#where does all this inspiration suddenly come from??
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My feelings about this season ultimately come down to the fact that there’s something exhausting about watching a man decide that the things he’s spent 20 years telling his wife he most valued are not only worthless but actively contributing to his downfall. I’ve seen this story before and really didn’t need to see it again.
Same, anon. I'm kind of torn on my take on this to be honest. I imagine come Sunday this will change but at the moment, I can see two(ish) versions of what's happening.
Version 1: They intend for the plot to be that George has a pseudo-midlife crisis and realizes he and his wife want and value different things in life. His cruelty thus far is this realization beginning, rooted in his own frustration with himself, and he'll blame her for those shortcomings and then leave her.
Version 2: Fellowes wanted a divorce threat plot as the next beat in the Russells story. Either because he actually wants them to divorce or he wants a will they/won't they plot which will eventually resolve won't. He then worked back from this premise, and generated George being like this. I think it's Version 2, even though it's, imo, the much lazier version of writing. I think this because Fellowes low key just says is here:
In a virtual press conference earlier this month, series writers Julian Fellowes (“Downton Abbey”) and Sonja Warfield (“Will & Grace,” “Zoe Ever After”) said their approach to storytelling is to know the destination and reverse engineer the season from its conclusion.
“We know where we want to get to. The issue now becomes how we get there,” Fellowes said, noting their desire to incorporate some true historical events into each season’s plot.
Maybe he's talking about the book plot, or something else, but I really do think he started his brief for this show with a sort of to do list from history, largely inspired by Alva's life as a driving force.
Season 1: Alva schemes to get Mrs. Astor to come to the ball using her daughter.
Season 2: An opera war plot (amalgam of a few women)
Season 3: Alva marries daughter off to duke and causes issues with her marriage.
Season 4: Divorce threat and women's suffrage
Now, we've seen that he definitely likes twisting that history to make a narrative more palatable. Gladys and Hector are going to be generally happy going forward I imagine. So it's not clear to me that just because he has this to do list, he's going to divorce the Russells.
However, because he has this to do list, in Season 3, he started with the point: by the end of episode 8, George needs to be ready to want to divorce Bertha and then worked backward.
Looking at it from this angle, it makes more sense. Why is George telling her her ambition is out of control in episode 7 and not episode 4? She hasn't been ambitious for anything in at least 3 episodes, which in tv time is like a century. Well, if you're starting with the idea that he has to be getting more angry and not that he's reacting to the narrative, sure, he should be getting more and more dismissive, even if nothing has happened lately to provoke this.
Of course, I could try to justify George's characterization, much the same way Morgan does in interviews, by trying to say that George was distracted by the train plot in ep 3 and 4, but that's a hollow justification. He does engage with Bertha then. She explains her plan. She says they're well-suited; she says puppy love isn't durable. If he thought her decision then was based on ambition, why not say so? In order for it to make sense, you'd have to argue that George at the wedding believed her, and then George got the telegram and *suddenly* realized, wow, I guess my wife actually did this all for ambition, which would make him an idiot.
This isn't what you prompted really, but it's where my mind is.
Given that I think we're in Version 2 land, I think the real question is: what outcome is Fellowes trying to get to for the end of Season 4? And if he has a Season 5, what then?
And here, I really don't know. On the one hand, I want to believe he is not dumb enough to look at Carrie and Morgan and they're INSANE chemistry be like, you know what, I bet I'll be a great success if I separate them FOREVER on screen. But, on the other hand, this season, for me, has been agony, and for reviews and ratings has been a tremendous success, so maybe he will infer: great, people love Russell agony, let's do that. Hopefully Sonja talks him down. Hopefully Morgan talks him down. Hopefully soon-to-be-emmy-winner Carrie Coon talks him down. Idk man.
#the gilded age#bertha russell#george russell#bertha x george#asks#season 3 spoilers#season 3 speculation#season 4 speculation#I hate it here
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“I have this scene in my head for my fic that I really love but i don’t feel like writing all of the other stuff to get to it.”
I see this comment like 5 times a day in fic writing spaces lol
a scene that you don’t want to write is a scene you don’t want to read. don’t write stuff you don’t want to read.
me, personally: wait until the scenes that get you to that first initial scene you were excited about are just as interesting as that scene too. it won’t be the first, second, or third thing you think of. if u have a scene you really want to write, write that, and keep writing only those exciting scenes that come to you. eventually you have a million interesting scenes for your fic and they become puzzle pieces for you to arrange and then eventually the strings come together and you realize you really do have an interesting way to get to that original scene, and you’re just as excited to write it, if you haven’t already written it when you were brainstorming other scenes earlier in the writing process that you didn’t even realize could carry your story like that.
#My process is 1) write the initial scene — the first one I thought of that inspired the fic#2) daydream (preferably to a custom playlist) and write ONLY THE DIALOGUE that I like from my daydreams#3) discover common threads while daydreaming and thus discover a theme#4) now that I have my theme; my favorite dialogue lines; and my inspiration scene I begin drafting#Drafting includes writing around the dialogue and filling in the gaps with action#I find that dialogue drives my plot usually but I’m trying to get better at throwing chaotic events at my characters#and forcing them to respond to circumstances beyond their control/beyond the consequences of their choices#Drafting is also the point where I start writing only the exciting stuff and stringing it all together like a lunatic#5) once you have enough scenes to string together and you’ve put the puzzle together: reread and revise#6) put it down and don’t touch it dont think about it don’t do anything to it for like at least 3 days to 1 week#7) reread with fresh eyes and revise again#8) repeat steps 6 and 7 until you have desired fic#Sometimes if I really don’t like the way a story is working though I’ll play around with scenes#like “what if I remove this scene? How does that affect things? Is this a loadbearing scene in the story or is it superfluous?”#“What if I delete chapters 5-15 and just totally rewrite everything in that space”#that one is a rough one to go through and is the reason why I have some fics that have never seen the light of day 😂#this is all coming from pre-2021 ghostlycod#back when I was in the marvel fandom and writing 100k self insert OC fanfics#14-18 year old me wrote like an Ancient Greek poet#pure genius masterpieces with masterclass articulation#and idk what happened but it’s like at 25 I’ve suddenly gone brain dead#I envy 14 year old me so much when I’m writing now#That girl was just humming along to Lorde on repeat creating multiple full length novels at the same time all written with English Premium
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✧ mr. wrong - smau ✧
⋆° summary: in the spotlight of Formula 1 and heartbreak pop, yn and charles leclerc’s whirlwind romance spirals from “first and last love” to cryptic posts, bitter lyrics, and emotional fallout. love burns fast on the paddock but heartbreak burns faster.
⋆° pairings: charles leclerc x verstappen!singer!reader x ? ⋆° genre: some angst, some fluff (it'll come). lots of drama and mainly musical. ⋆° warnings: cheating, swear words.
part 2 here
2020
liked by charles_leclerc16, maxverstappen1 and 1.524.000 users
yn he finally grew a pair and asked me out. my 1st and last. tagged charles_leclerc16
maxverstappen1 please leave me this yn you were my cupid maxverstappen1 lying like that? ❤️ liked by author
user so no one's gonna talk about the age difference
user cuties
user hope to see yn around the paddock sometime! ❤️ liked by author
lando mf finally did it yn stooooop charles_leclerc16 get over it i'm her first love
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc16 and 2,000,000 users
yn Sports Car single out now! Check out.
charles_leclerc16 my yn ❤️
charles_leclerc16 love you babygirl maxverstappen1 gross charles_leclerc16 love you too babyboy ❤️ liked by author yn thats the lestappen i ship charles_leclerc16 you're not for real
lando cool car ❤️ liked by author
carlossainz55 charles_leclerc16 i'm in your walls charles_leclerc16 what's with the jealousy? last time i checked her last name was verstappen not sainz... yn stop it you two!!!
user i'm so jealous of charles... why does he get to have her all to himself he doesn't deserve yn
user leclerc i wasn't familiar with your game
user "we can uh uh in it while you drive real far" wheres my baby yn? that sang about being "Enchanted to meet her prince"? user she's always been a lowkey freak with charles... user wait am i behind on chayn lore? user girrrrrl she used to be a bug about him, saying he was her first and last crush. even max got tired of it and eventually set them up lmao user a woman that years is a woman that earns!
liked by user, user, user and 125,002 users
f1gossip Legendary singer Y/n (born Yn Verstappen) talks about her relationship with Ferrari's golden boy Charles Leclerc. "So... How do I start it? I mean, since my first album it's pretty obvious that I'm in love with Charles for a really long long time. I started bugging him about going on a date with me since last year and he wasn't being really easy — eventually he gave up and asked me out. I've never been happier." — says Yn to Jimmy Fallon in a interview last night. The singer also explains some of the songs that appear on her latest album and claims Charles as her inspirational muse. "To be really honest he's always been my muse... ever since Enchanted and You belong with me, which is a song that I'm kind of shy about now that everyone knows I was being petty. So, well... if you ask me about the songs in my new album, I'll probably have the same answer."
user how's this any related with racing?
user i can't believe people complain about this account... there's lots of accounts that only posts race stats and stuff like that. this one is for gossip bitches like me... ❤️ liked by author
user am i the only one that thinks yn is kinda the giver in this relationship? i mean she's always supporting him and i don't see the same user ngl i kinda agree user atp i think shes obsessed with having him
february 2024 - almost 4 years into the relationship
liked by user, user, user and 154,000 users
f1wagsnews Trouble in paradise? Charles Leclerc spotted with mysterious brunette woman in Maranello. Is our Yn suddenly capable of being in two places at once? Has our Yn ditched her signature golden locks?
user charles leclerc is just a man anyway
user ughhh I swear she'd still stay with him even after he cheated user you dont even know if its him user regardless i aint wrong mmhm
comments section closed
texts between yn and charles
march 2024
♪ Like a tattoo - yn
liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri and 4,254,449 users
yn best four years of my life (ps. leo loves me more)
charles_leclerc16 j'taime bébé (ps. he doesn't) yn he knows mommy charles_leclerc16 i know too yn stop... pr's gonna catch us.
maxverstappen1 love you baby sis ❤️ liked by author yn love you baby bro
lando be safe buggy ❤️ liked by author user even lando is fed up with charles bs
carlossainz55 you'll have to stop hanging around ferrari's garage you knoooow ❤️ liked by author
iamrebecad cutieeees <3 ❤️ liked by author
comments section has been limited
liked by yn, iamrebecad, alexsaintmlux and 1,022,544 users
charles_leclerc16 one and only
yn love you babyboy ❤️ liked by author
maxverstappen1 watch out
alexsaintmlux 🔒 couple goals ❤️ user whos this and why does only charles follow her ? user rumour has it they met in Maranello last month user yall dont know these people bffr
carlossainz55 they grow up so fast charles_leclerc16 stop acting like you're her dad carlossainz55 she's my daughter for real
lando cute bugs ❤️ liked by author
june 2024
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 5,665,899 users
yn New album "Chemtrails over the country club" out now! Check it out, everyone! Love you all forever.
user are they even dating anymore?
user baby girl dropped a whole breakup album and didn't even break up
user its giving chayn ending soon... but i cant prove
maxverstappen1 gag it! ❤️ liked by author user help who teched max that word??
lando waiting for it!! yn its already out???? lando you know what... user PLEASE LET ME KNOOOOW
tatemcrae SEATED ❤️ liked by author
taylorswift my dearest little blonde, this one is magical! ❤️ liked by author
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, user and 500,444 users
f1gossip Spotted: our favorite Monégasque heartbreaker tangled up with a mysterious brunette (again!). For legal reasons, we won’t be revealing the name of his elusive flame — though Saint surely rings a divine bell. 😇
Now, while we’re still clocked into this tea shift, let’s unpack the romantic rollercoaster that's left us clutching our pearls. Judging by yn’s latest album, things weren’t exactly smooth sailing. In How to Disappear, she writes:
“I know he's in over his head but I love that man like nobody can.”
We’re sensing some toxic devotion energy…
And then there’s Happiness is a Butterfly:
“If he’s a serial killer, then what’s the worst that could happen to a girl that’s already hurt?”
Sound the alarms — that is not what Leclerc’s PR team had in mind when marketing the Perfect Couple™.
To top it all off? Yn swerved every relationship-related question in her latest interview, avoiding any mention of Leclerc like she was dodging Monaco’s turn 6.
Breakup confirmed? Not officially. But this silence screams louder than an engine rev on race day. 🏁💔
user girl’s been obsessed for years… called him her first and hopefully last. and now this?? rip chayn nation
user lando and oscar watchu doin here ? user they're messy...
user kinda chocked how max hasnt kicked his ass yet
user this bitch
user honestly? she has been my fav wag for years... i hope she's okay.
user can’t believe y’all are still riding for her… she’s been out here for years saying she might be a lil toxic and obsessed, and you still act like she’s always in the right?? Maybe the guy just wants peace user yeaaaa she's literally admitted to have a bit of a problem. let charles breathe omg. user okay charles burners accounts
user lets hope this new one is less obsessive with him
user yall charles fans are just boymoms i cant
texts between yn and charles
♪ The only exception - Paramore
liked by iamrebecad, alexsaintmlux, pierregasly and 1,221,555 users
charles_leclerc16 my alex <3 alexsaintmlux
user cant believe you even got leo into this bs
user remember when it was "my yn"? comment deleted by author
lando foul one mate charles_leclerc16 let's focus on our own business mate lando sure
alexsaintmlux je t’aime, mon bébé ❤️ liked by author user girl read the room user cant believe now her insta is open lmao
iamrebecad couple goals ❤️ liked by author alexsaintmlux my cupid user the nerve
♪ Silver Springs - 2004 remaster - Fletwood Mac
liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri, lando and 5,025,555 users
yn Deluxe album is out now! I poured all my love into this album and I truly hope you adore it. I’d also like to take this moment to say that I’ve received so many kind messages over the past few days (P.S. I tried to read every single one). Thank you for the support — I’ll always be here.
user i'm pretty sure her team wrote that last post… she don’t talk like that
user poor yn… hope ur okay (if u somehow see this 💔)
user "time casts a spell on you but you won’t forget me’ like HELLOOO the emotional damage he did to her? user bffr she didnt even wrote this post
lando you're the greatest
oscarpiastri whos this DIVA
maxverstappen1 love you babysis
carlossainz55 coolest verstappen out there!
user she's not even replying to her friends or brother :( user not even liking their comments :(
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
it was december 2024. every trace of you on charles’s instagram was gone. posts, comments, tags — wiped clean like you’d never existed. his feed had turned into a glossy shrine to his new girl, every image meticulously curated by his pr team. even your most innocent comments on random posts, from before you ever dated, had mysteriously vanished. it was that bad. but the world would move on… or pretend to.
since the day charles ended things, you’d struggled to breathe. not metaphorically — literally. each inhale felt like dragging yourself through quicksand. you couldn’t eat. couldn’t smile. couldn’t pretend everything was fine. your closest friends, lando and oscar (by force of proximity), tried everything: junk food binges at 2 a.m., sunrise runs you reluctantly joined, desperate late-night calls. even max once attempted to bribe you out of bed with an all-expenses-paid spa weekend. nothing worked.
charles was your one and only. you’d genuinely believed you were just “going through a rough patch.” then he ghosted — no explanations, no texts, no calls — leaving you dissecting every laugh, every shared sunrise, hunting for the glitch. were you too intense? did the age gap finally become too much? was your career somehow to blame? questions piled up with no answers. charles was gone, and he made sure never to look back.
under full management control, your own instagram had turned into a digital puppet: recycled smiles, staged captions, nostalgic throwbacks with no real emotion behind them. your calendar swelled with appearances, promo shoots, album updates, and vague tour hints — others writing the chapters you’d lost control of.
then came the apex of absurdity: a performance booked for the fia’s 75th anniversary. as if forcing you to share the same air that still smelled faintly of charles’s cologne wasn’t enough. but maybe it was time. sooner or later, you’d have to wake up.
somewhere between late december and the jagged start of january, you did something you hadn’t dared in weeks. you opened instagram explore page. and there they were — post after post of charles and his new girl, smiles you’d once worn, now repainted by someone else.
shit.
you didn’t want to see it. you didn’t mean to. but you did.
and something inside you snapped.
“what do i gain from crying over him?” you thought, your mind a blank echo chamber. “did the world stop spinning?”
it didn’t. and maybe… maybe you needed to start spinning again too.
you’d stayed quiet long enough.
as the final grand prix of the year approached, a current of defiance surged through your veins. maybe it was the sound of engines. maybe it was the way the world kept turning without you. maybe you simply craved your moment back. whatever it was, you woke up and chose war, not peace.
you arrived at the track dressed to kill —not for him, not for pity, but for yourself. your signature stilettos, designed by the one and only christian louboutin just for you clicked like punctuation marks across the paddock, each step trailing confidence you didn't know you still had and chaos, 'cause theres no way you did not go there just to put gasoline into the fire, in equal measure.
down in the mclaren garage, laughter echoed off concrete walls. you slid into a seat between lando and oscar, leaning in as the three of you traded insider jokes that felt like home. oscar — someone that stepped up for you in a way you couldn't quite understand why, but he was there, trying to make you be you again; maybe it was the fact that he knew how awful is the feeling of being cheated on... or maybe he just wanted to see you happy — dared lando to something quite stupid that made lando nearly snort it out when you whispered: “loser buys dinner.” mechanics and engineers paused to watch the scene, the marketing team already having their phones out.
lando sneaked up behind you and draped a safety helmet over your head, making you shriek and punch his arm. oscar seized the moment, teasing “careful, danger’s cooking here.” you shot him a wicked grin, traced a finger along the helmet’s visor, and quipped, “i’ll take my chances.” they howled, crowning you “chief troublemaker.”
then the reporters swarmed. flashes erupted. one finally asked, their tone sharp as a thumb screw: “are you having an affair with one of them?”
with a malicious smile you raised an eyebrow and smirked, your voice low and playful: “they’re just good friends. very good friends... i wouldn't dare to choose between them so we'll have to stay like that”
lando feigned indignation, oscar dramatically clutched his chest, and you let out a clear, ringing laugh that scattered any pity in the air.
you waved at fans as you passed and paused for quickfire interviews, your eyes glittering with mischief. then, like sprinkling salt over an open wound, you dropped the final line: “i was invited by my dear friend carlos sainz—but let’s just say i’m saint-fully banned from entering that holy garage.”
you turned to the camera, lips curled in challenge: “carlitos, if you’re watching this… buena suerte, mwaaa!”
you didn’t simply walk the paddock. you owned every square inch of it, like you used to do before. maybe you were back to yourself.
you greeted team principals with a mischief expression, acting like you owned the place, cracked jokes with ferrari engineers — not daring to enter their garage —, and of course slipped into the red bull garage to plant a quick hug on max’s shoulder. “good luck, babybro,” you whispered, your voice warm and supportive. and before you left: “my heart’s orange today... you know”
red flags waved like flames on your way back to mclaren's garage.
somewhere in the blur of flashbulbs and engine roars, you felt it again.
the light shot diamonds from his eyes — as you once stated in your song Like a tattoo.
charles. watching. still.
you didn’t flinch. didn’t look back. didn’t break. he doesn't deserve me, you repeated like a mantra.
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 5,885,666 users
yn just 3 bitches tellin each other exaaaaactly. btw very proud of my (big) babybro, also carlitos last podium with ferrari! everyone. lets just love each other. xx
lando missed you bug oscarpiastri you literally knock on her door everyday lando shut up yn love yaaaaaalllllll my pals mates
user omg THE REAL YN IS BACK IN TOWN
user she was kinda shady towards alex/charles today.... lmao user well.. they deserve it.
carlossainz55 never ending beef with ferrari? you look soooo good in red user why he's flirting with her, mate you have a gf user they are very good friends. why are you trying to imply a fliting ?
oscarpiastri exaaaaaaaactly diva
maxverstappen1 please tell me you wore a jacket over that dress . please tell me you were not alone with those two. yn well i wont maxverstappen1 say sike rn
lando posted a story oscarpiastri posted a story
caption(1): they're forming a duo now @/oscarpiastri @/ yn
caption (2): did lando just outcunt yn
𖡡 monaco
liked by alexsaintmlux and 1,558,665 users
charles_leclerc16 coming back home to have some rest, may 2025 season be greater. thank you for always being with me, my alex <3 love you, my one and only.
alexsaintmlux j'etaime <3 ❤️ liked by author
iamrebecad stop stealing her away from meeeeee alexsaintmlux lets runaway becs ❤️ liked by author
pierregasly you were great mate! ❤️ liked by author
you step out of the car feeling a familiar flutter in your stomach. you look incredible, but nerves are twisting like roller-coaster loops. of course you have studied the seating plan like it was a final exam —he’s front row, eyes going to be glued to you when you perform. the thought is part thrill, part panic.
two weeks ago you sat cross-legged on your living-room floor with coffee and headphones, refining your set list with your manager, trying to decide what to go for with this performance. obviously, two of your heaviest hitters, Sports car and Like a tattoo, plus a surprise mash-up of fan favorites. it felt just right: enough to light the room on fire with a twist only you could pull off.
the red carpet stuns as your gown flows behind you. cameras erupt, microphones thrust forward. you tilt your head to laugh at a reporter’s question and keep moving, slipping past the velvet ropes into the hushed grandeur beyond.
when it’s your time, the opening chords of “don’t blame me” roll out and you can’t resist a genuine, full-on smile. your cheeks flush at the memory of how deeply you once fell, every lyric felt like a whispered confession. by the second chorus, you’re lost in the melody, head tipped back, soul bared to the crowd.
the beat shifts into “sports car” and dancers carve around you with perfect precision. you ride the rhythm, that mischievous grin tugging at your lips as you sing every word like a private joke. it’s pure pop perfection and you dare to remember the scenes that inspired the writing process of this song. you smile.
to close, you pour your heart into “like a tattoo.” when you sing “the light shot diamonds from his eyes” your smile becomes electric, unmissable from any corner. you raise your hand like you’re reaching for him but let the moment hang there, deliciously unresolved, the way he let things end.
afterward, you drift through the crowd of staff members, torn between choosing to sit at your brother’s table with red bull and the your duo at mclaren. you shrug and think, why not add more fuel to the fire? and slide into the seat between lando and oscar, instantly feeling their buzz.
the host spots you three and leans in, voice smooth, you didn't know what was coming: “look at this little setup: two ripe papayas and one pop princess. with all that heat, who needs a safety car? guess y'all are going to need some serious lubrication…”
you and oscar burst into stifled smile. lando leans back, uncontainable smile that hang ear to ear. and a few feet away, charles leclerc watches with tightly pressed lips, not even a flicker of a smile. yes, that was caught on camera.
as the night caves in, you don't even know if you wanna head home or if you just wanna hang around those two a little more. they just accept it.
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 8,999,544 users
yn not every single song is about you. happy to be here today! (omw to buy some lub, someone say i might need it)
maxverstappen1 if i could choose one of your songs to disappear forever it probably be sports car… lando why mate thats my fave ❤️ liked by author maxverstappen1 know your limits, norris
lando you're kinda cool ❤️ liked by author yn only cool? oscarpiastri no funny business today for you ❤️ liked by author
oscarpiastri i voted for orange dress ❤️ liked by author user your fashion taste sucks... glad she choose it herself maxverstappen1 not you too piastri
carlossainz55 blue suits you sm more ❤️ liked by author yn thats not the versainz i ship btw carlossainz55 get over it, please.
iamrebecad divaaaaa
user (redacted) doesnt read the room lmao
user glad to see you glowing yn! ❤️ liked by author
sabrinacarpenter gagged. lysm my bbgirl! ❤️ liked by author
liked by user, user, user and 1,669,314 users
f1gossiper Throuple sighting?? More trouble in paradise?? Yn Verstappen, Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri were spotted cruising the streets of Milan last night, and word is the blonde bombshell was trading kisses and cuddles with both mclaren boys 👀💥
Did anyone see this coming? Is it just a wild friendship or full-on #trisal energy? D rop your thoughts — who’s ready for this love triangle meltdown?
user shes a lucky bitch omg
user honestly couldnt care less
user ferrari's golden boy for two newbies in the game... it aint the upgrade yall think it is. but who am i right?
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#oscar piastri x reader#f1 smau#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#lando x reader#landoscar#papaya boys#cl16#mv33#ln4#op81#op81 x reader#ln4 x reader#op81 smau#ln4 smau#cl16 smut#cl16 smau#charles leclerc smau#formula 1#formula 1 smau#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris smau
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We Are Aespo
~7k words, inspired by Karina's "Aespo" slip up
Concerts, jets, explosions, these are some of the first thoughts that probably come to mind when one thinks about the word ‘loud’. However, there is nothing in the world louder than the sound of a glass shattering during a party. At least, that’s how it felt right now, and the DJ deciding to pause the music at the very same moment didn’t help either.
“Oops,” Karina stares blankly at the shards of glass decorating the marble floor as if she wasn’t the reason they were there.
“Alright,” you grab her arm. “It’s time to go.”
“B-But… I… look…” Karina cranes her neck to look over her shoulder at the mess, fighting your pull.
“They’ll take care of it, let’s go,” you give her another tug, ignoring her distress.
“Where go?” Karina asks cheerily, already forgetting about the glass.
“Away from stuff you can break.”
Karina stops moving and frowns. “It was an accident.”
The sigh barely escapes your lips before Karina’s face lights up and she runs right past you.
“Winter!” Karina shouts, forgetting about you entirely, and rushes toward the girl. She grabs Winter by the face and plants a kiss directly on her lips.
“Karina…” you groan, internally laughing at Winter’s wide-eyed expression. You grab Karina’s hand and pull her away. “Come on.”
“Where are we going now?” she whines, fighting your grip again. “I want Winter.”
“And I want you to drink some water.”
“More champagne?” Karina asks with those round puppy dog eyes. Your weakness that you always struggled to deny; She’s cuter than ever in this moment, rushing to keep up with you, latching onto your arm tightly.
“Maybe after the water.”
“Oh! Alright, but what–” she begins before suddenly squealing and crumpling to the floor.
“Karina!” you gasp, quickly kneeling down next to her. “You alright?”
“It… it…” her lip quivers and she brings her knees up to her chest, slowly tears pool up in her pretty eyes. “It hurts.”
“Aww baby,” you pull her into a hug and rub her back. “What am I ever going to do with you?”
“Karina!” Winter catches up, joining the two of you on the floor. “What is wrong with you?”
“I think I rolled my ankle,” she sniffles as you let go of her.
“Does this hurt?” you start gently flexing her ankle before Karina inhales sharply.
“Owie…” she pouts, quietly, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry baby,” you reach forward and tenderly wipe her eyes, trying your best to avoid smudging her eyeliner.
Trying to be as careful as possible, you place her foot in your lap and begin massaging her ankle. Around you, the crowd pretends to ignore what’s happening, but envious glances occasionally catch your attention. You know very well they would do anything to trade positions with you, but all they can do is watch.
Meanwhile, Karina’s staring at you and her beauty has never hit harder. You feel your entire body burn warm under her gaze as she holds steady, letting your fingers work the joint. She’s in pain, a lot of it, but it’s quickly fading away. For just a moment, the hectic rambles of the event are wiped from your minds, leaving you in a comfort that you’d easily pick over everyone else in this room combined. The crowd no longer matters.
It probably helps that they’re all here to impress you, and not a single one of the millionaires attending would dare say anything but praise – at least not in public. They know better than that. Not that Karina cares what others think, in fact she couldn’t care less about the dull droning coming out of their mouths, the incessant forced-flattery whenever anyone would find the courage to talk to you. She knows they’re fake.
