seemed lost in their own world. user0299 she's only with him for the clout and money. Her little podcast was dying out and she latched onto Max like a leech. >>>user5572 go touch some grass my man. Her podcast is consistently the number 1 listened to show on all platforms all the fucking time. user9938 they are so cute, i can't handle it user4530 I saw them at dinner the other night and oh my GOD. They sat on the same side of the table even though it was just the two of them. He held her hand underneath the table all through dinner and I don't think either of them stopped smiling or looked anywhere else but at each other the entire night. >>>user39948 they are so fucking perfect oml

Canada June 2024 yourpersonalinsta posted

493,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, totowolff, and others yourpersonalinsta Over the moon to have been able to be with you for this win in Canada, Maxie. user299 MAXIE?! I have no one to talk to about this redbullracing our good luck charm strikes again! >>>user456 Red Bull calling her theirs??? Love this for her. maxverstsppen1 thank you for always being in my corner liefje ❤️ >>>user394 how am i supposed to be normal after reading this??? user8827 Not Toto in the likes trying to get on her good side so Max signs with Merc in 2026 >>>user778 HAHA can you imagine??

Amalfi Coast August 2024

maxverstappen1 posted

987,409 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1 summer break with this gorgeous girl user458 they are my royal couple yourpersonalinsta wishing we were back on that boat rn instead of on different continents :( >>>maxverstappen1 just a few more weeks until Singapore, schatje. >>>user4938 this is my roman empire >>>user024 mom and dad are sad so i am sad too

October 2024 Austin, Texas

You hadn't seen Max in over three weeks. Three very, very, very long weeks. And not to be dramatic or anything but you felt like you might actually pass away if the Uber that was currently picking it's way through very heavy Austin traffic drove any slower.

While the sleek Mercedes SUV waited at a red light, your gaze drifted away from the navigation system showing the the heavy traffic all around you towards the busy city streets around you. Whoever had decided to schedule an Eminem concert, a huge college rivalry football game, and a Formula 1 race all in the same city on the same weekend should have their head examined.

Fixated on the crowd on the sidewalk outside, you mull over the last six months of your life. It has certainly been a whirlwind, that was for sure. If someone had told you back in the beginning of May that you'd be on your way to your sixth Grand Prix of the year to watch your boyfriend race in Formula 1, you would have laughed in their faces. Because really, when you sat back and considered it, the fact that you had gone from being a fan of the sport and interviewing Max on a professional level to dating him in under six months was absolutely wild.

While you attended races whenever you could, you found yourself more often than not called to the other side of the world to attend to your flourishing career. In the last six months you had ping ponged around the globe, bouncing between weekends with Max and over scheduled weeks filled with work, interviews, and meetings. Some days you just wished that things were simpler and you could just dedicate yourself to following Max around from city to city but you knew that Susan B Anthony would roll over in her grave if you gave up everything for a man so quickly, even a man as amazing as Max Verstappen.

You brush aside the thought of leaving your work because in the end, all that is is a simple fantasy brought on by you missing the man that has become the center of your universe lately.

After attending the Singapore GP with Max, you had spent a few extra days with him in Asia before needing to fly home. While Max did have nearly an entire month break from racing, he couldn't follow you to New York like he had intended. After coming back from the summer break, Max's luck had started to slip and the car had deteriorated. He hadn't won a race in months, the car was an absolute tractor, and Lando was gaining on him in the Championship. He had needed to spend every extra moment he had in the sims and with the engineering team trying to salvage the season.

While Max had been in Europe, you had been in the US recording episodes with Heidi Klum, Wayne Gretzky, and finally Kylie Kelce. Heidi had been in LA, Wayne in Florida, and Kylie in Philly so you had spent most of the last three weeks on the road. As the SUV inched closer to the COTA track, you realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd set foot in your apartment.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the realization washes over you. You loved the life you lived, wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes, in these quiet moments you wished for a break, a chance to go home, wherever that even was now, and just rest.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulls you back to the present. Ysou struggle to shake off the mind numbing melancholy that's settled over you like a thick woolen blanket before answering the call. "Hi baby." You sigh, knowing who it is without even looking at the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Max's voice is sharp on the other end, effortlessly reading your tone.

You shake your head, chest tightening with anxiety. "Just..." You search for the right words. "tired is all. I just realized I can't even remember the last time I spent a night in my own bed."

"Oh, schatje." Max sighs, knowing how grueling this schedule is as he lives it as well. "Do you want me to have the jet take you home? It's at the airfield still."

Tears collect in your eyes as your chest squeezes painfully. "No, I just want to see you." You whisper, afraid if you raise your voice you'll start to cry.

"How far are you from the track?"

You pop your head around the SUV's headrest to check the nav system. "Not long. Five minutes. I can see the giant observation tower from here."

"Have the Uber bring you right to the paddock gates. I have a car here and a few hours before any media duties. I'll take you back to the hotel myself and we can take a nap together, okay?"

Your entire body sags with relief at his words. If there was one thing that Max was good at, it was taking care of you. He didn't hem and haw or waver on a plan of action. He saw what you needed and made sure that you were taken care of. The way the burden of everything that you had silently carried for years shifted towards Max the moment you landed in Miami all those months ago was something that would shock you for years to come.

"Okay." You whisper, swiping at a single tear that managed to escape.

You have a few moments to collect yourself before the Uber stops at the entrance to the paddock. From your seat in the back, you spot a familiar blonde head that belonged to your Dutch boyfriend waiting for you. You're suddenly simultaneously bursting with excitement and beside yourself with grief as the anxiety that has gnawed at you over the last 24 hours fully consumes you at the mere sight of Max.

Max has you out of the car and into his arms before you can barely catch your breath. The moment you inhale that uniquely Max scent something inside you shifts and becomes crystal clear. You didn't need Max to have his jet take you home because you already were home. It sounded cliche in your head and it probably was, but you knew there was some truth to it: somewhere over the last six months your home had shifted away from your apartment in New York to wherever Max was.

Max tightens his grip around your waist, settling his chin on your head while you stay buried deep in his neck, you realize that home isn't a place any longer. Home is a person now and Max is that person. You don't have to go home to New York to rest, you just have to be in Max's presence. With him, you are utterly and completely safe and secure. For someone who spends 99% of her time 'on' and performing, being able to come home to Max and just switch it all off, allowing him to lead and take over, is the most powerful form of rest you could have ever dreamt of.

Max nods at the driver as he unloads your luggage, arms still locked tight around you. He can feel you melt into him, like you've been waiting for this moment since the last time you saw him. He knows that for him at least, this is true. Everything else in his life is completley falling apart. The car sucks, they had to ditch the special livery for this weekend becuase the fucking paint had the potential to make the car too heavy and slow. Lando has been on a tear lately, that McLaren a complete rocket ship and the only reason Lando hasn't overtaken him in the championship is thanks to some spectacularly shitty calls from the McLaren pit wall.

The only bright spot in Max's day is you. Your voice, your touch, your face. Any bit of you he gets on a daily basis is what keeps him going right now. As he had stood on the curb just moments before, desperately and not so patiently waiting while watching the black Mercedes SUV creep down the street towards him, it had felt like cruel and unusual punishment after being apart from you for so long.

And now? Now you were back in his arms and he drew in the longest breath he could, taking in the scent of your perfume and laundry soap that he had missed so keenly while he'd been working, and he simply couldn't get enough.

Max pulls away slightly, so he can see your pretty face but what he sees in your eyes nearly breaks him. Pain and longing hang heavy in your eyes and there is nothing Max wouldn't do to make all of that go away for you. Fingers tip your chin up towards him so he can finally get his lips on yours, a soft sigh escaping your mouth when he makes that first contact.

You swear it's like a cool drink of water in the middle of a humid heatwave in July, the way Max kisses you with such relief and passion and affection. Like he's trying to tell you through his kiss how much he adores you, how much he's missed you, how much he craves you.

"I love you." Are the first words he says to you and your breath catches in your throat. It isn't the first time he's said those words, Max had said them first all those months back when he brought you home to Monaco. It had been quick, probably too quick by the world's standards, but it just clicked between the two of you and the words had tumbled out of Max like it was the most natural thing in the world. The reason the words had your breath catching in your chest was because of the ferocity behind them, like he could tell how bone tired you were from all the travel over the last few months and he was desperate to remind you why you were doing all of this. Why the two of you were doing all of this together and apart. It was for moments like this, moments where you were attached to each other in the middle of the busy paddock parking lot like no one else existed.

"I love you too, Max." You whisper, dusting your lips over the stubble that was scattered over his jaw. "Can we go take a nap now? I'm so tired."

yourpersonalinsta posted

348,209 likes liked by kyliekelce, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta home is wherever you are (tagged: maxverstappen1) user098 mad max is no more, there is only soft cuddly boyfie max user0399 this is the cutest thing i've ever seen user000 god i am so single maxverstappen1 love you baby >>>danielricciardo SIMP >>>maxverstappen1 absolutely >>>user9938 it kills me that he is loves her so boldly and loudly. girl hit the mfing jackpot. (liked by author)

It's not your alarm that fully wakes you up on Friday morning. It isn't Max's either. But as you try to untangle your limbs from Max's and search for the source of the ringing, you can't help but curse whoever is interrupting the slow sleepy cuddles that had been progressing into something more heated for the past 20 minutes.

You nearly spit you're so mad when you see the caller ID.

"John." You growl, sitting up in bed as Max settles himself back against the mountain of pillows beside you. "It is 8 in the morning on a Friday the day after I saw my boyfriend for the first time in over three weeks. I swear on all things good and holy, this had better be good."

John, to his credit, didn't even scoff at the threat. He'd been your business manager for going on four years now and was used to your early morning attitudes.

"She said yes."

You sit up, back going ramrod straight as the three words clang through you. "What?" You hiss.

Beside you, Max struggles to sit up too, alarm coursing through him at the panic in your voice.

"Tree just called me five minutes ago. Said that Kylie had sent her the episode and wouldn't stop gushing about how amazing you were and how you were the perfect person to do this interview on the end of the tour and everything. Tree said Taylor watched your episode with Michelle and Queen Maxima too, said they were the best interviews she's ever seen. Everything is a go."

Your entire world tilts as what John is telling you fully sinks in. "Taylor Swift's agreed to come on the show?" You voice is weak, heavy under the weight of the news John is telling you. Your hands tremble at the thought of what this means for you. For your career.

Beside you, Max sucks in a breath at your sentence, fully aware of how big of a moment this is for you. Pride soars through him as he watches literal sunshine dance across your face, your smile as bright as the Texas morning light. "Schatje." He whispers, pulling your free hand towards his lips. Your eyes dart over to him and you grin at him, kicking your feet a little, completely unable to hide your excitement.

"She also said yes to your suggestion of a behind the scenes vlog on your channel ahead of the release of the episode. Thought the idea was marketing gold. You've got full access to everything for the entire week."

Before you had landed Kylie Kelce on the show, you and John had made a silly, pie in the sky request to Tree Paine not even thinking that it would go anywhere. When Kylie had agreed to do an episode, a request that had actually been made to her people months before John had contacted Tree, the idea of maybe, just maybe you might be able to land Taylor after had grown a bit. You hadn't told anyone of the request, not even Max, because you didn't want to be embarrassed if it didn't work out.

"There's only one problem." Your heart stops and you grip at Max's hand for support. You knew there had to be a catch. "They want you in Toronto by Sunday."

"Wh-what?" Your stomach plummets through the floor. You had just gotten to Austin last night and now you were going to have to leave again? You were supposed to spend the entire triple header with Max. Three weeks of solid time with him had been the only thing getting you through the previous three week separation. You two had even planned to go visit your parents in Michigan between Austin and Mexico later next week.

"The first concert is Monday and Tree wants you to get as much content as you can and has asked you be there at 9am Monday morning."

You head spins. "Oh-okay." There's a giant Max shaped hole in your heart at what you have to agree to, simply exhausted by the fact that you're going to have to pick up and leave again so soon. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

"Do you want me to have Shannon make flight arrangements?"

You glance over at Max, who senses your apprehension. "Let me talk through it with Max and see what we can figure out. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Sounds good. Congratulations, kiddo. This is huge."

You smile despite yourself, excitement and anxiety winding their way through your chest making it a little hard to breathe. "Bye John."

You gently place your phone back on the bedside table before turning to Max, bracing yourself for the good and bad news you have to deliver.

"The beginning of that call looked phenomenal but now you look like you're going to be sick." Max observes, pulling you into his lap.

You shudder against when his lips graze your neck, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Taylor Swift agreed to come on the show and to let me do a weeks worth of behind the scenes of her Toronto shows."

"Baby, that is amazing. This is going to be huge for you and the show!"

You nod, a bit dazed by all of this information you have to process. "But they want me there by Sunday night so I can start first thing Monday." Sadness edges into your voice, the dread of having to leave Max again begins to sink in fully.

"When should Greg have the jet ready to take off then? You'll probably want to leave before the end of the race to beat traffic, yeah? Although I suppose we could find you a helicopter to take you from the track to the airport."

You stare at Max like he's grown three heads. His voice is so nonchalant despite him suggesting he rent you a helicopter that all you can do is blink at him for a few moments. "Just...just like that? You're on board with it? You're not upset?"

Max scoffs, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms go tighter around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Why would I be upset? I'll do anything I can to help you live out this dream, schatje. You know that. This is the biggest thing to happen to your career since you had F1 racing legend Max Verstappen as a guest."

The giggle that tumbles out of you has the tension in the room popping like a soap bubble. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." Max finds your lips then, the kiss full of reassurance and confidence. Of course he was disappointed you were going to be leaving in 2 days and he wasn't sure when you'd be back with him but this opportunity was too good to miss. "I'd never forgive myself if you missed spending a week doing what you love with one of your favorite artists because of me. Of course I'll miss you but you need to do this. So tell me, when should I have the jet ready to get you to Toronto?"

yourpersonalinsta story post

story replies: user8882 ARE YOU THERE FOR ERAS TOUR??? user029 what are you up to ma'am??? user837 wait. first kylie's on the show and now you're in Toronto the same week as Taylor. ARE WE GETTING A TAYLOR EPISODE OH MY GOD.