That’s probably why she decided to get so drunk tonight – an attempt to actually enjoy the evening. It doesn’t happen often, but you always have fun when it happens; Her silly, dorky behavior carries a charm that took barely more than one interaction for you to fall in love with. At this point, you’re far more entertained by her antics than the thought of listening to another wave of the gilded gibberish you’ve been enduring all evening. It was time for you to actually enjoy the six figures you spent on this party, and for you, that meant being with your girl.
“God, you look so beautiful right now,” you whisper while gently massaging your fingers into her ankle. “Can you walk, or should I carry you?”
“Or I could carry you,” Winter adds cheekily.
“That’s what I want, I want Winter to carry me,” Karina giggles as you help her to her feet. She frowns and looks down, testing her ankle. “I think I can walk, but I need…”
“I’m here,” you smile, slipping your arm around Karina’s waist and holding her up. “Winter, sweetheart, could you ask one of the staff to bring water and another bottle of champagne up to our room? And then please join us as well if you’d like a break from…” you gesture broadly at the swath of designer suits and dresses filling the room.
She nods.
“More champagne?” Karina’s voice jumps with excitement at the sound of more alcohol.
“Not for you,” Winter sings before scurrying off.
“You said that’s what you wanted, didn’t you?” you open the door and walk Karina to the grand staircase. “How can I say no to my princess?”
Karina leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “Do you love your princess?” her voice sweetens like syrup.
“More than anything,” you answer.
“More than your cars?
“More.”
“More than your house?”
“More than all of my houses.”
“More than your business?”
“Are you kidding me? I just ditched my business back there so that I could spend some time with the love of my life,” you point out. “Now, enough silly questions,” you add, leaning in and kissing her.
She giggles before squealing as you sweep her off her legs and into your arms.
“What?” you smile down at her and start climbing the stairs. “I’m not having you hop up these.”
Karina stares up warmly at you, her face brimming with emotion. She holds on tight as you walk her up the steps, smiling but also a bit on edge. She’s thinking about something, and she’s thinking hard.
“Yes?” you encourage her. “Think any harder and I’ll start seeing steam come out of your ears.”
“I think…” she begins softly, “the last time you carried me up these stairs was after our wedding.”
“Has it been that long?”
“Yeah,” she smiles up at you, the subtle, rosy alcohol-glow making her face shine more adorable than ever, as if that was even possible. “Do you remember that night?”
“Of course,” you open the door to your bedroom and gently lay Karina down. “Do you remember what happened after?”
“How could I forget?” she whispers with a smile, reaching her arms out towards you. “We had to cancel brunch the next morning because I literally couldn’t walk.”
“Whatever, we needed the sleep anyway,” you laugh before slowly climbing onto the bed with her, sliding your hand gently up her leg as you push her onto her back and carefully lay on top of her. You gently crash your lips against hers, bringing both hands up to her hips.
She kisses back, sliding her arms around your shoulders, running one hand through the hair on the back of your head. Her dress rides up her body as she wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you closer into her embrace, breathing heavily into your mouth.
The kiss turns aggressive. Like a fight, forceful and hostile. Her tongue intertwines with yours, she’s keeping you on your toes, figuratively speaking. Your heart races, trying to keep up with Karina’s passion – she’s unrelenting.
It’s primal instinct at this point. Karina’s warmth and love is all you crave in this world. You slip the straps of her dress off her shoulders before reaching lower and squeezing in her thighs, tightening the grip her legs have on your body. You want her close, as close as physically possible.
Her flowery scent engulfs your mind, numbing it briefly, alongside the subtle citrus taste of champagne on her lips. It would be addiction either way, anything Karina does is addiction for you. She doesn’t even know it, but she has full control of your every thought. She’s what you want, perfect in every way.
“Ahem,” a voice calls from behind.
Neither of you cares, still kissing as if your lives depended on it. Intoxicated and obsessed with the other’s taste, addicted and engrossed in the other’s body. She’s–
“Stop kissing!” Winter slams the door shut, glaring at the two of you with a bottle of water in one hand and champagne in the other.
“Don’t be jealous,” you ease away from Karina with a smile. “You had your turn earlier.”
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Winter walks over and places the bottles down. “What the fuck Karina.”
“What?” Karina giggles, sitting up in the bed, her dress a disheveled mess. “It’s not our first time kissing.”
“Yeah but in public?” Winter whines. “Everyone saw.”
“And they probably fucking loved it,” you laughed, giving the champagne bottle a shake. “Come on Winter, live a little.”
“Live a little? This was supposed to be a professional event. The entire company is present.”
“Oh please,” Karina scoffs, crossing her arms. “It was so boring.”
“Maybe for you it doesn’t matter, you’re already married to the damn king,” Winter retaliates. “No one cares what you do. I actually have to worry about my reputation. People talk, you know.”
“And you suck the king’s cock every morning,” Karina laughs. “I think your reputation is beyond saving here.”
“W-What are…” Winter stammers and her cheeks burn pink. “Don’t say it like that.”
“How else would I say it?” Karina teases. “Half of them already know your job is to empty his balls.”
“No they don’t!” Winter whines. She’s upset, but the problem is how cute she is even when she’s upset. “And that’s not my job!”
“Oh sorry I forgot,” a smirk flashes across Karina’s face. “Sometimes if you’re a good girl, he bends you over your desk.”
“Karina!” Winter complains.
“Relax Winter,” you uncork the champagne and give it a few shakes.
“Are you…” Winter begins backing away. “Don’t you dare.”
“Too late,” you smirk before moving your thumb aside and begin spraying Winter with champagne.
“My dress!” Winter cries out as she runs away, ducking her head into her arms.
The room erupts as you chase her down, fueled by Karina’s laughs and Winter’s cries. Winter runs around the bed, jumping on it and grabbing Karina for cover. Mouth wide open in shock, Karina shields her face, turning to the side and screaming as you spray her as well, laughing hysterically as you cover her in champagne.
“Babe!” Karina laugh-shouts in disbelief as she looks down at her soaked dress.
“Oh no,” you chuckle before walking over to the table and filling a glass. “Winter, do her a favor and help her out of that dress, it’s all soiled.”
“What about my dress?” Winter whines before unzipping Karina from behind.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of yours too,” you smile, holding the glass out for Karina to take.
Karina smiles up at you, her tits on full display, barely covered by the lacy bra she had hiding under her satin gown. She accepts the glass, downing it in one go before handing it back to you.
“Your turn,” you refill the glass and hold it out for Winter.
“I don’t need that, there’s plenty right here,” Winter waves away the glass before crawling in front of Karina. “You drink it, and then drink another one for me,” Winter adds over her shoulder before devoting all of her attention to Karina.
She yanks down Karina’s bra, freeing her tits in all their glory, and shoves her face deep between them, licking up the champagne directly from Karina’s body. You can’t help but smile as you sip, enjoying the view of Winter as she slides her tongue all over Karina’s tits, lapping up anything she can reach – you’re reminded of how fucking lucky you are as you pour another glass of champagne.
Winter squeezes Karina’s tits together, creating a little ravine for her tongue to play in. She makes little circles, pushing her tits in all directions. Meanwhile, Karina’s loving it, eyes closed breathing through an open mouth, soft moans escaping her from time to time, especially whenever Winter’s fingers give her nipples little pinches. It’s hard to say who’s having more fun.
“My God, Winter,” you put the glass down and flip up her dress.
You laugh as she doesn’t even react, not even when you slip your fingers down the back of her underwear. Slowly, you ease your fingers down to Winter’s pussy, playing with her wetness while enjoying the show. “You’re so fucking wet,” you tease, daring a couple of fingers into her entrance.
“Am I?” Winter finally looks back over her shoulder at you, arching her back. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” you yank down Winter’s underwear and give her ass a smack. “Right, babe? Wanna see?”
Karina excitedly sits back up and steps off the bed, stands next to you and also slaps Winter’s cheeks.
“Wow,” Karina licks her lips as she frees herself from her champagne-covered dress. “You look so fucking scrumptious.”
Winter laughs, reaching back and giving her own ass a slap. “Are you two just going to keep staring, or is someone going to fucking eat me out?”
“Go on,” Karina whispers as she steps behind you and snakes her arms around your hips. She presses her tits into your back, pushing you forward as her fingers unbuckle your pants. “I know you want her.”
She presses your face into Winter’s cheeks before you can even come up with a response, and your brain immediately turns to mush. You suck on Winter’s folds as hard as you can, trapping her pussy between your lips and flicking your tongue back and forth.
“Oh fuck,” Winter moans out, her knees nearly giving out.
“Get that pussy ready,” Karina calls out to Winter as she yanks down your pants and grips your cock. “Your night is just starting.”
Winter can’t make sense of Karina’s words, or anything for that matter, as she flexes her back, overwhelmed by your mouth. You keep sucking her pussy, using both your hands to spread her soft cheeks as far as they can go, getting your mouth as deep as you can. With your mouth buried in Winter’s pussy, you feel Karina’s fingers gently jerk your cock to life. It doesn’t take long, you’re already rock-hard.
“Oh fuck that, I changed my mind,” Karina gasps before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you out of Winter’s pussy. She tosses you onto the bed and you land on your back right next to Winter who’s still on all fours. “I need this cock so fucking bad.”
“Baby it’s yours, it’s always yours,” you laugh, grabbing your base and holding it straight up, waiting for Karina.
“What the fuck!” Winter whines. “I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Karina rolls her eyes before giving Winter the hardest slap of the night on her ass. “And take this shit off,” she tugs at Winter’s dress. “You’re too fucking cute to be covering up.”
Winter obliges, tossing her dress to the side.
Karina shoves her hand between Winter’s legs. “You’re really so fucking wet,” Karina moans as she shoves two fingers up Winter’s pussy.
“Don’t… Don’t fucking tease,” Winter crumbles to the bed.
“Winter, come here,” you reach over and grab her hand. “I need Karina to ride my cock already, you’re distracting her.”
“Me?” Winter retaliates as you pull her over. She places one knee right next to your ear and lifts her other leg up, following your lead. “I didn’t do nothing.”
“I don’t really care anymore,” you lick your lips at the sight of Winter’s pussy right above you. “Fucking hell, look at you.”
“Oh you like this?” Winter lowers herself just slightly out of reach as you crane your neck up.
She giggles as you give her ass another slap.
“Winter,” Karina scolds, joining the two of you on the bed as she straddles your body. “Turn around first.”
“Oh,” Winter quickly drops her pussy onto your face for just a moment before lifting herself up and flipping around so that she’s facing Karina. “Like this?”
“You’re killing him you fucking tease,” Karina laughs as she takes your cock in her hand and pokes at the precum leaking from your tip.
“Seriously, I’m going to remember this,” you moan, reaching up with both hands to spank Winter’s cheeks.
She giggles again before lowering her pussy down onto your face. Her thighs squeeze against your sides, and her pussy begins painting your face with her wetness. Her playful giggles almost immediately turn into moans, and you can just imagine Karina’s smile as she watches Winter sitting on your face.
It’s exactly what you want, almost sweet, a bit of tang, and unbelievably soft. Her folds press against your mouth hard, twisting and contorting to the shape of your face. You’re suffocating in her pussy and you love it. Just when you start thinking about how this is as good as it gets, your world gets flipped upside down.
Karina moans out, loud enough for you to hear even with your ears squished against Winter’s thighs. She’s lowering herself onto your throbbing cock, and that first bounce nearly makes you erupt on the spot. Karina’s pussy consumes your cock and your entire world. You might be starting to feel the alcohol.
You’re almost scared by how quickly you felt yourself about to bust. You try to hold back, desperately – and of course now Winter decides to start grinding her hips back and forth. Breathing becomes difficult, your body is struggling to hold on, it’s too much. You’re definitely feeling the alcohol.
It’s a battle with your body that you know you’re going to lose, but you still fight on as hard as you can. You start thrusting your hips up, slamming into Karina’s pussy as hard as you can. She starts moaning – perfect. Her pussy tightens, squeezing your cock, it’s almost painful how good it feels now. Her cries muffle, as do Winter’s, and you just know the two of them are glued by the mouths.
The view of Karina and Winter kissing engulfs your thoughts. You’re drooling, still suffocating on Winter’s pussy, and your cock is burning up. The pressure is building, it’s becoming too intense, overwhelming. You hold on, fighting on, trying to make the moment last, gasping into Winter’s pussy as you try to push your hips up.
Then, Winter slips forward just a bit too much, sliding her pussy across your chin. Instinctually, your face follows, and before you know it your tongue is pressing against her tight asshole. You push forward, indifferent, trying to get as deep as possible, using the last remaining ounce of strength in your body as you feel your breaking point approach.
Her asshole feels just as nice against your tongue as her pussy, if not better. Not as wet, but you can feel the tightness. You can feel her reservation, a timidness that fades almost instantly as you press your tongue into her asshole. She eases up, letting your tongue prod and explore her asshole – but it only lasts for a brief, fleeting moment.
Your head drops back, slamming into the bed, and your hips fly up towards the roof. You nearly launch Karina off your cock with how hard you thrust – the final thrust before you blow. Warm and with purpose, your cock shoots deep into Karina’s pussy as you fight desperately for air.
Holding herself just a few inches above you, Winter’s fingering herself, letting her pussy spray across your face with no regard as you gasp it all up, choking through an attempt to catch your breath. She dips her body down every few seconds, bouncing her wet pussy against your face again and again.
But you’re spent. All you can do is lay there, accepting the barrage of attacks, while still internally melting at Karina’s touch. She’s still riding your cock, even as you stop pumping her full, she’s making these little circles with her hips, driving you fucking insane. It’s too much, she’s too good.
Moments pass and Winter collapses next to you, her hand held tightly between her legs, trembling and quivering just enough to notice. Your attention, however, never wavers from Karina. She’s staring down at you, cupping her tits as she grinds up and down your shaft.
She wears this smirk, so confident in her ability. She knows the power she holds over your body, and she fucking loves it, wears it proudly. While from time to time she seeks reassurance with a glance in your direction. The truth is she doesn’t need it, there’s no doubt in her mind that she’s your everything – she owns you.
Karina lifts herself up, your thick white cum threatens to spill from her pussy. She steps off the bed and you almost want to reach out and stop her, but you can’t show how desperate she knows you are. So you let her go, wherever she’s going, and turn your attention to the girl balled up facing away from you on the bed.
You pull your hand back before slamming across Winter’s ass, sending her cheeks recoiling.
“Ah!” she shrieks, instantly turning towards you and covering her behind with her hands. “What was that for?”
“Nothing, just felt like it,” you laugh.
“Idiot…” Winter mutters as she scoots to the edge of the bed. “Is there any champagne left?”
“Yeah,” you sit up next to her and grab your cock. “I think there’s some right here.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” she rolls her eyes before giving you a quick couple of playful tugs. “God, why are you such a mess?”
“Me?” you wrap your arm around Winter’s waist and shove your fingers between her legs. You force her thighs apart as she turns into a giggling mess trying to fight you off. “I’m the mess?”
“Stop!” she’s gasping as you finger-fuck her, pulling away and trying to escape. “Please! I… I can’t breathe!”
She’s laying flat on her back now, chest heaving up and down after you let go of her pussy.
Winter props herself up on her elbows and smirks at you. “I can’t believe you ate my ass.”
“I saw how hard you just came, don’t try pretending like you didn’t like it,” you turn away, leaning over the edge of the bed as the room sways side to side – the hangover is going to be brutal tomorrow,
She lifts herself up and sits on the edge of the bed right next to you again. Winter stares at you until you finally look back. She’s truly adorable, and her voice is just as cute when she speaks up. “I never said I didn’t like it,” she adds quietly, tilting her head and smiling at you.
“I’m glad,” you smile. “It was definitely unexpected.”
“Can we… do you think we could…”
“Already horny for more?” you tease when suddenly Winter frowns and her shoulders drop. “Winter–”
“Do people know?” she asks.
“What?”
She looks up at you, a small pout on her lips, eyes tender and delicate. “What Karina said earlier, do people from the company know about…” she adds quietly.
“No one outside of the three of us knows,” you reassure her as you wrap an arm around her shoulders. “She was just teasing you.”
“Promise?”
“Uh, I mean, I didn’t tell anyone,” you smile. “Did you?”
“No! I’d never–”
“Then I promise,” you interject.
Winter’s expression relaxes slightly and she starts to smile. She inches forward just a touch closer to you and her hand moves to your lap.
“Winter…” you breathe softly.
“Don’t think,” she whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “You’re the boss, just enjoy the moment.”
Her lips are soft and warm, and they wear the same subtle taste of champagne as Karina’s. It’s like she can read your mind, and she gives your cock a final stroke with her fingertips, sliding up your length before getting up and reaching for the bottle.
“I think I need to slow down,” you comment as she brings the bottle directly to her lips.
She holds the bottle out for you to take, using the back of her other hand to wipe her mouth. “Don’t be a bitch, drink.”
“Winter–”
“Shut up and drink,” she glares. “And then you owe me.”
“I owe you?” you accept the bottle with a laugh and take a sip.
“That’s right, you were supposed to fuck me earlier, remember? Before Karina stole you.”
“Oh yeah, where is she by the way?” you glance towards the door.
“Focus!” Winter whines as she grabs the champagne. She holds the bottle over your head and waits for you to open your mouth – even though you know it’s a bad idea to drink more – and she pours the liquid directly down your throat. “Good boy,” she smiles, emptying the rest of the bottle.
“You’re so fucking cute,” you mumble, trying to steady yourself on the bed, immediately feeling the alcohol from earlier hitting you. “But where’s–”
“She’s on the balcony,” Winter snaps before turning around, sticking her ass out and looking back at you. “Now can you fucking pay attention to me?”
“You’re just…” you pause to reach forward and slap Winter’s ass hard, “a stupid slut.”
“Alright dickface,” Winter rolls her eyes before stepping backwards until her ass is right in front of you. She has her legs just slightly bent, hands on her knees, and back arched just a bit. “Go on then, you know what to do.”
You lean forward, nearly falling forward off the bed, catching yourself against Winter’s ass. She buckles for a moment before steadying herself again, and you feel her hand reaching back to push your face into her. But it’s unnecessary, you don’t need any extra encouragement, the view of Winter’s tight little asshole staring at you was all you needed.
A gentle moan escapes your lips as you spread her cheeks wide. She gives her ass a little shake, right before you lunge forward, shoving your mouth into her ass. You push your tongue forward as hard as possible, entering inside her, licking and poking at her hole.
“Oh fuck,” Winter cries out, bringing her fingers between her legs. “That’s so fucking good.”
It’s addicting. You slide your tongue up and down between Winter’s cheeks before pressing forward again. You push into her asshole, moving your hands from her ass to her hips, holding her steady. Her ass is tight and your tongue struggles, but you try nonetheless, using as much strength as you can to spread her wide. The room is spinning, but you try your best to steady yourself, holding onto Winter’s ass for support.
She lets out a shriek and falls forward onto her knees, holding herself bent over in front of you, her fingers moving quickly between her legs. She’s trembling and writhing on the soft carpeted floor, moaning loudly as she fingers herself.
You let yourself slip off the bed as well and get right behind her. That tight little asshole, glistening with your saliva, is staring right at you. As badly as you want to shove your cock into her, it’s impossible – she’s squirming too much, and you know you’re too drunk to make this work right now.
Instead, you settle with a finger. You shove your middle finger down to the knuckle into Winter’s ass and she screams louder than ever. As you move back and forth, you can feel her fingers also moving in her pussy, so you try to alternate and match her. At the same time, you use your other hand to slap her ass hard, over and over.
She’s screaming and moaning, body twitching. It only takes a few more moments before she collapses to the floor, flat on her stomach, entire body quivering as her fingers slip out of her pussy. She lets out a long, drawn-out moan as you pull your finger out of her.
“Are you alive?” you chuckle, giving her ass a few squeezes.
“No,” she moans.
“Well, that’s an issue.”
“You… you need to fuck… me…”
“I think maybe you just need to rest up a bit.”
“No!” she replies forcefully despite still having no energy. “On bed, from behind.”
“Winter–”
“Now.”
You sigh before laughing and shaking your head. Then, you bend down and pick her limp body up from her armpits and place her stomach down against the edge of the bed. Her legs dangle off the edge lifelessly.
“Now fuck me,” she mutters.
“Winter,” you laugh again, tracing the red markings you left on her cheeks from earlier. “This isn’t happening.”
“Okay,” she sighs quietly, and within seconds she’s out, snoring softly.
You give her ass a little pat before putting on a robe and stumbling to the balcony. Outside, you find Karina leaning against the railing, holding an empty glass in her hand, her dress thrown on messily.
“Think you’ve had enough yet?” you take the glass from her hand and place it down before wrapping an arm around her waist, leaning against the railing with her.
“That’s why I’m out here,” she smiles at you for a second before turning to the view again. “Needed the fresh air.”
“You and me both.”
“How’s Winter? I heard her screaming.”
“Turns out she likes getting her ass eaten, who woulda known.”
Karina laughs. “Alcohol does things to that girl.”
“She also got kinda sensitive about people knowing.”
“What?” Karina cocks an eyebrow. “She knows I was joking, right?”
“Yeah, I told her that,” you gently rub Karina’s hip. “I guess it’s a soft spot for her.”
“She’s a really sweet girl, I hope she doesn’t downplay her success,” Karina frowns. “I really like that one, a lot more than your last assistant.”
“I know, I’d keep her around even if I wasn’t fucking her,” you reply. “She really makes my life a lot easier.”
“Yeah, and she sucks you off,” Karina nudges you in the ribs.
“That part matters less to me,” you turn Karina so that she’s facing you. “I’m more than satisfied with what I’m looking at right now.”
“Is that so?” Karina’s eyes glow in the moonlight.
“Absolutely,” you smile at her. “Although, you’d probably have to start showing up at the offices with me.”
“And have all your employees gawk at me all day?” Karina snorts. “No thanks. They fucking suck at hiding it. If I had a dollar for every time I caught one of them staring tonight, I’d be richer than you.”
“Can you really blame them, have you seen yourself?” you laughed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
There’s a soft pause, Karina smiles at you, her cheeks still rose-tinted from the champagne.
“I really love you,” Karina whispers.
“And I love you.”
“No, really,” Karina frowns as if she’s being misunderstood. She wraps her hands around your lower back and steps closer. “I really, really love you, so much. So much…”
She stumbles, holding onto your body for support.
“Careful,” you grab her. “Should we sit?”
“No, just hold me,” she replies, squeezing you. “I love you.”
“You’re everything to me,” you kiss the top of her head and gently sway back and forth with her. It’s cold on the balcony, but your body is still warm – probably the alcohol.
Karina lets go of you and takes a step back, leaning against the railing.
“I know you just fucked Winter, but I’m still in the mood.”
“I didn’t fuck her.”
“Oh?” Karina raises an eyebrow. “You ate her ass and she didn’t even let you fuck?”
“The girl passed out,” you chuckle. “I wasn’t going to wake her.”
“What about you? Any juice left in there?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
She smirks and pulls her dress down again until her tits are out. “Who do you think is asking?” she pulls on the string of your robe.
“For you, always,” you step forward and press your lips to hers. “But I am a little drunk.”
“I can see that,” Karina giggles as she turns around and leans over the railing, lifting her dress up. “Hold onto something.”
“You know,” you step right behind Karina and place your hand on her waist, “if anyone was to step outside right now, they’d see your tits.”
“Who gives a fuck, let them watch,” she giggles, bending over deeper.
“Did you know I love you?” you grab your cock and slide it up against her pussy.
“So I’ve heard,” she lets out a sharp gasp as you enter her pussy. “Oh! Slowly, please.”
“Anything for you,” you whisper into her ear, leaning closer, holding her tightly as you start moving your hips back and forth.
Her breath catches each time you ease your cock into her. It’s not an act, it’s genuine. In the cool breeze of the evening, you were her warmth, and her pussy yours. There’s no need to rush it, you just have to move your hips slowly against her body, anything you did right now worked, driving her insane without being too much.
Soon, the cold air vanishes, and Karina is consumed by warmth. Her pussy burns up, squeezing your cock gently with each thrust. Her body is obsessed, riding the edge, begging for more without being demanding. Even her moans, louder now, are careful and full of love.
And you can feel it all. Every emotion and sensation, you can feel it through her body. She’s squirming, leaning over more, holding the railing harder. Just a bit more, and it takes all the self-control in your body to keep going like this, part of you wants to grab her, take her, use her.
Just not now, because right now is Karina’s moment. It’s her turn to feel good, to feel loved. You aren’t going to take that away from her.
Her pussy warms up some more and you feel her legs buckle. She cries out, and you grab her for support, making sure she knows you have her. A rush of wetness spills out of her, down her leg, past your cock. She’s struggling now, and you’re basically the only thing holding her up – you can’t even thrust anymore, you’re just holding her as her pussy squeezes down on your cock.
“I love you,” you whisper into her ear before kissing her on the cheek.
She moans a response, still high off her orgasm. It takes her a few moments, a few moments of warmth where you simply hold your cock deep inside her. Finally, she regains enough strength to hold herself up, and she looks back at you over her shoulder.
“C-Can we go inside?” her teeth chatter.
You take her hand and walk her back to your room, closing the balcony door behind you. On your bed, Winter is still laying there with her legs hanging off the edge and her ass up, exactly where you left her earlier. Her cheeks are crimson red, enticing you to walk over and bring your palm down on them yet again, but you hold back.
“Let her sleep,” Karina thinks the same and takes your hand, walking you across the room to one of your armchairs.
She sits you down before dropping to her knees in front of you, staring up at you, gaze as sensual as imaginable. She’s dripping sex appeal from every cell in her body, just by existing, and she knows it, she knows how special she is to you.
“Just relax,” she whispers, delicately stroking your shaft, slowly without pressing. “Let me take care of you.”
Karina leans over and kisses your inner thigh. Just a short peck at first, pausing to gaze up at you before pressing her mouth against your skin again. She kisses deep, sucking and twisting against your skin, leaving a mark before moving her lips back.
Then she presses her tongue to the mark and slides it up your thigh until her lips meet the base of your shaft. She wraps her mouth around the side of your cock and slides her head up and down, as if playing the harmonica.
She’s slow, calculated, deliberate. There’s no need to rush, she knows she has you for as long as she wants – and that’s still not enough. Her lips graze your tip, blessing it with a quick kiss before sliding back down your length and resting against your balls.
Her fingers start to make little circles around your tip and she prods at your entrance lightly with her thumb as her tongue explores your balls. She pushes them around like they’re her toys – which they basically are. Up down left right, wherever she wants, until she opens her lips wide and lets them fall into her mouth.
Karina hollows her cheeks, sucking hard on your balls, coating them in her saliva while sliding her tongue between them. She lets one slip out, squeezing harder against the other until it also escapes. Her thumb is moving a bit faster now, little circles around your tip.
A sharp inhale slides through her teeth before she opens her mouth wide and shoves her face into your taint.
It feels fucking divine, so much better than you were prepared for, you nearly jump out of the armchair. The moan you let out is stifled, your brain doesn’t understand how to react, it’s too much pleasure, an avalanche of dopamine.
At the same time, Karina wraps her fingers around your shaft and starts stroking. She’s no longer slow and delicate, she’s fast. Her lips press hard into your skin, kissing deep, and her fingers give your entire length quick strokes, pausing every few times to make a little circle around your tip with her palm before going right back to your shaft.
“That’s so fucking good,” you moan softly, gripping the armrests until your knuckles turn white. “I fucking love you so much, oh my fucking God.”
She answers with another sharp breath as she backs up just slightly. With her hand still stroking rapidly, she reaches her mouth up and gives your balls a quick peck before pressing her mouth down again, pushing at your taint hard.
Your cock is throbbing, Karina can sense it. She works your length for a few more strokes, giving your skin a few final licks before lifting herself up. Her lips part, she stares at you until you lock eye contact, and then she lowers her mouth onto your cock, replacing her fingers as she moves down.
Inch by inch she goes until her nose presses softly against your crotch before quickly pulling back. Only then does she close her eyes and place her hands on your thighs. She starts bobbing up and down, sucking your cock with everything she has.
It’s inevitable, you’re about to bust. You can’t remember the last time you had a blowjob this fucking phenomal, it’s absolutely perfect to each detail. You can feel her lips squeezing hard against your shaft, her tongue prodding at your tip, the little pressure every time her mouth comes up.
She’s moving steadily, and you’re on the edge. You can’t, no, it’s impossible, but you try desperately to hold on, to make the moment last, begging your body to hold onto the moment for just a bit longer.
You can’t.
The room starts spinning, this time without any credit going to the alcohol. Your cock explodes inside her mouth, gushing cum all over. Instantly, some of it spills from her lips – impossible to contain. But she tries, she tightens her mouth some more, cheeks hollowed once more.
Her eyes flutter open, searching for your gaze, meeting it with more emotion than you can fathom. She’s perfect. Seriously, perfection is all you can think about when you stare down at her, your white mess spilling from her lips despite how hard she sucks against your shaft.
She’s patient, coaxing you to keep going without rushing you. Her tongue pokes and prods gently at your tip, easing out more of your cum until you’re entirely emptied. Everything, she gave you everything, and in return she got everything back, there was nothing left.
Karina sits up, letting your cock leave her lips, ignoring the gush of cum that spills out of her lips and onto her chest. She stares at you, gaze deep and intimidating, focused only on you.
“I love you,” she whispers.
You take her face in your hands, holding her, emotions brimming through your body. Your body is beyond relaxed, blood flowing. You pull her close and press your lips to her forehead, holding for a moment, kissing her gently.
“What did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as you are?” you whisper softly as you lean back and gaze back into her eyes.
She giggles, then smiles, tilting her head to the side. For a moment, she just stares at you, lovingly and full of emotion. Then, she climbs onto the armchair and wraps her arms around you, holding her warmth against yours, becoming one with you.
She says the line again, you say it right back, and the two of you refuse to let go of the other. Ultimately there’s only one option left – you stay in each other’s embrace until you both peacefully fall asleep, comforted by undying love you share.
---
A/N:
This is a super quick fic. I spent about two evenings on it, purely spontaneous, inspired by my headcannon of them being drunk at that award show. I just love these two girls honestly. I still tried to read through it a few times to make sure there aren't too many mistakes, but sorry if you find some, I also went with present tense instead of past tense with this one so give me some leeway!
I am honestly struggling so hard with some of my other fics (looking at you Dating Seraphs). I know what I want to write, I have it literally planned out, but it's just so tough. Regardless, I appreciate everyone's patience and support. This blog has grown so much more than I could have ever imagined, I just hope I can keep releasing stuff you guys enjoy!
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if you could do r trying on a new pheromone perfume and the brothers (separately) are js like 👁️👁️ and suddenly pounces on them and readers js so confused you’d literally be godsent😫
(my inspiration was that one Rafayel scene from lds-)
suggestive || bonus characters bc harem || whether or not Mc knew it was pheromone perfume is up for debate || 1.k wc
Lucifer pauses for a brief second while not faltering in what he was doing, subtly trying to detect the cause of the scent invading every sense of his. He's one of the quickest to figure it out, eyes darkening as he empties his hands before gripping your waist and pulling you as close as physically possible; his face is in your neck before you can even blink and you both stay like that for a moment before he's silently tugging you to wherever he can sit down with you on top of him
Mammon's head snaps up so fast it almost hurts, eyes zeroing in on you. He knows where the scent is coming from, but he just doesn't understand why you suddenly smell even better than usual...he ain't shy as he slides his fingers over your wrist, up your forearm, going until he's caressing the slope of your neck. His breathing is shaky and his voice cracks a little when he whispers how intoxicated you're making him feel. He's got you laid down against the closest flat surface so he can run his hands over you, nose buried against the underside of your jaw as he breathes you in until he's damn near drunk off it
Levi's tail acts faster than he does, curling around your thighs and yanking you closer before he catches up with the action. His embarrassment is cut off when he finally registers the smell, too, and suddenly his face is red for a different reason. He'll fire off a million questions, adding his own jumbled thoughts in between, subconsciously latching every possible limb around you; his face is buried against your chest, fangs accidentally brushing the skin as he stutters out apologies, but doesn't stop
Satan perks up much like a cat, intense blue-green hues staring you down like he's ready to actually pounce. He approaches slowly, trying to figure out the source of your new scent on the way over, but ultimately decides to bury himself against you— your neck, chest, shoulder, nape— breathily asking what you were doing to him. He feels like he's been drugged, almost like a feline with catnip, but it's so dizzily good that he can't complain. Drags you off to where no one will be able to find you, so that your scent won't find anyone but him
Asmo is giddy the second he catches a wiff, easily pinpointing the reason for your scent change, and the exact listing of the brand you used. He's shameless as he requests a thorough product review, rubbing his frame up against yours as he holds you from behind, eyes peering over your shoulder with a bright pink hue. Cheekily insists that you’re better off without so many clothes on, wanting your scent to rub off on him so you can match (and so he can smell it for the rest of the day).
Beel is confused when the food in his mouth isn’t tasting as good as it should. The scent invades his nose, making his eyes search for what has to be a delicious source, only to find you instead of something edible. He’s all over you, mumbling out apologies and that he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, asking won’t you please let him just…be near you? He trails after you like a puppy, not really sure why you’re captivating his entire being with just your smell. His mouth eventually finds your neck, nibbling and sucking as he tries to get a ‘taste’ of that scent.
Belphie, while unwilling to get up out of his spot, is instantly at attention with eyes following you around the room. He’ll whine and complain until he’s got you at his side, trapping you in his arms and against his lounging form. He’s almost tense, as he inhales that new scent, like a ram waiting to charge. His tone is lazy and drawn out, but tinged with a need that he’s confused about, yet so willing to dive into. He’s surrounded by you, literally and figuratively, as he keeps you tight in his arms, not above begging to get his way.
Diavolo is so fucking clueless, wide eyes blinking up at you almost innocently as he asks if you were wearing a new perfume. He finds himself inching closer to you, gaze never leaving your figure for long— a gaze that get darker and more lidded as time passes. He’s still clueless as ever, yet doesn’t mind the mystery since he’s always willing for an excuse to be with you. His cheeks are flushed and his touch a tad hesitant, but it all flies out the window when you allow him to bury his face against your abdomen, kneeling on the floor, letting his mind swim.
Barbatos takes one glance at you after catching on to the scent and knows, but unlike the pudding incident when he fled the scene, he’s coiling you up with his tail and keeping you impossibly close, unwilling to let anyone have you this time. Unabashedly, his nose is trailing along the slope of your neck, lips brushing the skin as he places slow kisses over all the right spots. Whether or not he does or doesn’t have time to spare, he’s whisking you away and trapping you against his frame, almost begging you to let him be selfish and improper as he inhales your scent with an abandon that would usually make him pause; he can forgive himself, if it’s because of you, unwilling to let go of this opportunity at your eager answer of ‘yes’.
Mephisto almost trips as he passes you by in the hallways of RAD, whirling around to gape at you rather dumbly. Stubbornly fights the urge to follow you for all of thirty seconds before he’s trailing after you with urgency. Manages to simply walk alongside you and keep polite small talk just until you’re both out of eyesight, because then he’s pulling you towards him and groaning, asking what the hell you thought you were doing walking around other demons while smelling so good. It’s a struggle to keep a dignified facade when he’s rushing you down the corridor— but once he gets you in a room, it’s all crumbling as he latches his lips to your neck’s pulse point. The Newspaper Club’s office is closed until further notice.
Solomon doesn’t really register the smell at first, both because it’s more subtle for humans, and because he was playing around with various potions— but once he did catch the smell after you’d gotten closer, he’s swiping everything to the side and placing you on the table instead. He is allll over you, not even hiding the flush on his cheeks as he inhales your scent; practically panting in the crook of your neck. Apologizes if you had something planned later, because he’s keeping you for the rest of the day, wanting to experiment with your new perfume. He knows he’s being overly touchy and a…bit desperate, but just indulge in his whims, yeah?
Simeon’s pretty sure that his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest. He couldn’t understand why he felt so warm and fuzzy all the sudden, but had a feeling it was probably because of you (because only you could make him feel this way). Shyly asks if he could sit closer to you, pleasantly surprised when you tug his head to rest in your lap. His fingers lift your shirt up just enough for him to press his nose against a sliver of skin, face buried against your stomach as his hands grip and massage your thighs. Genuinely content to just lay there and let your scent consume him, though he won’t argue if you ask to help him out.
Raphael…thinks he’s sick. Which is odd, because he hasn’t been sick in a few centuries, but then again..you make him feel…odd. Which is why he walked straight up to you and flat out asked if you were doing it on purpose— why did you smell so good? Why was it making him like this?? He’ll have to be guided, your hand leading both of his to your hips, his head tucking into your neck. He’s still confused, but more than willing to investigate. You’re so..enchanting…he can make idle complaints all day long, but he refuses to let go of you now. He likes how it feels. And he likes the way you react to him.
#obey me x reader#om x reader#lucifer x reader#om lucifer#mammon x reader#om mammon#leviathan x reader#om levi#satan x reader#om satan#asmo x reader#om asmodeus#beel x reader#om beelzebub#belphie x reader#om belphegor#diavolo x reader#om diavolo#barbatos x reader#om barbatos#mephisto x reader#om mephistopheles#obey me simeon x reader#om simeon#obey me raphael x reader#om raphael#solomon x reader#om solomon
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call it what you want

synopsis: when you visit a gathering of childhood friends, they’re wary of you and caleb’s relationship. and while you take it in stride, he takes it to heart.
tags: fluff, angst, heart to heart, happy ending, calebmc judged by childhood friends for their relationship, mc withstands it but caleb withdraws, barely yandere caleb, he does watch mc when they’re apart though, caleb breaks somebody’s teeth with his evol, calebmc relationship depicted as the jumbled up mess that it is, there’s not really pseudocest though, calebmc are each other’s first kiss, caleb is insecure, mc comforts the hell out of him, references to caleb’s mental illness, allusions to sex. inspired by “call it what you want” by taylor swift pairing: caleb x fem!reader, reader is mc word count: 8.1k (woah!)
a/n: behold my thesis on the intricate siblingfriendpartnership of calebmc. it’s the best thing i’ve written and i’m so glad. but also this has ended up doubling as my 2k followers special 🎉🎉🎉 that is an unfathomable amount of people subjecting themselves to my writing and i’m seriously so grateful. thank you for motivating me to create! anyway, i truly hope you get something out of this, but even if you don’t, i’m proud of it 💞
“C’mon, pip-squeak. We can't ignore it forever. I’m here now, and I'll be right by your side. All those bad memories…you won’t have to face them alone anymore.”
“I know. And I’m glad. But still, it’s…different now,” you smile weakly, failing to suppress a heavy sigh.
Caleb was in Linkon for the week, having put his foot down about his well-earned time off. And you, having gotten used to the constant Fleet interruptions, had gone the extra mile to make him unreachable: locking his communicator in your bedside drawer.
After three days of making new memories—you’d ticked the movies, the zoo, and a concert off your list—his love for nostalgia had finally gotten the better of him. He’d set his sights on reminiscence, and all morning, he’d been pestering you to visit your old neighborhood. Where your childhood home had once stood.
“We can just take a look around. Five minutes, tops. Aren’t you curious about that old playset you used to drag me to? Always made me spot you under the monkey bars in case you fell. I’m sure they miss you,” he teases, hope shining in his ametrine eyes.
And as you picture it—the iron bars of the jungle gym, now rusted with time; the grayish, well-traveled cobblestone streets; the wild honeysuckle bushes scattered around the block—you know this is a battle you can’t win.
“Fine,” you huff. “But you’re driving.”
“As if I’d refuse. And hey,” he softens, grabbing your arm gently. “If it’s too much, let me know. We’ll come back right away.”
***
Your stomach roils as familiar street signs come into view.
Green lawns and picket fences. Symbols of safety you could no longer trust.
Humming along to an old pop hit on the radio—a valiant attempt to distract you—Caleb turns into your neighborhood, and you clench your teeth involuntarily.
Luckily, you don’t have too much time to worry. Because seconds later, he pulls over a few houses from home and puts the car in park.
You sit for a moment. Watching. Breathing.
Thinking of how the last time you came here, he was dead.
“I’ll race ya,” he says suddenly, shutting the engine off and throwing his door open. And with a strained chuckle, you follow suit.
You lose on purpose, slowing your steps the closer you get to Gran’s house. You know he can tell.
But soon, you run out of room to stall.
As you stand beside the “FOR SALE” sign, feeling like a stranger, the freshly polished wood and foreign color scheme deepen the pit inside your stomach.
Caleb whistles lowly. “Sure looks different, doesn’t it?”
But you’re not listening. You’re remembering.
You remember the smell—the charred scent that stuck with you for so long after the explosion, your nostrils blistered from too much blowing. The way ashes fell endlessly from the sky, and you didn’t know what—or who—they were made of. The last-minute salon visit you’d had to schedule to chop the singed ends of your hair off.
“C’mon. That playground is just this way,” he offers, coaxing voice saving you from too much rumination.
“Okay,” you whisper, sliding your hand into his.
It was an age-old lesson, one you’d learned a hundred times: summer heat and monkey bars don’t mix.
As you flinch away with a startled hiss, Caleb casually pulls spare gloves from his pocket—as if he kept them on him for a situation like this—and carefully slips them onto you. For someone whose hands dwarf yours, they fit suspiciously well.
“Up you go,” he sings, lifting you to reach the handles. And just like all those years before, he walks beside you as you cross, steadying you with his gentle touch.
When you reach the end, instead of jumping down, you shift your momentum to swing backwards, skater dress twirling with the motion.
But as your front faces the street again, you realize your mistake a moment too late.
“Oh my gosh, is that who I think it is?!”
As a vaguely recognizable voice squeals, you freeze in place, hands squeezing around the iron bars in a death grip.
“Oh, it totally is! You haven’t come around here in forever—it’s so good to see you!” the voice continues.
Turning your head—slowly, like the main character in a horror film—your eyes land on an all too familiar figure. Sarah, a girl around your age you used to envy for her toy collection, stands just feet away from you, long leash corralling a massive German Shepherd held tightly in her manicured hand.
With two light taps on your back—Caleb’s signal for you to come down—you loosen your hold and land almost gracefully on the pea gravel below.
This was a situation you’d only been in once before. When Gideon had crossed paths with you at the cemetery and learned his dead friend was, well…not.
In any case, the circumstances then had been rare enough for you to carry on without establishing a protocol. And now, as you stand at the mercy of someone with no reason to keep Caleb’s secret, you’ll be forced to improvise.
“Hi…Sarah,” you grin awkwardly, fiddling with your hands in front of you. “Thought you’d have moved by now.”
“Nope!” she chirps, not catching your apprehension. “We’re gonna give it one more year. After my husband saves up from his new job, we want to travel a bit before settling down.”
You nod brusquely.
“By the way, we haven’t really seen you here since the accident. I’m so sorry about your grandmother and Caleb—I know how close you two were. But—oh! Excuse my manners,” she pivots, looking behind you as if a lightbulb flicked on overhead. “Who’s th—”
Sarah’s tanned face blanches.
“Hey Sarah. It’s been a while,” he greets casually.
And the woman in front of you looks between you both as if she’s seconds away from siccing that dog on you.
“You…caught us at a bad time,” you giggle nervously. “It’s kind of a secret, but…that was a…false report, after the explosion. Caleb actually managed to flee the area with a few burns. The authorities just kept the whole thing under wraps in case it was a targeted attack, or something. So I’ve been keeping an eye on him ever since!” you smile tightly, squeezing his dry palm with your clammy one.
“Oh…well…what a relief, I guess!” she chuckles uncomfortably. “Well…if you’re not laying too low, Caleb,” she starts, extroverted nature beating out her rationality, “we’re having a get-together with all the neighborhood kids tomorrow! You guys should totally come. We’d hate to miss our favorite duo—you were always so funny, nagging each other like siblings.”
You bristle at the term, gripping Caleb’s hand so tightly it could bruise. “Um, thanks for the offer, Sarah, but we…” you trail off, looking at him to help you.
“We’d love to come!” he doesn’t.
“Uh, we…would?” you question, perplexed by his sudden enthusiasm.
“Yeah, why not, pips? It’d do you good to reconnect with some of the girls you liked hangin’ around. Plus, I’ll be right there with you,” he smiles brightly.
Though his reasoning barely quells your anxiety, your heart softens at the gesture.
“Alright, then,” you turn to Sarah. “We’ll be there.”
The old mall down the block is halfway through renovations.
Neon orange construction cones litter the parking lot, and every door but the main entrance is sealed off with yellow caution tape.
Navigating through the weekend traffic, you and Caleb wander through the swarming, noisy corridors, leaving store after store empty-handed.
You don’t know what to wear.
Meeting so many people after such a long time…there’s an irrational need to impress, to look like you have your life together.
And somehow, every outfit seems off on you. It’s not false advertising—the mannequins are gorgeous as ever. But there’s something about you that ruins every look.
As you rummaged through different displays, Caleb had done some light hovering—staying near, but letting you do your own thing, overall.
But as you return another dress to the rack with a frustrated growl, he swoops in to put his scary intuition to good use.
“This would suit you,” he grins kindly, brandishing a pastel blue sundress. “Wanna try it on?”
You eye the fabric skeptically. It’s not your usual style, but you take it into the dressing room anyway.
And of course, the first thing Caleb picks out for you is perfect.
“Told ya,” he laughs when you call him inside, back hugging you in the mirror. “You look beautiful. ‘Course it helps that it was my idea, and all.”
Swatting him gently, you giggle as you try to push him out of the cramped space, grunting with annoyance when he sandbags you.
“Get out of here!” you protest. “We still have to find your outfit, and the mall closes soon.”
“Okay, okay, I'm going,” he relents cheekily. “Snap a picture for me before you take it off, though, alright?”
***
Once you’d paid—or he’d paid, having levitated your purse in the air while you scowled at him—you’d dragged him over to the men’s section, where you’d found an outfit just his size with a similar color scheme.
He’d preened when you held it out to him, puffing his chest out with pride at the fact you knew his tastes so well. And in his sparkling eyes, you’d spotted a flicker of possessiveness as he looked between your clear garment bag and the clothes in his hands, not so subtly comparing the blues to each other.
And evidently, with the way he’d refused to even try anything on before heading back to the register, he’d been satisfied.
As you make your way back to his car, Caleb tugs you in by the waist to claim your lips in a tender kiss.
“It’s perfect,” he breathes. “It’ll be perfect. And even though we’ll be matchin’…I get the feeling you’ll be the one people can’t look away from.”
Caleb’s hand is on the small of your back as you step through Sarah’s front door, but it leaves you as he encourages you to mingle. “Go catch up,” he urges with his signature grin.
You know what he’s doing. What this whole thing has been. A way to push you out of your comfort zone, a prolonged apology, and a promise to be less overbearing, all in one.
He needs it just as much as you do. Needs you to know that he’s trying. So as you nod softly and make your way through the throng of laughing faces, you hope he sees you trying, too.
Sarah’s parents had both been lawyers, and if the diplomas lining the far wall of the living room didn’t make that clear enough, the sheer size of their house sure did.
The layout is vaguely familiar—Caleb had been friends with her older brother, and you’d practically begged him to tag along on playdates so you could see the fancy house down the street.
As you take it all in—the flat screen TVs (plural) broadcasting different channels, the iridescent streamers lining the bannisters, the variety of appetizers spread out across the first floor—you only grow more envious.
Turning away with a petty huff, you focus on the people instead. As you study faces new and old, you wonder how many guests here brought their partners. How many know that you brought yours.
Sarah—ever the gracious host, never the gossip—had informed the attendees about Caleb’s situation in hopes that he wouldn’t be bombarded the second he stepped inside. And it was working, somehow, as far as you could tell. Aside from a few wary glances sent his way, people greeted him just like they did before: as the golden boy whose presence was a gift.
At some point, as you’d hovered aimlessly by the drink table, a girl you remembered fondly had strolled up to you. Marley, her name was. With her lively eyes, kind smile, and eagerness to play dolls with you, she’d been your closest non-Caleb friend in the neighborhood.
“Who would’ve thought the girl next door would grow up to be a hunter, huh?” she jokes, gently elbowing your ribs.
“It’s really not that special,” you laugh, halfheartedly dodging her pokes. “Just something necessary, I guess, since the Wanderers came. I thought it’d be cool, high-stakes action movie stuff every day, but I kinda feel like a firefighter saving a cat from a tree sometimes.”
“Oh, please. You’re practically a superhero! Caleb, too, being a whole pilot and all. Time really flies—I still remember when he helped you set up your lemonade stand that one summer,” she giggles. “You were always so in sync.”
“Still are,” you smile softly, gaze subconsciously finding Caleb from across the room. He's chatting in a group of his old buddies, but as always, it’s like he can sense you looking at him. His eyes find yours in an instant, as if he already knew where you were standing—because of course he did—and he shoots you a boyish wink.
“But, if you don’t mind me asking,” Marley hesitates, her eyes shifting perplexedly between you. “Are you two…together…now? You seem even closer than you were as kids, if that’s even possible,” she mutters sarcastically, talking from the side of her mouth.
As the question hits you for the first time that night, you plaster a big, fake smile on your face. “We sure are! It was five months last week.”
“Well, congrats, I guess,” she tries to exclaim, but her confusion stunts her sincerity. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just…I never expected you guys would date! You always seemed more like…ah…friends,” she cringes, her own fake smile twitching slightly.
Friends.
As the word fights its way out of her mouth, likely beating several less polite alternatives, the weight of her hesitance is not lost on you.
“Friends, huh?” you echo, and your smile is real this time. A show of your teeth, a hint that she’s just entered dangerous waters. “What kind of friends grow up in the same house, Marley? Raised by the same person, and all. Pretty rare if you ask me,” you cock your head in mock contemplation. “C’mon, what do you really mean to say?”
You’d been taught well.
“Okay, okay!” she huffs, folding like a lawn chair under the pressure. “I always thought you were like siblings. Thought you guys thought you were like siblings. I’m just surprised, is all.”
“There’s nothing to be surprised about,” you nod curtly. “You lived next door, not with us. You don’t know how we felt about each other.”
Your voice is robotic as you meet her with a deadened stare. No matter how much you’d expected it, no matter how much you’d prepared, the judgment catches you off guard.
The rumors, the gossip—it’s one reason you thought Caleb would decline the invite. To protect you, if nothing else. But with a bitter, inward laugh, you guess that him trying means letting you be in situations you might’ve begged him to shield you from.
“I need some air,” you decide suddenly, interrupting Marley’s frantic apologies to turn toward the door. “It was nice catching up.”
A cool breeze kisses your exposed skin as you watch the fireflies blink from the patio. And as beautiful as they are, glittering in the night sky, there are other things on your mind at the moment.
If Caleb was ever a brother to you, he was the best brother anyone ever had.
You’d seen the way your friends acted with their brothers. Always kept a watchful eye on their interactions, as if comparing their relationships to yours. Middle school, high school, college.
And over all those years, no brother had ever been as attentive—as doting, as patient, as loving—as Caleb.
After the explosion, when you were left to deal with your feelings alone—no nagging, oversized puppy to distract you—you’d pondered how you saw him. Deep down, under the structure and order and propriety that was forced upon you too young. Regretted that it was too late to ask him how he saw you.
And if those quiet nights crying so hard it felt like drowning had taught you anything, it was this: as much as Caleb was brotherly, he had always been more—so much more than what he had to be to you.
He could’ve shut himself in his room for hours, leaving you to fend for yourself. He could’ve ghosted you the minute you no longer went to the same school. Could’ve found a girlfriend, had kids early, and moved his real family far away from you. All these things, you’d seen happen.
But through it all, Caleb had stayed, and he’d done it with his signature smile. Even when you’d worried he’d outgrown you, had outpaced you with his stellar achievements, he’d just pinched your cheek with a fond grin. Who d’ya think I do all that for, silly? he’d laughed.
By your reunion, when he’d stared down at you so cruelly, you’d known what he was to you. The only man you’d ever loved, in all meanings of the phrase. That’s why it had hurt so much.
And Caleb had scared you off. Your feelings were fragile, only newly realized. But his…were developed. Intense. More intense than you were ready for, coming from someone who’d been off-limits for 15 years.
So you’d resisted. Resisted his spiraling admissions, resisted the feelings you knew he had for you, resisted his frantic attempts to steal you from the world.
It would take time for you to accept a love like his. You’d told him as much five months ago—that you needed to meet in the middle. And he’d promised to try.
As the days went by, you got used to treating him like a lover. To putting new meanings behind every touch. And every time you kissed him, he carved out more of his own paradise in your mind, escaping the liminal area he’d occupied in unfulfilling restraint.
It was only in moments like this when prying eyes and hushed whispers wore you down. People who thought that, because they knew you once—for a summer, for a semester, for a school year—they knew who you were and how you felt. But there was something paradoxically mercurial about you and Caleb: the more you stayed the same, the more you changed. And only the two of you were privy to it.
Even still, some leers and questions got to you, just as they had tonight. Apprehension and a resented sense of shame had filled your gut, as if you’d been “caught” stealing from your own wallet.
But of all the things Caleb was to you, only one mattered: he was yours. And as a firefly lands on your outstretched palm, twinkling beautifully in the darkness that threatens it, you know no one can take that from you.
Caleb had had better nights.
He’d had worse, for sure—agony and loneliness come to mind—but he’d definitely had better.
He’s spent this one mingling among the names he hadn’t cared to remember, all as an attempt to show you he won’t cage you in. You can have fun, have friends outside of him, as much as the thought makes his stomach churn.
And what better way to start than with people he already knew? Baby steps.
As he cranes his neck to find you again (which shouldn’t be hard, since he just has to look for the one dressed like him), he vaguely registers an incessant buzz of a voice talking his ear off. Jared, he calls himself.
“Anyway, I can’t believe you did that to her. That’s fucked up, man,” the voice says, clapping Caleb’s back with an obnoxious chortle.
And as much as he needs to find you, Caleb really wishes he’d spared some of his attention for the homunculus beside him.
“What exactly are you implying?” he asks lowly, lifting the hand from his shoulder with a firmness that any sober person would find threatening.
He’s almost certain you’re not in the room, now, your calming presence lost in the sea of discarded memories. Alarms sound in his head at the realization, only to be drowned out by something more damning.
“It’s just…you grew up together! Had the same grandma. That's like your sister, dude. But you know what, to each their own. The way she looks, I can’t say I would've held myself back any better than you did. Probably worse, man. Matter of fact, you fucked her y—?”
The force of Caleb’s Evol clamps Jared’s mouth shut.
And, if his muffled yelp is any indication, hopefully breaks a few of his teeth, their bloodied chips settling on his tongue.
“This sorry excuse for a conversation is over. Leave. Now. And if I see you talking to her on your way out, I’ll make sure you never get the chance to again.”
Jared nods fearfully, and after one last snarl, Caleb lifts his Evol, albeit begrudgingly. It takes Jared a few seconds to notice his newfound freedom, but the moment he does, he’s scurrying out of the house. Good.
You’re back in Caleb’s sight, now. But as he takes in your shy smile, the faint melody of your laughter filling his keen ears, he doesn’t feel the comfort he normally would.
Instead, he feels his dog tag.
Your precious gift to him. A symbol of how you needed him, of your anticipation that he’d always be in your life. Of his hope that one day, you’d return his feelings.
He recalls the once comfortable weight, the way his body heat would flow into the cool metal, linking it to him in a warm embrace.
The chain now burns against his throat.
Jared had been brash.
Crude, crass, and certainly cocky, thinking he was deserving of you.