TheYappingHour posted

876,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux, and others theyappinghour Toronto, you were stunning! Can anyone guess who our next guest on the show is going to be??? Behind the scenes vlog dropping next week ahead of a very very special two part episode set to drop later this month. user928 oh my god, everyone stay calm, it's happening. user020 IS THIS FOR REAL??? I will never recover maxverstappen1 so proud of you my love >>>yourpersonalinsta couldn't do it without you, maxie >>>user928 if there's one thing Max is going to be, it's the first one in the likes and comments on anything his girl does. (liked by yourpersonalinsta) >>>user0298 may this kind of love find me one day

Excerpt from Episode 59 of The Yapping Hour featuring Taylor Swift:

You: Speaking of what you do in your down time, can we talk about how supportive you are of your boyfriend and show up for him despite the Brad's and Chad's hating every second of it?

Taylor: It's so silly to me, how much everyone hates it. When I show up at the game, I'm just like every other significant other. I'm not there to take the spotlight away from anyone, I just want to watch my man play!

You: Oh my God, I totally get it. It's so strange to me the way some fans can't handle someone like you who has a whole other identity outside of who you're dating, showing up to support the person you love.

Taylor: It's like, relax! I'm just here to watch my boyfriend catch a ball!

You: Right? Just let me enjoy watching 20 cars drive around in circles in peace please!

Taylor: You two are so cute though. Trav was watching the race in Monaco a few months back, right after he invested in Alpine, and there was that one shot of you and Max after the end of the race in his garage and you were giving him a hug. I love how loudly you love him and how public he is about you. It's refreshing.

You: Oh gosh, thank you. Yes, he is so supportive of everything I do, just like Travis is. It's such a comfort, isn't it? *Taylor nods* He actually stayed in Austin an extra day so I could use his jet to come up here.

Taylor: Trav was supposed to go to that race but got caught up in training stuff. It looked like so much fun.

You: Have you ever been to a race? Either of you?

Taylor: I haven't but Travis went to the Las Vegas race last year. Said it was the one of the biggest parties he'd ever been to.

You: You'll have to come this year then! It's in a few weeks!

Taylor: I'll talk to Trav and see if we can make it happen.

TheYappingHour posted

1,039,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, kikagomes, and others theyappinghour What an absolute whirlwind of a week and a half. Spending time with your favorite artist, seeing her in her element, and then spending a few hours talking about everything from what it's like to live such a public life to how important it is to have a supportive significant other. I simply can't wait to share the behind the scenes vlog dropping at the end of this week and then the episode later this month. Taylor, you are a dream of a human being and we are so happy to have had this opportunity. Can't wait to see you and Travis at a race! taylorswift You are such a sweetheart! So glad we got to spend time together this past week! Can't wait to hear the episode my love! kikagomes how does it feel to live my dreammmm bestie??? >>>yourpersonalinsta kiks omg i will never recover from this!! maxverstappen1 Proud of you, as always lifeje. >>>yourpersonalinsta can't wait to see you so so so soon baby

"And he doesn't expect a thing?" You glance up at the ticket counter where the airline employee has begun to call first class. You stand, phone still pressed to your ear, pulling your carry on behind you.

"Nope!" On the other end, Max's PR manager Sophie giggles conspiratorially. "He was just complaining to GP ten minutes ago how he couldn't believe they didn't have more flights from Sao Paulo to Paris. He said he was considering upgrading his jet to one with longer range so he could fly private next time."

You roll your eyes but chuckle. If you were a drama queen, your boyfriend could be the drama king to match sometimes. Although you didn't blame him to be quite honest. After leaving Austin mid way through the race, you had missed the Mexico race entirely. The plan had been for you to fly down to Brazil for the Sao Paulo race but editing and press had taken much longer than you had anticipated so now it was Saturday night and you were boarding a 9 hour flight from New York to the South American country.

Only, Max didn't know that. Max thought you were getting on a flight to Nice via Paris before driving to Monaco where he'd meet you sometime late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. Joke was on him though, you had finished everything up and had called Sophie for help to get you down to Brazil just in time for Sunday's race.

"He's such a baby." You murmur as the flight attendant leads you to your seat.

"He is beside himself missing you." Sophie says and you can hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure I'm around when he sees you for the firs time, okay? He's going to lose it."

Laughing, you hoist your suitcase into the overhead bin before settling down in the luxurious lie flat seat that will be your bed for the next nine hours. If everything goes right, you'll land in Brazil just as the postponed qualifying is finishing up and will be able to watch the entire race in person.

"Thank you for helping coordinate this, Soph. I really appreciate it."

"Anything to get Max out of this slump he's in!" She replies brightly.

A few minutes later, you hang up the phone and type out a quick text letting Max know you're boarding the flight. Luckily, the flight from New York to Paris is roughly the same time as the flight to Sao Paulo so he doesn't bat an eye when you tell him you'll be unreachable, only telling you that the doorman to his building is expecting you and to make yourself at home in his apartment in Monaco when you get there before he does.

************************************************************************

It is absolutely raining cats and dogs when the car Sophie hired pulls into the track after what feels like a lifetime of travel. Right after they served dinner on your flight, you took a sleeping pill and passed out for the duration of the flight, only waking up once the pilot turned on the overhead lights, signaling your arrival.

A quick text to Sophie alerts her to your arrival and she says she'll come and meet you outside the paddock with an extra umbrella. The driver that picked you up from the airport will take your luggage to the hotel where Max and the team are staying. When the car stops in front of the paddock gates, you spot Sophie immediately.

"Soph!!" You shout the moment you stumble out of the car, limbs a little stiff from the long car ride. Sao Paulo traffic is a beast in the best of weather but in a downpour like this? Nightmarish.

Sophie opens her arms to embrace you, "Oh I am so glad you're here. He is an absolute nightmare right now."

You grimace, knowing exactly why. He'd be starting P17 in a few hours. Between the team having got caught behind a red flag during Q2 and his 5 place grid penalty, it was a nightmare scenario for Max. All of this was compounded by Lando's win in the sprint yesterday and the fact that he was starting on pole today.

"Alright then, lets go. Maybe I can talk him down off a ledge before the race starts."

Sophie grins because she knows you'll be able to do just that. If there was anyone who could calm Mad Max down and bring him back to earth after the kind of morning the team had had today, it was you.

As you weave your way through the crowded paddock, the heavy rain simply not a deterrent to anyone at the track today, Max is in the garage considering the merits of scratching his eyeballs out so that he doesn't have to run this fucking race today. Everything is wrong. The car is terrible. Still. The FIA seemed to have a hard on for fucking up his weekend. Lando was on poll. And worst of all, he really fucking missed you. There was still several days between him and being reunited with you but if he could have just walked right out of the paddock and onto a plane to get to wherever you were in that moment, he would have. The only thing that seemed to settle him during these times lately was your steady presence in the garage. He didn't even need you to say anything, just knowing that you were around, within arms length if he needed you, did something to calm him like nothing else could.

He's talking to GP, actually, he's grumbling at GP when a familiar flash of hair and bright smile catches his eyes. Perfect, he thinks miserably, now I'm imagining her in the garage. I've gone full unhinged obsessed boyfriend, haven't I?

Imagine his shock when he actually hears your voice. "Max." You call out softly, hands clasped in front of you as you wait at the edge of the garage beside Sophie.

Max simply blinks a few times, as if he's trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or if you're really standing in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest when everything finally clicks into place. GP doesn't even bat an eye when Max walks away from him, mid sentence, before crossing the garage in a few short strides.

Max isn't usually one for intense public displays of affection, especailly in the garage and neither are you. There's a level of professionalism he likes to maintain while racing and you have always respected that but when Max sees you standing in front of him, practically drowning in one of his sweatshirts, hair wet and messy from walking through the paddock in the rain, he can't stop himself from scooping you up in his arms. Burying his head in your neck, he inhales deeply. So deeply that his lungs pinch with pain from the way he's trying to commit the way you smell to memory.

"You're here." He murmurs, voice thick and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me in Monaco?"

Max sets you down, not really wanting you out of his arms but wanting to move you to a quieter part of the garage. Behind you, Sophie, GP and the rest of the team discreetly shuffle away to give you two a bit of privacy.

"I knew how hard the last two races were for you and I just..." Pausing, you have to wait for a moment for your hands to stop shaking. You've been running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine for what feels like the last three weeks now and the emotion of the moment catches up to you. "I just wanted to be here for you."

Max lowers his lips to yours, covering them in a kiss that is all longing and white hot heat. He keeps the kiss just this side of tame enough for the garage, not wanting to draw the ire of Christian but he had needed to taste you then. His hand comes up to cup your face while the other slips around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body. He's slightly damp from how wet it's been this morning but none of that matters now that you're back in his arms.

"I missed you so much." He murmurs, blue eyes practially sparkling down at you, he's so happy. It's been weeks since he's felt like this. Settled. Like he can take on the world. For the first time in what feels like forever, Max has a sense of determination that wraps itself around him. Like the championship isn't all but lost to Lando. Like the car isn't going to be terrible today, even though he might not even finish in the points. Like everything he's gone through the past few months on the track is all about to end because you're finally here and if anyone can bring the team luck, it's you.

"I love you." You whisper into his chest. "Now, let's go show the world why you're about to become a 4 time world champion, yeah?"

And that's exactly what he does.

yourpersonalinsta posted

938,398 likes liked by redbullracing, taylorswift, yourdad and others yourpersonalinsta we are SO back, baby!!! What started out as a nightmare of a day turned into a generational drive for the history books. P17 to P1 and I cannot believe I was there to witness it. Max, I am proud of you beyond words. You and the entire team deserve this win today. I love you to the moon and back, Maxie. (tagged: maxverstappen1) taylorswift what a race! Trav and I caught most of it before the game today. Congratulations!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta hope to see you in Vegas in a couple of weeks! >>>user928 oh my god, new bestie duo unlocked!? maxverstappen1 words fail to describe how much I love you baby. Thank you for always being in my corner and never giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself. Love you to the ends of time, schatje >>>user928 i am SOBBING. Boyfriend Max is my favorite Max.

Tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 fluff #formula one fluff

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seijorhi · 2 months ago

Text

Divine Rights

for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy as a somewhat late, sort of birthday present aka the royal fic y'all have been waiting weeks for oikawa tooru x female reader w.c 5.6k tw: non-con, yandere themes, blood and a little gore, murder, violence, abuse, pregnancy & childbirth, breeding kink, smut, nsfw

“Miyuki forgot to bring me my tea this afternoon.” At the blank look you get in response, you hasten to clarify, “The maid– the new one, I mean. She always brings it after lunch, but today she forgot.”

Guilt needles you with every word. You like Miyuki. Quiet as a mouse, most of the time she can hardly bring herself to meet your eye, much less talk with you, but on the days she finishes her tasks quickly enough – the days the guards aren’t watching the clock – she’ll sit with you while you sew or practice your reading. For a brief moment, you can imagine her a friend. Perhaps if you were her friend, or at least a better friend, you’d ignore the gnawing unease in the pit of your stomach, keep your mouth shut and spare her.

Because there will be consequences, of that you’re certain. Whatever grace the King affords you on a whim does not extend to the servants scurrying throughout the castle. Most especially those few he allows within your presence.

Stretched out languidly beside you, Oikawa arches an eyebrow. “Your tea?” he repeats.

Your cheeks flame. What you’d give right now to squirm away from him, crawl out of his bed, this room, and disappear entirely just to avoid him and this mortifying conversation.

There’s a voice in the back of your head that reminds you that there’s a decent chance Oikawa’s ignorant of all of it. Why should he have to concern himself with trivialities like contraception or pulling out? He’s the King, there’ll always be those who trail along after him, cleaning up his messes. No royal bastards. No loose ends when the blacksmith’s youngest disappears behind the walls of the castle keep.

“So that we don’t– there’s no chance of a– a baby. I meant to say something earlier, but…” you trail off, the slow trickle of his seed oozing from the raw ache between your legs speaking for itself.

With your oldest sister and her husband, it’d taken months for her to fall pregnant. Newlyweds don’t always conceive within the first year. If every accidental slip left women pregnant, the streets by the brothels would run riot with unclaimed bastards. It’ll be fine.

You drank the tea Miyuki brought you yesterday, so long as she brings it shortly, and you take it as normal again tomorrow–

Long, elegant fingers coax at your chin, derailing the runaway thought in its tracks. His chuckle, deep and low, registers a split second before the kiss. “Not a mistake,” he tells you, murmuring against your lips. “You’re going to give me an heir, sweet girl. Two, actually. An heir and a spare, and maybe a few after that, if you’re very, very good for me.” He says it indulgently, his own breath catching on a low shudder when his index and middle fingers curl up into your pussy, pushing his spend back inside of you, “Where it belongs,” he whispers.

You seize his forearm, “T-Tooru–” you gasp.

He has to be joking. You can’t– He wouldn’t–

The tea made sense. You’ve no title, you’re not his wife nor his Queen, not a Lady of the court or the daughter of some important, foreign dignitary. Outside the walls of these chambers, you do not exist at all. You aren’t anyone, anything beyond what he desires you to be.

You cannot have his child.

“Please, I don’t want this. I’m not– I’m not ready.” Your nails are digging half moon circles into his skin, and the prickle of tears unshed and the lump in your throat make your voice thick and strained, but the King meets your panicked gaze with a twinkle in his eye.

“You are,” he kisses your forehead, “and you will,” your mouth, sucking on your lower lip. “Trust in your King, love. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

The woman who brings your meals the next day doesn’t linger, she scurries about, shoulders drawn, flinching when you ask her name.

There’s no tea – not that afternoon, or any that follow.