So as Caleb watches you chat among a mixed group of guests, swirling his full cup in agitation, he decides he doesn’t care about the delivery. It’s the content that troubles him.
Because Jared, in his drunken state, had managed to hit a nerve Caleb had tried to sever five months ago.
Are you sure you want this? he’d asked you shakily. Want it from me? With me?
And in clear confirmation, you’d claimed his first kiss.
But even still, the thoughts lingered at the back of his brain. That he was tainting you, taking advantage of you, stealing your life away.
He knows Jared isn’t worth the scum beneath his shoe, but those unsavory thoughts made his own worries resurface.
And as fickle as his mind was, he’d only ever known to trust it.
So when Caleb sees you beam at another man’s compliment, glowing like you’d been sent from heaven itself, he feels like maybe he’d been right.
For the rest of the night, Caleb dreaded the drive home. Luckily, you’d slept for most of the way back.
But as he parks outside your building, gently rousing you from your sleep, the feeling returns in full force.
“Good morning,” you giggle, stretching drowsily. “Sorry I fell asleep on you—I can’t remember the last time I talked that much. Did you have fun?”
“Something like that,” he says, popping the driver’s door open. “You?”
“I did, I think,” you start, opening your own side and sliding out of his car. “I really did. It was a little rough at first, but it got better. What about you? Anybody try to stab your brains out? Since you’re undead and all.”
He chuckles dryly. “Not exactly.”
As you trudge toward your apartment, Caleb trails behind you. You’re so dazed, you almost don’t notice it. But you miss the familiar warmth of his left hand.
Your tired fingers quiver as you fail to unlock your door, and with a gentle nudge, Caleb slides the key in for you.
Mumbling a “thank you,” you step through the doorway, making space for him to follow. When he doesn’t, you turn to face him, frowning lightly in confusion. Gleaming in the moonlight, the metal threshold separates your feet: yours on the inside, his on the outside.
“I’ve been called back to Skyhaven. It’s nothing too serious, but I’ll have to cut this visit short. Don’t worry about me.”
The words pierce your chest like a dagger, but his cold delivery twists the knife.
“Oh,” you breathe, not knowing what to do or where to look or how to hide your disappointment. “I didn’t know they had any way of contacting you. Your communicator’s still in my nightstand, you know,” you quip lamely. “But I guess four days has to be enough this time. I’m lucky to have gotten that.”
Smiling weakly, you lean in to kiss him. But with his sudden reservation, the moment is more chaste than you’d intended.
As he starts to turn away, you instinctively grab his hand. “Are you…is everything okay? You’re being weird,” you whisper, eyes searching him in concern.
“No I’m not,” he retorts, forcing life back into his voice. The weight of his hand ruffling your hair feels wrong, somehow, and his airy tone is a contrast to the darkness in his gaze. “Get some rest, pip-squeak.”
Caleb never thought the jewelry box you’d left at his place would come in handy.
He had no use for it—the only piece he truly needed to preserve stayed looped around his neck at all times.
But as he stares at the silver chain hung carefully on a hook, its ruby-crested apple dangling in the evening sunlight, he silently thanks you for your forgetfulness.
It’s been two days since he returned to Skyhaven, but the events of that night remain fresh wounds in a fragile mind.
I can’t believe you did that to her.
I can’t believe you did that to her.
To you. Not with.
As if his love was an assault.
All his life, Caleb had tried to show you only the good sides of him. To tamper down his intensities so you’d eat from his palm. You were a skittish thing, failed one too many times by an inadequate world. So he’d approached you gently, practicing docility until it became second nature. To keep his eager hands from defiling you.
He’d molded himself into whoever you needed him to be, never admitting what he wanted to be to you. All so you would tolerate him, want to keep him around for his services, if nothing else. Because as much as he claimed to protect you, your safety was his anchor. If you were loved, warm, and unharmed—if he kept you that way—then every consequence was worth it.
He’d learned to live like a chameleon, his temperament matching your mood. And as much as a forgotten part of him yearned for identity, it was a role he’d settled into playing—until his weakened back had snapped under the pressure.
When you’d confessed that you felt the same—that you loved him in more ways than the one you should—he’d deluded himself into thinking those years of restraint were over. That he could stop watching over you and start walking with you. That you would fall from propriety hand in hand.
He’d never thought himself naive. Always launched himself ahead of the curve so that would never be an option for him. Naive was something someone with his responsibility couldn’t afford to be.
But now, as his lifeline swings back and forth on its new perch, jingling with what could only be mockery, the feeling swallows Caleb whole.
It would’ve killed him to see you with someone else. He’d had nightmares about it every month, save for the last five, ever since he was a teenager. But even if you chose to live with someone else by your side…at least he would have gotten to see you do it. To watch you be happy, carefree, without you wondering if it was your right to be. Without the guilt of robbing your life from you, tainting your purity with his sin.
He knew you were wary. You’d gotten better about it—at hiding it, at least—but he could still feel the panicked clench of your hand in his when someone looked at you too long. You were trying, for him, just as he tried for you. But if trying meant the unfiltered scrutiny that Jared had spewed could one day reach you, it wasn’t worth it, he decided.
You deserved more than the headache he’d give you.
***
The days drag on.
Caleb’s vacation ends as little more than purgatory, and when he dons his Colonel uniform once more, the Fleet’s affairs feel his presence now more than ever.
He’s sharper now, meaner. Mistakes that would usually earn a light slap on the wrist now end in termination. Figurative or literal, the recruits aren’t sure.
He knows he’s spiraling. He hears the whispers: “The Colonel’s finally lost it” met with “As if he ever had it.” But rebuke from any voice but yours doesn’t reach him.
During flights, he plays his missions a little less safe, making rash decisions sure to end in incident, eventually. He justifies it, in his head, by thinking that maybe an injury would inflict upon him the suffering he deserves.
He’s been drifting, lately. Through the hallways, through the streets, through space.
But aimless as he is, Caleb can’t bring himself to desert you completely. Those 15 years of gentle servitude had become so ingrained in him, he thinks a total cutoff would only make him more reckless. So he pacifies you with brief, polite answers, sharing none of his usual charm and emoticons. This flighty, diluted version of himself was all that he could offer.
But each day, when Caleb stumbles back into the necessary solitude of his house, wheezing with overexertion, he heads straight to the hidden room where you’d discovered his bionic arm. Where, under dark wooden panels, a row of monitors hide.
Their feeds are clear as they’ve always been. Your cubicle, your route home, your front door, your kitchen. Your bedroom.
And until he succumbs to exhaustion, Caleb watches you.
Watches you sift through reports, eyes open but unseeing.
Watches you stumble on the way home, your foot catching on a stray root that he would’ve spotted in time.
Watches you crumble, after a while, and curl up on the side of your bed where he always slept.
Watches until the rhythmic rocks of your crying body lull you to sleep in place of his heartbeat.
As the clock strikes midnight, you complete your count to 23.
It’s been 23 days since you’d received anything more than a one-word response from Caleb.
At first, you’d given him grace—thought he just wasn’t feeling well. He was always one to withdraw from you when sick, locking himself away for a while before emerging like nothing happened.
But even then, he was never this curt with you. He always reassured you that he was okay.
Days passed, and the mysterious illness theory flew out the window. As you fired off another concerned text, all but pleading for him to say something, you wondered if he was mad at you—but what could you have done? Not to mention that when he was mad at you, it usually ended with him apologizing, somehow. It’s always Caleb’s fault, huh? he’d cooed at you, rubbing your back tenderly. I’m sorry, baby.
Something was just…wrong. Terribly, scarily wrong. And whatever it was, you had to figure it out alone.
With a frustrated growl, you snatch your phone up from its place on your nightstand and scroll to your latest messages, hoping he’s decided to take you out of time-out.
you: hi. i know you’re probably sick of me asking, but can you call when you get a chance? haven’t heard your voice in a while.
>:( : later.
Nothing. He was giving you absolutely nothing.
You want to scream. Want to hunt him down, grab him by the collar, and thrash him around for being so difficult. But as your gaze flits to the photo on your desk—a silly selfie you’d taken on your first official date—your heart constricts from how badly miss him.
You miss him so desperately that the pain in your chest is worse than when he left for college. At least you’d known he would come back to you, then.
As hot tears well in your eyes—far from the first time—you remember the words he’d written to you once, never intending for you to read them: “Any man who makes you cry isn't worth your time,” you repeat, snorting softly at the irony.
But unluckily for him, Caleb wasn't any man.
Any man wouldn't braid your hair from childhood to now, never teaching you to do it yourself because he wasn’t willing to give up doing it. Any man wouldn't skip the senior trip he’d saved hundreds for just to nurse you through a stomach bug. Any man wouldn't dedicate half his life to making sure yours was painless.
So no, Caleb wasn’t any man. He was smart, skilled, and devoted. He was reliable, doting, and selfishly self-sacrificing. He was the reason you’d grown up so well, always wanting to make him proud. And he was yours.
Tugging harshly at the roots of your hair—a habit he’d always tried to break—you pace around your bedroom like a frenzied animal.
You were going to go to him, that much was obvious. To ambush him and make him explain what you’d done for him to discard you like this. To apologize, if he’d hear it.
But how, if he wouldn’t give you the time of day? The man lived in a giant sky fortress, for God’s sake. And with his neverending suspicions, it wasn’t like he trusted any other members of the Fleet enough to give you their contact informati—
Except, you interrupt yourself, freezing mid-step. He did.
Liam.
Caleb’s faithful adjutant, the one you’d spoken to—or spoken at, while he looked at you unnervingly—just a handful of times.
Sometimes, bad ideas are the only ones available.
Retrieving your phone from where it lies face down on your rumpled blanket, you scroll and scroll to the bottom of your contact list, where Liam’s name stares back at you forebodingly.
Steeling yourself with a shaky nod, you press call and wait with bated breath. He answers on the second ring.
“Miss, may I ask why you’re calling? Are you in any trouble?” his deep, dispassionate voice, devoid of any true concern, rings out.
You swallow thickly before trusting your voice enough to sound as anything more than a pitiful squeak. “I-I have Caleb’s communicator,” you maneuver skillfully despite your nerves. “He left it at my apartment. Can you take me to him? So I can give it back.”
“You’d be better off turning it in to one of our administrators. The Colonel is very busy right now and—”
“Take me to him, please,” you repeat stubbornly, raised voice echoing off ivory drywall.
“Miss, I'm only allowed to speak with you if you’re in immediate danger. I'm under strict orders not to facilitate any interaction with the Colonel.”
He’s going to hang up soon, you panic. And then your only chance is gone.
A flare of anger heats your skin as you realize you don’t have an appointment to see your own boyfriend. The one who can pester you and break your boundaries with a barely apologetic smile, but shuts you out the second you try to do the same.
Channeling your tears from earlier—they still line your eyes, after all—you sniffle into the speaker. Desperate times…
“What do you think will happen when I tell him you made me cry? You won’t be under any orders anymore,” you bait him quietly, relying on the fragile hope that Caleb was still as fiercely protective of you as he’d been before.
The pregnant pause on the other line tells you you’d succeeded. “I…” he clears his throat. “Please arrive at the Skyhaven airport at your earliest convenience. I'll be there to take you to the Colonel.”
When Liam’s aircraft lands on the familiar floating island, you rush out with a muttered “thanks” and jam your thumb onto the sensor.
But as the doors slide open and you stomp inside, the silence you’re met with tells you Caleb isn’t home.
Sighing heavily, you survey your surroundings: the spotless kitchen, barren like it hadn’t been used in weeks; the dust collecting on his most-used surfaces; the tray on the coffee table, missing its usual array of apples. Had he been eating? Had he been coming here at all?
Your worries carry you through the other rooms, but none hold the answers to your questions.
And as you step into his bedroom, the place you were most likely to find a clue, you wish you hadn’t.
Because there, hanging tauntingly on a familiar looking jewelry box, is Caleb’s dog tag. The chain he never went without.
The ache in your chest becomes a gaping void.
Blood rushes to your ears and makes them ring so loudly that you can’t hear the despondent noise you make. On unsteady feet, you lurch farther into the room and lower your trembling body onto the mattress.
As you stare at the mahogany jewelry box, looming mockingly on the dresser, you think the walls spin around you.
In all the years you’d known Caleb, he had never been one to just give up—so what about you was so condemnable that it finally made him?
He wasn’t here to answer.
So you take the chain for what it is: resignation. Eviction.
It feels like you shouldn’t be here anymore. Like you’re an intruder in a sacred space. Like maybe you shouldn’t have even made it in, but he just hadn’t had the time to axe your thumbprint from the system yet.
You need to leave. That much is clear. But here, stranded in the sky, you don’t exactly have a getaway plan.
Without the leverage of Caleb’s love, you doubt Liam would take too kindly to being threatened again, just hours after the first time.
As fruitless minutes tick by, it’s clear that waiting is your only option. But as you curl up in the center of the bed, chest heaving with labored breaths, you no longer anticipate Caleb’s return.
When your eyes blink open in the dead of night, you know he’s there before you see him.
The air in the room feels different. Heavy and charged, like just before a thunderstorm.
Anything could happen when you face him. But he’s deprived you of so much lately, that at least something would.
Shoving the thought to the front of your mind for motivation, you raise your head to find him in the darkness of the room, lit only by a lone streetlight.
And the sight of him makes your stomach drop.
Caleb, uniform torn and tattered, slumps against the wall closest to the bed, eyes closed and head lowered.
A smear of blood paints his cheek, and as you zero in on it, you notice the eyebags so dark they look like bruises. Like he hasn’t slept in days.
But even with his eyes closed, you should know by now that you don’t have the time to ogle him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Where else would I go?”
And those violet irises find yours.
“Do you regret it? That you have nowhere else to go?” he asks softly, bloodshot gaze searching your huddled form. Checking, like he always did.
No is your immediate answer. But you figure you should ask him first. That way, when you say it, he might actually believe you. “What?”
“Do you regret what I’ve done to you?” he elaborates, voice dropping near the end.
The explanation doesn’t help. “What have you done to me, Caleb?”
He winces at the phrasing, though he knows it’s not an accusation.
Cocking his head cynically, he lets a hollow chuckle escape. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to go to that party. Guess that’s what I get for trying.”
“What are you talking about?” you probe, shifting to the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me,” he mimics, “is that I’m trying to stay away from you. For your own sake.”
“You weren’t there to see it. Hung up in another room, or outside, or something. It was the only time I lost sight of you,” he recalls bitterly. “And this guy started mouthin’ off about how fucked it was for us to be together. Said I was sick for the things I must’ve done to you.”
A sliver of understanding eases the tension in your muscles. But you need to hear it from him. “And you believed him?” you ask, eyeing him warily.
“It wasn't him who I had to believe. I already knew. Have known, for a while now, no matter how much I tried to pretend I didn’t. The way I thought my hands deserved to touch you—it’s a sin, isn’t it? One you shouldn’t have to carry. That’s why I left—so you could live a life unburdened by me.”
At his words, an all too familiar irritation stirs within you. Alongside sadness that he’d thought it best to feel this way alone.
Pushing forcefully off the bed, you kneel between his knees, gripping his bloodied face between your hands. “Who said you had permission to leave?” you ask lowly, and you hear his voice in yours.
“I asked you what happened that night,” you continue. “More than once. And I'd have listened if you told me. Would’ve been there to tell you that none of it mattered. But you said it was nothing—another way to protect me, I guess. And then you left me on my doorstep, wondering how I’d hurt you.”
Caleb’s mouth drops slightly, but you don’t let him interrupt. “When you said you would try, you overlooked one thing. Part of trying is considering how I feel. Like when I saw your necklace—how do you think I felt? I thought…you didn’t want me anymore. That you’d decided I was too big a burden for you,” you breathe, and when your voice breaks at the end, Caleb covers your hands with his.
“If your sin involves me, you don’t get to live through it alone. You pulled away from me without wondering if I wanted to be complicit. If I wanted to share it with you. You don’t get to make me a victim without asking if I feel like one. And I never have.”
He freezes at that, gazing up at you imploringly. When he finds what he’s looking for, he turns his head slightly, lips brushing your wrist in a hesitant kiss. “I know—” he swallows. “I know you feel ashamed sometimes. Of being with me, now, when I was who I was to you. Even if you don’t want to be, when we go out together, I can feel it.”
“You’re right,” you nod simply, and he fails to stifle a choked gasp. “But I don’t let it change anything.”
Now, it’s Caleb’s turn to ask. “What do you mean?”
“Remember Marley?” you start softly, stroking his tousled hair. “Girl I used to play dolls with when you were too busy? She asked about us, too. And I told her the truth: we’re together, and we’re happy, and our story is ours. It’s not just your choice, Caleb. I’m with you because I want the same. I always have.”
And as much as you know he wants to believe it, to accept it and move on, things were never that simple with him.
“You don’t understand,” he murmurs shakily, returning your hands to your lap as if they’ve burned him. “I can't…I've only ever wanted to keep you safe. No matter who I had to be to you. And when you let me have you—how I want to, how I’d wanted to…I wasn’t strong enough to turn you away. I’m not strong enough to do what’s best for you,” he whispers with glistening eyes.
Slowly, gently, you reach out to him a second time. To splay a hand on his exposed chest, to get him used to the feeling of your touch again.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you murmur, stroking your thumb against him. “Because I think you’re very strong.”
“I thought you were strong when you saved me from those bullies in middle school. Still remember the black eyes you gave them. When I saw that…I thought you were a hero. And I wanted to be just like you.” Pausing, you lean down to kiss his collarbone, and though he shudders, you take his pleading gaze as a sign to continue.
“I thought you were strong when Gran got really sick, and you had to do everything. Cooking, cleaning, taking me to school. And you did it with a smile.” Giving him one of your own, you cradle his flushed face in your hands, stroking his darkening cheeks tenderly. Violet eyes watch you with disbelief—a reflection of six months ago, when you’d entrusted your first kiss to him.
“And when you kissed me back that first time? When I felt how much you wanted to, how you kept it bottled up inside you for so long—I thought you were so strong,” you whisper, mouth hovering over his. “You’ve always been strong, Caleb. It’s why I love you so much.”
In time with his sharp inhale, you press your lips to his. But as large hands flex against your sides, he doesn’t respond to your touch.
So you press harder, deeper, as if your kiss will awaken what’s dormant within him: his molten, unabashed need for you. The need that holds purity in its paradox, even if he doesn’t know it yet.
And when you circle your hand around his throat, where his necklace once collared him in your name, Caleb kisses you back.
It’s an exploratory kiss, but a passionate one. As if your reacquainted lips are making up for lost time.
You guide him with the steady suction of your lips, and when you tug at his frayed lapel, Caleb takes the lead.
His tongue surges into your mouth, reclaiming what he’d missed, and you moan at the welcome intrusion.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, backing away slightly. “Sometimes I just wonder…if you’d be better off without me.”
“I wouldn't,” you soothe, pulling him in for a reassuring peck. “You’re a part of me. I want you wherever I am, whichever version of you will have me.”
“All of them,” he mumbles against you. “And then some.”
And as you slip his hand under your shirt, there’s no reluctance in his tender grasp. Like he belongs there.
Soft strokes on your bare shoulder wake you as the sun rises.
“I missed seein’ you like this,” murmurs the voice you’d missed just as much.
“And whose fault is that?” you chide, cutting your eyes to glare up at him playfully.
“Mine,” he concedes instantly. “All mine.”
“Mhm. Speaking of,” you begin, stepping out of bed gingerly. “If you’re going to be my Caleb, there’s one more thing you need to do. Close your eyes,” you instruct.
And Caleb complies—something that’s come easy the past six months.
The room is silent for a moment, with only the distant sounds of jet planes piercing the air.
Then, a soft clink.
And as the mattress dips with your return to him, Caleb lifts his head instinctively. And the cool surface of metal slips around his neck.
As Caleb spares you a glance from the passenger’s seat, the apple charm on his dog tag glints in the sunlight.
Row after row of familiar houses comes into view, but you seem calm, this time. Unburdened.
With some compliments and exaggerated enthusiasm, Sarah had been more than happy to host another party. And you’d been more than patient as you’d encouraged Caleb to attend.
He’d been cautious, at first, for obvious reasons. But you didn’t dare push.
So as the date loomed closer, he’d decided to try.
And when you cross the threshold hand in hand to a sea of curious faces, the tension he expects to compress his pulsing heart never comes.
Instead, something kinder blossoms: pure, weightless pride.
#you bet your ass i'll be rbing this throughout the week#written in like 2 days total which is a big feat for me#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#caleb x reader#love and deepspace caleb#caleb fluff#caleb angst#love and deepspace fluff#love and deepspace angst#lads#lads caleb#caleb lads#lads x reader#lads fluff#lads angst#lnds#lnds caleb#caleb lnds#lnds x reader#lnds fluff#lnds angst#caleb#caleb xia#caleb x you#caleb x mc#xia yizhou#love and deepspace comfort
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˚୨୧⋆。🍓˚ she see money all around me, i look like i'm the man
includes: itoshi sae x fem! reader. 0.8k wc. fluff.
a/n: provider sae, we all cheered !! inspired by that one tiktok trend lol
not much grabs itoshi sae's attention, so you have to get creative.
"sae, i can't help pay rent this month." even though he doesn't glance away from the computer screen, the twitch on his face is obvious. the furrowed brows, his fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard, the imaginary question mark brewing over his head—all of it subtle but still priceless.
to be fair, he doesn't even recall being this confused when his parents agreed to send him abroad at the ripe age of thirteen—that too, all by himself!
for someone as strict as itoshi sae, he should receive an award for how quickly he paused his work to simply process whatever the fuck just came out of your mouth. "you can't, what?" he finally says, still keeping his gaze focused on the screen.
this is harder than you thought. not the pranking part; the holding in your laughter part. you somehow manage to keep it in for the sake of the bit.
"yeah, i just don't have the money to help you pay our rent this month," you continue, further emphasizing your dilemma (knowing damn well it doesn’t exist) awaiting his reaction.
but of course, your prank backfires spectacularly. the dramatic reaction you were hoping for? nowhere to be found. instead, he just crosses his arms and finally turns his chair to stare at you like you're the ridiculous one in this scenario. sae leans back in his chair, letting linger another one of those infuriatingly calm looks that make you want to simultaneously throw something at him and admire how annoyingly composed he is. "i know?" he claimed, neutrally, with a quirk of his brow like...duhh?
he continued, not even trying to be offensive, just merely stating the facts he has gathered living with you over the years. "when have you ever paid rent?"
…why would you?
he’s suddenly wondering if, overnight, you forgot you’re itoshi sae’s girl. hell, he doesn’t even let you pay for something as little as webtoon coins—hence why he made sure his card info was saved on your phone. rent was too far of a stretch to claim, even as a joke, and you know this too.
with how adamant sae is, the world could collapse before he let you contribute a single penny.
but damn, did that make it make it hard for you to continue this act.
you open your mouth to say something, anything, to salvage the prank, but your brain is running on a blank slate. "i mean," you clear your throat, trying to recover. "it’s about the…principle? you know, of financial responsibility and, um—" sae tilts his head, looking wholly unimpressed. "do you even know how much rent is?" your mouth opens. closes. he waits. you scramble. "well, yeah, of course, i—" "how much?" he asks, deadpan. your lips part, but the number? nowhere to be found. you had not, at any point in your life, thought to ask. sae quirks a brow, clearly entertained by your pathetic attempt to keep going. he rests his chin in his palm, watching you struggle with the kind of calm that makes it painfully obvious he’s enjoying this. "you were saying?" he prompts, his voice laced with amusement. you huff, cheeks growing warm. "forget it. you ruined it." but before you can even sulk properly, sae reaches forward and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you in with zero effort. a yelp escapes you as he shifts you into his lap, securing you there with both arms now locked around you. your heart does this stupid little thing where it stumbles over itself because you can feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and—oh god—the way his lips are ridiculously close to your ear. "did i? or did you just get caught?" he murmurs, voice low and entirely too smug. "you—!" your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders, trying to put some space between you two, but he doesn't let you. if anything, he picks you up to place you fully against his chest. "go on, finish your little act," he challenges, lips curling into a smirk. you glare at him, ignoring the rapid pounding of your heart. "i hate you." "yeah?" his voice is a quiet hum, teasing, daring you to keep going. "i guess that’s what i get for absolutely spoiling the shit out of my girlfriend." you pout, trying to look annoyed, but your resistance fades as you sink into his arms.
instead of staying smug, sae softens his grip just a little, his tone becoming more serious. "i take care of what’s mine, so don’t bother pulling tricks on me before you empty my bank account."
"do you understand?" he continues, his voice low and steady as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. the softness of the gesture contrasts with the firmness of his words, leaving you to wonder how he always manages to make you this flustered every time. all you can do is just nod, giving in to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich snob who always gets his way—one you’re completely obsessed with, no less. seriously, what are you gonna do with him? 🤍
#—🍓#˚。୨♡୧ ishika writes.#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x you#itoshi sae x y/n#blue lock itoshi sae#bllk x reader#bllk x you#itoshi brothers#blue lock#blue lock imagines#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi#blue lock x reader
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just "friends"



pairing: situationship!dokyeom x f!reader
genre: situationship to lovers, slight angst, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!
warnings: cursing, oc is a bit mean to him in the start but it's ok, soft dom!dk, jealous oc, fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of giving head, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, down bad dk, needy oc, praise, ass smacking, protected sex but oc doesn't want to use a condom initially, hair pulling, mentions of creampie (wrap it before u tap it), doggy style, mention of hair pulling, big dick!dk, he is literally too big, slight strength kink, he is an idiot, dirty talk, lmk if i missed anything!
w.c.: 4.2k
playlist: just "friends"
for more of my work, check out my masterlist!
Note: aaah this is the first fic i'm writing on here so pls bear with me. if u find any mistakes, pls lmk! this was loosely inspired from the situationship i was in last year, except mine didn't end well unlike oc's. hope u like it n pls give me wtv feedback u feel so that i get better at this! hehe anyways go on
also u can comment or message me if u wanna be added to my taglist!

dokyeomie:3 : are u mad at me???
Your phone buzzes. It's 2 a.m. and your phone buzzes. You know there is only one person whose texts you would receive this time at night. You didn’t want to ignore dokyeom, you really do like him after all. You’ve been in, what you would call- a situationship? You’re not very sure. You met him through you mutual friends during a trip you all went to together. It’s funny how during your first year you never noticed him in campus despite him being in the same year as you, but as soon as you returned from the trip, he was everywhere. It was like a dokyeom plague all around.
Initially, you weren’t interested in him beyond being friends but fuck- how can a guy be this sweet? And this nice? And this hot. You can’t blame a girl for wanting more. When he texted you first right after returning from the trip asking for the pictures you had taken, you knew this was your chance to lock it DOWN. Only a fool would miss a chance to let a guy like him pass by. After that it was nonstop texting. All day. 24/7. Point of no return.
You’d give him random updates of your day, he would call you when he went to Sephora with his sister and ask which lip gloss you wanted to feed your manic lip gloss obsession, he would send you pictures of cats he saw on campus and say “us”, coffee dates, study dates (even though you had different majors), teaching him to play DTI at 3 a.m. while you laughed at him dates, but not an official “date” yet. Not a label beyond “friends” yet.
You wondered how can two people do all this and still be called friends. This is not what friends do, right? Or is it? Fuck- this is ruining you. It didn’t help seeing him get coffee with some other girl from his class while she laughed like he was the funniest guy ever. And like he probably was. But she’s not allowed to laugh. Only you. He does NOT need to be this funny with some other girl when he hasn’t even labelled what you are yet.