—

When you were younger, you used to pretend you lived in the castle up on the hill.

Your two older brothers would fight over which would play King while you and your sisters danced and sipped honeyed drinks and pretended to give your favour to one or the other, only to order them about once they’d been crowned. You imagined dances and feasts and thrilling hunts, tournaments with brave knights and roaring crowds. Never a dull moment.

A life of luxury forever out of reach.

Until it was forced upon you, but only a shadow.

You eat delicacies you could only have dreamed of, taste rich, heady wine on the King’s tongue – once, a mouthful from his lips, Oikawa laving up the droplet that spilled down your chin.

But while you hear the distant, muted melodies that play somewhere down below, you’ve never sat in the hall by his side. Only a few of the names he rattles off you recognise. The others remain blurry figures in your head, characters in a play you’ve yet to attend. Won’t ever attend, if the King has his way.

The court gossip you learn in dribs and drabs, never enough to paint a complete picture, and for all that he chatters away in your ear, Oikawa shares little. You aren’t privy to the schemes that run through the castle, the kingdom at large, from its highest echelon. Nothing for you to trouble your pretty little head over.

It should come as no surprise then that news of his upcoming nuptials doesn’t come from the King himself.

“I imagine they’ll be moving you,” the maid – Miyuki’s replacement – says one afternoon, out of the blue. And it might not come as such a shock if she’d ever spoken to you before that, if the comments weren’t accompanied by a wide eyed, frantic look at odds with her stilted delivery, if you had any idea what she was on about to begin with.

You blink at her. “Moving me?”

She nods, a shaking jut of her chin. “When the King marries at week’s end. If he decides to keep you, it won’t be here.”

If.

Oikawa’s never bothered with sweet lies. Every vow he’s ever made to you, he’s followed through on, every threat delivered – no matter your tears. In that, at least, you trust him. When he withheld the tea and told you he wanted you to give him an heir, you believed it. He had no reason to lie.

Your mind spins, trying in vain to pluck the threads of an unravelling tapestry; the colours wrong and the image distorted.

A Queen doesn’t bode well. Moving you would be the logical step; there’s no doubt a plethora of nooks and crannies he could lock you away in until he’s gotten what he wants – but now that makes even less sense than before.

A cold feeling prickles at the nape of your neck.

And then what? What happens when you give him the child he wants? What happens when you outlive your usefulness?

You’ve become stone, blank faced, frozen if not for the slight tremor in your – the hand she seizes by your wrist, fingers digging in tight. Dropping all pretence, she steps closer, voice lowering to a frightened whisper, “You need to leave. Whatever you think you’re gaining from this, you aren’t. He’ll kill us all before–”

“Enough.”

The maid snaps back like she’s been scalded, dropping into a hasty curtsy, eyes fixed to the floor as one of Oikawa’s Royal Guards – knights in their own right – Matsukawa, strides into the room, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

He spares you only a glance, a quick, cursory look to determine you’re unharmed. A laughable notion, really, when one considers his King’s penchant for manhandling.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She had her hands on you,” he counters. And the King will not abide that.

You bite your tongue, sinking down onto the bed as Matsukawa steps aside and the maid – she never told you her name, never answered when you asked – all but flees with a hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. Matsukawa leaves behind her, the door quietly shut in his wake.

For a long time after that you sit in silence.

Eventually, the door opens again – a boy this time, no older than seven, carrying a tray from the kitchens. He stares with wide, awe filled eyes, and bows and stammers out an apology, cheeks flushed apple red. Only the ache in your chest draws the corners of your lips upwards into a paper-thin smile.

Your sister’s boys would’ve been his age.

If, if, if–

“I hear you’ve had an exciting day, my love.”

The sun has set. The King has returned home to roost.

“Is that why?” you ask, hardly glancing up as he makes his way over towards you.

“Why what?”

“I-is she barren? Hideous? Too old to bear children, or too– too–” you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Cruel, heartless and selfish he may be, you have to believe there’s at least one boundary he wouldn’t cross. “What happens to me when all this is done? When you have your heirs, or you grow weary of this– of… me?” you ask instead.

You don’t realise tears are rolling down your face until he’s looming over you, having pushed his way between your legs, cupping your cheeks to wipe them away. The gesture could almost be construed as something comforting, something genuine, if not for the preening satisfaction behind his sigh.

“My stubborn, sensitive girl, twisting yourself into knots over things that aren’t yours to worry about. We’d both be much happier if you just left well enough alone and trusted me, hm? You know I can’t stand to see you cry.” Liar. “But if it will ease that tender heart of yours, know that she’s a whining cunt, I have a sizeable new merchant fleet courtesy of her father, and there is no scenario, in this or any other life–” his expression doesn’t waver, but every trace of levity bleeds from his voice as his thumb slides between your lips, “–where I will ever be done with you, do you understand?”

You nod. With his thumb hooked in your mouth, pressing against your tongue, it’s all you can do.

“Good girl. Always so good for me.”

It isn’t unexpected when his other hand moves to unlace his breeches and fish out his cock.

“Get it wet,” he breathes.

When he’s feeling generous, your King’s the one to sink between your knees, tongue and fingers working at your core until you’re panting, dizzy on the edge of pleasure, warm and welcoming, dripping with a need that’s his to sate.

But the King isn’t feeling generous tonight. Gathering your hair in his fist, he lets out an anticipatory breath, a near hiss, when your fingers curl around him and you lean in, lips obediently parting. Your tongue swirls around the velvety head giving it a light, experimental suck, and his hips buck, chasing the sensation.

Usually, Oikawa enjoys your mouth almost as much as your pussy, preferring to draw it out, edge himself, let you demonstrate your ardent devotion to your King, your love – but there’s none of that now. Your scalp screams for relief when he tightens his grip, and though you should have been expecting it, the sudden thrust into your mouth takes you by surprise, eyes shooting wide, choking on the intrusion.

It’s rough and graceless, the wet, gagging sounds that spill out amidst his panting, the tears that spring to your eyes and the burn in the back of your throat. You barely have the presence of mind to work your tongue, hollow your cheeks. Suck like he wants you to.

The reprieve comes without warning, Oikawa yanking you off by your hair. True enough, every inch of his thick, flushed cock shines with your spit, gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

“Lie back,” he orders.

You sprawl back onto the bed.

None of your earlier nerves have eased, but the tremor in your heart has everything to do with the naked desire that bleeds across his expression as he finishes ridding himself of his clothes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

You shake your head, fingers fluttering in the sheets either side of you.

“No?” he purrs. “You don’t wish it were you I were putting in a crown–” Your insides twist into knots as he crawls onto the bed taking an ankle in his grip. A soft whine escapes, but he simply trails his fingers lovingly along your calf, pushing your shift up and sliding closer. “–pledging myself to in the eyes of God and our Countrymen?”

Your breath hitches. He knocks your legs wider, slotting himself into the open space. “I–I wouldn’t dare to be so bold. I’m already yours, that’s… that’s enough for me.”

He laughs darkly, pressing a kiss to your knee and lifting it to his shoulder. “You are mine, but if you want a crown, I’ll give you one.”

You seize the sheets, gasping for air when his cock slides into you in a slow, punishing thrust.

“I’ll give you a crown, the dress, all the pretty diamonds and rubies you like so long as I can have you like this you while wear them– fuck,” he moans, eyes closing, head tilted back as he savours the tight warmth of your pussy, squeezing at his cock.

He leans down, seeking the taste of your swollen lips. With his tongue licking greedily into the open seam of your mouth, he rolls his hips and falls into a rhythm which leaves you writhing and squirming beneath him. The drag of his cock stings. The King’s never cared that it hurts and it doesn’t affect him now, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh, dragging you closer, shifting your hips so the angle is better. Deeper. Every inch of you claimed, every inch of you his.

“I’ll marry you too, if that’s what you want,” he pants.

Each whimper, sharp, stuttered breath, plea for clemency, for a second’s reprieve – they spur him on. Drive him to the brink. You’re sweltering from inside out. Sweat forms at your forehead, beading along the nape of your neck – through hazy eyes, you watch a droplet trickle down Oikawa’s bare chest, struck with the strangest desire to push yourself up and lap at it, all the while the King’s cock rocks inside of you, deep, hard strokes that rob you of sense.

Your bones rattle with each slam of his hips against the cradle of your thighs, your cries swallowed by his tongue, soothed with a kiss. Pain and pleasure war, bleeding over until they’re indiscernible from one another. “We’ll do it in the Old Ways,” he tells you, his eyes alight, his smile almost savage in its raw pleasure. “Oaths sealed in blood and fucking, witnessed by a Priest. I wouldn’t let any of those old fucks anywhere near you, but Iwa should suffice.”

All you can do is cry out, clutching at his forearm. You’re sure that your nails break the skin, but it only urges Oikawa on.

“You want Iwa to come watch me split you apart on my cock, hm?” His weight drops, leaning over and nearly folding you in two, and on the next thrust you see stars that blink out your vision. “You want him to marry us?” You shatter beneath him, eyes rolling back, body shuddering as pleasure explodes inside of you, fizzing through your veins til every part of you is alight with it.

The King swears violently, the heat of your spasming cunt driving him over the edge. With his forehead pressed against yours, he cums with a gritted out moan, fucking his release deep inside of you. Where it belongs.

—

The disparity between the two of you is never so stark as when Oikawa dons his regalia. From the deep teal of his fur-lined cloak, clasped with chains of gold, to the glittering gemstones set into his crown, he wears finery like a second skin. Even his leather boots would fetch more money at market than your family had ever seen in their lives.

You, meanwhile, are barefoot, hair unbound, wearing a shift stained with last night’s blood. Oikawa smiles down at you with a fond sort of benevolence while you fiddle with the last of his fastenings. At one point of time, he must’ve had a servant to help him with this sort of thing.

Now, he has you, and seems all the more pleased for it.

“Are you coming back tonight?” you ask.

He catches your hands when you pull away, bringing them back to rest on his chest. “Where else would I go?”

These are, of course, his chambers.

“And… her?” you choke out, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You mean the blushing bride to be?” He laughs, the sound grating on your already fraught nerves. “You wouldn’t happen to be jealous, darling, would you?”

If he fucks her here tonight, with you in the room, you might actually vomit.

Biting down on the tip of your tongue, you force a nod. It earns another laugh from the King, “My little liar,” he croons. “How quick you are to forget the promises we made to each other.” Like a dance, he spins you to draw your back flush to his chest, turning you both to face the mirror.

The reflection paints a stark, ugly picture. Baleful eyes shadowed and drawn. Skin sapped of its healthy glow. You might’ve been a great beauty once – in the eye of certain beholders – in the King’s covetous embrace, there’s something hollow that stares back, aching and endless. A stranger plucked from the wilds.

Oikawa rests his cheek against your hair and smiles at your reflection, tugging at the top of your shift until it slips low enough to reveal the marred flesh above your breast. He hums appreciatively. “The Queen isn’t your concern. She won’t be setting foot in here.”

The finality in his tone stops you from prying deeper.

That, and the sharp double rap at the door.

A quiet curse tumbles from his mouth. For a split second, his grip tightens, the beginnings of a scowl flitting across his handsome face before he smooths it out with a huff. “Later,” he promises, dragging himself away like it pains him to do so.

Rather than leaving, though, you watch as he steps aside to allow someone else entry – a guard.

Kyoutani. Mad Dog.

Presumably nicknamed for his scowling, vicious mien and the rabidity of his temperament, of all the Royal Guard, he is definitely the last you’d pick to be alone in a room with. Somewhat darkly, you wonder if that’s the sole reason Oikawa says what he does next. “I think we’ve been a little too lax with your safety, my love. Mad Dog will be here to keep a closer eye on you for the foreseeable future.”

Honey brown eyes bear down on you, sharp and shrewd, and a chill rolls down your spine.

“Be good for him, won’t you?”

—

True to his word, she never appeared in his bedchambers; he returned alone, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed and handsy, tugging at your shift with clumsy hands and a sloppy grin before you’d fully roused.

Nothing changes – with the exception of your new guard.

Gone is any semblance of privacy. For every moment that your King does not dog your every waking breath, Kyoutani takes up watch. You cannot ignore him. You cannot relax, pinned under his stare like a rabbit in a trap. If you thought your maids were nervous before, it’s nothing to the unbridled panic the latest exudes working under the eye of the King’s loyal hound, walking on eggshells like he’s one wrong breath away from snapping her spine.

After Matsukawa and her predecessor, you’re not entirely sure she’s wrong. With the way he watches you, tracking your every move with narrowed eyes and a perpetual scowl, you’re more afraid that when he snaps – when Oikawa loosens that leash ever so slightly – it’ll be your neck that finds its way between his salivating jaws. That maybe this is your end, and he’s making you face it day in, day out.

You believe Oikawa, and the oaths he made – but only to a point.

It’s why the morning they bring you eggs for breakfast and the smell sends you hurtling to the bathroom, it isn’t a sense of relief or happiness that fills you. While Oikawa rubs soothingly at your back, kissing your neck, your hair – whatever parts of you he can reach, cooing praise that goes in one ear and out the other, there’s an edge of hysteria that winds its way through your chest and constricts util it feels like you’ll choke under the pressure of it all.

In your womb, a noose and a lifeline.

“I want my sisters. I want to see them.”

Breakfast long forgotten, lying in bed covered solely by the fine sheen of sweat sticking to your skin, you take his hand in yours and guide it to your stomach. It’ll be months before you show, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from flicking down, the hunger that pools at the reminder of the life that’ll grow there. Your child; his heir.

“Please, Tooru. I haven’t– it’s been months. Let me see them. Five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

His eyes return to yours, pityingly, his hand stays where it is, thumb stroking bare flesh. “My love, they won’t see you.”

He might as well have slapped you. “What? Why wouldn’t they see me? You– you promised you wouldn’t–”

“I haven’t laid a finger on them,” he assures you. “They… blame you for what happened. Your parents and brothers. Their husbands. The boys. Even if I allowed the guards to permit you entry, they’d only lash out and hurt you. I wouldn’t put you through that, not for anything.”

Rationality rebels against this. Whatever your faults and missteps, you never asked for the King’s attention, you wouldn’t have tried to run if you’d known the cost. He did this, not you. But rationality gets lost entirely, drowned beneath the wave of grief that sweeps you up. It coils around you and sinks down into your bones. Grief becomes the air you breathe, the blood in your veins. It’s agony and heartbreak and the first sob that leaves you feels like it’s cleaving you in two.

They blame you.

You don’t fight him, not anymore. You sit pretty and spread your legs, let him fill you with rot over and over and over again, all to keep the King’s ire from touching them further.

They live and breathe at your behest while you’ve become a broodmare, and they hate you for it.

The cracks within grow wide and deep.

Still cradling your belly, the King laments, “I’m sorry, my love. I’d have kept you from that knowledge if I could.”

If, if, if–

—

Your breasts swell and grow tender, your middle fills out.

A simple gold band on the King’s left hand marks their marriage, but within the walls of your gilded cage, the new Queen does not exist. Beyond them, you don’t.

She breaks that tentative impasse only once.

The day itself is unremarkable. The King left hours ago, you’re on the chaise, trying, as per usual, to ignore Kyoutani’s overbearing presence with your drawing book when you hear the muffled conversation filtering through the door.

At first, you pay it no mind. While your maid is usually the only one permitted access, servants come and go throughout the day, the guards change rotation, every so often this Lord or that Lord will come seeking the ear of the King. None of them gain entry, and so you’ve learned to mostly tune the noise out.

But the voices get louder, distractingly so.

You recognise Makki’s, the other’s foreign to you. Female, you can discern that much, and with each passing exchange, her soft, dulcet tone morphs into something sharp and shrill.

From the corner of your eye, you spy Mad Dog stiffening, a clenching of his jaw. Without necessarily meaning to, you abandon the quill pen, folding your half-finished sketch shut, one hand drifting to flutter nervously over your stomach.

“– hiding his pet whore! Let me in, or so help me–”

The door thumps violently, rattling the lock and you jump with it. A snarl tears through the chamber – not from Makki or the Queen, but Kyoutani, eyes ablaze, who stalks towards you, seizes you by your arm and hauls you to your feet roughly.

For months he’s prowled on the edge of an invisible barrier he’s erected around you. He smashes through it now without care, calloused fingers digging in through the cotton of your dress while you stumble behind him, struggling to keep up with his long, angry strides.

“In the bedroom. Now,” he growls, as though you aren’t already at the door.

You expect him to toss you inside and slam the door shut behind you, with him on the other side. He doesn’t. He drags you to the huge bed, pushing you – almost gently – back onto the mattress and stomps to stand guard by its foot without so much as a word of explanation. The door swings closed of its own accord, but not before you catch the screeching wail that cuts off with another loud thump.

The silence grows heavy after that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d entertained the possibility that whatever it was Oikawa was plotting with you and her, the Queen was in on it. Content enough with her crown not to care where her husband buried his cock each night or that her own bed remained cold and empty.

She, after all, would remain once your part in this was done.

But even if she was just a simple fool, tossed into this game at the whims of the men in her life, you imagined she’d be untouchable. Protected in a way you’d never been afforded.

If the Queen – pretty idiot, scheming bitch – is not safe from the King’s violence, what hope is there for you?

Your eyes drift to the sword on Mad Dog’s hip, and you do a very good job of pretending that when your hands curl around your stomach, they aren’t shaking, that the lie doesn’t taste bitter on your tongue when you whisper, “It’s okay, little one. We’re gonna be okay.”

When the King returns shortly thereafter, he doesn’t utter a word about the incident. Dismissing Kyoutani with a flick of his wrist, he cups your cheeks in warm, tender palms, marvelling at the tears that shine there as though he isn’t perfectly aware he’s their cause.

“Give me a son,” he says lowly, a secret just for the two of you, “and I promise we’ll only have to go through this once more.”

—

You know it before the first contraction, before your water breaks, soaking the sheets beneath.

The physician’s called, your maid pulled from her rest to attend you as the King refuses to allow any more eyes into the room. For hours, you wait out your contractions, breathing through the pain while the King paces and the physician flits between examining you and whispering in his ear.

Eventually, though, he rises from your bedside and nods at the King.

“Makki, fetch the Queen. Iwaizumi, too,” he orders. To you, he says, “She’s had such a difficult pregnancy, can hardly get out of bed these days, the poor thing. She deserves to be here for the birth of her child, don’t you think?”

Your chin bobs in agreement, too terrified to speak.

Within minutes the door to the chambers opens again, the Lord Chancellor stepping through, followed by Makki with the Queen in tow.

Mortification stirs within your chest at the sight of the King’s right hand, and you’re quick to divert your gaze to the Queen instead. She stands behind Hanamaki, pallid and thin – certainly not pregnant – and she might have been beautiful, had her expression not been pinched in a sneer.

A whining cunt, Oikawa had said. But no amount of imperiousness can hide the nervous way her eyes dart between you, the King, and the gathered guards.

“Your Grace,” she utters stiffly.

She isn’t wearing a crown. No jewels or pretty dresses. Her hair’s loosely braided and she wears a shift dress not dissimilar to your own. Hardly the picture of royalty.

What strikes you, though, is that she looks passably similar to you.

“Kneel.”

Another contraction hits, stealing your attention. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath through clenched teeth, waiting for the rippling pain to abate.

“Don’t look at her,” Oikawa drawls. “Kneel.”

When your eyes flutter open again, the Queen’s on her knees, the edge of Makki’s blade resting upon her shoulder. Your heart lurches.

You don’t understand what’s happening, why they’re here, but the panic rising up inside of you threatens to sweep you away and you cannot help the tears that spring to your eyes or the lump that forms in your throat. Your mother should be here. Your sisters. They’d help you through this, guide you with steady hands and keep you calm – but your mother burned with your home, and your sisters, who despise you anyway, now traitors to the Crown.

The bed’s been turned to give you the smallest semblance of privacy, but there’s no escaping the prying eyes across the room. In a room full of voyeurs, you’ve never been more alone. More terrified. You don’t want to give birth in front of them. You don’t want your children taken from you.

You don’t want to die like this, an animal on display.

“Tooru–” you gasp, curling in on yourself as another contraction hits.

He’s at your side in an instant, hand in yours, the other stroking your hair. He shushes you gently as the physician peers between your legs and tells you that it’s time to push.

—

There’s no more proof needed of the divine right of kings than in the two healthy baby boys the physician presents to Oikawa.

An heir and a spare.

The Queen still kneels on the ground at Makki’s feet. Your maid’s fussing with sheets, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani surveying from the corner, straight backed. Alert. Waiting.

Every eye but the Queen’s is fixed on Oikawa and his sons.

“Can… Can I hold them? Please?”

You’ll beg if you have to. Those boys are yours. He can kill you now, throw you in the dungeons below with your sisters – he can erase you from the story entirely, but those two perfect boys belong to you, and you’ll haunt him to the grave if he robs you of the chance to kiss them goodbye.

As though the entire room isn’t holding their breath, dangling on the edge of a knife, Oikawa returns to your side, carefully laying the two swaddled bundles in your arms, and presses a kiss to your trembling lips. “My perfect, perfect girl,” he marvels, smoothing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “You did so well. Better than I could’ve possibly hoped.”

One of the babies yawns, squirming into the warmth of your chest, the other blinks curiously at you, his tiny brown eyes a mirror image of his father’s. They’ll need to be fed soon.

Rather than snatching them back as you fear, the King eases down onto the bed beside you, careful as to not disturb either Prince, and tucks you into his side. Unable to hold it back any longer, a sob wrenches its way free, and Oikawa sighs with such exasperated fondness that it breaks you a little more.

“Iwa, she’s crying.”

The Lord Chancellor grunts in agreement. “You seem to have that effect.”

Oikawa laughs, the tip of his finger running down his son’s nose. “Women die in childbirth every day. It’s a small miracle, my love,” his lips brush your cheek, nuzzling close, “that you were spared that, especially with twins. The Queen wasn’t so fortunate.”

At first, you think he’s referring to his own mother – it’s common knowledge that there were complications when she delivered the King’s younger brother and neither survived – until you catch a glint of steel from the corner of your eye. On instinct, you turn to follow it, and witness the exact moment the Queen’s head is cleaved from her body and tumbles to the floor.

Her body – kneeling in forced supplication, blood spurting from her still pumping heart – hangs there for a moment, as if waiting for the shock to register, for everyone to drink their fill of the grisly scene, before it too topples to the ground.

An echo, playing out for you once more.

Your maid screams, Kyoutani darting to wrench her back before she can flee. The physician pales. Startled by the sudden noise and the commotion in the room, two near identical wails break within moments of each other, your sons making their displeasure known, wriggling about and crying in your arms. You draw them closer, eyes wide, trembling like a leaf, to press a kiss against both their foreheads as you choke back a sob of your own.

“And the woman?” Iwa asks.

Oikawa, head on your shoulder, utterly absorbed in his children’s outbursts, doesn’t even bother looking up. He waves his fingers in front of their little faces and coos when they scrunch up in response.

“We’ll need someone to clean up the blood. Take her tongue instead.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #tw: noncon

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pisskuna · 17 days ago

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hunger, sukuna.

sukuna x reader (fem) wc ! 3.3k / ao3 cw ! noncon / dubcon, breaking in, pet names, choking, spanking, spitting, daddy kink, fingering, forced orgasm, rough sex er ig, cervix kissing, one threat of breeding, squirting, watersports, creampie, sukuna is a piece of shit note ! where da real freaks at, the closest thing of incest you get from me is incest adjacent (ie: daddy kink), sorry for any errors, if i repeated myself i’m sawry, spite fic btw

something’s wrong. you can feel it.

it’s dark in your apartment, the only source of light being the moon filtering in through the balcony blinds. it lights up spots here and there, odd shadows dancing around the room.

every hair on your body stands on end as you slowly scan the surrounding area with your eyes, too afraid to move. it feels like every one of your senses has been heightened, putting you on edge.

then you hear it, that deep chuckle coming from your hallway. he walks in with an easy stride, stopping just close enough for you to see him in the dim lighting. suddenly, your heart hammers so hard inside your chest you can hear it in your ears.

he leans against the wall, arms folding over his chest like a normal guest inside your apartment, so casual, but you both know he’s anything but.

you both say nothing for a moment, gazes locked onto each other’s as if you’re having some sort of stand off, and you swear you could hear a pin drop with how tense and quiet it’s become.

“what are you doing here? how did you get in?”

“thought you would’ve locked up better after last time, kitten.” he purrs, pushing off the wall with ease, rolling his shoulders back as he slowly begins approaching you. the floor groans beneath his heavy steps, a sense of dread washing over you.

saliva pools in your mouth, the urge to vomit crawls up the back of your throat with urgency. and you have to swallow down around nothing to get rid of that sick, sick feeling.

“how—you shouldn’t be here.”

he grins predatorily, teeth on display as he gets closer. you nearly trip over nothing when you back up, hand reaching out to steady yourself. you’re afraid of turning your back on him, afraid of how he’d pounce the moment you did so.

“what’s wrong, princess? not happy to see me?” he’s wearing a frown now, but you know he doesn’t mean it, not with the way his eyes glint with ill intent.

thoughts of that first encounter with him, the only encounter with him, make you shudder.

but his words earlier—“thought you would’ve locked up better after last time”—what is he talking about?

from the corner of your eye, you make out a mug you had sitting on an end table. he’s blocking the way to the exit, and you knew if you tried to make it to the balcony, then he’d catch you before you even had a chance. plus, what would you even do once you got there?

but you could run for the kitchen, whether he grabs you or not, you could reach a weapon in time. something to defend yourself with.

when he gets close enough, you a reach for the mug, throwing it at him, not with the intent to hit him but to distract him long enough to make your move.

and with that split second, you run.

bare feet skid across the floor, catching the edge of the area rug you had laid out on the living room floor. your breath hitches, and you nearly choke on your spit when you hear his thundering footsteps behind you.

you swear you can see the wooden knife block behind your eyelids every time you blink. it’s on the left hand side of the counter, pushed towards the back. not every knife is in there, some shoved into some drawers somewhere, but you always kept the chef’s knife there. that’s what you’re aiming for.

you’re there. right there.

but then your shirt jerks you back, catching on the corner of the table. no, not the table—it’s fingers. long thick fingers twist into the fabric, yanking you back til you’re slamming into a wall of hard muscle.

“nice try, princess.”

you nearly black out when your head hits the table, vision blurring and unfocusing for a second. he’s got you bent over, one arm wrenched behind your back before you can even register what’s happening. then a heavy hand falls down on your backside, causing your whole body to jerk, hand scrambling against the flat tabletop.

he’s spanking you again, the skin rising before he’s shoving your panties down til they pool around your feet. then he’s pushing your hand higher up your back, bringing your sleep tee with it, exposing your flesh to his wandering hand.

“you know,” he begins, fingers splaying across your back, and you instinctively arch away from him, pressing yourself as close against the table as possible. “after that first night, i couldn’t stop thinking about how soft you were.”

you shudder in disgust when his hand slides lower, sliding over the curve of your ass then dipping between your legs.

there’s an intense burning in your jaw, the taste of blood filling your mouth makes you think you bit your tongue when he slammed you against the table. and you’re too out of it to notice when he let go of your arm, using his free hand to grab one of your ass cheeks and spreading it wide, both your holes on display for him.

“fuck, i missed this,” he growls, spreading both cheeks apart now, you hear it before you feel, the wet sound of him spitting. it hangs for a moment, before snapping and dripping messily over your holes. then he lifts his thumb to his mouth, gives it a quick lick, and presses it against your clit.

“s-stop—” you slur, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the fog in your head.