Leading you to ghosting him for the past 2 days. And trust, it was truly torture. How do you suddenly stop talking to the person you’ve shared everything about you to for the past 3 months? Everything reminded you of him no matter where you went. This is the most down bad you’ve ever been for a MAN. Your prime man hater era would be ashamed.
dokyeomie:3 : im really worried, im coming over, okay? I’m almost there >.< bringing some ice cream too!!! i know ur not asleep yet so pls let’s just talk okay :)
You hear your bell ring and thank god for the fact your roommate was at her parents’ place this weekend- well, not like anything’s going to happen anyway, what would it matter. He didn’t even give you time to change as you open the door in your short pyjama set, and what do you see but crinkly eyed dokyeom with his heart smile which almost makes you want to forget the hell he’s put you through the past 3 months and just kiss him.
“Hi” he says, coming in and setting the ice cream on the table, “let’s eat now before it melts.”
“I don’t feel like eating right now.” You take the plastic bag from his hands and put it in the freezer.
He steps closer to you, and closer, and closer, until there doesn’t seem to be any distance between you and you feel your surroundings closing in, as he towers over you, his sandalwood musk encapsulating you making your heart race, your breath turning erratic and your cheeks a crimson shade like a blushing bride. It truly is so easy for him.
He tucks your hair behind your ear- “y/n what happened, are you mad at me? Whatever it is you can tell me. Just please, talk to me.”
“I was just busy, it’s really nothing. Anyway, you had that girl from your class to keep you from getting bored.”
“Is that what this is about? I got assigned a project with her so we grabbed coffee to discuss how to go about it, it wasn’t anything more I swear.”
“That’s not it.” You turn your face away and head to the couch. Talking about what you feel has always been harder for you, which is why you’ve never had any proper relationships- only casual no strings attached arrangements or situationships.
“What is it then? Please y/n, you can’t just go radio silent for two days. I was so worried about you, talk to me, okay?” he says as he sits beside you on the couch.
“You never asked me out.” You blurt it out so fast its barely comprehensible to him.
“What?”
“You never asked me out. You flirt with me all the time, we text literally all day, and when we don’t its because we’re together at the coffee shop or the library or whatever. My friends call me an idiot, that you’re just toying with me, until you’re bored with me. You’ve never even defined what we are yet, because we sure as hell aren’t friends. Friends don’t act like this- right dokyeomie?”
You looked up to him, doe eyed on the brink of tears as you felt a lump in your throat, a heaviness on your shoulders. He felt horrible.
How was he supposed to know you liked him? He just thought you were being really friendly with him- just like you would be with anyone else, right? Here he was thinking he was the idiot being so hopelessly obsessed with you. He was literally so down bad for you it was kind of pathetic. Once when you had just started talking to him you mentioned you liked glasses, low and behold, he wore glasses every time you saw him. You can’t find the lip gloss you want anywhere? He’s dragging his poor sister with him to every makeup store in the city, trying to find that goddamn lip gloss that seems to be sold out everywhere. And now he feels like shit for making you think that he would just lead you on and leave you when he’s tired of you or something. Fuck. He’s messed up BIG time. And he does the only thing he can think of to make it up to you, FAST.
He leans into you, one hand gripping your jaw while the other brushes against your waist, his face so close you can feel his breathe as your eyes flicker down to his lips as he wets them. Your breath hitches and he can practically hear his heart racing the speed of a bullet train. And just like that, the next thing you know, his lips are against yours engulfing you in a whirlwind of a kiss. Your hand reaches for his chest as he holds you. He kisses you softly yet so messy and passionate it sweeps you off your feet. As you deepen your kiss, he slips his tongue in and a soft whimper leaves your throat. Impatient to gain control he pushes against you in an attempt for dominance and his quick shift in demeanor has you flooding in your pajama shorts. Good thing you sleep without your panties on.
As your make out session continues to grow more aggressive, you feel him manhandle you over his lap onto his hardening length. Fuck. He feels big, you think as your hips give an experimental grind. He seems impatient as you make out, like he’s trying to make up for the lost time as he tightens his grip on your waist to get you closer to him, and you’re no different- tugging at the collar of his shirt so desperate to be with him.
“I really like you” he whispers between soft open-mouthed kisses. “I really like you I just wasn’t sure you felt the same about me, I’m sorry for making you wait so long baby, let me make it up to you?”
Oh. Your pussy likes the sound of that. It comes out of his mouth in a whisper, as he tries to catch his breath because you might not see it, but he is doing gymnastics to keep up with you and you’re driving him absolutely crazy. Its actually a little unbelievable for him to be making out with the girl he’s been in love with for the past year. He can feel a wet spot forming on his jeans as you leak onto him through your shorts.
“So needy baby, can feel you getting wet just from kissing a bit. You want it that bad?” he chuckles. God, you must look desperate to him but you need him right now because his hands gripping your thighs and yours in his hair drive you insane.
“You made me wait so so long kyeomie, need you, please. Need you to fuck me.” It leaves your throat like a whine making him twitch under you. You don’t care how desperate your pleas sound, because truth be told its all you’ve been picturing for the past 3 months. His hand makes its way to your tits as he cups them from over your thin top. From where he's sitting, you look pathetic and so pliant under his gaze, even though you’re sitting on him. If he knew you were this into him, he would’ve done this much sooner.
“Fuck, don’t worry baby I’ll take good care of you. Lift your arms for me.” He says as he takes off your top and god, he can’t take his eyes off your tits sitting right in front of him. He kisses down your neck and you just smell so fucking good he doesn't want to stop. He recognizes the scent, that vanilla bakery cupcake scent that always lingers on him after you hang out with him, the one he's just so obsessed with. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth as his hand plays with the other. You moan softly as dokyeom focuses all his attention on your chest. Nibbling and biting and licking, as you keep grinding your hips on him, feeling him getting harder.
“So pretty baby, so pretty just for me.”
“I- I need- need you dokyeom, please? Please I’ll do whatever- whatever you want. Wanna suck you off. Make you feel good. Can I?” you say as you get down on your knees. And oh, it is a sight for him. Something in your eyes changes, he sees them full of lust and desperation, so drunk. This was new for him. Before this, you would always be so shy around him, or anyone for that matter. Never laughing fully at the suggestive jokes your friends made when you all hung out together, just giving a coy smile. Even when you and dokyeom talked, you never reacted to his advances, innocent or suggestive, never reacted to the innuendoes he made, just avoiding eye contact with him. But this new you, he liked her for sure. He would’ve teased you more, but fuck, some other time.
You unbutton his jeans as your hands flutter impatiently and fumble with his zipper, because you quite literally cannot wait a second more.
“Slow down y/n, wait.”
He groans as he lifts his hips to let you lower his jeans. He’s already half hard in his boxers and oh. You have no idea how he’s ever going to fit inside you. You mouth at his boxers and lick at him through them. But he knows, if he lets you do this, he'll come in your mouth in an instant, and he is but a gentleman, and would rather die than to not make you cum first.
“Y/n as much as I would love that, I’ll cum in my pants if you do that, and I’m not gonna let that happen.” He says as he tugs you by your hair to get you up. You pout at him, disappointed he won’t let his dick in your mouth.
“Don’t make that face princess, you can do it next time.” he says as he lifts you in his arms. You gasp as he begins to carry you to your room and throws you on your bed as you rebound on it.
“You like that? Like it when I pick you up and throw you around. I see you staring at my arms all the time baby, don’t think you’re subtle.”
He kisses you again as he pins your hands over your head as makes his way down your body, marking you as he goes along. He reaches you thighs and begins to kiss them softly as he drags his tongue to your tiny shorts and begins to pull them down. And imagine his surprise as he comes face to face with your glistening pretty pussy. He sucks his breath in as he seems to be stuck in a trance.
You’re obsessed with the way his eyes follow your cunt. He looks like a child seeing candy for the first time, and you’re totally here for it. His big hands hold your thighs apart as he lays down between them and looks at your pussy like it has the moon and stars hung in it for him.
“No panties y/n? Fuck didn’t know you were a slut baby, you always act so shy and naïve in front of me, no?” he says as his fingers run against your slit experimentally, circling your entrance teasingly, taking you by surprise causing you to let out a desperate moan.
“I’m- I’m not!” you whine but you sound like even you don’t believe your own words. He’s right after all, isn’t he? You are a slut for him. Why would you be ashamed of it.
“You’re not? Then why are you dripping over all your sheets y/n. Haven’t even done anything yet and you’re trying to hump the air. If you needed me that bad could’ve just asked. Would’ve given you everything. But you wanted to give me the silent treatment. So, I’ll have to punish you baby.”
He smirks as one hand tweaks your nipple while the other dips inside you barely before he pulls it out in an instant. He traces soft patterns on your inner thighs, but every time you buck your hips up, he just moves his hand further away from your center.
“Please kyeomie, touch me.”
“I’m already touching you y/n. You need to be more specific.”
This is torture. You’re literally about to cry.
“In- in me. Your hand- your finger, need it in me.” you say with your face in your hand red with embarrassment.
“No please this time? Where are your manners?”
“Please dokyeom, need your fingers in me!"
Finally, he puts you out of your misery. The finger that was teasing you enters you in one instant. And oh. You are so tight. You feel so full, and its just one finger yet. You don’t know how you’re going to take him in.
“Gripping me like crazy y/n fuck, so fucking tight.”
He slowly moves his hand in and out, curling it and watching it squeeze him, barely fitting him in you. You grip the sheets tightly as he curls his finger and hits your g-spot right where you need it.
“You can barely fit one baby, how are you going to take my cock? Maybe I should just eat you out and make you cum on your fingers and leave it at that.” he says mocking you.
He knows he’s being really cruel, but only because you can take it. Also, you did make him wait so long too, so he deserves to have fun with it.
“No! No, I can take it I- I- promise!”
He chuckles and inserts another finger in, increasing the pace until you’re left gasping for air, a moaning mess. He feels your body tensing up, and leans down to kiss your thighs and whilst driving his fingers in you, making you moan his name over and over again like a prayer. Finally, he presses his thumb against your clit, and makes 8 figures over and over again, agonizing you as the pit in your stomach grows bigger every time you feel his fingers hit your spot.
Suddenly he takes his finger out, making you whine at the loss of contact and your eyes fill with tears because you were just so, so close.
He dives in between your legs licking a long strip up your entrance, the moan you let out is music to his ears, and the way you taste is better than anything he’s ever had. His tongue enters you as he pushes it in and out, and oh the way his nose keeps hitting your clit repeatedly with each motion has you seeing stars. You entangle your hand into his hair pushing yourself into his mouth as he moans.
He makes out with your cunt like a man starved as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. And at this point you have no idea about the words coming out of your mouth, a combination of broken moans and desperate pleas. Your legs are trembling as his big hands hold them apart, tightening his grip on them like he’s chasing his own high because you keep trying to close them with every brush of his nose against your clit.
“Please dokyeom, please I- I’m gonna- oh my god, I need to cum!”
“Yeah? Can feel you clenching baby. It’s okay, you’ve been so good, you can cum.”
And that’s all it takes. You feel the pressure in your stomach building up and the knot finally snaps as he hums against you and you break with a loud cry, your back arching and your hands pulling his hair. A euphoric feeling takes over your body as your legs going numb, and your mind in a hazy state with your eyes going dark, your back covered in sweat and your face so hot. There is only pleasure running throughout you but dokyeom doesn’t stop even as your cum covers his mouth dragging his tongue against your core as you come down from your high, until you’re gasping his name like it’s the only thing you remember.
When he looks up, it’s a sight to see; hair all messy, lips glossy, chin dripping with you and a hunger in his eyes like you’ve never seen before. He comes up and captures you in a kiss so deep you taste yourself on him. You never thought a someone eating you out would be this hot, but dokyeom has a way to keep you guessing.
“You’ve made such a mess baby, and you say you’re not a slut. What will I do with you hmm?”
There is something so demeaning about you being completely bare and vulnerable, withering under him, while he stays clothed. It’s like a fucking power trip for him, makes him feel fully in control of you, and oh does that make him so hard. Now that he’s gotten a taste, he doesn’t think he can stop.
“Take off- take- take it off” you say tugging on the collar of his shirt. Even you have no idea what incomprehensible nonsense is coming out of your mouth at this point, you’re just so drunk on him. He sits up taking off shirt and pants and you keep yourself from moaning out loud when you look at him. He looks so big. Not just beneath his boxers but him entirely, he looks so big. He notices your eyes travelling from his chest to his arms, trying to take it all in at once as if you would never have this chance again.
He finally takes off his boxers and you think you’re in love. His dick looks so pretty, his tip a slightly dark shade of pink curved a bit and veiny, you just don’t know how to explain it. He spits on his hand and pumps it in his hand and now that he’s fully hard, you have no idea how he’s going to fit in you.
“Like what you see baby? But your pussy is so tiny, how’s is going to fit?” he says as he brings his hands to your sides, running his hands all over your body. He pouts but you know he’s talking shit to tease you.
You reach up desperate for a kiss but he just kisses your cheek instead, “please, I need you to fuck me so bad kyeom, I can take it! I promise, just give it to me.”
He chuckles darkly, and this is so embarrassing for you but fuck it, who cares. “You beg so well baby, makes me wanna give you everything you ask for.”
He grabs your waist and turns you on your stomach in an instant, raising your hips to meet his, and smacks your ass hard, making you almost jump in surprise. Him manoeuvring you into being on your arms and knees was honestly such a turn on, but you know if you let him know that, you’ll let go of the tiny piece of dignity that you hopefully have left, so you settle for pushing your ass back into him making him groan.
“Condom baby?”
“In my drawer but no! no condom just, want to feel you.” you beg.
Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him. You were going to let him hit raw? Now he truly regrets not doing this earlier, but you’re not thinking clearly and he can’t take the risk no matter how much you make him want to.
“Sorry princess, but we can’t take the risk, some other time, okay?”
You groan, you hate him actually. Who gives us the opportunity to get in raw, you think to yourself as you hand him the condom.
You hear him slide it on and pump himself, “you’re so wet y/n, I might just slide in.” he says as he taps his dick on your clit making you moan. He runs his tip up and down your slit collecting your wetness, and pushes it in just so he's barely stretching you.
“I’ll take it slow okay, I promise.” He says as he grabs you by your hair and pulls you near him to kiss you on your cheek. His hands find home on your hips as he grabs them tightly, pushing himself in one inch at a time, easing you on, making you almost scream. As he bottoms out, he lets out a moan and so do you, feeling so full of him, because oh my god the stretch is like you've never felt before.
“So warm baby, so soft, cunt gripping me so good it doesn’t want me to leave I think.”
“Fuck dokyeom feel so full, I love it, please move.” You say as you beg him for the hundredth time for the night. And apparently that was all he needed to hear as he begins to drill into you sliding in and out mercilessly, slapping your ass every now and then. He fills you so good because its such a tight fit, and god does he love it. You are now left a mess under him, no thoughts in your head, just a chant leaving your mouth as you scream his name over and over.
“It’s that good baby? Or are you just too cockdrunk to think? Fuck, pussy so good it’s gonna milk the fuck outta me.” He moans as he tries to keep up with the unbelievable pace he’s set. His hand moves down your stomach as he toys with your clit from behind, making you see stars.
“You look so good like this y/n, all spread out for me. Makes me want to remember this forever, you’re gonna let me record this ass next time baby?”
All you can do is nod since you have no energy left in you to respond to him.
“Such a pillow princess, can’t even answer a simple question, need me to do all the work for you, hmm? It’s okay though, you don’t have to do anything, just sit pretty for me and I’ll take care of you.”
His grip on your ass tightens and his hand’s movement at your clit fastens as you feel him approaching his high, his strokes getting deeper yet sloppier and you wish he wasn’t wearing a condom so that he could fill you to the brim. At this point he too, like you- was an incoherent mess, because your pussy just feels like heaven to him, and he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.
“Fuck! I’m so close dokyeom! I- i- fuck right there! Right there! Wanna cum so bad, can I- can I cum? Please, oh!” you scream with all the strength you have left.
“Ah, me too baby, fuck good girl, always such a good girl, asking for permission. You can cum princess, cum for me.”
And that’s all it takes for you to crash into the bed with a loud moan as your arms give out, your pussy clenching around him as he fills the condom. Your chest heaving and a buzzing sound in your ear, you have no idea of your surroundings as dokyeom continues to twitch inside you, finally taking his dick out after what feels like eternity. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, feeling yourself gape due to the lack of him as he crashes besides you out of breath. You turn your face to him as he softly kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you.
After you both clean up, you lay on your new clean sheets wrapped around him as he caresses your hair.
“I’m sorry I was an idiot for not making it clear I like you sooner, I’ll take you out on a proper date later this week, okay?”
“mhm okay, but just so you know kyeomie, I don’t put out on first dates.”
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Moon in the houses
Moon in the 1st House: Emotions? Yeah, I’m wearing them like a neon sign.
Mood Swings? Who Needs a Weather App? – One minute, you're on cloud nine, ready to conquer the world, and everyone around you is like, "Wow, you're so inspiring!" . The next minute, you're in a full-on emotional hurricane, and people are like, “Uh, is everything okay?” Yep, they can literally see the storm clouds forming.
You’re basically an emotional X-ray for anyone who needs to know how you're feeling. Super helpful in knowing exactly where you stand.
You have the perfect built-in therapist, your mom, who never asks for a copay and always responds with “I love you, sweetie.”
Moon in 1st gives you a youthful young face. If a man, could be a mama boy. On the flip side, mommy could be overbearing.
When you're happy, you radiate positivity like the sun itself. You make everyone around you feel like they’ve just had a shot of espresso… without the jitters. But when you're in a mood, watch out. It’s like the ocean’s about to swallow up the entire coast. You can go from zero to “I’m emotionally drowning, help!” in 0.3 seconds.
Moon in the 2nd House: The Emotional Shopping Spree - You feel things, and you buy things. Repeat.
When you're feeling happy, it’s like ���treat yo' self” day, and suddenly you’ve got 14 new pairs of socks that totally spoke to you in the store. Feeling stressed? Well, it's probably time for a little retail therapy... because nothing says “I’m handling my feelings” like buying a $50 scented candle you’ll never use.
Impulsive purchases. When your emotions take a dive, so does your bank account. "I'm sad, I need a new purse."
When someone asks how you're feeling, your response might just be, "Well, I bought a new jacket, so I’m feeling fabulous."
Your Emotions Are Always on Sale. You're like, “You know what would make me feel even better? A cute new scarf!” Because nothing says “I’m emotionally balanced” like a $15 markdown.
You love investing in things that make you feel good—whether it’s a cozy home, a nice meal, or that perfectly curated playlist you bought (yep, it’s a thing). Your finances are tied to your emotional health like a carefully organized spreadsheet.
Moon in the 3rd House: The Over thinker's Hotline - You think, you feel, you text… then you overthink it all.
Your emotions are running wild and they need to talk. A LOT. Like, you’ll have a deep emotional moment and then immediately text your bestie about it, but also text your mom for a second opinion, and then maybe send a message to a group chat for a third—just to make sure everyone’s on the same emotional page.
You’re the Emotional Wi-Fi of your social circles—always transmitting and receiving feelings, whether anyone asked or not.
You overanalyze everything. Sent a text at 11:30 PM? Now you’re wondering if that emoji you used in your response was “too much.” Did they think you were crying in that voice message, or just, like, “really emotionally engaged”? You end up spiral-commenting under your own messages. "Wait, I wasn’t mad, I swear!" Cue overthinking every single word.
You’re emotionally open, but also maybe one text away from sending an entire novel about your mood swings. If you have a Moon in Aquarius in 3rd house, you are very much into conspiracy theories.
The overthinking is so strong, even Siri gets nervous. “Did I say that correctly? Does it sound too emotional? Let me try that again, Siri, do you think they’ll understand?"
Moon in the 4th House: Home is Where the Feelings Are - Your emotions? Oh, they're all cozy in your emotional fortress… with snacks.
If you're ever feeling down, you know exactly where to retreat: the couch, surrounded by blankets, a mountain of snacks, and probably a weirdly specific playlist of “emotional” songs you know no one else understands.
Your vibe says, "Come on in, let me feed you, and here’s a blanket!" You’re basically the human version of a warm cup of tea.
On the flip side, you can get way too attached to your personal space. Don’t even think about messing with your “comfort zone,” because that zone is sacred. You might find yourself overly attached to places, people, and objects in your home that just... feel right.
If someone says something you don’t like, you might retreat into your home and pretend to reorganize your kitchen for the next four hours. Not because it’s necessary... but because it’s emotionally satisfying.
If there’s food involved and your loved ones nearby, you’re ready for some serious heart-to-hearts.
Moon in the 5th House: The Drama Queen of Feelings - Life’s a stage, and you're always in the mood for a performance.
Your feelings take center stage like you’re auditioning for a Broadway show every single day. You’re all about self-expression, fun, and creating joy—because, let’s face it, life’s too short to not have an emotional karaoke session on a Tuesday night.
Moon in 5th bestows with a girl child. Of course, we need to check whether it is associated with any other planets.
Professions like actor or any artistic professions fits you. You can turn any situation into a joyous celebration and make even the most mundane things feel like a special event.
The flip side? When you're down, it's like the curtains close on the show, and you’re the star in a drama you didn’t sign up for. You may exaggerate your emotions a little (okay, a lot)—an offhand comment from a friend turns into a full-blown emotional musical number. Cue the tears, dramatic exits, and possibly a solo performance on why no one understands your very deep feelings.
You’re basically the person who gets emotionally invested in every movie, reality show, and Instagram post you see and also celebrities.
Moon in the 6th House: The Emotional Overachiever - Feelings? I’ll just organize them into a to-do list.
With the Moon in the 6th House, you take your emotions very seriously—like, spreadsheet-level seriously. You're not just feeling your feelings, you're tracking them, analyzing them, and organizing them with the same precision of a perfectly color-coded calendar.
Your home? Probably a Zen-like temple of organization. You could be a productivity guru and an emotional support animal all rolled into one.
You’re probably the person who compulsively checks your horoscope, wellness app, and to-do list while also making sure you're drinking enough water—because, yes, your emotional health must be on track.
Service - oriented professions.
Probably keeps a journal. Your motto - "Productivity meets therapy!"
Moon in the 7th House: Emotional Rollercoaster + Relationship Drama
You Have a PhD in Relationships – You analyze, you nurture, you feel. Basically, you’re the emotional therapist of every relationship/partnership you’re in.
Emotional Dependency? Yup, It's Real – Your partner's mood? It's now your mood. If they’re happy, you're on cloud nine. If they're sad, well, buckle up, emotional crash ahead!
You Can’t Just "Date" Someone—You Feel Them – It's never just a date night. It's a journey. You’ll be emotionally invested before the appetizers even arrive.
If your partner says, “I’m fine,” but their voice cracks, you’re immediately putting on your emotional detective hat. Something’s definitely wrong.
Your partner's mood shifts and you’re already planning a 5-step plan to emotionally heal them. Just call you “Dr. Love.”
Moon in the 8th House: The Emotional Detective with a Dark Twist
If emotions were a rollercoaster, you’d be the one flipping the safety bar off and screaming, "Let’s go faster!"
Family gatherings? More like family mysteries. You can feel the unspoken tension, and you’re practically Sherlock Holmes, trying to figure out what’s being left out. Every holiday dinner has a side of “What aren’t they telling me?"
When you lose your virginity, you could even hide it from your family.
Being vulnerable with you is like peeling an onion—layer after emotional layer until someone’s crying. Sometimes you overshare, sometimes you say, “I’m fine,” but everyone knows you’re not. You can’t help it.
You can turn pain into growth like a magical wizard. Hurt feelings? Great, now you’re ready for transformation. You take all that emotional mess and somehow turn it into deep wisdom—or a really great, tear-filled diary entry. Either way, it’s epic.
Moon in the 9th House: The Emotional Philosopher on a Soul-Searching Road Trip
Your emotions don’t stay local. You feel them on an international level, like, “Why am I feeling so deep right now? Is this about my past life in a distant land or because I watched a documentary on the Amazon?” Your emotions are basically the United Nations of your soul.
Family & Friends Talks Are Like TED Talks – When you try to explain your feelings to family/friends, it’s less “Hey, I’m upset” and more “Here’s a 45-minute monologue on the meaning of life, and also I read a book on existentialism last week.”
One minute you’re high on life, quoting philosophy, and the next, you’re googling “Why does everything feel so overwhelming?” You’ll go from thinking you’re a wise sage to wanting to crawl into bed and watch Netflix documentaries. Your moods are basically a journey, so pack your bags.
You can't just feel something—you need to analyze, interpret, and probably give it a name. "I feel anxious. Is this anxiety or is it just me tapping into the collective consciousness of humanity?
You’re an Emotional Nomad – You can’t sit still. Emotionally, you need to keep moving, exploring, learning, and growing. "Home? Well, I feel emotionally connected to 17 different places.
Moon in the 10th House: The Emotional CEO of Life
Your emotions are always on display like you’re giving a TED Talk about your deepest feelings.
You don’t just work; your career is an emotional journey. “Am I feeling fulfilled at work? If not, should I change my entire career path? Do I need a promotion to feel better about myself?!” Your job? Basically your emotional therapist, but with more PowerPoint presentations.
Public approval is your emotional fuel, and you’re like, “Did I mention I’m emotionally attached to other’s opinion of me?”
Your mood? It directly impacts your work ethic. When you’re emotionally stable, you’re like, “Let’s take over the world.” But when you're upset? You’re still working, but you’re crying in the break room, making dramatic phone calls to your loved ones.
You’re emotionally invested in how the world sees you. You need to be the best at everything, but emotionally—"Did I look too emotional during my presentation? Was my inner turmoil apparent?" It’s a lot of pressure to keep it all together, but hey, it’s worth the “likes”.
Moon in the 11th House: The Emotional Social Butterfly Who Forgets Why They Came to the Party!
People love your warm, nurturing energy, and your squad is basically a second family. Just be careful—you might adopt every stray friend like a lost puppy. You could even get in trouble for helping your friend.
One day, you're the life of the party, the next, you’re ghosting everyone because feelings. People around you should have learned to just roll with it.
If you are feeling bad, you might turn to strangers online for some emotional support.
You’re energized by like-minded people and might thrive in large social circles, community work, or even fan clubs (yes, you might cry over your favorite celebrity’s life updates).
You might bend over backward to fit into a group, even if it means suppressing your own needs. That’s right—you RSVP to events you know you don’t want to go to, then regret it immediately.
Moon in the 12th House: The Emotional Mystic Who Feels Everything & Nothing at Once
congratulations—you’ve unlocked "Feelings: Hardcore Mode." Your emotions live in the deep, mysterious waters of the subconscious, making you an intuitive, dreamy, and sometimes tragically misunderstood soul. You might love solitude but also feel unbearably lonely, sense energies others miss, and randomly cry for no reason (or is there always a reason?).
Your intuition is next-level. You pick up on vibes, unspoken emotions, and even spiritual messages like a human radio antenna. Your relationship with your mother could feel distant, mysterious, or full of unspoken emotions. Either she was deeply spiritual and nurturing or emotionally unavailable and hard to read.
Unlike most, you actually enjoy being alone. Your inner world is rich, and isolation helps you recharge from the chaos of life.
Even in a crowded room, you might feel disconnected. You crave deep emotional bonds but struggle to express your own feelings.
Emotional stress can manifest physically—sleep issues, mysterious body aches, or just always feeling tired for no reason.
You might secretly love someone from afar rather than openly express your feelings. (Just confess already!). You crave deep, spiritual connections but may self-sabotage by isolating yourself. You love soulmate vibes, but fear vulnerability.
Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌
#astrology readings#western astrology#astro observations#astro notes#vedic astrology#vedic astro notes#vedic astro observations#moon astrology#birth chart#moon sign#astrology#astrology content#astrology tumblr#astrology blog#astro posts#astrology notes#natal astrology#astrology chart#astro blog#astrology community#sidereal astrology#astro community#astro placements#natal placements#vedic chart#astrology placements
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kissin’ i hope they caught us ₊˚⊹
g!p popular campus crush loser!megan x lowkey gf!fem reader
inspired by doja cat - agora hills ♪‧₊˚
summary ⊹₊⟡⋆ :
megan meiyok skiendiel, the one everybody desires, despite being a chick-magnet, she’s actually just a good-for-nothing yearner, behind closed doors she’s all yours.
content/tags ⊹₊⟡⋆ :
nsfw, cocky!megan, she’s ginger here, praise kink, blowjobs, oral fixation, cowgirl, unprotected sex, making out in campus, megan refers you as kitten, service bot!megan (?), pwp, aftercare
sigh… there she goes again in the hallway.
you think to yourself as megan could be seen being fangirled over just walking by, the girls just staring at her while having her friends next to her while going back to her class.
she shoots you a small wink when her attention diverts to you, pretending like she didn’t see you. oh how they could’ve only knew she’s just so pathetic right under your hands.
you shrug it off since all she’s doing is gaining more attention from her cockiness. on the other hand, you’re also surrounded by people, and your friend group.
later on the day… you hear some chatter around the lockers after your first period.
“i can’t waiiit to ask megan out on a date like, she’s so pretty!”
followed by laughter by the two girls who are talking, you scoff and just walk by past them, it’s not like you care anyway if they like her, then someone catches your eye. again. megan, with her casual oversized shirt and that black hoodie that covers whats underneath, pairing with that stupid beanie of hers.
“heard them over there, kitten? that one’s gonna take me out~” she attempts to put her hand over your waist playfully, you quickly stop her hand.
“like she can.” hinting a possessive tone, her eyes widen as you leave her there by the side of the lockers. you’ve got better things to do than spend time with her, knowing she’s trying to get your attention isn’t gonna change the fact she’s practically everybody’s crush and it makes you feel frustrated.
you can barely interact with megan on campus either, she’s talking to her friends, while you’re also here helping out people and bringing them company, especially hanging out with your friends as well. you could’ve sworn you just need her every damn night at this point.
you’re seen with your friends talking about classes and switching back and forth between teachers, it’s megan again, this time taking photos for her posts and making them check if what she’s doing is correct like an idiot. if they only knew how much she pines for you, not only is she the campus crush around, she’s also an influencer.
she’s there for every game on the campus field and taking pictures for her ig story to show people where she’s at. when you share a class with her, you can visibly see wandering eyes around her, which you definitely don’t like at all.
studying was no problem, but when there’s distraction around about conversations that connect to megan? you think again about what you’re learning about.
it’s all about her this, her that. suddenly she starts bragging to you about how she got a cute labubu as a gift from one of her fangirls, telling you how charming and sweet of a gift it was.
does she ever get tired about them?
college is almost over and you sit yourself quietly in the library, studying still.. and then you see that insufferable face again from earlier. this time she wants to redeem herself, sitting beside you and facing herself towards you while she lays her head down on the table with her arms crossed.
you move a little away from her, her facial expression confused about the situation, “heyyyy, what’s wrongg?”
you refuse to answer and keep flipping between pages on your book, she can tell you’re jealous about the conversation you heard.
“come on y/n, like i’d ever actually go on a date with a girl like that earlier..” she playfully pokes her finger to your cheek, sighing once again at her silly jokes with you.
“we barely spend time together, megs.” you close your book, “besides, don’t you have better things to do than follow me around like a stalker?”
she grins, audibly laughing softly at what you told her.
“i’m tired of those girls following me.. so why not get close to you, kitten?”
she fixes her posture and lays her head on your shoulder, reaching for your hand, her soft and big hands meet yours, holding it gently then intertwining your fingers together.
“they all think you’re single.” trying to take your hand off of hers, she grips your hand even tighter.
“then lets show them i’m not.” she stands up, pulling you with her, running to show you off. college is almost empty and she brings you to an empty storage room, leaving the door half opened.
she then puts her lips against yours, needy. desperate. pulling your waist close to hers and you cant help but whimper against her warm skin pressing against yours. who thought this loser was such a good kisser?
you slide your fingers up her shirt to lift her hoodie up, caressing her waist as she brings you in even further, just a simple make out session visibly made her hard, aching between those pants of hers to be begged free.
“let’s take this to my dorm.. please..” she breathes out after pulling away from the kiss, you nod, face flushed and red. a few minutes later you’re already at her dorm, and both of your arousal has her cock throb at imagining what you could just do with gentle touches between the two of you.
tension getting heavy and back to passionately making out, you take her hoodie off in between the moment, letting it fall on the floor leaving her oversized shirt on.
you push her onto the bed, desperately wanting to suck her off. kneeling on her carpet floor, unbuckling her belt and pulling her boxers down to her ankles, hands went down to reveal her cock, it sprang forth, freeing her needy cock that’s been pulsating for the touch of you.
letting a groan when you start to stroke her gently.
she flutters her eyes shut while she whimpers with each stroke you give her, “look at me, megs.” you command, she nods and opens her eyes, admiring the sight of you kneeling down ready to wrap your tongue around her throbbing length, her tip already smearing pre-cum over the sight.
you lap on her tip to tease her, seeing her throw her head back and legs shaking from you placing your tongue teasingly and letting her cock slap on it. she moans loudly when you finally take her tip in your mouth, moving your head slowly to take her whole cock inside.
your bob your head up and down in a repeated movement slowly, megan’s cock would constantly hit the back of your throat, your mouth just felt so warm on her cock that she could feel herself near release. gripping the bed sheets, letting you enjoy your own pace.
increasing your motion, she jolts at the sudden increase of movement, moaning at each time her cock hit the back of your throat, turned on even more seeing you gag on her cock. she felt that familiar build up rising, rolling your eyes back when you put your head down deeper, feeling all of megan inside.
“a–ah, fuck– gonna cum..!” she groans out as your nails grip into her thigh, sweat dripping down on your forehead as she cums inside your mouth, swallowing every drop of cum she spurts out, taking all of it inside your mouth.
you pull her cock out of your mouth and stick your tongue out, making sure she knows you swallowed all of it. her dick still hard, she pats your head gently and lovingly. “you did so well, kitten..” she praises, lingering an affectionate tone.
to be led with another kiss, moving up further onto the bed, the sight of city lights in the mirror as the ac’s air brush against her hair when you put her underneath you, pressing into each others bodies once again.
“i need you so bad, kitten. so so so bad.” she helps you take your pants off of you as she rubs her fingers slightly on the fabric of your panties near your clit. feeling your soaked pussy that’s been throbbing, waiting for her dick to tame you.
“so cute and wet for me.. fuck, i want you.” she breathes out as you let out a whine when she finally throws your panties to the side and lines up her length against your pulsating cunt. sliding it in to feel your walls clench when she thrusts it in slowly.
a long moan escaped your lips with the pleasure of her slow thrusts inside you, forgetting to move you let her set the pace, feeling euphoric with each thrust inside your pussy, her thrusts turning into loud pounding, hungry. hungry for more of her love.
more of the moment that you savor when she voices out whimpers, cursing to herself that she just needs you.
craving the taste of your body, with each thrust she wants you to belong to her and her only. her property.
other than attracting the girls, her full attention is only on wanting you, desperate for release in her thrusts that get sloppy inside you, her cock coated in all of your slick.
“kitten, i’m close.. cum with me, please. i need you. nngh– please..” whining out when she thrusts faster in you, you nod as you both approach your climax, you lay close to her neck when she hugs you close, letting you feel all the pleasure, your orgasm hits you as you roll your eyes back in delight, she cries out and shoots thick ropes into your pussy, slowly thrusting and comes to a pause when both of you are finally resting.
you feel her cock get flaccid inside you and clean up both of your mess. “you did so so well kitten, i’m so proud of you.” patting your head again as megan kisses your forehead, adoring the sight of you laying on top of her chest, rubbing your back and then moving you to the side. cuddling underneath the soft blanket she has, whispering sweet nothings inside your ear to help you fall asleep, she adores you so much.
it’s morning…
you wake up with megan still beside you, determined to not leave you at all and keep you company. laying beside her and making the most out of the moment of her sleeping, sunkissed face and those lips you just want to kiss, her eyes closed drowsy from this special unforgettable night that you gave her today. you hug her tighter to capture and cherish the moment.
#katseye smut#katseye#katseye x reader#g!p megan skiendiel#megan skiendiel x reader#megan x reader#g!p katseye#katseye megan smut#katseye megan#megan skiendiel smut#megan skiendiel#megan x fem reader#smut
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Kabr0z Writes: A contents page!
The Kabr0z Writes series is a smut anthology that I am writing one per day, every day. Episodes will often not be related to one another, and will be clearly marked if they do.
Each part will have separate CWs at the top of the story, along with any author's notes I feel are pertinent. Please read these as tone veers wildly throughout
If you want to see something, and it doesn't look like it's been written already (or even if it does) please, please, please, send me an ask, a dm, anything, and I'll probably wind up writing it. 365 stories is a lot of stories! I need all the inspiration I can get!
Everything is OK to reblog, remix, copy, paste, whatever. Just please credit me if you do.
There's an Ao3 now as well!
Volume 2!
Volume 3!
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Episode 1: The First Time - in which masc!reader invites a man from the internet for oral sex
Episode 2: The Previous Tenant - in which a presence in a cheap flat invades fem!reader's dreams, then body
Episode 3: A Very Bad Idea; Part 1 - in which fem!reader and a close friend dabble in demonology
Episode 4: A Very Bad Idea; Part 2 - in which things go from bad to worse
Episode 5: A Very Bad Idea; Part 3 - a moment of tenderness, then bad medicine, then mad science, a feeling we haven't seen the last of this
Episode 6: Wedding Dong - Fem!reader goes to an old friend's wedding, meets another old friend, and has a roll in the rhododendrons
Episode 7: The Rowing Team - in which fem!reader attends a party, and gets ganged up on in more ways than one
Episode 8: Concerning Portals - in which fem!reader wears some mysterious underwear on the bus. It turns out to be a bad idea
Episode 9: Farm Work - In which Fem!Reader has a really bad day, culminating in being livestock on a hucow farm, with some added TF fun thrown in
Episode 10: Debt, part 1 - In which Fem!Reader agrees to 3 nebulous tasks in return for enough money to cover her mounting debts
Episode 11: Debt, part 2 - Professor Blaidd takes Fem!Reader to a party, as the main course
Episode 12: Debt, part 3 - The experiment involving Fem!Reader and Professor Blaidd comes to a sloppy conclusion
Episode 13: Tiptoe Through the Tulips - In which a gardening contest is taken too seriously, and leads to some whipping, then some tribbing
Episode 14: Artistic Intent - Fem!reader sits for an art class, then sits on the teacher
Episode 15: German Sausage - A long distance train sees Fem!Reader get very well acquainted with her cervid travelling companion
Episode 16: Fae Deals, part 1 - the start of the third 3 parter, Masc!Reader meets a Fae prince on Grindr and tries to hook up. They go to a second location where Masc!Reader becomes Fem!Reader
Episode 17: Fae Deals, Part 2 - Newly Fem!Reader is turned over to the Fae Prince's friends before being passed around
Episode 18: Fae Deals, Part 3 - Fem!Reader is introduced to her new friends at the hunting lodge. It's... a lot (seriously, read the CWs on this one)
Episode 19: Four Seasons Landscaping - Another palette-cleanser after yesterday. Fem!Reader has a gig to do some "minor weeding" and winds up getting up-close and personal with a flower
Episode 20: Your Minotaur Boyfriend - A quick scene of intense, enthusiastic fucking between fem!Reader and your king-bed sized minotaur boyfriend
Episode 21: The Lake - By request! Fen!Reader goes skinny dipping in a lake and gets got by a tentacle monster. Expect heavy noncon and impregnation
Episode 22: The Ritual, Part 1 - Another request! Fem!Reader is a barmaid with a slightly unconventional selling point. Lots of CNC, enthusiastic consent and multiple men on one woman
Episode 23: The Ritual, Part 2 - Fem!Reader winds up having a bad time at the hands of a cult
Episode 24: The Ritual, part 3 - The conclusion of this 3-parter. Fem!Reader finds out more about her new husband, and enjoys the wedding night
Episode 25: Suddenly Sci-fi - Fem!Reader gets abducted by aliens and probed. Expect drugging, overstim, and the end of human civilization as you know it!
Episode 26: Disciplinary Action - Fem!Reader tries to escape her alien overlord, winds up dispensing refreshments at his upcoming party
Episode 27: The Wounded Beast - Another fantasy! Forest ranger fem!reader is tracking a poacher, winds up meeting a minotaur and has some fun
Episode 28: Mountain Oni - Masc!Reader takes shelter from inclement weather on a mountain hike, gets femdom'ed by a beautiful Oni
Episode 29: Farm Work Part 2 - We return to the hucow farm to follow up on Fem!Reader during the last few weeks of her pregnancy with her monster child. This one actually turned out less dark than expected, which is a nice change
Episode 30: The Hash Slinging Slasher - Fem!Reader doesn't think she fits the MO of the local masked serial killer, turns out she does, and he's got a thing for plump women with great tits
Episode 31: Bug Buzz - Fem!Reader is doing cartography when she gets jumped, stung, and filled with eggs
Episode 32: Homecoming - Fem!Reader's Naga girlfriend is coming back from a business trip, expect fluffy wlw fucking with remarkably few CWs
Episode 33: The Book - Fem!Reader finds a book of summoning magic and decides to get an incubus encounter out of it, this one might get picked up again later
Episode 34: Free Range - A broken down car leads to Fem!Reader getting kidnapped and taken to a free-range hucow farm. Think episode 9 but less awful
Episode 35: Interdiction - Space Explorer FtM!Reader gets got by new life and filled with eggs in a slightly horrifying scene. It's fun, and the closest thing to fanfic I've written so far
Episode 36: Hunter, Hunted - Fem!Reader is hunting a beast terrorising a village, gets hunted in return and mercilessly bred, with some turnabout at the end
Episode 37: Coulrophilia - Fem!Reader doesn't like clowns, then meets a few she winds up really liking. Expect a nice and fluffy clown gangbang
Episode 38: Date Night - Another quick standalone, Fem!Reader gets home from work and has enthusiastic kitchen-table sex with her werewolf husband. Enjoy!
Episode 39: Haunting - Fem!Reader gets the attention of an unpleasant ghost, and duped into releasing its pals
Episode 40: Sanguinare Vampiris - Fem!Reader's vampire boyfriend comes over for dinner and a movie. It's either sorta fluffy or really horrifying depending on how familiar you are with 90's Vampire TTPRGs
Episode 41: Dances with snakes - Fem!Reader is doing an anthropology on an alien world, herself having been made into a snake-hybrid to better survive, ends up in a closer encounter than anticipated. It goes a bit Dune, a bit Foundation, very long
Episode 42: Orc Daddy - Fem!Reader is the only human in the orc village, and her adoptive father has a suitor in mind for her. expect enthusiastic consent, size difference, arranged marriage, and breeding
Episode 43: Getting into the nose - Probably not my best work, Fem!Reader discovers her husband is a part-time clown and gets drawn into the hobby for an afternoon
Episode 44: 'Neath a Pale Moon - Fem!Reader sneaks out of her village to meet her werewolf lover, winds up being able to spend a lot more time with him
Episode 45: Resistance - Fem!Reader is part of a resistance cell fighting the Chitinid forces, a failed act of defiance goes very, very badly for her
Episode 46: Another day in the fields - Following on from episode 34, Fem!Reader has had her child, and is going to get her minotaur lover/owner to giver her another one
Episode 47: One Year Later - It's Fem! Reader's anniversary with Oreg! They fuck! It's good! Enjoy!
Episode 48: Medical Attention - Funtime's over but Professor Blaidd is still stuck in Fem!Reader. Good thing you're both friends with a werewolf doctor who does house calls
Episode 49: Medical Science - Roswell-style aliens abduct and experiment on Fem!Reader using transformation serums. If you like rapid growth, you'll like this one
Episode 50: Hot as Hell - Masc!Reader is having a movie night with some demon friends, one is late, the other goes into rut, he helps out
Episode 51: Daring Escape - Fem!Reader has to escape a fantasy city without being spotted. Help arrives in the form of a centaur and, tied to his belly, the escape is launched. Dubcon cumulation fun abound
Episode 52: Doll - Fem!Reader offends a faerie and gets turned into a clockwork fucktoy. She later gets found, and claimed (a bit shorter tonight, sleep cycle is so out of whack)
Episode 53: Hornyposting - Fem!Reader gets a pair of portal panties off the internet and posts her friend code to a public forum. Then she wears them to a café and really irritates a barista by getting publicly knotted
Episode 54: The In-Laws - Fem!Reader is out of options and needs to stay with her in-laws to keep a roof over her daughter's head. It turns out to be a mixed blessing. CWs for vampires, and I'm not kidding at all when I say gallons of blood
Episode 55: Young Lovers - It's A-level results day and Fem!Reader has done well. She spends the day with her doting werewolf boyfriend and they get up to some fun
Episode 56: Demonic Awakening - Fem!Reader tries to summon a succubus to break her dry spell. It doesn't work, and she gets more than she bargained for
Episode 57: Ranch Hand - Fem!Reader didn't get a job as a hucow, and almost gave up on her ambition to become a professional whore for the three minotaur brothers who run the ranch until a mysterious text message gives her hope (I'm real proud of this one)
Episode 58: Pack Tactics - The world ended several years ago. Fem!Reader has been running with wolves since then. A juvenile takes an interest in her, and one thing leads to another
Episode 59: Sacrifice - Fem!Reader escaped a terrible fate long ago, and now has to come back to her hometown to save her niece from the same. It ends badly
Episode 60: Beauty and the Beasts - It's the 1600s and Fem!Reader has a pair of wolf boyfriends! It's a good time, lots of consensual fucking, lots of exposition about the origin of lupines in the continuity, some implied impregnation
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DualityReboot AU
((This part was totally inspired by the one panel in the Vader comics (⌐■_■)))
-Every day for Anakin is beginning to feel like hell. He trying so damned hard to keep himself from cracking, to not jut start screaming in rage over the despair he feels about his current situation and how damned isolating it is. It's getting to the point where he doesn't care which reality he gets stuck in at this point, he just wants it all to stop.
-It doesn't help that Vader is always lurking right under his skin, ready at any second to burst through and tear himself and everyone around him apart. It sickens Anakin even more when he realizes how tempted he is to just do it, to just let the darkness consume him, and accept his damned fate as a monster.
-He manages to last month before it finally crumbles all around him.
-The Separatists had swarmed Anakin's and Obi-Wan's battalion with droids, which was normal to say the least, what was not normal was the massive squad of humanoid solders that quickly ambushed them afterwards.
-Obi-Wan arm was wounded, many clones were injured or dead, and everyone, including Ashoka were extremely exhausted. They've been fighting non stop for days, and while droids weren't easy to kill, they were certainly easier to kill than humanoids.
-Worst part is that Anakin knows he's lived this situation before, as Vader, so as the soldier's raise their blasters, fingers pressed against their triggers to fire, Anakin let's himself finally fall.
-The first thing Obi-Wan's feels, is that his bond with Anakin has been completely closed off. The second thing he feels is an all consuming darkness. It covers the entire area like a fog, suffocating everything around it with it's hatred to the point in which Obi-Wan himself was having difficulty breathing.
-His thoughts cease as the sound of blaster fire echo around them but their deadly impact does not follow. Instead, the beams of plasma hover harmlessly in the air around Obi-Wan and clones, that is until Anakin flexes his fingers and propels them back into the mass of frantic solders that fired them.
-Dozens of the men die from impact, but not all, so Anakin gracefully leaps from his perch and marches towards the enemy like a predator who's finally cornered his prey, and starts killing.
-It's horrifying how blase Anakin acts is in the ensuing massacre. Cutting down men like he was swatting insects or lifting them up with the force before violently smashing them back into the ground, his face fluctuating between silent rage and resignation.
-It only stops when the solders start to flee. Anakin stills as the humanoids scramble over the rocks to get away, screaming in horror and fear as the run. For a moment, no one moves or says anything in response, and then Anakin finally turns back to face Obi-Wan.
-His eyes are golden red and his light saber is died crimson, but all Obi-Wan can focus on is the sheer devastation and despair that is etched onto Anakin's face.
-Suddenly Anakin grips his chest, his breaths suddenly coming out in short, labored gasps, as blood starts to weep from his eyes. He takes one last frantic look at Obi-Wan before his vision fades completely and he collapses.
-Obi-Wan catches him before he hits the ground.
#my art#anakin skywalker#star wars#obi wan kenobi#darth vader#vaderkin#dualityrebootAU#totally inspired by the one panel in the comics#“All I am surrounded by is fear and dead men”#Vader goes so hard man#man I shat this doodle out so quick so I could finally write this. lol
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You wanna help me stretch?



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inspired by this post @f1kenny121
summary: summer break is nearly over and training is starting again
content: 18+ !! nsfw, smut, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise, slight power play, soft dom!Lando, tears of pleasure, emotional intensity, explicit language, mutual desperation
word count: 4,1 k
pairing: lando norris x female!reader
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The late summer sun bleeds through the windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The house is too quiet. You’ve spent the whole day drifting from room to room, fingertips grazing along surfaces, pretending you weren’t just waiting for Lando to reappear.
Summer break is nearly over, and with the second half of the season looming, he's back to training—even if he hates every second of it. The workouts, the early mornings, the constant push to stay sharp—it’s not his favorite part. But he does it. Because he has to.
But now, standing in the doorway of the home gym, the silence pays off.
He doesn’t see you at first. He's seated on the workout bench, hunched slightly forward, three fingers gripped tightly in his other hand like he's stretching them out—or maybe nursing them. His brows are furrowed, mouth slack with focus. Sweat drips from his hairline down his neck, slicking his collarbones and tracing a line over the flex of his chest.
His thighs straddle the bench, solid and wide, every inch of him brimming with tension from disuse and the stubbornness to push through. You’ve seen him like this before—when he’s about to make a move, whether on track or in bed. This version of him, concentrated and messy, is your favorite.
You forget the words you meant to say. Something about a snack? Or that it’s too hot to be doing this? You can’t even clear your throat, let alone form a sentence. Your legs stay rooted to the floor. The air is thick. His skin glistens.
But it's not his skin that keeps you staring.
It’s his fingers.
The way they curl and flex as he stretches them, knuckles taut, tendons shifting beneath skin. He winces a little as he grips the middle three tighter, jaw ticking. You can’t tell if it’s pain or just pressure but it doesn’t matter. All you can think about is how those fingers would feel against your skin. Inside you. Around your throat. Holding you open.
Your mouth nearly waters.
You cross your legs, needing something—anything—to press against. It barely helps. You can feel your pulse between your thighs.
That’s when he notices you.
“I’m almost done, babe,” he says without much thought, voice low and casual. He glances down at his fingers, still working them slowly. The motion shouldn't feel intimate, but it does.
“Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he’s suddenly aware of what exactly you're staring at. His thumb strokes along the length of his middle finger, absentminded but devastating.
Your brain stutters back to life, though your voice is breathy when it comes out.
“Ma-maybe I’ll join you.”
His eyes flick up, wide, and for a second it’s like he stops breathing altogether. You take a step forward. Then another. You don’t break his gaze, even as it darkens with something heavier.
He drops his hand to his thigh, still spread wide around the bench, and watches you approach.
“Yeah?” he says, voice rougher now. “You wanna help me stretch?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” you say, voice light, almost innocent. “I think I would take a stretch.”
You hold his gaze, letting it drop ever so slowly—down his chest, to the gleam of sweat on his abdomen, and finally to where his fingers still rest against his thigh. His lips twitch at the corner, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.
You step over the bench and straddle it, knees brushing against his. The closeness makes your breath hitch, the warmth of his skin radiating straight into yours.
“Comfortable?” he murmurs.
“I could be.”
You both glance down at the same time—at his hand. His long, slick fingers. He flexes them again, slower now, deliberately. The movement makes your mouth part on instinct.
“Can’t stop staring,” he says, voice soft and dangerous. “Bet you’ve been thinking about them all day, haven’t you?”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The way you shift in place, grinding subtly into the bench for friction, says it for you.
“Tell me,” he leans forward just slightly, voice just for you now, “what exactly do you want them to do, hmm?”
Your breath shudders. He lifts his hand and brings it to your knee—doesn’t even grip, just rests it there—and your whole body tenses.
“I—” Your eyes flick to his hand. “I don’t know.”
He grins. “You do know. Don´t be shy about it now.”
Then, without warning, he brings his fingers to your mouth.
“Open.”
You do. Obedient. Eager.
He slips two in, slowly, and you close your lips around them like you’ve been craving the taste. He groans low and under his breath but you catch it. You swirl your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken, his pupils blown wide as your mouth works him.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Look at you.”
You moan around them soft, needy and the sound makes his jaw clench. His hand tightens slightly where it rests on your knee.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked already, aren’t you?”
You nod, still sucking, your thighs clenching around the bench. He slowly pulls his fingers out, the sound slick and sinful.
“I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he says. “And you’re already falling apart.”
You lean in closer, desperate for more, but he just smirks.
“Patience,” he murmurs. “We’re just getting started.”
The air between you crackles, thick and heavy. His fingers are still glistening from your mouth when he slowly drops them to the bench, dragging them along the edge just beside your thigh—close enough to make you flinch, but not touch.
“I could make you come,” he says, almost conversational, “without ever fucking you.”
Your thighs twitch.
“Just these fingers,” he continues, lifting them again, letting you watch every lazy curl and flex. “Two inside, more if you’re greedy. Curl them just right. Thumb on your clit. I wouldn’t even need to move much, you’d do all the work for me.”
You swallow hard, your mouth dry again despite what just happened. You’re starting to breathe through your thighs, desperate for pressure. For anything.
“Poor baby,” he hums. “Already squirming. And I haven’t even touched you there yet.”
He reaches forward now, finally, hooking his hands under your thighs and tugging—slow, strong—until you're sliding forward, legs falling wider around his knees, straddling him open and shameless. The bench presses hard beneath you. The only thing grounding you.
You grip the sides of it to keep yourself upright, arching slightly back as he leans in, his face still maddeningly calm. Like he has all the time in the world.
“Such a good view like this,” he mutters, tugging at the hem of your shorts. “Look at you.”
You make a soft, breathless sound—half protest, half plea—but you lift your hips, let him peel the shorts down, and when he does, he curses.
“Fuck.”
His thumb brushes just barely over the soaked fabric of your underwear. He groans again, dragging the edge aside for a peek.
“Oh, baby… it’s so easy. I knew you were already this wet.”
The sound you make isn't even a moan—more like a gasp, a choke of arousal and embarrassment all in one.
He smiles, slow and sharp.
“You love it when I talk like this, don’t you?”
You nod, breath hitching again as he lifts one hand—that hand—and brings his thumb back to your mouth.
“Open.”
You part your lips again, greedier this time. He slides in with purpose now, pressing down on your tongue, keeping your mouth full while his other hand starts to move—slow, torturous circles against the inside of your thigh.
Not quite where you need him. Not yet.
You moan around his thumb, hips shifting involuntarily, trying to chase friction.
“Not yet,” he says, voice thick with control. “I’ll tell you when.”
And the worst part?
You want him to.
Your breath catches as his thumb presses down harder on your tongue. He watches the way your lips part, the way your jaw slackens around it, like he could read every desperate little thought spilling through your mind just by the way you take his touch.
“Bet you taste as good here,” he mutters, half to himself, then drags his thumb out, wet and glistening.
His other hand trails up—finally, finally—over the inside of your thigh. You feel the brush of his knuckles first, then the slight dip of his wrist as he moves in.
And then contact.
One slow stroke through your folds, slick and unbearably sensitive. You jolt at the first touch, head tipping back slightly, a broken sound slipping from your throat.