“not a chance, sweetheart, but maybe if you ask daddy nicely, i won’t go so hard on you.”

there it is, that word.

daddy.

when you first met him, you were too drunk to really be aware of anything, only remembering his name at the time. all you knew was that you needed a good fuck to get over your ex. so you were willing to say anything if it meant you’d get what you wanted.

“i’m not—i won’t,” you spit out, blood filling the cracks on your lips.

he tuts, beginning to rub harsh circles against you clit, and your thighs tense, breath catching in your throat. “why do you have to be so difficult? be good for me.”

your lip curls in disgust, refusing to give in. that is, until he’s leaning over you, chest flush against your back. his lips drag along the shell of your ear, breath a soft tickle.

“either you say it, or i fuck you with no prep.”

and that has you shuddering, eyes rolling under their lids as you clench them shut. “i—please, be gentle, daddy. g-god, please.”

he groans—something deep, primal—almost like a purr, and you can feel it vibrate through your back.

“that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he says as he stands back to full height. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, feel just how much larger he is standing behind you.

he’s gripping your ass with both hands again, squeezing and kneading, thick fingers digging into your flesh. you know there’d be bruising tomorrow in the shape of his fingers to match the welts raised on your flesh.

“maybe i should fuck you here this time,” he says more to himself than to you, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“n-no, please, not there—” he’d split you in two even with proper prep, he’d break you. “daddy please not there.”

“i should give you what you want then, right?” and his hands are releasing you to settle on your hips. “since you said it so nicely.”

you’re nodding your head to the best of your ability, teeth sinking into your lower lip. you pray he’ll have mercy on you. you’d let him fuck you as much as you want, just not there. “please daddy.”

and he grins, fingers dipping between your folds again, dipping into the small bit of arousal and dragging it down to your clit. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you, rubbing softly circles against your clit, causing your thighs to shake. “for now.”

his movements are slow, and careful. it makes you sick. how he’s so gentle with you, knowing he has no intention of being like this when he fucks you with his cock. if makes you shudder, and he takes this as a sign to go further, one thick digit prodding at your entrance.

you tense when it slips inside, pushing into the third knuckle. your walls instinctively clench around his finger, drawing it in further. then he’s building a steady pace, finger pushing and pulling with a squelch that makes your ears ring.

he teases a second while he grabs at your ass, spreading you wider so he can watch the way he fucks you with his fingers—watch how your hole twitches and spasms around each digit.

“doing so good, sweetheart.” your lips twist, you’re getting tired of the pet names, it makes your stomach churn—him talking to you as if you’re just a couple being intimate.

you can feel that heat building within you, and you panic. you’d rather he not make you cum, instead just use your body to get off so he can leave you to repair the broken pieces of yourself.

“s-stop—”

he notices the frantic trembling of your body, and he eases his fingers out only to tease your entrance with the careful prodding of three of them this time, and your body clenches up. “what? don’t you want to cum?”

“n-no, please don’t—just fuck me already. get it over with.” and you think for just one moment that he’s going to listen when you no longer feel the heat of his fingers against your core, but then he’s shoving all three in one brutal sweep, forcing the air from your lungs.

he’s got his free hand on your lower back, keeping you in place as his fingers plunge and curl inside of you, repeatedly stroking that one spot that has your thighs twitching, muscles jumping as he forces your body to endure the pleasure.

“w-wait—god, i’m—” you choke on a moan, cunt clenching around his fingers as your lashes flutter, eyes coming in and out of focus. your cunt spasms around his fingers as if attempting to milk them, desperate for something thicker, as much as your mind tried to deny it. he continues pumping his fingers, your cum coating the digits, the lewd sound of your cum—thick and sticky—echoing in your ears.

you barely register him pulling his fingers free, slipping them into his mouth as his free hand deftly undoes his belt, the sound of the zipper hissing open drawing your attention.

“wait—i need a minute—!” but he ignores you, shoving his pants and boxers down. you get a few seconds of him swiping his cock through your folds before he’s plunging inside in one easy drive of his hips.

you blink rapidly, trying to regulate your breathing, but he’s wrapping one arm around your waist, yanking you back against his cock.

then he slips his other arm beneath your chin, forearm against your throat, a noise of surprise leaving you before he’s hauling you upright, back arched sharply..

he sets an intense pace, not giving you time to catch your breath as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. his hips slam against your backside, cock repeatedly stroking that one spot that has you creaming on his length, eyes rolling desperately.

“sukuna—!” you gasp, and then he's choking you harder, arm tightening around your neck as he slams into you like he’s angry. that’s when you realize that you fucked up, and you’re frantically slapping at his arm, desperate to get him to let up as your vision turns spotty.

he seems to be aware that you’ve realized your mistake, his grip around your throat loosening just enough to allow you to breathe.

“what do we say?”

“‘m sorry, d-daddy,” and you swear you can feel his cock throb harder inside of you, his hips grinding against your ass, and the ache blooming low in your belly makes you want to vomit.

“that’s it, good girl.” the name does something to you for some reason, you find yourself clawing at his arm, nails leaving red lines along the flesh. he hisses from the pain, panting roughly against your ear. “you’re enjoying this.”

“no—” and you’d shake your head if he didn’t have you by the throat.

the sound of skin slapping on skin is obscenely loud, his cock repeatedly parting your folds with a lewd squelch, and all the noises make your eyes roll. your hands grip his arm, an attempt at grounding yourself as he ruins your insides. it’s too much, you can feel your arousal dripping between your legs and his cock, thick strings snapping and forming a small spot on the flooring.

“god,” sukuna groans, arm tightening around your neck once more, forcing your neck to arch further. and you’re looking up at him, eyes hazy, focused on the way his cock stokes the fire burning in your belly. “taking daddy so well, you know that?”

and it has your jaw slack, panting breaths leaving you, eyes rolling so hard it causes your head to ache. it disgusts you, the way he has you falling apart on his cock. the way you can feel your juices drench your inner thighs due to his actions, the small burst of juices running down your legs. it makes tears fill your eyes—fat and heavy, weighing down your lashes as they build up along your waterline.

sukuna swears when he notices, arms keeping you pinned to him, hips taking on a punishing pace, and he’s forcing his length deeper inside of you, his cockhead kissing your cervix with each forceful thrust, causing your whole body to jerk and tremble in his hold.

the dam breaks, tears streaming down your face, the pain blooming in your belly becoming unbearable the longer he fucks you like this. yet you can’t do anything but take it, body seizing up as he ruins your insides, not caring for your pain or discomfort. instead he focuses on the pleasure your body brings to him.

“cryin’ for daddy?” he punctuates his question with a sharp, powerful thrust, and you swear you can feel him in your guts. he hisses, stopping to stir his cock against the deepest part of your cunt, hips flushed to your ass. “answer me.”

“y-yes daddy, ah—” and you can’t believe your body is reacting like this, desperate to milk his cock as he batters your cervix.

then your world is turning, sucking in a lungful of air when he releases you only to lose it again when he pushes your face back against the table. your arms stretch out on either side, gripping the edges.

his hands are back on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock. “fuck yourself on me,” he demands, guiding you til your ass is bouncing off his hips, moving with a mind of their own.

“daddy, daddy, yes, ah—daddy. . .” you gasp, chanting breathily, moans catching between each word. you don’t even hear yourself, and you’re hoping it’s instinct and not your body wanting this. the thought has you involuntarily clenching down around his cock, though, your cunt trying desperately to milk him.

and then your arms are moving, stretching out across the table, fingers curling into the wood as you fuck yourself on his cock. and he’s gripping and groping every bit of flesh he can get his hands on, his slowly rolling to meet you halfway, and you whine when he’s hitting in deep again. it makes your hips stutter, jerking as if trying to get away from thrusts.

he’s having none of it, though, his hands settling on your hips once more as he begins rocking into you heavily, the thick drag of his cock forcing you to spread your legs wider. and when his cock repeatedly brutalizes your cervix—you lose control.

heat rushes between your legs, hot and heavy as the first gush of piss—helpless and uncontrollable—spills forth. it runs down your legs, and your body convulses, mouth dropping as humiliation burns deep within your core.

sukuna groans at the sight, gripping one of your thighs to lift your leg against the table, further embarrassing you as you piss yourself uncontrollably. “pissin’ for daddy now?”

and all you can do is sob while he fucks you through it forcing gush after gush of piss from between your thighs, splattering against the floor in a lewd display.

“d-daddy,” you sniffle, reaching blindly behind you in an attempt to push at his hips, trying to stop his intense thrusts. he just grabs your wrist, pinning your arm against your lower back.

you shudder when you finally stop pissing yourself. there’s an odd sense of relief that washes over you, body going lax and limp against the table, a fog entering your brain as you stare blankly at the counter across from you. you’re unaware that you’ve slipped two fingers in your mouth, sucking on the digits to ground yourself.

sukuna notices this, releasing your hand to lean over your back, his hips slowing to an easy drag of his cock. his nose brushes your cheek, lips trailing over your skin, across your clothed shoulder, parting to whisper soft words. “is daddy’s girl feeling good?”

you can’t say anything, but your mouth parts, heavy, stuttering breaths leaving you. sukuna keeps going, whispered words against your ear, soft murmurs of “daddy’s good girl,” “you’re doing so well,” and “daddy wants you to cum”.

it makes your cunt clench desperately around his cock, and he takes this as a sign to lean back, hands smoothing down your back as he picks up pace once more. his hips drive forward, the edge of the table digging into you with each punishing thrust. and you’re panting now, brain finally starting to come back into focus, the feeling in your stomach building to an unbearable peak.

you don’t even realize you’re cumming til your body seizes up, light flashes behind your eyelids as you clench your eyes shut—cunt gripping him so tight, as if desperate for his release as more slick gushes from between your legs, trickling down to join the puddle of piss on the floor.

sukuna’s groaning, hand on the back of your neck as he thrusts in you with brutal precision, his cock bullying your insides, turning them into mush. it’s filthy, arousal clinging to his cock, your creamy essence leaving a white ring around the base of his length. “gonna cum inside this pussy. maybe give you daddy’s baby.”

and you don’t register his words until it’s too late, his cock pushing into the hilt as he erupts. it’s warm and thick, filling your insides in heavy spurts, painting your walls white.

a deep growl erupts from his chest as his hips give a final thrust, cock pulsing where it’s nestled inside of you.

“no—” you choke out, body shuddering as his release settles within you. your leg trembles where it rests on the table, and he smooths a hand across your thigh before slowly lowering it back down. it makes you sob. the way he’s playing pretend. like he’s always this gentle with you.

“you did so good for me.” he murmurs, the sickeningly sweet sound of his voice makes you recoil, trying to inch yourself away from him. he tuts, grabbing your hips, keeping you speared on his cock. “what do you say?”

and you sob harder, fingers slipping from your mouth, lips trembling. “thank you, daddy.”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk smut #cw dubcon #cw noncon #🍒 jjk fics #🍒 kash’s scribbles

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draftbeerbibi · 1 month ago

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FOR ME, IT WILL ALWAYS BE YOU - Sylus x Non MC! ( Part 2 )

Summery: you find yourself in lads universe after a particularly close interaction with truck kun. How does life go from here after arriving in the N109 zone leaders backyard when MC hasn’t arrived yet?

Disclaimer, Sylus might be OOC, since i’m not very good at writing so bear with me. This will be multiple parts!

What was happening right now?

It has been a month since your arrival at the N109 zone. Your usual schedule was turned completely upside down, as you adapted to Sylus's nocturnal schedule. He had been weirdly tolerant of your presence. Never kind, but never the ruthless crime boss either.

It confused you.

It had also come to your attention that MC was still nowhere to be found, so it was just a waiting game to see when she would show up.

You found yourself in Sylus's office while he was doing paperwork, glasses perched on his nose as his hair softly tousled in the wind of the open window. It was a full moon, and the light illuminated his features beautifully, he almost looked like a deity.

"You'll wear me out like this kitten." His voice rumbles through the air as you realize you had been staring. He hadn't even looked up from his paperwork, but you could see the faintest of smiles dawning on his face.

You whip your head back to your computer. You had been put in charge of keeping in contact with his business partners, making sure business proposals were sent to the right people, answering his phone, yada yada yada. Basically just a glorified secretary.

You mumble out a soft sorry as you focus back on your work. The twins had been so kind to give you a quick rundown of the job. You still had lots to learn and had received enough glares from Sylus when you made a mistake, you were sure they had left marks on your face at this point.

The whole situation was giving you a headache. This field was completely new for you. You were working as a waitress before this, so suddenly handling phone calls, legal documents and schedules was something you couldn't say was on your christmas list this year. But you were managing, and you had fallen into a routine you could almost call normal, was it not for the fact he was a crime boss.

You sigh as another email pops up from a particular partner who doesn't seem to take no for an answer. It seems that after finding out they don't deal with Sylus directly anymore they suddenly have more balls and they like to juggle.

You feel Sylus's gaze land on you and a chill runs up your spine. It's unfair for a person to be so damn handsome yet so unavailable at the same time.

You had promised yourself to not fall for Sylus, no matter what. You remember what it felt like when you watched your dad walk away. He promised he was going to go coma back after finishing the 'emergency meeting' , instead, he left and never returned. Your mom told you he had been in an accident. You were devastated. You mourned him for months, untill you found out he had remarried. The abandonment and betrayal still tasted sour on your tongue till this very day.

Plus, his soulmate was bound to come sooner or later, you couldn't break up their love story knowing how much he's been longing for her.

You look up and meet his gaze. Your breath hitches just slightly. Real damn unfair.

"It's dinner time, shut off the computer, we'll continue tomorrow." You check your watch, albeit cracked from the crash, it was the only thing that survived the transport from your world to here. Your phone had unfortunately been put out of comission, considered an almost vintage model, no longer supported by any of the new technology.

You nod and turn off your computer, stretching the long hours of sitting away.

Sylus excuses himself, saying he has something to take care off, and to just eat dinner with the twins, but just your luck, the twins were going out to dinner by themselves so you were to eat dinner alone, with your thougths.

Truly nothing made sense.

You had tried to look up anything on alternate universes online inbetween replying to emails, but to no avail.

Sometimes you were jealous of MC, she could fight, she had recourses, hell, she had all the men too. But honestly, you couldn't complain. Though not with love, Sylus gave you everything you needed. You had grown accustomed enough to eachother so that you didn't shit your pants everytime he looked at you, and he didn't scowl at you everytime you asked a question.

After finishing your dinner you decided to take a look around the base. Though it's been a month, most of your time was spent learning your new trade, and working your ass off to make sure he wasn't going to discard you. The base looks gloomy, as the black, greys and crimson reds stretch everywhere. With the lack of sunlight this place almost looked like a cave.

You stumble into a room with a record player, antique vinyls plastered on the walls, and enough boxes filled to the brim to fill up a normal sized house. You hand't listened to music at all this past month. Hell, you hadn't even relaxed, as you were bombarded with an unending amount of information. Your head pounded in protest. You decide to grab a vinyl and carefully place it down on the spindle and gently lower the needle. Soft classical music fills the room and you feel yourself relax slightly.

You sit on the chair perched next to the recordplayer. 'He must sit down here often.' You think to yourself sinking just a bit deeper and closing your eyes as you savour the moment. But peace is fleeting.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable." You nearly jump out of the seat as Sylus makes himself known.

"Sylus! I-i wasn't expecting you back so soon." Your heart thunders in your chest. You looked in his eyes, scanning for discontent, but to your surprise, there wasn't any.

"You have good taste." You feel your heart skip a beat. The effect his voice had on you was powerful. Everyday you prayed he wouldn't realize just how well you knew him, and that he wouldn't see the blush that, without fail, creeps up your cheeks. Though this was out of character, even for him. He never engaged in small talk.

"Thank you?" You didn't want to sound like you were questioning him, but it would be a lie if you said that this was normal for you two.

He chuckles.

"No need for wariness kitten, i'm merely stating a fact." A soft grin adorns his face and you pray he can't see the heat creeping up your face in the dark room.

"How did the 'meeting' go?" you softly clear your throat as to put the attention literally anywhere else.

He sighs softly, he looked worn out. The small twitch in his eye and his posture that was just a tad bit too tense for him give him away. You just knew him too well.

"About as well as it could go." He takes off his jacket as he sits down in the chair next to you. He never showed weakness, not even now, but he was slowly starting to realize you were indeed not a threat. He had tried running a background check on you, but it came back completely empty. Like you were an anomaly. You were.

He looks you over.

"Would you like some wine?" Softly nodding in agreement, you watch as he stands up to grab glasses and some wine. Truly, nothing was going how you had expected them to. Though you would be lying if you said you weren't happy that he was warming up to you. A blessing and a curse really.

He softly sets down the glasses and fills them up, putting the bottle down as he raises his glass as if to cheers as he takes a sip. You follow his lead and take a sip yourself. It tastes slightly sweet, with a deep, tantalizing aroma swirling on your tongue. You hum softly, appreciating the sense of normalcy.

You turned softly to look at him. He almost looked, at peace. You two don't talk, but you can feel something changed between you two. Like he accepted you, and you were now part of his routine.

The front door opens, and you can hear the distant bickering of the twins in the hallway as they bet on which business partner was going to get himself killed first.

You chuckle softly as you allow yourself to drink in the rare moment. Who knew if this was going to happen again. And as the music softly echoes through the room, you enjoy each others company.

~~~

Something changed. The dynamic between you and Sylus had shifted, and he had diverted from scowling at you, to teasing you at every opportunity.

"Yes, that dress really does bring out the color in your eyes." Sarcasm drips off of every word. You had picked a random dress off the rack to shut him up. He had invited you to come along to one of his mission God knows why and he had been yammering your ears off about getting you a dress. However, the dress you had picked was everything but flattering as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You wince as you turn around a bit.

"Okay then, big boss man, what do you suggest i wear then?" He smirks slightly as if he's been waiting for that question. He turns around and grabs an extravagant dress off the rack. Holding it up to you as he cocks his brow, waiting, expecting.

You take the dress and return to your dressing room. After nearly tripping over the fabric twice, you managed to get the dress on and you gasped as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The dress accentuated every curve of your body, hugging your every dip as if you yourself were a statue carved by the greek.

"Are you finished? Show me." you open the curtain to find him waiting. He looks you up and down and nods.

"I knew this would fit you. Turn around." You do as he says and spin softly, marveling at yourself. The dress looks black, but when the light hits it it shines a soft crimson. So Sylus coded honestly. There are beaded gems at the top of your dress, casting a faint red glow on your skins, causing you to literally look dazzling. A small bundle of tule pretend to be straps, when in reality it just exists to make the dress look prettier, and it works.

"Now tell me, why on earth do i need to go along to this auction of yours? You manage just fine without me." You take in every detail of the dress as you shoot the question at Sylus. He chuckles in return.

"We need our partners to get acquainted with you, they have been getting rather, complacent now that your in the field. We should show them who you work for no?"

You look at his eyes through the mirror and to your surprise they were already locked on yours. Your breath hitches just slightly as you break it just as fast.

"Whatever you say bossman."

He chuckles at the nickname. Honestly, you were nervous. Conversing with crime bosses from behind a computer screen is completely different from talking to them all gathered together at an auction. You felt severely underqualified. You are. But you trust him, after all, what could go wrong with Sylus by your side?

~~~

Part 3!

A/N: part 2 is here! honestly, i really wasn't expecting anyone to read this so thank you for reading and enjoying my brain slurry! Have a great day everyone!

Taglist:

@jeondyy @animegamerfox @nm4565natty @famouschopshopgalaxy @supershygirl

#lads #love and deepspace #lads x you #sylus #sylus x non mc #sylus romance #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lads sylus #sylus lads #l&d #l&ds #l&d sylus #For me it will always be you

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comically-callous · 10 months ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade reacting to his gender neutral crush kissing him because they're so in love with him before apologising when they realised what they just did please?

Ofc!!

X-Men with a gn!crush!Reader who suddenly kisses them 🤯🤯🤯

Includes: Remy LeBeau, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, and Kurt Wagner

A/n: I love them a normal amount. This took me a long time to write because tumblr kept deleting all of my work 😋😋😋 But, it’s here now. Hope you freaks annoy it. Requests are OPEN 💜

Remy:

It happens one day when you guys are in the kitchen cooking together

Remy (ever the opportunist) is helping you out by occasionally guiding your hands or gently grabbing your waist/hips whenever he moves past you. And you're definitely not complaining

Overall, the vibes are very flirtatious and cutesy, and you sort of get caught up in it.

After the food is in the oven and Remy is washing dishes, you walk over and kiss him.

Remy damn near drops the bowl he was rinsing, but he manages to keep his cool and almost immediately starts kissing you back

You're the first to pull away because it suddenly clicks for you that you're kissing your friend, so you break the kiss to start apologizing

"What you apologizing for, mon Ami?"

"I kissed you."

"And? I certainly didn't mind."

Remy has liked you for a while. That was pretty obvious to everyone. Everyone except you, since you thought he was just being flirty with you like he was with nearly everyone.

But, that's obviously not the case. He makes sure to make that very clear.

Once all of your feelings are cleared up, Remy pulls you closer to him by your hips and smirks softly. "You wanna try and kiss me again? For real this time?"

His ass did NOT finish those dishes 💀

Logan:

He comes back from a long mission, exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with anyone

Well, that is until he sees you walking down the hallway. Then he decides he can maybe deal with one more person.

You're happy to see him back, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace that he didn't know he needed

"Ugh, I missed you!"

“You say that every time I come back from a mission."

"Yeah, because it's true."

He missed you too, but you don't need to know that.

You pull back from him just to lean in and kiss him.

That's probably the last thing he expected you to do. I mean, yeah he really like you, but he'd always been certain that you'd never want a guy like him.

After a moment of shock, he starts kissing you back, arms tightening around you

You pull away to ask "is this okay?" And he doesn’t even let you finish, just pulls you in for another kiss.

Sorry. He’s just wanted this for such a long time.

Wade:

He's liked you for a pretty long time. But, he knows you probably won’t like him back with how he looks. And he tells himself he’s fine with that.

But, since you two have been friends for a while, you get curious. So, you ask if you can see his face.

He agrees eventually and pulls his mask off to show you.

Normally he doesn't get so nervous to show people his real face. But, it's different with you. He doesn't think he can just laugh off your disgust.

When he pulls his mask off and your eyes widen, he immediately assumes the worst

"Yeah. Hideous, I know. Not the chiseled supermodel that I sound like under the-"

"Wade, you're like, hot."

"Excuse me?"

He can't believe it. Actually, he doesn't believe it. After you repeat yourself, he starts telling you that he doesn't need you to lie to him and that's when you cut him off with a kiss.

He pulls away immediately just because of utter shock "Woah! Cool down, hot stuff. What are you doing?"

You tell him you've always liked him, and that you still like him (maybe even like him more) now that he's shown you his face.

He's over the moon.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner? We could've been doing this all along!"

"Doing what?"

And then he kisses you again. Heheheheehehehe 👅👅👅

Kurt:

Kurt loves helping you with anything and everything whenever he can. It’s one of the ways he shows his appreciation for you.

So, when you receive a (very minor) injury during training, he’s at your side almost immediately

He drags you away and makes you sit down, treating your small cut as if it were a leg that had fallen off

“Don’t move, Schatz. I will be back with a first aid kit.”

“Kurt, you don’t need to-“

“Stay, please.”

So, you let him patch you up, and he does far too much for a wound that you could probably just slap a bandaid over

But, you don’t mind. You admire him as he’s crouched down to the floor, delicately treating the small cut on your knee

And then he looks up at you with those bright, yellow eyes and he smiles. And you can’t help yourself. You lean down to him and kiss him.

This poor boy is so surprised he can’t do anything. He just freezes up. So, you assume you’ve done something wrong and you pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I thought- I was just-“

“Please do that again.”

“What?”

“Please.”

And you do 🧚‍♀️

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eveysnotebook · 2 months ago

Text

dc characters when their lover is very physically affectionate

includes:

jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, hal jordan, barry allen, wally west, roy harper ‘n koriand’r!

jason todd:

he loves it and hates it. at first, he doesn’t know what to do, he has never really received this kind of soft and loving touch before.

it feels nice but also new and scary, he doesn’t know how to act! he kinda gets all shy and flustered for awhile.

after a couple months of being together he gets more adjusts to it, seeking it out even! he finds himself leaning into your warm and welcoming touch.

every hug or brush of hands makes jason smile and blush, even if it’s barely noticeable.

he starts giving back the same loving touches too, soft, caressing touches and warm kisses become normal, every day things now.

he may brush it off or even act annoyed, but he really loves it.

“stop bothering me” he’d say as he leans into you.

he really loves it and is so appreciative and grateful <33

dick grayson:

he’s naturally a very touchy person, giving friends big, warm hugs. but when you give him a hug first? he’s head over heels.

“c’mere! you look like your wanting a hug.”

he lives for every moment you touch him, whether it be brief sand accidentally or longing and lovingly.

he always leans into your warmth, giving back the same loving energy with the cutest smile!

he takes this as a green light to give you even more loving touches, more hugs, kisses and hand holding!

he’ll always find a reason to touch you, and he hopes you do the same.

tim drake:

he acts nonchalant, as if it isn’t that big of a deal, but he really loves it.

it’s not often he’s given warm hugs or soft touches, so it’s something special he has with you!

he finds it hard to give the same touches to you at first, but he slowly warms up to the idea.

he gets flustered whenever you slip your hand into his own.

“This is okay. just don’t distract me.”

hal jordan:

I feel like he’s already big on being physically affectionate, so he’s happy when your the same!

he love love loves when you initiate touches first, makes him feel special and happy!

knows that you are okay with being touched alot, so he randomly gives you big kisses and hugs.

“your just obsessed with me, aren’t you?” He’d tease whenever you have your hands all over him.

barry allen:

a little flustered at first. he isn’t really used to it! he most definitely adores it though and tends to seek it out.

he’ll start brushing his hand across yours as you walk together. as if a silent reminder to take his hand.

loves it when you kiss his cheek randomly. expect a kiss in return!

“uh- what’s this for?” he’d ask the first time you randomly gave him a big, warm hug. he’d hug back, although slightly awkwardly.

he feels safe and at home in your hands <3

wally west:

great! he lives for your attention. he’s confident enough to take your hand in his when he feels like it, but if you touch him first? he’s flattered, happy, over the moon.

he wants you to hold his face, he loves it. feeling the warmth of your hand take over his freckled cheeks.

“aww- baby! someone’s clingy.” he’d say with a smile before hugging you back even tighter. you laugh at his hypocrisy.

roy harper:

I feel at first he would be a it standoffish at first. why are you hugging him as if you’d known eachother for ages? acting as if he’s something special and to be held gently.

he blushes every time you take his face in your hands, especially when he’s taken off guard.

“ ‘m not blush, it’s just warm in here!”

he gets used to it though, and returns the warm touches.

grabbing your hand in a busy street, or seeking you out in his sleep are some simple signs of his adoration for you and your touchiness.

Koriand’r / starfire:

Kori is warm. she is the sun itself. but when your warmth meets hers, she is stunned. a soft touch makes her face break out into a wide smile.

she loves the way you touch her. your hands gliding over her arms, softly holding her hands, settling on her knee. she feels extra warm every time she feels your hands snake around her.

“oh! this..this is nice.” she’d say the first time you wrap her tightly in your arms. when she hugs back, she ever so slightly lifts you off of the ground.

“I could get used to this.” she tells you one night, both of your limbs tangled together.

you will always make her feel loved.

ignore the fact kori’s was the most well written lmao

what can I say I love her 🧡

request open btw!!