He groans softly. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”
You nod, barely breathing, back arching even further, hands gripping the bench behind you so tightly your knuckles go white.
He teases again just one finger, lazy and slow, tracing circles around your entrance without dipping in.
“You want it?” he asks, voice low and smug.
“Y-yes,” you pant. “Please.”
He hums like he’s considering it—like he hasn’t already decided what he’s going to do.
Then, slowly, he slides one finger in.
Your body clenches around it instantly, a shiver running through you at the stretch of it, even if it’s just one. His hand stills inside you, and your hips buck forward instinctively.
But he doesn’t move.
“Feel that?” he asks, leaning in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just one, and you’re already so tight.”
You whimper, trying to move your hips again, but his free hand comes down on your thigh—firm, steadying.
“No, baby,” he whispers. “You stay still. You let me have you like this.”
Then, torturously slow, he starts to move that finger—curling it up, dragging it out, then back in. Unhurried. Deep. Precise.
You’re already shaking.
He adds a second, and you cry out, hips rocking despite his grip. He doesn't stop you this time—he lets you ride his hand for a moment, lets you get just enough friction to start climbing toward that dizzying edge.
Then he stops.
Completely.
You gasp, body tense and twitching, your walls fluttering around nothing.
“Lando—please—”
“Not yet,” he says again, with a cruel smile. “You don’t get to come just because you want to.”
You groan, your head falling forward, forehead brushing against his shoulder. You're panting now, every muscle strung tight.
He leans in, kisses your cheek so softly it makes you ache.
“I’ll give you what you need,” he murmurs. “But not until you beg for it. Not until you’re so fucking desperate you can’t say anything else.”
Then—two fingers again—thrusting deep, curling hard into the spot that makes your vision blur.
But just as you start to unravel—
He pulls away.
“Please,” you whisper—voice cracking, small. “Lando, please, I need— I need to—”
He watches you fall apart on the edge of the sentence. Your chest rising and falling, thighs trembling around him, hips twitching as if your body’s trying to finish what he keeps denying.
“Need to what?” he asks, softly cruel. His fingers are still buried inside you, unmoving, just there—reminding you who’s in control.
You shake your head, helpless. “Please. Let me come. I can’t— I need it.”
A long pause.
Then he shifts. His other arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you forward until you’re straddling his thighs completely, chest to chest. You clutch at his shoulders for balance, breath fanning across his neck.
“Alright,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “You’ve been good.”
And then he moves.
His fingers curl up inside you again, that perfect rhythm returning like he never stopped. Deep and precise. Every stroke sends a sharp, blinding jolt through you. His palm presses against your clit now, every motion designed to undo you.
It doesn’t take long.
You’re already so close, your body trembling with the force of it, moaning shamelessly into his neck. Your hips grind down against his hand, chasing it, needing it.
And when you finally come, it rips through you like a wave—loud and messy, your body jerking, thighs clenching around his. He holds you through it, arm firm around your waist, keeping you grounded while you writhe and cry out against him.
But he doesn’t stop.
His fingers stay inside. His thumb keeps circling. You flinch from the sensitivity, but he just shushes you, his voice all dark velvet now.
“Shh… I know, I know. But you can take it.”
You barely have time to process it before he starts moving again—deeper now, slower but relentless.
You squirm in his lap, trying to lift your hips, but his arm around your back tightens.
“Oh no, baby. Not done yet.”
You’re breathing in gasps now, mind foggy with overstimulation. His fingers drag over that same spot again, and your whole body jerks.
“You think you can take one more?” he asks, voice low and thick.
You don’t know what he means—another orgasm? Another finger?
But it doesn’t matter. You nod, frantic, clinging to him.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Open up for me.”
And then—a third finger presses against your entrance, joining the others slowly, stretching you further than before. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, head tipping back.
You’re full. Too full.
And still—you want more.
The third finger slides in slow—but it still punches the air right out of your lungs.
The stretch is too much. Too good. You collapse against him without even thinking, your body folding forward as your arms scramble to hold on to something—his shoulders, his chest, his neck. Anything to stop you from tipping over completely.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice thick with arousal, the barest rasp curling around the word. “You feel that, baby?”
You nod barely, a choked sound falling from your lips that doesn’t resemble a word at all. Just a noise, raw and wrecked.
It goes straight through him.
Your head rests on his shoulder now, lips parted against his skin, and you're making sounds that have no place in the daylight. Unholy sounds—wet and breathy and trembling—moans that spill right into his ear, sending visible shudders down his spine.
He breathes out a curse and tightens his arm around your waist, anchoring you to him.
And then his thumb moves again.
A soft, slow drag over your clit, slick and maddening. Your whole body jerks, thighs twitching violently, but there’s nowhere to go—his hand between your legs, his body caging you in.
You try to close your thighs, instinctively trying to shield yourself from how much it is, but you can’t. Not with him there—his hips wide between yours, thighs bracketing you in place.
“Lando—fuck—Lando, I—” It’s barely a whisper, more like a sob.
You clutch at your own thighs now, hands fisting in your own skin, trying to ground yourself, to hold something through the crushing intensity—but nothing helps. Not when his fingers keep moving, deep and deliberate inside you, his thumb unrelenting.
You’re already there again. It crashes into you like your whole body is detonating from the inside out.
You go still—then trembling—hips stuttering, breath gone completely.
All you can do is whimper, face buried in his shoulder, thighs shaking around him, as your body clenches around his fingers and the high keeps going.
“That’s it,” he growls, voice right in your ear. “So fucking good. God, listen to you. Can’t even talk.”
You shake your head, still trying to breathe. Still feeling it. Still full.
And he hasn’t stopped.
You don’t even realize when he slips his fingers out—when that delicious, punishing stretch is suddenly gone. All you know is the cold shock of emptiness, and the warm, slow tease of him dragging his fingers through your folds instead. Light. Feather-soft. Too soft.
Your whole body twitches, hips trying to follow the sensation, to sink back onto him again—but there’s nothing to sink onto.
“Lando,” you gasp—voice barely there. Just air and heat.
You’re fully collapsed against him now, skin flushed and damp, face buried in his neck, breath stuttering against his pulse. Wrecked. Unraveled. His other hand strokes idly over your lower back, holding you there like you belong.
And those fingers—those fingers—are tormenting you.
They circle the rim of your entrance, slow and teasing, never pressing in. Just tracing, dragging through slick, rubbing softly through folds that are aching, twitching with the aftershocks of your last orgasm and the rising threat of the next.
You let out a broken, pleading noise that you can’t even name. Your whole body trembles against his.
He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, and it’s maddening gentle and cruel all at once.
Your only response is a shiver, a whimper that sounds like yes. He chuckles low in his throat, and you feel it vibrate against your skin.
“I think it is,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth along the side of your neck. “Look at you. Completely gone. Just because of my fingers.”
And then he kisses you there lazy kisses, open-mouthed and slow, just under your jaw, the kind that make your head spin all over again.
“You love being like this, don’t you?” Another kiss, this time higher, nearer to your ear. “Pressed against me, soaking my lap, crying for it.”
He dips his fingers again—just once, shallow, before pulling back and brushing over your clit once and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted, whimpering into his neck.
“Mm, yeah,” he groans softly, biting your shoulder. “You’ll beg for it again in a minute, won’t you?”
You nod, desperate. Wordless.
And still—he waits.
“Lando, it’s too much, I— I can’t,” you whisper, voice cracking at the edges, more breath than sound.
“I know,” he murmurs.
And still, he doesn’t stop.
He shifts with you like it’s easy, like he’s carried you this way a hundred times. One arm stays locked around your waist, guiding you as he lays you back gently on the narrow bench, body following yours. You're still clutching him, thighs spread and shaking, hips twitching at every brush of air.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers again, hovering over you, face barely an inch away. “Say the word.”
You don’t. You can’t. You’re too far gone, trembling under the weight of his body and the ache of his absence where you need him most.
He smiles—not smug, but soft. Like he knows every part of you now.
His lips press to yours. A gentle kiss, slow and unhurried, like you're not already soaking his lap and half-crying from how badly you need him. He kisses down your neck, tongue trailing, teeth grazing, then nibbles at the curve of your ear.
You gasp again, another moan escaping you, your body arching into his even without thinking.
Only then does he finally pull his hand up from between your legs, fingers soaked, dripping, glistening in the low light. He stares at them for a beat, breath catching.
“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark. “Look what you did.”
You can only watch him wide-eyed, panting, almost pleading.
Then he brings those fingers to his mouth.
And sucks them clean.
Slowly. One at a time. Licking each digit like he’s tasting dessert, groaning low in his throat. His tongue flicks at the base of his knuckles, and your thighs twitch again.
You’re dizzy watching him.
And when he’s done, he looks at you again eyes smoldering now, like he's barely holding himself together.
He reaches down, trailing his wet fingers across your lips.
“Open,” he whispers.
You do.
And he slips them in.
You suck greedily, tongue swirling around them, and it’s him who moans now deep and ragged, his hips dropping hard against yours, finally chasing friction.
The contact shocks a gasp from you both.
You feel it—him—hard and heavy through his shorts, grinding slowly into your soaked heat. The thin barrier does nothing. You feel every movement, every flex of his hips as he lets himself finally take what he needs.
“God, you feel that?” he growls, pulling his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down your chest as he ruts against you. “I’ve been holding back all fucking day.”
His forehead drops to yours, breathing hard.
You’re already so open to him, thighs still twitching, lips parted around the breath you can't catch—so when he finally shifts, tugging his shorts down just enough to free himself, it feels like the world holds its breath.
You certainly do.
And then he presses in.
There’s no warning. No teasing. Just one slow, thick glide of his cock between your folds, catching at your entrance—already so soaked, so ready for him—and then he pushes, hips firm and steady.
You gasp, legs falling wider as he sinks into you inch by inch.
He fills you so deeply it makes your back arch right off the bench, your nails digging into his arms, eyes fluttering shut with a choked moan.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked. “So tight—always so tight for me.”
He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, not moving—just feeling. Letting the stretch and fullness overwhelm you both. You shudder beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Then he pulls back. Slowly. Until just the tip is left inside.
And thrusts in again deep, deliberate, like he’s staking a claim.
You cry out, head rolling to the side, breath catching.
He finds his rhythm like it’s instinct—slow, firm strokes that rock your body against the bench, controlled but possessive. Every thrust feels like a promise. Like he wants to imprint himself inside you.
“This what you needed?” he murmurs, mouth at your jaw, one hand sliding up to cup your face as he drives into you again. “Needed me to fuck you like this slow and deep, where no one else can ever reach?”
You nod, whimpering, gripping at his back now, trying to pull him impossibly closer.
His forehead presses to yours, lips brushing yours between kisses and curses and panting breaths.
He groans again, slower now, hips dragging all the way out only to slam back in, grinding against your pelvis, his cock hitting every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
“Feel so good,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect like this, spread out for me, taking it all.”
You moan louder, hands tangled in his curls now, body arching into his, chasing every drag and press of his cock like it’s the only thing that matters.
His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his waist so he can sink even deeper if that was possible. The change in angle rips a cry from your throat.
He groans again, deep and low, like it’s killing him to hold back. But he does. For you.
You don’t know when the tears start.
It’s not from pain—never from that. It’s the pressure, the fullness, the way his cock keeps hitting that spot so deep inside you it turns pleasure into something unbearable, almost too much to hold.
You blink, and they fall—slow trails down your temples as you lie back on the bench, your body trembling, shuddering beneath him. His thrusts haven’t sped up still slow, still deep but they’ve gotten heavier, more deliberate, like every single one is meant to stay with you.
He sees it the second your lip quivers.
“Baby,” he breathes, the word catching in his throat.
He leans in immediately, brushing kisses to your cheeks, catching the tears with his lips as his hand comes up to cradle your face.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re okay. I promise. You’re doing so good for me.”
His voice—low, warm, soothing—makes your chest tighten in a different way, something emotional blooming beneath the tension coiling in your gut.
You’re close again. You can feel it. Your body’s trying to run from it, hips twitching, legs shaking, but there’s nowhere to go not when he’s pressed so deep inside you, holding you so gently even while he fucks you open.
“I know it’s a lot,” he murmurs, kissing your lips now, slow and careful. “You’re so full, huh? So fucking wet, clenching around me like you can’t help it.”
You cry out at that, sobbing into his mouth, your nails digging into his back again as your body tries to contain it this aching pressure, this need to fall apart one more time.
“I’ve got you,” he says again. “Let it go. Let me feel you.”
He shifts just slightly just enough and suddenly that perfect, devastating drag of his cock has you gasping, clenching around him so hard it’s instinct, involuntary.
“Oh my—Lando—fuck—”
“That’s it,” he growls, voice tight and trembling now, his own control slipping as your body contracts around him. “Fuck, baby—God, you’re milking me—”
It tips you over like a wave crashing into shore. Your orgasm rushes up through your spine, curling you forward into his chest as your thighs shake violently around his hips. Your whole body tenses, then breaks sobbing, gasping, your cries muffled against his neck.
And that’s all it takes.
He groans a sound so raw and desperate it vibrates against your heart and his hips slam forward one final time, grinding into you as he comes, thick and hot and deep, filling you completely.
“Fuck—fuck, baby—oh, shit,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “You feel so good—so fucking good—”
His whole body shudders above you, and he collapses into your chest, still inside you, holding you like you might disappear.
You're both breathing hard now, tangled together, soaking and shaking and quiet.
He kisses you again. Your cheek, your temple, your lips. Each one soft, reverent.
“You okay?” he whispers against your mouth, voice hoarse.
“I love you like this,” he says, breath still uneven. “Fucking ruined and mine.”
You're both still trembling, bodies sticky and flushed, tangled together on the narrow bench like the rest of the world doesn't exist.
His breathing slows against your skin. One arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, anchoring you, the other hand tangled in your hair as he presses slow kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw.
You smile—barely, weakly—still catching your breath. Your legs feel like they’ve melted.
And then, voice low and wrecked but laced with a tease, you whisper against his neck:
“Thanks for the stretch.”
He freezes for a second—then laughs. That warm, wrecked kind of laugh, breathless and totally undone.
“Jesus,” he groans into your hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lando norris one shot#lando norris fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#mclaren#mclaren x reader#lando norris x fem!reader#lando norris smut#lando norris#f1 smut#𓊆papayainone𓊇
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hi, my love! i hope you’re doing okay!
i’d be really interested to see the protectiveness of the marauders and how it plays out in a poly!marauders dynamic. say something happens to r (can be as minor or as severe as you prefer). how would each marauder react and how would their dynamics bounce off each other? would it make the situation better or worse?
I find it funny picturing r attempting to wrangle all three of her boys from throwing hands (especially if it was a mistake or a miscommunication between r and the “offender”) and they’re bouncing off each other and riling themselves up more and she’s just like, ffs I’m so sorry and tries her best to manhandle her three boyfriends away for a stern talking to. Like, thank you guys for protecting me and all that but a) t’was a mistake / miscommunication, and b) i can sort my own shit and will ask if i need back up (Sirius in the back like no need to ask, i’m ready to go bby). Everyone’s like wtf Remus?! because he’s usually the chill one and it’s just a cluserfuck of misplaced angst and fluffy humour.
this might overlap with some other requests you’ve written, so feel free to ignore or tweak as you see fit! no idea if this makes any sense but hope it’s fun to write if you decide to!
Hi lovely! I've done a couple fics with protective marauders before, so I wanted to try something a little different based on your prompt. I had a different vision in my head than how it turned out, but I hope you like it <3
cw: alcohol, sexual assault, violence
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words
You’ve been known to be a…somewhat short-fused drunk. It’s not that you’ll get angry with anyone for anything, only that the sort of behavior that you might normally try to ignore, you…don’t. This is usually the behavior of men.
It’s one of those nights where the club is made up of about forty percent young girls and sixty percent older, eagle-eyed men. You’re glad for your boyfriends, who ward off the other men like a force field around you. You feel lucky to have it and disgusted to need it.
James’ laughter is loud and bright as you spin him around after he does you. You echo it, pleased at having inspired such a sound. With his large, sturdy build, it’s rare for James to get very drunk, but he’s about where you are now. Which is to say, you’ve been sloppily dancing and giggling with each other for the last hour.
Remus rolls his eyes fondly when James nearly spins himself out of balance, steadying him with a hand on his back.
“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Sirius shouts.
James laughs again, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Classy, babe.”
“Bugger off.” Sirius shoves him playfully into Remus’ chest.
You dance with them both for a minute longer before leaning in to shout, “Okay if I go get more drinks?”
Remus eyes you both for a second, but nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
“No, stay.” You set a hand on his chest. “Don’t let Jamie dance alone. I’ll be right back, yeah?”
You don’t give him a chance to respond as you head for the bar. It’s crowded, but you’re not about to worm between some middle-aged men to get to the front. You stand up on your toes and wait to catch the bartender’s eye.
“What’s your name?” Suddenly there’s a warm body pressed up behind yours, hands on your hips.
Your blood, already warmed by alcohol, turns hot in an instant. You step forward, too quick for the man behind you to follow. Turn to look him in the eyes.
“Don’t touch me,” you say firmly.
“Okay.” The man raises his eyebrows at you. He looks nearly old enough to be your father—certainly old enough to be someone’s father—with waxy skin and thinning hair combed over the front of his head. He’s in a suit like he came here from work. “Sorry, relax. I just think you’re beautiful.”
“I’m here with someone.” Someones, you could say, but you’ve learned it’s easier in some situations to make it sound like you only have one partner, for brevity’s sake. And there’s nothing you desire more than for this interaction to be brief.
He gives a little laugh. “Don’t take things so seriously, I’m only complimenting you. Do you like to dance?”
You give him a hard look. “Only with my boyfriend.”
“You look like you dance.” His eyes skim down your frame, raptorial. “I can tell. You have the body for it.”
No sooner does his large, meaty hand connect with your ass than you’re grabbing it by the wrist, your free hand balling and aiming for his face.
His surprised grunt comes in sync with a “Woah!” from behind you.
You turn to find Remus and James, looking like they’ve just broken through the crowd. James is staring at you with wide eyes. One of the men near you at the bar sets a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from the creep and forcing you to drop his wrist, but Remus is there in an instant.
“Oi.” He grabs you, removing the man’s hand and caging you in his arms. “She’s fine.”
“She hit him!” the man accuses. The guy from before is leaning forward with a hand pressed over his face.
James is incredulous. “Did you see what he did to her?”
The other man looks between you like he’s realized he’s missing something, and Remus takes a couple of steps back from the crowd with you in his arms. Meanwhile, your attacker seems to be recovering from his shock. He lowers his hand to reveal a discolored mark on his jaw, gaping at you.
“You fucking cunt!”
James gives him a hard shove, and more shouting starts up around the bar, various other patrons either cheering the fight on or trying to break it up. Remus grabs James by his shirt, tugging him along as he herds you towards the exit. “Alright, we’re going, we’re going.”
Your journey out of the building is hurried and difficult to follow in your addled state, but everything seems to catch up to you when the dark club gives way to glaring fluorescent streetlights. You bend over under a wave of nausea.
“Hey.” James sounds more sober than he had a few minutes ago. He stoops to look at you, your eyes wet. “You okay?”
Remus says something to him quietly, passing James the car keys. He unwinds his arm from around you and kisses your head.
“I’ll be right back,” he says gently. “Go wait in the car, okay?”
“Okay…” Your voice is hardly a whimper. “Where are you going?”
But Remus is already gone, waving down the bouncer outside of the club.
You turn to James. “Where is he going?”
Tears blink out of your eyes as you ask. The corners of James’ mouth turn down sympathetically.
“Oh, my girl.” He wraps a big arm around your shoulders, kissing your head as he leads you towards the car. “What’s wrong? Does your hand hurt?”
You shake your head, though it does a little. Your knuckles and the tops of your fingers feel odd and sore, and there’s a throbbing that goes all the way down to your wrist. That’s not what’s bothering you, though. You’re not sure if you can pick what’s bothering you. The predatory stares you’ve endured all night; the sickening realization of the man’s body pressed up against yours; his easy, blithe laughter; your own white-hot anger, there and gone before you could take account of yourself—it’s all too much.
“I can’t believe I hit him,” you admit tearfully.
James lets out a little laugh. “I saw, baby.” He unlocks the car, opening the back door.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I—oh, okay.” James doesn’t stop you when you don’t get in, instead sitting on the floor of the car with your feet on the gravel parking lot. He sits beside you. “It’s okay if you did. He deserved it.”
You put your head in your hands. “I don’t hit people.”
He makes a soft sound. A big hand lands between your shoulder blades, rubbing softly. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. It’s…I get that you wouldn’t usually, but I think this counts as a special circumstance. Rem, he saw what was happening, but we couldn’t get to you fast enough. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, you know?”
You don’t reply, and he lets you sit in silence for a while, your weeping gradually stopping. When Remus comes back, it’s with Sirius in tow.
“What the fuck happened?” Sirius asks tipsily. “I was looking for you!”
“Did Remus not tell you?” James sounds excited to be the one to share the news.
“Alright, dove?” Remus asks at a more reasonable volume, crouching in front of you. “Does your hand hurt? Can I see?”
“No, he’s being bloody tight-lipped.” Sirius ruffles Remus’ hair. “Just said you had to go. Oi, you alright, lovely?”
“She punched a guy in the face,” James says proudly.
“She what?” Sirius’ mouth pops open. You shrink some under his gaze. “Baby, you what?”
“I didn’t mean to!” you insist, though it’s hard to stay miserable when two of your boyfriends look so obviously delighted.
Sirius shakes his head, awestruck. “What did I miss?”
James fills him in quickly while Remus prods at your hand, eventually commending you on a rather clean hit after he’s certain you didn’t break anything. Sirius can hardly keep his mouth shut while James talks, nor can James keep from using a series of vulgar names for the man who’d touched you, though he checks on you a couple of times to be sure his storytelling isn’t upsetting you. When he’s done, Sirius’ stare has darkened, his arms crossing as he leans against the side of the car.
“Do we think he could perhaps use a matching bruise on the other side?” he muses, gaze flicking to the entrance of the club. “Maybe one of you could point him out to me.”
“You’ll get to see him soon,” says Remus. You look at him questioningly, but he only gives you a small smile. Cryptic.
“Really, she’s already handled it rather well herself.” James slides his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your head. “You should have seen it, I had no idea she could punch like that.”
“Me neither,” you sigh.
Just then, the door to the club bangs open. Two bouncers come out in their uniform black tees, hauling between them another man.
“Alright, alright, leave off!” The creep from earlier struggles in their grasp. All three of your boyfriends tense. As he comes through the doorway, his discolored jaw catches the light.
Sirius whistles. “Shit. That is bloody gorgeous.”
You feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips, but try to remain contrite. You catch Remus’ eye.
“It was rather impressive,” he says, also smiling.
You chew your lip. “You don’t think it was wrong?”
“What’s wrong about it?” Sirius asks. “He touched you, you touched him. I’d have done the same if I were there.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “We know, love.”
“I’m just saying, I could make it symmetrical…”
“No,” Remus says sternly. He helps you up, ushering you into the backseat. “It’s time to go home.”
James buckles in beside you while Remus gets into the driver’s seat. Sirius lingers outside the car.
“He’s not gotten far yet, are we sure…”
“Aw, baby, does your hand hurt?” James asks loudly.
Sirius turns, crawling in to get a look. “Shit, did you bruise something? How’d you make a fist? Show me.”
James reaches across him to shut the door, and Remus drives away.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#marauders x reader#hp marauders#marauders era
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mister carter - james potter x lily evans x fem!reader
wc: 4743 summary: in your first week at your summer internship for a top law firm in london, you meet james and lily potter; partner at the firm (your boss) and his fashion-empire wife. despite the age gap and power structures, they both take a special interest in you warnings: pervy boss, inappropriate work relationships & hr nightmares, age gap, objectifying and boss-employee flirting, all consensual, i don't think this part is necessarily 18+ but the next parts definitely are me: inspired by the song mr carter/milktown by nep! this is part 1 of what i believe will be a 4 part series, and it only gets nastier from here, so be warned lol
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It was a shitty day. Your first at your new corporate job and it really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to. You’d already torn a ladder in your stockings when it caught on your painted fingers and had been running on the highest anxiety levels since the moment you stepped into the high-rise glass building.
Plus, you hadn’t had a moment to breathe until your lunch break, where you were directed to the third floor of the skyscraper to a collection of fast food chains and coffee shops surrounding a mass of chairs and tables. It almost felt like a school cafeteria, but most of the employees were making six figures instead of cramming for a physics final.
You stood in line to order, shifting from foot to foot to take the weight off your aching toes in heels that only kind of fit. The job offer had come around so suddenly that you’d had to take the first pair of reasonably office-appropriate heels from the thrift store. You deeply regretted it when the heel started digging into your skin, surely leaving blisters for you to deal with at 5:30 pm in the shoebox flat you shared with an almost unknown roommate.
James Potter had wandered into the food court with Remus, complaining idly about his subordinate employees when he first saw you. He’d stuttered his usually smooth conversation, drawing Remus’s attention, his gold-flecked eyes scanning over to you.
“Does she work with us?” James asked, taking in the sight of you appreciatively. You were the vision of an office seductress, tight pencil skirt outlining the curve of your hips and tight white button-up open just one too many buttons, giving a pervy boss like James ample opportunity to appreciate your cleavage. Could you complain to HR just from the lascivious looks he was giving you? Maybe, but James wasn’t too worried; he always got what he wanted.
“Dunno, s’pose so. Must be an intern or something; new.”
“She’s a sight for sore eyes.” James couldn’t help his eyes locked on your body, admiring the shine of your hair in its professional up-do. You were clearly trying hard to make a good impression.
“You’re married, remember?” Remus led them both down to a table. Remus’s hypothesis about you being new was clearly correct, your eyes frenetically scanned the room, foot tapping erratically as you clearly analysed where the safest place to sit was.
“Lils wouldn’t mind. She’d find her just as charming.” Remus just rolled his eyes, digging into his food. They’d been friends so long that pretty much nothing James could say, no matter how freaky, could truly weird him out.
Remus had ducked out of lunch early, citing some papers he had to finish reviewing. James let him go, enjoying his hour behind the guise of a novel, eyes flitting towards you between every paragraph.
Just as the elevator doors were closing James in to return to work, you called out, begging him to hold it for you. He obliged, almost disbelieving how easy it was to get an encounter with you.
“Thank you so much,” You heaved a sigh of relief, regaining balance on your wobbly heel, “Can’t be late.” James noticed your smile, perfect in the way it conveyed both your gratitude and hints of sarcasm.
“No problem, sweetheart. First day?” You nodded eagerly, readjusting the papers and water bottle in your hands, seemingly not noticing the highly unprofessional pet name.
“Wanna make a good impression with everyone. Hopefully, I can get a real job here after my internship ends.” So Remus was right. James smiled.
“Well, a pretty little thing like you stands every chance, just work hard and you’ll be fine. How old are you?” You seemed to preen under his compliments, which made him smile; you were just too good to be true.
“Twenty-four. It’s my last summer after law school, so landing a permanent place here would be an absolute dream,” You gushed, and James almost laughed at your innocence. He was just over a decade your senior, which not only made him feel positively ancient but also a little tighter in his trousers as you chirped happily at him, innocently open to his conversation.
“Well, good luck, gorgeous. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Find me if you ever need help around here.” Your eyes dropped to the floor under his praise, growing bashful at the older man’s sweet attention.
“Thank you so much, Mister…”
“Potter,” He answered as the lift arrived at his floor, flashing you a brilliant smile as he left. He chuckled when he saw your mouth drop open, evidently recognising his name. James Potter was the youngest person ever made a partner in the firm, and he’d just initiated a connection with you.