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spencers-wifey · 27 days ago

Text

PILLOW TALK

warnings: mentioned bau case, soft smut (nothing too freaky, very much vanilla)

pairing: spencer reid x wife!reader

a/n: you can find the request for this fic, here!

Spencer had just come home from the state over, he was gone for around a week for a case. You were unaware when he’d come home, based on his short messages, you assumed it wouldn’t be long until he did so. He might have forgotten to inform you that he and the team came home, too exhausted after the long week. It wasn’t much longer after you put your daughter to bed, it was one of the rare occasions where she didn’t immediately wake up when you laid her down in her crib. You had just closed the door to the nursery and were about to head to bed. Right when you began walking to the bedroom, there was a jingle of keys at the front door. Your head turned to see him standing in the front of the house, the door already shut behind him.

“Spence, you’re home!” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. He smiled, using what was left of his energy to quickly walk over to you and pull you into his arms. He inhaled the scent of your shampoo as his face was buried against your shoulder. “Not a good case, huh?” you questioned. Spencer would normally dissolve himself into you after cases like the one he just got back from, it was something you had gotten used to in the years of knowing, loving, and living with him. He exhaled against your skin, and you felt him shake his head, that was his response to your question.

“Is the baby asleep already?” he pulled back, straightening his posture as he looked down at you with his hands resting at your waist. “Yeah… I didn’t think she could fall asleep that quickly,” you admitted.

Spencer began to lead both of you to the bedroom, his hand gently pressed against your back. “At six to eight months, infants typically achieve sleep within 10 to 20 minutes, it’s– it’s honestly quite impressive considering babies younger than six months take longer to fall asleep,” he said. By the time he finished his fun fact, you had already closed the bedroom door, a soft, loving smile spread on your lips as you listened to him speak. “I did not know that, noted.” you chuckled as he returned your comment with a silly grin.

“I missed you.” your eyes met his in the pale lighting of your bedroom, the only source of light was the neighbor's house lights outside and the faint glow from the moon. “I missed you, too, honey.” he let go of your waist as he went to sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m exhausted.”

“Go change, then go to bed, Spence.”

He shook his head, “I said I was exhausted, not sleepy.”

It took you a short moment to register what he meant, not long after a small smile appeared on your face. “Mhm?” you stepped in between his legs as you held one side of his face with your hand, “mhm…” his hum died down as his eyes searched your face for any signs of fatigue. He knew you might have been tired from taking care of the baby all day, but when he didn’t see anything that could have indicated that you were, his hands moved to rest on your hips.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he whispered as he pulled you onto his lap. You laughed softly, now both hands cupped his face. “Once or twice,” he chuckled as he rested his chin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence between you both as your bodies were pressed together, his arms wrapped around your waist as he let out a sigh of relief.

You felt his hands slip down to grab onto the edge of your t-shirt, politely suggesting a change in scenery, in other words. You allowed him to do as he pleased. Spencer hooked his fingers into the fabric as he slowly took it off your body. “Oof, it’s cold.” you shivered as you pressed your chest against his, the air conditioner was blasting. Not that it was winter, the weather outside was nice and warm, but the rest of the house would get hot and stuffy rather quickly. It was a win-or-lose situation, your bedroom would always freeze over if the temperature was adjusted to make the house cooler.

“Not a good time to ask if I may take your bra off, right?” he whispered into your ear, his fingers toying with the clasps on your bra. You groaned as you peeled yourself off of him, “fine… if you insist, pretty boy.” he automatically undid the hooks on your bra and slipped it off your chest at your words.

“Someone’s eager, hm?” you laughed quietly as he started planting slow, desperate kisses from your neck to in between your breasts.

“I love you… My apologies, I know you probably wanted to go to bed, sweetheart.” his hands were warm compared to your skin. A warm, gentle hand was placed over your chest, and he gently squeezed the flesh in his hands. “I don’t mind, Spence. And honestly, a week without you, I’d pick this over sleeping,” you whispered.

He tilted his head upwards to press his lips against yours, he softly tugged at your bottom lip as your mouth opened to allow his tongue to pass through. You moaned as he pulled away. Your hands flew down to his belt to unbuckle it, the next thing was getting him out of his pants.

“You don’t have to get me ready, I can assure you, you won’t have a problem getting it in.”

In just a minute or two, the two of you were already unclothed for the most part. Your hands palmed the visible bulge poking through his boxers as you gave him a wide eyed look, almost begging but without the words. He reluctantly slid them off. “I won’t have a problem, is that so?”

His fingers pushed aside your panties as you wrapped a hand onto his cock, directing the tip to properly slide inside of you. He let out a moan as the first half entered you with ease, “you weren’t kidding.”

Your hands clawed at his back as he fully sheathed into you. “Oh— oh, my goodness,” you gasped as he started slow, thrusting in and out of your hole. It didn’t take long for him to speed up.

At that point, you were moaning Spencer’s name every other second. “Spence…” he gently hushed you, “we don’t want the baby waking up, do we?”

“No… no, we don’t. You’re right,” you whispered. Your attempt at quieting down failed as he buried himself deep, deep, into your pussy. You could feel a change in his pace, his breathing becoming more ragged with each movement. “Are you close?” you asked, knowing the answer.

He shook his head, a groan escaping his mouth. “Me too,” you breathed out, a whimper falling from your lips as he got slightly rougher, his hands tightly gripping onto your hips. He grunted as he pulled out and shoved back in, deeper this time. “Spencer— I’m,” you choked on your own words as you came, almost passing out against his chest.

You blinked your eyes open when you felt him pull out of you. “You’re done?” you whispered, your chest rising and falling with each breath. “Mhm… let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he gently spoke, his hand coming up to move the hair strands away from your face.

“That… that sounds nice,” you mumbled as he held your head up with his palm.

He chuckled, “yeah, it does.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #rosie's fics

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creamiecoups · 6 months ago

Text

conditioned - seungcheol x reader

↠ pairing : seungcheol x reader

↠ summary : you were too naive, too sweet, and seungcheol had to be the one that gets to wreck and destroy you… and also make sure you were conditioned enough to never dare to leave him.

↠ word count : 5.1K words

↠ warnings : swearing, drinking/getting drunk, dom!seungcheol, noncon/dubcon, use of pet names, mentions of past cheating, rough fingering, slight choking, drugging

↠ author’s note : heyy guys sorry about the delay on this i was busy with new years stuff and i realised that this was wayy too long and also wanted to make it a series so this is just part 1! i hope you guys like it so far and lmk what you think :) also happy new year !! i hope this year is filled with happiness and love for each and every one of you 🫶🏼

part one part two part three

It all started on that rainy night.

You still had half an hour until closing time, when you could finally go home to your warm and cozy bed.

The cafe you recently started working at was in a busy part of Seoul so it wasn't much of a shock to you that it was bustling at 7pm on a Friday night. But with the looming worry of your piling assignments and all the bills to your tiny apartment, you just really wanted to go home. Even with so many worries and stress, you were never one to show it too much, preferring to keep it within you while you be the best version of yourself while talking to others.

And so, when the tall and extremely handsome man came to the cash register, voice dripping in honey as he ordered from the menu, you still maintained your good behaviour.

"Is that by cash or card for today?" You asked, not paying much mind to his observant eyes scanning over you as you clicked away on the screen.

"By card, sweetheart, thank you."

You looked up as soon as the word fell from his lips, but all he did was flip open his wallet, pulling out the sleek black card before pushing it towards you with a cute smile, his eyes mimicking crescent moons.

After taking the card from his hands you hovered it over the pay screen, suddenly feeling small as he watched you before you gave it back to him.

Working at a cafe in the city means you always serve cute customers, but this one just felt different.

"I'll sit by the back... can you bring it out for me when it's done?" He asked, taking you aback as you just stared at him like he grew ears and a tail.

"Hello? Did you not catch that?" He asked again, honeyed voice still gentle as he tilted his head to the side slightly, causing you to shake your head.

"S-Sorry um... I'm a-actually just a cashier, my co worker will bring it out—"

"Do you know who I am darling?" He cut you off, causing you to crease your eyebrows.

"N-No—"

"Oh my god...M-Mr Hong, I'm sorry Sir, she's new to Seoul and only recently started here, I'll make sure I teach her well."

You watch in shock as your usually strict and nonchalant manager stumbled over her words, bowing down repeatedly before your eyes trail back to his, as he eyed you down.

"That's alright... when my order is done, make sure she is the one that hands it to me."

You both watch as he walks away without another word, before Soyeon, your manager, all but drags you into the kitchen area, shutting the door behind her rather loudly.

"Where the fuck is Yugyeom? I told him to watch the newbie for a bit while I was on break, didn't I?" Soyeon spat as she stormed around before a confused Yugyeom walked in through the staff room door.

"Oh shit my bad, I went to drink water," he mumbled, clearly confused as Soyeon rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you were. Mr Hong is here, alone it seems...and this girl spoke to him like a normal customer! I don't have the time to explain anything right now but from now on, no one leaves her to the cash register alone...Yugyeom take over for a bit he requested her to bring his order," Soyeon went on before looking towards me as I looked around at all the people in the kitchen that stopped upon hearing that guys name.

"I'm s-sorry did I do something wrong? Is he-he like political or—"

"Political," Soyeon scoffed, shaking her head before leaving the room as everyone slowly went back to what they were doing, except Yugyeom.

"Hey don't stress, I'll explain after we close.... I'll cover for you until you get back but, don't talk to him too much okay? Only answer whatever he asks, nothing more, and definitely nothing less....he's dangerous."

Yugyeom pushes the tray in front of you before walking away soundlessly, as your left stunned.

He's dangerous.

Yugyeom words rang in your mind as you carefully walked past the tables to the very end of the store, where there was a couple of booths.

"Here's your iced americano... I-I hope you enjoy—"

"Where you running off too that quickly? Come sit," he spoke, hand wrapped around your wrist tightly before you could've ran back. You hesitantly nodded, before sitting opposite him as he took a sip of his drink, eyes still trained on yours through the rim of the transparent glass.

"Your manager said you're new....where are you from?" He asked innocently, although he already knew almost everything about you.... the rest you would have to fill in for him.

"Y-Yeah....I'm from Iksan actually....came here for....for university," you answer truthfully, although you felt wary talking about yourself in detail to him.

"Oh? What are you studying?" He asked again, as you looked towards the front of the cafe.

"I-I think I'll have to head back I'm sorry—"

"Darling you're with me, your manager won't mind, now answer me," he shot, causing you to swallow thickly.

"I-I study psychology," you almost mumbled, before his pretty face was contorting in interest.

"So you like studying how minds work, huh? That sounds cool," he says, taking another sip of his drink before you both turn to see Yugyeom telling a customer that they're closed now so they can't order.

"Oh pity, you guys are already closed," he says, making you turn back to look at him.

"W-Who are you?" You muster the courage to ask, mostly the curiosity getting to you.

"I never introduced myself, I'm Joshua sweetheart, I work nearby."

"It was nice meeting you, but I think I'll have to help close," you said, almost getting annoyed of the man in front of you.

He was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that...but everything about the way he was acting along with your co workers, held up red signs in your mind.

You swore he almost rolled his eyes, before he was standing up and walking towards the front cash register as you followed behind him in confusion.

"I'm sure you guys can manage a close right? Y/N looks really tired today she's going home," He blatantly said, before looking towards you again.

"Go get your things."

You don't know what it was, but you found yourself complying to his words as you walked into the staff room to get your bag, Soyeon no where to be seen. Yugyeom looked horrified when you came back out, his eyes looking at you as if trying to convey that he hopes your safe.

You slightly nod his way before looking back towards Joshua.

"Thank you," you mumble, before quickly speeding out to the car park outside as he followed you out.

You don't really know why you said thank you, or why you even listened to his words but you deemed it a good idea considering Yugyeom did mention he was dangerous.

Fishing out your keys from your tote bag you quickly got into your car, pushing the key in to start your car as you noticed he was just standing not too far from your car almost expectantly.

And as expected, your car made no effort to start up even as you turned the key, your eyebrows furrowing as you cursed under your breath. After trying a few more times you gave up, letting out a deep sigh as you exited your car again before shutting the door.

"What's wrong?" Joshua instantly asked as you shrugged.

"My car is dead, I don't even know why," you mumble, trying to walk past him before he grabbed your arm again.

"Where are you going?"

"Inside, im gonna ask my co worker for a ride," you answer, pulling your arm out of his grasp as he shook his head.

"No need, just come with me, I can drop you off."

"What n-no," you instantly deny, staring up at him in shock.

You didn't even know him, why did he think you'd say yes?

"Do I look like a murderer Y/N?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as his big doe eyes stared at you.

"N-No but.... but I don't know you and it's fine you—"

"I'd love to, really..... do you live far?"

"No just a few minutes away," you answer, slowly realising it might not be such a bad idea.

If you waited for a co worker you'd have to stay back closing, and you were beyond tired to do that.... and Joshua, although slightly weird, didn't give you any doubt to think he was a threat.

Even though Yugyeom had called him dangerous....

"If we're not far than just come, the longer you take your losing time sleeping," He stated, as you bit your lip in thought.

You guessed it wouldn't be so bad.

"Fine yeah," you mumbled, nodding at him as he flashed you that charming smile that had your stomach doing flips.

"Good, follow me."

You followed behind him, completely unaware of the smug smile on Joshua's face as you both passed your old car.

It wasn't too hard for him to make sure it wouldn't work, but that battered car was hanging by a thread anyways.

Your mouth hung open once you saw the black Porsche parked not too far from the entrance, as he opened the passenger door for you with a chuckle leaving his lips at your reaction.

"Are you gonna get in?"

"S-Sorry," you mumble awkwardly, before quickly sitting inside as he shut the door.

You knew he was probably rich as fuck, if anything that ironed to perfection suit with a Chanel pin gave it away, but being inside such a luxurious car made you feel sick.

This was definitely worth more than a whole year of your college tuition fees.

"Can you put your address in for me?" Joshua asked, pointing towards the huge tablet in the middle as he started the car.

You nod shortly before typing away, still not being able to shake away the utter shock you were feeling sitting in such a nice car.

"Do you like working there?" Joshua suddenly asked after a few minutes of silent driving.

"Yeah I do, it's fun," you say, playing with your fingers nervously as he hummed.

Thankfully you saw your apartment complex come into view, making you let out a sigh without even realising.

"It was really kind of you to offer me a ride, thank you," you say politely, as he smiled at you warmly.

"Of course, get home and rest up you've had a long day.... your cafe is my usual so, I'll see you around," he says, giving you a small nod before you thank him once again before getting out of his car.

The whole elevator ride up to your apartment and for the next two hours laying in bed, all you can think about is that mysterious but kind man. It's as if all the sleepiness you felt throughout the day disappeared, your mind running with so many thoughts. You thought back to how Soyeon and Yugyeom acted around him, and how odd you found him when he asked you to sit with him. Although you knew it was very sweet of him to give you a ride, you were a stranger to him too, his aura was comforting almost, and something told you that was definitely not the last time you'd see him around.

And you were right.

Something you were terribly wrong about though?

There was nothing comforting and sweet about Joshua Hong.

———————————————————————————

A few days passed since your first encounter with Joshua, and almost every one of those days in between he was at your cafe, ordering the same thing and having conversations with you.

One iced americano, bring it out for me.

Although you still found that weird, you kind of enjoyed his company. You soon found out he worked at a law firm, he lived alone but was thinking of adopting a puppy soon, and he was so interested in your studies and out of work lifestyle.

Lies, lies, and more lies.

But you didn't need to know that yet.

You tried keeping your words on the low though, not giving away too much about your not so pretty life at the moment and how you manage to make a living. Yugyeom and Soyeon had become rather silent everytime you interacted with them.... and Yugyeom never explained to you what he wanted to say about Joshua the first time you saw him.

"He's cool, just really intimidating cuz he's like a law dude y'know?"

"Gyeom you called him dangerous.... I don't really believe you would've used that word so lightly without a reason," you had said, to which he just shrugged and brushed off to another random topic.

Anyways that was over a week ago, and for now you just wanted to let go of every thought for the night as you enjoyed some drinks with a couple of uni friends at a club of their choosing on a Sunday night. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't get wasted since you had work the next morning, but alas one drinking game bled into another and by 11pm you were already nearly gone.

You didn't feel like going home anymore, not that you could until all your friends tapped out since you guys promised to Uber together, but eventually the games got boring so you excused yourself to go sit on one of the stools in front of the main bar, chin in your palms as the cute bartender came your way.

"Can I get a cosmopolitan, please," you say politely before running a hand through your hair.

"A cosmopolitan? Thought you'd choose something more sweeter," a voice from next to you spoke, making you whip your head to look at the man.

Your mouth slightly hung open, staring across at who you were sure was the hottest man to grace the world, all the alcohol in your system making you much more bolder than your usual quiet self.

"And why do you think you have a say in what I order? It's my favourite," you huff, as the man's eyebrows go up in amusement.

"Now, now....no need to be snappy, I was just curious.... think you'd like an expresso martini more," he chuckled, tongue swiping across his red plush lips as he eyed you up and down.

"Alright, let's see," you say, as the man smiles your way before calling over the bartender.

"Swap that cosmopolitan for an expresso martini, and get me my usual."

"Usual? Do you come here often?" You pique, resting your chin on your palm as you look at him.

"Something like that... I've never seen you here before though? I must say.... this doesn't seem like your setting," he smiles again, before the bartender was sliding your cocktail in front of you.

"Enjoy your drinks," he bows before running off, his playful smiles and comments completely gone.

"Come on, have a taste."

You slowly bring the glass rim to your lips, before opening your mouth.

"Oh shit, it's so good I can't believe I've never tried this before," you gleam, eyes sparkling as you quickly take another gulp.

"I'm surprised you haven't as well, so now you can stop having boring old cosmopolitans," he said, as you watch him drink an almost brown liquid.

"That however does not look inviting," you say, as his eyes flicker to yours.

"Wanna try? It's my personal favourite."

You hesitantly grab his glass, if anything the strong whiff you get should've thrown you off but you take a sip anyways, instantly gagging and coughing as he chuckles.

"How are you drinking that? It's horrible," you whine, drinking your martini in hopes of flushing that horrid taste from your mouth.

"It's whiskey darling, should've known you might not be able to handle it actually," he chuckled again, making you knit your eyebrows together.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You question, as he smiles widely, dimples sinking into his cheeks as you felt like your knees would've given out if you weren't sitting down.

god. he was an eye sore.

"Nothing, sweetheart.... now tell me your name?"

"Y/N, L/N Y/N.... and yours?" You ask, trying to ignore the set of butterflies that were released in your stomach from his pet names.

He leaned forward, tucking your hair strands behind your ear as his soft brown eyes were glued to yours.

"Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol."

You probably should've just ended the conversation there and gone back to your friends, but hours pushed the night deeper, a couple more cocktails with Seungcheol listening to him tell you all sorts of stories as you swore you've never gotten so drunk to the point where you couldn't think anymore.

"It's really no big deal for me," he pressed on, opening the back door of the club with his right arm as his left stayed firm around your waist.

"N-No just....just get me back in there to the first table—"

"Y/N your friends are drunk off their minds, they're not taking you home in that state," he laughed shortly, dragging you to his black Mercedes that stood alone in the private parking lot.

"Then call me a cab!" You whine, pouting slightly before the back car door swung open and he was pushing you in.

"W-What are you—"

Your words were stuck in your throat as you watched in confusion as he got in next to you before shutting the door.

"A-Aren't you going to d-drive," you stutter out nervously as he smiled lopsidedly before dragging you onto his lap, your soft thighs on either side of him.

"I will take you home sweetheart don't worry, just want to have a look at you first, I've been dying to touch you," he groaned, hands feeling you up, groping and sliding across your heated skin as your vision doubled.

"You're so fucking pretty baby, and this excuse of a dress leaves nothing to the imagination hm?" He cooed, fingers hooking onto the straps of your short red dress as you shook your head weakly.

"W-What are you doing?" You hiccup, smiling for no reason as you felt the alcohol thrum through your body, taking over your better judgment and control.

"What am I doing? I'm just finally getting to have my hands on you baby, so im feeling you up," he whispered near your ear before a deep chuckle left his lips as you began trying to free yourself from his hold.

"This isn't right—"

"Of course this is right, just stay quiet for me, okay? You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he groaned, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his hands on your thigh slowly rolled your dress up until it was bunched up against your waist, your covered pussy coming into his view.

Seungcheol had to hold back a growl, shutting his eyes tightly in a way for him to suppress the carnal thoughts from taking over, he wanted nothing more than to take you right there and then... but he knew he had to wait, this is merely just him getting a taste to suppress his hunger for now.

You leaned your back against the front seat, eyes trying its hardest to fight the tiredness and haziness seeping in from the drugs Seungcheol made the bartender crush into your many cocktails earlier.

"Do you always wear cute pink panties like these baby? Or did you somehow know I'd play with you tonight?" He whispered, fingers ghosting along the inner skin of your thighs as you squirmed in his hold.

"Fuck baby your skin is so so soft."

His fingers were hooking onto the thin straps of your dress before slowly pulling them down, his dark and unwavering eyes glued to your chest as you shook your head feverently.

"N-No not here we're in p-public," you manage to breathe out, before he was stopping abruptly.

"Oh so you wanna go back to your apartment and continue this?" He asked in bewilderment as you were quick to say no.

"My windows are tinted baby relax, no one outside can see how im defiling you," he whispered darkly, licking his lips as he continued to pull your straps down.

"Let's get your hands out of this hm?" He asked sweetly, hands already moving to pull your arms out of your dress as you could do nothing but watch with a misty vision.

You felt odd, like all the energy had been ripped away from you and all you could do was sit there on his lap completely dazed.

"Fuck," Seungcheol breathed out, eyes dark and heavy as they gazed upon your frame, your dress now fully bunched together at your hip as you were now just left in your bra and panties.

"You're being such a good girl for me.... just how I like it," he whispered into your ear as his hand smoothed down your stomach before cupping your covered pussy.

A soft sigh left your lips even as you shook your head, hands fisting at the material of his black blazer.

"N-No," you manage to weakly say, as Seungcheol began rubbing slowly circles into you.

"No? You don't think you're a good girl?" He questioned, thick fingers sliding up and under the waistband of your panties before making straight contact to your pussy lips.

"N-No this isn't right," you mewl, your words betraying you as you felt your pussy gush with wetness.

"Just sit here and let me feel you, understand?.... Don't think your that upset over this considering your fucking dripping anyways," he chuckled, slightly dropping the sweetness he was treating you with as he increased the speed of his fingers rubbing you while his other hand stayed firm against your hip.

"B-But—"

Your words were caught in your throat, your mouth hanging open in a scream instead as he roughly pushed in two of his fingers in your unprepped hole.

"But nothing. Another word from you and I'll have to use my tie as a gag, you want that?" He asked, his tone menacing as he leaned closer to your face.

You shook your head instantly, tears forming in your eyes at the sudden intrusion of his fingers as he slowly began thrusting them in and out of your tight hole.

"Now.... I have questions I'd like answers to baby, will you answer me truthfully?"

"Y-Yeah," you manage to slur out, vision doubling as his hand on your hip slowly trailed up to your covered breasts before dipping under the material to cup your warm mound.

"Good....lets start with this, you don't have a boyfriend back in Iksan right? And no crushes or foolish boys at your feet?" He asked, fingers pulling at your taut nipple as you gasped softly.

"N-No no," your quick to say as his fingers stilled inside your pussy, knuckle deep as you clenched down on him.

"Hm that's good to know baby, didn't really wanna have to kill anyone right now.." he trailed off with a chuckle, before suddenly pulling you closer to his face with his grip on your neck.

"Although something tells me you're not as pure as you look, have you had sex before sweetheart?"

His questions along with the way he was answering sent shivers down your spine, but his dark gaze fixed on yours almost compelled you to answer truthfully, scared to find out what he'd do if you didn't answer him.

kinda like how you felt with that Joshua guy, but just somehow worse.

"Y-Yes with my ex.... it's been... it's been o-over a year," you manage to squeak out, watching in almost fear as Seungcheol's face instantly dropped, thick fingers slipping out of you.

"Ah, you just really pissed me off baby, it's just a shame someone's already tainted you before I got the chance to... no matter though if it's been that long.... it just means you're practically a virgin all over again just for me, hm?"

He sounded almost delirious, wet fingers coming up to grip your jaw tightly as you winced, trying to form sentences to ask him what he meant before he was speaking again.

"Did you like it, baby? Did he make you feel good?" He questioned again, eyes narrowing on you as you slightly nodded.

A cry instantly left your lips as his fingernails dug into your jaw, his teeth gritting as he bought his face closer to yours until you could feel his warm breath fanning across your cold skin.

"Wrong answer. Do you still have contact with him?"

"N-No I wouldn't he... he cheated, r-rubbed it in my face," you stumble upon your words, as Seungcheol instantly laughs.

"Oh your poor thing," he tuts, letting go off your jaw as both his hands smoothed down your body before resting on your hips.

"Don't worry baby, when we properly get to know each other and you tell me the whole story, I'll kill that bastard for you, how does that sound? You want me to kill him for what he's done to you baby?" He asked almost sweetly, as you shook your head almost instantly.

"N-No he...I don't care," you struggle out, shifting on his lap uncomfortably as your head began throbbing in pain.

Seungcheol watched your every movement with dark unwavering eyes, taking note that the strong drug was beginning to settle in and that you'd fall unconscious any moment now.

"Mmh.... you're about to fall asleep soon sweetheart, but don't worry, I'll come see you soon okay? You'll meet a different version of me though, can't scare you away so quickly, Shua did mention you were pretty shy," he chuckled, but you barely managed to catch a sentence of what he said, your headache only getting worse as a soft groan left your lips before you were falling forward to lean your head against his shoulder.

"Okay this is acting faster than I thought, let's get you home."

Seungcheol pulled you off his lap and carefully placed you down on the seat before fixing up your dress, inhaling sharply in an effort to ignore how salvageable you looked to him even if you were about to fall unconscious.

next time he had you like this, he wouldn't stop his lascivious thoughts from taking over.

"Last question baby, what's your apartment code? I'll need to get in to lay you down," he asked, tapping your cheek lightly to wake you up.

You mumble out some numbers he manages to catch, before you were falling into a deep slumber.

Seungcheol sighed as he started the car, pulling out of the driveway as he thought of his next few planned steps.

He didn't want to rush it with you, there was no need of it, he had you and no one would dare touch you.... and you couldn't even try to escape regardless.

A red light had him pulling the car to a stop, before calling Joshua.

"Hey man, I'm guessing she's fast asleep if you've called?"

"Mhm, got her to tell me her apartment code, I'll put her to bed and have a look around before setting up a camera. I need you to keep an eye on everyone that she's close to, see if it's for sure that no one would get too curious if she went missing.... ah, and I found out about an ex, but we'll worry about that later once I have more information."

"Got it. She's fucking gorgeous up close isn't she? I know she's all yours man but fucking hell she's a gem," Joshua groaned, as Seungcheol could only smile as he thought back to how responsive you were.

"Hmm.... but even with drugs in her system she was still a pain, I think she'll be much more difficult than I thought," Seungcheol answered, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he looked at your sleeping form through the mirror.

"Wait you fucked her?! Bro you said you'd wait—"

"No I didn't you fucking idiot now stop talking about her. I just called to let you know I might end up being a little late for the group meeting, but don't wait up and start without me."

Seungcheol ended the call as he saw your apartment building come into view, a smile making its way onto his face as he thought about how smoothly everything was going, and tomorrow morning you would wake up with a severe migraine and no recollection of what happened the night before.

Everything was going according to plan.

#s.coups smut #seungcheol smut #joshua smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #dark!svt

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