And while you were freaking out alone in the lift that he had not only made conversation but complimented you twice, James was making long strides towards his office, texting his wife in a hurry.
Come for a lunch date tomorrow, there’s someone you’ll be dying to meet ;) xx
On your second day of work, things were going slightly better. Knowing what to expect helped hugely, and you’d even started to chat with the people around you. Regulus, a trainee a few years older than you, had introduced himself and given you a few pieces of advice. You’d left the conversation with an invitation to lunch that had you beaming down at your readings.
When lunch came, you were happily chatting to Regulus as he recommended a few different places to try in the food court, leaving you to make your own choice. You stocked up on a coffee and a wrap, once again anxiously observing the tables to find your new friend.
From the middle of the food court, James and Lily Potter were having a seemingly innocuous lunch date, both waiting for your unwitting arrival. They made mundane conversation as Lily impatiently awaited the girl James had come home raving about. Finally, James spotted you, just having spotted Regulus and beginning to make your way over to him and his friends.
“That’s her, babe!” He subtly pointed to you, and Lily gasped, eyes gleaming as she turned back to her husband.
“She’s perfect. I want to talk to her,” Lily replied, pushing herself out of her seat before James could even question her decision. Lily was always one to act, more direct than her analytical husband. He watched her strut across the room, hips swaying hypnotically. She approached you without making eye contact, appearing busy on her phone, bumping into you at the last second.
In an effort to save your fresh hot coffee, you sacrificed your handbag, letting the contents clatter across the ground haphazardly. It was mostly worth it, and you escaped largely unscathed, with the exception of a few drops on your collar and a couple of burning splotches on the top of your chest. You exclaimed in pain, and Lily was quick to apologise, sweetly fretting over you and dabbing at the spills with a napkin despite the inappropriate position.
You quietly dropped to your knees, hurriedly collecting your belongings. Lily followed, picking up your keys, admiring the girly keychain, decorated with a tiny Hello Kitty figurine and a Tamagotchi. Adorable. Lily was up before you, dangling the keys in front of your face. You looked up, doe eyes innocent as you registered her for the first time. Lily thought you were the prettiest little thing she’d ever seen.
“Here you go, angel. Sorry for the bump!” She apologised and you took the keys gratefully, shaking your head fervently to rid her of guilt.
“No, it’s totally my fault, I’m so sorry. I didn’t spill any coffee on you, did I?” You looked so concerned Lily almost laughed, as taken with you as James said she’d be.
“I’m all good, darling, no harm done. Now don’t worry about me, you’re too pretty to be frowning.” The people in London were so nice. Coming from a relatively small town, you’d been warned that big cities came with rude inhabitants, but so far, everyone you’d met had been extremely nice and complimentary. Mr Potter, Regulus and now this woman. You brightened up at her comment, unconsciously striving for more of her validation.
“Alright, um, I should probably be going, I’m meeting a new friend and don’t want to make a bad impression!”
“Oh, so you are new?” Lily asked with a sly raise of her eyebrows, amused as your eyes widened, alarmed at being caught so quickly.
“How could you tell?” You replied quickly, scanning your outfit for telltale wrongdoings.
“Your corporate clothes don’t fit perfectly well, which tells me you haven’t been in the office for long. Everyone else upgrades to tailored clothes on their first few paycheques. You’re bursting with energy, so you’re probably nervous, trying to make a good impression. Plus, you’ve got the skin of a baby, you’re so young.”
“I’m twenty-four,” You replied helplessly, humiliated that you’d been so easily read. You thought you were pretty lucky to have found office-ready clothes in your size at the thrift shop, despite them not being tailored to you; they worked well enough.
“So young!” Lily agreed, though it wasn’t your intention, “Here, it mustn't be easy being all alone and in a corporate job for the first time. If you ever need some help or a female friend, just call me.” Lily pulled out a business card from her wallet, using a pen from her purse to scribble down her mobile number. You took it shyly, examining the perfect handwriting and heart next to the message.
“Oh! Um, thank you.” Lily just smiled, squeezing your arm as she left. You stood for a second in a haze, not exactly sure what had just happened, before bringing yourself back to reality and hurrying over to Regulus.
“That was weird, wasn’t it?” You asked him, pointing out the woman you’d been talking to.
“Lily Potter just gave you her number and told you to call her?” He asked incredulously, mouth agape.
“Potter?” You asked, “Lily Potter as in—"
“As in James Potter, youngest ever partner here, both of our bosses, certified hottest man in the company? Yes, those two make up the single most gorgeous couple that has ever existed.”
“That’s so funny, they both kinda said the same thing to me,” You said, only realising it as the words left your mouth. When Regulus pressed you for details, you continued, “They were both super nice and complimentary, and when I told them how old I was, they both offered their help if I ever needed it. Aren’t they nice?” Regulus’ jaw was practically on the floor.
“So our super hot boss and his gorgeous wife both offered you essentially the greatest network point to ever exist, just like that? Holy shit.” You shrugged, lost for words. It felt completely bizarre, being both utterly lost and overwhelmed at a new internship at a prestigious law firm, and somehow also catching the attention of two extremely powerful figures in your professional orbit.
You changed topics quickly after that, getting to know Regulus better, but you couldn’t help glancing back to where James and Lily sat at their table, holding hands as they spoke intently. You didn’t catch their own covert looks over in your direction.
You were starting to settle in after your first week, even believing this could be your real job after the summer. You hadn’t seen Lily since you first bumped into her, business card sitting untouched in your wallet. James had been around the office a few times, though, and you were always happy to see him. Despite the ten years he had on you, James was bubbly and funny and always down for a chat. He always waved or spared you a smile if he was passing through your floor, and if you saw him in the elevator or at lunch, James was quick to supply you with a kind compliment.
In short, you’d grown quite happy at your internship and were developing quite the schoolgirl crush on one of the most powerful men in the firm. It wasn’t like it was your fault, though. An older (crazily hot) man was paying you kind attention in an otherwise lonely city; what were you to do?
MONDAY
You were rushing down a hallway following Regulus, thumbing through the stack of papers you’d just been handed by your supervisor. Regulus was bitching about him and his strict tendencies when your eye caught on the man turning into the corridor.
James was accompanied by two other partners, no doubt discussing important cases far beyond your pay grade. He strutted in his perfectly tailored suit, strong lines accentuated as he marched. You felt your breath hitching quietly as you took him in, the very picture of classically good-looking.
To your surprise, when James caught you looking, he didn’t appear surprised or weirded out; instead, he gave you what you could only describe as an excessively smug smirk, accompanied by an appreciative once-over, lingering on your body, which had heat creeping up your neck. Finally, you received a slight but definite nod, specified to you by the unwavering eye contact. You returned it after a long moment, processing the surprise of being the recipient, offering a shy smile as thanks. That seemed to please James as he brought out his own smile, drawing the subtle attention of the other two partners. Neither said a word, but you could feel their eyes following even as you passed, long since returning to your conversation with Regulus.
TUESDAY
On Tuesday, you were chasing after your supervisor, struggling to keep up and listen to instructions as he marched down the corridor, seemingly unaware or intentionally ignorant of the fact that you were all but required to wear heels around the office. Just as you were hobbling around a corner, James Potter came ambling out of an office, joking easily with whatever high-up employee you hadn’t met yet.
His eyebrows raised slightly as he almost came in contact with both you and your supervisor, a smile breaking through as he recognised you.
“Hey!” He said your name, and it felt heavy in the room, intentional. “How’s it going?” You stuttered for a moment, not expecting the direct address.
“I’m, uh, I’m good! Thank you, Mr Potter.” You returned the pleasantry with a smile, wider than it probably should have been.
You could feel your supervisor watching the two of you, confusion written on his face. You were far too irrelevant for James to be talking to you like this, and all three of you knew it. Well, maybe not James.
It was you who ended the conversation, feeling the moment becoming awkward and your supervisor annoyed, wishing James a good day and busying yourself with entering the office you and your supervisor had been heading to before as he reluctantly walked the other way, stealing a backwards glance you didn’t catch.
“What the hell was that?” Your supervisor asked, aged forehead creases deepening.
“I have no idea,” You answered honestly, more breathless than you probably should have been. He paused for an accusatory look but let you off easy, continuing with the mundane task he’d originally been explaining, but not before a, “Keep it up and you’ll leave here with a job at the end of the summer.”
WEDNESDAY
You hadn’t seen James all day. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world; it wasn’t as if you were truly upset by the fact, but it did worry you that you’d noticed. You’d been interning at the firm for a week, and your crush on a partner was so bad you were already keeping tabs on when you saw him. A married partner, you had to keep reminding yourself.
Your schoolgirl daydreams were replenished at the end of the work day when you got into the same elevator as him. It was just you, him and one other person from one of the other companies who inhabited some of the other levels of the skyscraper. So, you and James were free to chat without the curious stares you’d already garnered.
“Hey!” He said brightly, in a tone you were beginning to see just came naturally to him.
“Hi.” You fiddled nervously with the keychain hanging off your shoulder bag — the most professional you could find for cheap.
“Is that Hello Kitty?” He asked, the beginning of a laugh creeping in. Your eyes snapped down to the keychain like you were only just realising it. You’d put it on mindlessly, maybe still partly brainwashed from the grade school days of decorating all of your belongings. You’d bought it with your best friend years ago, aged probably fifteen or sixteen, at a Sunday market, sitting in a trash or treasure stall. You had the pink, sparkly Hello Kitty memorabilia while your friend took the black and purple Kuromi one, a reminder that you were still friends despite living hours apart.
Brought back to James’ question, you nodded sheepishly, already feeling stupid and childish.
“It’s dumb, really, but it makes me feel connected to my friends back home,” You tried to explain hurriedly, but James cut you off.
“I love it,” He said, and you really believed he meant it. You felt small under his gaze, like he could read every insecurity. “You wanna see something?” You nodded curiously, completely clueless as to what he was going to show you.
And out of his very sophisticated (undoubtedly very expensive) leather bag, James pulled an adorable vinyl Miffy wallet. Your eyebrows creased together of their own accord as you cooed over it, immediately enamoured.
“I know it’s not very ‘manly’,” He laughed, “But Lils got it for me and I love my wife.” Ouch, there it was. The reminder that the hottest, most unreachable man you’d ever met was also married. Nevertheless, his attempts to make you feel better worked like a charm, and you were soon smiling again.
“It’s adorable.”
The elevator reached the ground floor with a melodic ding, and the three of you walked into the lobby, you and James dawdling behind. You felt like a school kid again, walking extra slowly down the halls to get a few extra minutes with a crush. But this couldn’t be the same, James was more than a decade older than you, basically your boss, and married to a beautiful woman he was clearly head over heels for.
“Which way are you going?” James asked as you passed through the gold-rimmed revolving doors into the quiet summer night. You gestured to the left.
“Headed to the tube, you?” James frowned.
“I park a few streets down the other way. Are you alright to catch the train alone in the dark, sweetheart?” You laughed a little, straightening out your slacks.
“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine, Mister Potter. I’m a big girl. Goodnight,” You said sweetly, giving him a small wave. He reluctantly returned it, and you could hear him swinging his keys around his finger until you descended into the train station, still thinking about the pet name he’d called you. It should have been condescending and made you angry, but if it was James, you found a way to find it endearing and protective, despite the fact that you were really barely acquainted. A few minutes out of your week was all that you’d spent with him. He was clearly threatening your morals and feminism, but you didn’t seem to mind as long as he was smiling at you.
THURSDAY
You were beginning to love working at a big fancy firm. Not only for the pay, which you were eagerly awaiting, but the facilities too. The food court was one benefit, not having to leave in search of a fulfilling lunch, but the break room was quickly becoming your own favourite spot.
Close to your desk, stocked with snacks and drinks and comfy furniture, it was the perfect place to get away, especially when the food court seemed a little too intimidating. It wasn’t large, though, and in high traffic times could get very busy.
You’d endeavoured to make yourself a coffee, just as the rest of the firm had seemingly decided to rendezvous for a quick chat right where the coffee machine sat. You squeezed past the bulk of your colleagues to make it to the machine, starting off your drink happily.
You were just fiddling with the machine when James came from your left.
“Sorry, Darling,” He said as quickly as an afterthought, hand around your waist as he squeezed over to the fridge.
It should have enraged you. It should have made you feel harassed and disrespected. And yet… James’s handprint left a burning mark that sat in the forefront of your mind as you tried to continue with your beverage.
It only burned hotter as James came to your aid once again. You were balanced precariously on your tiptoes, reaching for the sugars that were just beyond your fingertips. You had half a mind to start climbing the cabinetry when a strong arm passed by your own, easily grabbing the container and placing it back down on the bench top. There James was, placed only a few inches behind you, effectively caging you in without being so obvious.
When you twirled to thank him, you were made aware of that fact, jumping at the proximity. It wasn’t anything scandalous, James too smart to do anything less than perfect in his own firm, but he was much closer than you’d typically stand to a colleague, obviously under the guise of helping you out.
“Thanks, Mister Potter,” You said, trying desperately not to stutter and reveal your nerves.
“It’s all good. You’re a sweet girl, eh?” He judged as he watched you pour in several packets. You tried to ignore the implicit flirting, just agreeing with the comment about your coffee. You could not, under any circumstances, let yourself believe that James Potter was flirting with you, or you’d never get another piece of work done while you were working there.
“I should, um, get back to work. But it was nice to talk to you!” You forced yourself to start the navigation process back through the break room to your desk. To your surprise, the hand on your lower back had returned, guiding you softly through the crowd.
“I’ll see you later then,” James said with a small but certainly cheeky smile, giving you a lazy salute before heading to the elevator. You couldn’t produce any reply, distracted by the ghost of his hand on your body.
FRIDAY
You had five million papers stacked in your arms. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but enough to feel like you were lifting weights. As the lowest rung on the corporate ladder, you had to do a lot of reading and editing. All the boring, time-consuming tasks that actual lawyers didn’t have time (or desire) to do. Honestly, you felt more like a teacher than a legal intern correcting spelling mistakes. Still, if it would set you up for a good career, it’d be worth it.
Either way, all of the paperwork collected into a mountain you had to deliver to your supervisor on Friday afternoon. You admittedly couldn’t see very well behind the stack, but you’d put your faith in your colleagues to be aware enough to stay out of your way.
That was why you let out a small cry when two big arms wrapped around your middle, yanking you out of your path, stray papers flying off the top of your tower.
And there, as you probably should have started to expect, was James Potter, pulling his arms back to rest on your hips, steadying you. And flying through where your body just stood, was the child of one of the other partners — the older, stricter, scarier one. If James hadn’t manhandled you out of the way, one or both of you would have certainly been bowled down, and you’d be the one to pay the price.
“Thank you, Mister Potter,” You said breathlessly, caught up with the adrenaline. James’ hands stayed on your hips, warm and encompassing.
“You alright? Could’ve been bad,” He asked with a smile, looking you over with genuine concern. You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak with his hands on you. You thanked him again profusely, then dropped to your knees, gathering the fallen papers as fast as you could. To your surprise, James followed, helping you clean up.
“Any weekend plans?” He asked, casually like he wasn’t dropping below his station to help you.
“No, I don’t really have any friends here yet,” You laughed, “I was thinking more binge a season of something and eat my body weight in junk food.” James laughed loudly, a resonant sound that attracted looks from around the office.
“Sounds like my dream weekend,” He replied, hazel eyes boring into your own, “Maybe I’ll see if I can get Lils to agree to blow off the gala she’s taking me to, I’d kill for an extra large pizza and a season of That 70s Show.” You giggled, taking the last of the papers from James’ hands.
“Makes sense you like that show,” You said, collecting yourself and hurrying down to your supervisor's desk. James, confusingly, followed as he continued the conversation, asking for an explanation. “Well, you know, you seem fun and lively, and also you’re old, you probably relate to them.” You chanced a joke, heart fluttering at the way James tipped his head all the way back to laugh, hand on his chest like a stabiliser.
“You’re a menace, sweetheart. Making me feel ancient.”
“It’s fine, Mister Potter, you’ve still got all your hair, so you’re doing pretty well.” You decided you loved it when James laughed at your jokes, eyes shining with mirth.
“I’m only thirty-five, love, I’d hope I still have all my good looks yet.” You ignored his shameless self-promotion, shaking your head as you packed up for the weekend.
“I wouldn’t be so sure, my Dad was bald before forty.” James acted mock-offended, hands over his chest like he'd been shot. You snorted at his ridiculousness, making your way to the elevator and slinging your bag over your shoulder. James followed, pressing himself into your side when the lift was crowded. You tried to control your breathing, unwilling to share how giddily nervous he made you.
If you were a more confident person, you would believe his knuckles grazing your thigh lightly were intentional, flirty, even. As a certified nobody in the company and hardly-even-coworker, you knew it was just because the lift was full.
“You need a lift home, love?” James said as you approached the doors, gesturing for you to go ahead of him.
“I’m sure we don’t live anywhere near each other, Mister Potter, it’s okay. Thanks, though!” You still told him where you lived when prompted, and laughed when James cringed.
“Look, it might be in the opposite direction, love. But if you ever need a lift home, I’ll drive you. Your safety is my top priority,” He put on a silly voice, imitating an old-fashioned flight attendant or captain to make you giggle. You still shook your head, gripping the strap of your shoulder bag.
“I’ll call you if I see any big, bad wolves.” You gave him a small wave, taking off in the opposite direction to him, warmth dusting your cheeks.
part 2
#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀#fluff#love#marauders fanfiction#the marauders era#marauders era#the marauders#marauders#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter imagine#hp marauders#dead gay wizards#dead gay witches#james potter fluff#james potter fanfiction#james potter fic#marauders fandom#marauders imagine#marauders fic#marauders fanfic#james potter oneshot#lily potter x reader#lily potter#lily evans#lily evans x reader#jily#jily x reader
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Weird request but can you do a luffy x reader where reader is cursed to speak in echos. Like in the Greek mythology echo. Hope I'm not too late
Echoes of You

luffy x gn!reader
a/n: aaaaaaaaah the last request ommmmg
words count: 2.8k
tags: curse au, greek mythology inspired, fluff, humor, mystery, slow burn, adventure
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
The sea wind is warm. The sky is clear. And Monkey D. Luffy is hungry.
"Meat!! Where’s the meat?!"
You sit on a barrel at the edge of the dock, watching the strange pirate in a red vest shout at thin air. His voice is loud. His hat is straw. His stomach growls like a lion.
You say nothing. You can’t say much anyway.
"Hey!" he turns and spots you "You! Are you from this island?"
"...this island..." you echo.
Luffy blinks "Huh? That’s weird."
"...that’s weird..."
He walks over, fast and curious like a child.
"What’s your name?"
"...your name..."
"Eh?! Why are you copying me?!"
"...copying me..."
He squints "Are you a parrot?"
You shake your head quickly. Then point at your throat. Then shrug.
Luffy tilts his head "You can’t talk right?"
"...talk right..."
"Aah! So you're cursed or something!"
You nod.
"Cool!"
"...cool..."
"Wait, no. That’s not cool." he frowns, rubbing his chin "Curses are bad. But I’ve met a lotta cursed people. Like Brook! He's a skeleton."
You stare at him. What kind of life is this guy living?
"I’m Luffy," he says proudly, pointing at himself "King of the Pirates!"
"...Pirates..."
You nod again, quietly amused.
He grins wide "Wanna come on my ship?"
"...your ship..."
"Yeah!" he laughs "You’re funny. And you look lonely."
You look away "...lonely..."
"...Me too, sometimes." he adds, quieter now.
You look at him again. He doesn’t look sad. But there’s something in his eyes... a soft, faraway thing.
Suddenly, he grabs your hand.
"Let’s go! We’ve got lots of meat and a weird deer doctor and a robot and—oh! Nami might yell, but she’s nice!"
You try to speak, try to say thank you...
But all that comes out is "...nice..."
He smiles anyway, like he understands. Like he hears the real you through the echo.
The ship is big. Not huge, but it feels alive.
You stare at the lion-shaped head at the front.
Luffy grins “Cool, right? That’s Sunny! Our ship!”
You tilt your head.
"...Sunny..."
“Yup! Franky built him! He’s our shipwright. He’s super strong and goes SUUUPER loud!”
You flinch when he yells the last word. He laughs.
“Sorry! I get excited.”
You smile a little and step aboard.
The ship creaks gently under your feet. Seagulls cry overhead. You look around, deck, masts, ropes, sails, a mini garden? A fridge bigger than your house?
Everything feels strange and loud. Not just sound. Loud in energy.
You point at the fridge.
“Oh! That’s where Sanji keeps the food.”
Your stomach growls.
Luffy’s does too. His eyes light up “Wanna eat?!”
"...eat..."
“Let’s go!”
He runs ahead. You follow, not sure why. You don’t even know these people.
But something about him makes your feet move.
Inside the kitchen, a blonde man in a suit is chopping vegetables with fire in his eyes.
“Luffy, don’t you dare—”
“SANJIIIII I BROUGHT A FRIEND!”
He dodges a flying spoon.
“You can’t just bring people on board like strays!”
"...strays..." you mutter, suddenly unsure.
Sanji notices you. His expression softens.
“Oh. You're actually cute. Sorry about him.”
You raise an eyebrow. Cute?
Luffy, already opening the fridge, shouts, “They talk weird!”
"...talk weird..."
“They only repeats stuff.” Luffy says, mouth already full.
Sanji blinks “Cursed?”
You nod. Slowly.
“Poor one,” he says gently “You want something to eat?”
"...to eat..."
He chuckles and makes you a plate. Warm rice, veggies, meat.
You blink. You almost forgot what kindness felt like.
Luffy sits next to you, eating loudly. Talking even louder.
“I once ate 50 meat skewers in 10 minutes.”
"...10 minutes..."
“Zoro tried to beat me, but he passed out.”
"...passed out..."
“He’s dumb.”
A sleepy voice from the hallway growls, “I heard that, idiot.”
Luffy laughs. You smile again, just a little.
Later, you're sitting on the deck. The sea sparkles. You lean over the railing and watch the waves.
You hear a thump behind you. Luffy flops down beside you, chewing on a bone.
“What’s it like? That curse?”
You don’t answer. You can’t.
"...curse..."
He doesn’t seem to mind “I think you’re cool anyway.”
You look at him. Really look.
He’s smiling at the sky like it’s the most normal thing to say.
You echo softly.
"...cool..."
Months Later
You don’t remember the last time you felt out of place on the Sunny.
Nami yells at Luffy every morning. Zoro naps everywhere. Chopper checks your heartbeat too often. Sanji feeds you like he’s your second mom. Brook keeps asking if he can see your... well, never mind.
And Luffy is still Luffy.
Jumping into the sea without thinking. Laughing at clouds. Screaming about meat like it’s treasure.
But now, you watch him longer than before.
You catch yourself smiling at things you didn’t use to smile at.
The way his hat bounces when he runs. The sparkle in his eyes when he sees a new island. How he always offers you the last bite, even though he’s clearly still hungry.
You’re starting having feelings.
And it’s obvious.
To everyone but him.
“Hey, Y/N,” Nami says one afternoon, stretching in a lounge chair “You’ve got that look again.”
"...that look again..."
She smirks “Y’know. The Luffy look.”
You pretend not to hear. You stare out at the sea, cheeks warm.
Robin’s nearby, reading a book. She glances over and smiles knowingly “It’s cute.”
"...cute..."
“Don’t worry,” Nami says “We won’t tell him.”
Brook appears beside you suddenly “Yohohoho! But if I did tell him, would you die of embarrassment?”
You sigh, flopping onto the deck "...die of embarrassment..."
Later, you’re in the kitchen. Sanji’s chopping onions.
“Ah, young love,” he says dramatically “I can taste it in the air.”
You blink.
“I mean, it’s obvious,” he grins “The way you look at him like he’s made of sunshine and meat.”
You groan quietly "...sunshine and meat..."
“Exactly!” Sanji laughs “You poor thing.”
You try to act normal.
You help Chopper sort herbs. You dodge one of Franky’s explosions. You play cards with Usopp and Zoro.
But when Luffy walks in the room, it’s like gravity tilts.
“Hey, Y/N!” he grins, face covered in sauce “Wanna race me to the crow’s nest?!”
You blink "...race..."
He grabs your hand before you can answer, just like that first day.
And your heart does something stupid. Again.
You reach the top, both of you breathless and laughing. Wind in your hair. Sky above you like a painted ocean.
Luffy flops down and stretches out his arms.
“Man, I’m glad you came with us.” he says suddenly.
You freeze.
“You’re fun. I don’t get what your curse is, but you’re cool.”
Your chest aches.
You want to say so much more than you can.
So you echo.
Soft, honest.
"...cool..."
Luffy grins at you, eyes shining like always. He doesn't notice your flushed face.
You stare at him, hopelessly smitten.
Below, Nami, Robin, and Sanji peek from the lower deck.
“Y/N is so obvious.” Nami whispers.
“Luffy is so dense.” Sanji groans.
Robin just laughs softly “It’s only a matter of time.”
More months pass.
By now, you’ve stopped pretending.
You’re in love with Monkey D. Luffy.
Not a crush. Not a maybe. Not a question.
You know it now, deep and sure, the way you know the sea is wide and the stars are high.
You still can’t say it.
But you feel it.
Every time he grins at you with food in his mouth. Every time he jumps in front of danger like he’s made of rubber and courage. Every time he reaches out to grab your hand without thinking.
And so, you start to show it.
In small ways.
You write notes.
“That was stupid.” “You’re going to fall off the mast.” “You’re amazing.”
Sometimes you doodle him with his silly wide smile and giant hat. Sometimes you leave a little meat draw at the bottom of the page. He loves that.
He just… doesn’t read into it.
He always laughs and pats your head.
"You're funny!"
Or "This looks cool!"
Or the worst one "Thanks! But I like it better when you use your hands."
That makes your heart stop the first time he says it.
"...hands..."
“Yeah!” he grins, mouth full “Like when you push me, or pull me, or poke me when I fall asleep during Nami’s maps!”
You stare at him.
He doesn’t notice. He just keeps eating.
You want to scream. Or hug him. Or both.
Now, you touch more.
You ruffle his hair when he’s sitting still (rare). You fix his hat when it slips sideways. You flick his forehead when he’s chewing too loud.
You lean against him during long sails. At first, you thought he’d pull away.
But he never does.
He leans right back. Like it’s normal. Like you’re a pillow he was always meant to have.
One quiet night, you both sit on the deck under the stars.
Everyone’s asleep. The wind is soft. Luffy’s eating the last of the fish Sanji grilled.
You hand him a folded note.
He opens it.
Inside is a simple drawing of the Sunny, the crew, and you and him at the front, standing side by side, a little closer than the rest.
He tilts his head.
He looks at you, grinning “You’re getting better at drawing!”
You nudge his shoulder.
He laughs, leaning against you “But I still like using your hands.”
You blink.
"...hands..."
“I like that,” he says casually “It’s like you’re talking anyway. With your pokes and tugs and stuff.”
You stare at him, heart loud in your chest.
He doesn't get it.
Not yet.
But he feels something. You know he does. Somewhere in that loud, brave heart of his.
Maybe he’s not ready.
Maybe you’re not ready.
But tonight, sitting beside him under stars, your shoulder against his…
It’s enough.
For now.
It's been more than one year since you're with the crew now.
The sea has changed. The crew has changed. You’ve changed.
And maybe… he has too.
Luffy is still Luffy... loud, fearless, hungry... but you’ve noticed new things.
Sometimes, when you touch his arm, he pauses a little too long.
Sometimes, when you laugh at his jokes, he stares for a second longer than needed.
And sometimes, like now, when you’re both alone under the stars, he gets quiet.
Not sleepy. Not bored.
Just… thinking.
He lays beside you on the deck, hands behind his head, hat tilted back. You lie on your stomach next to him, swinging your legs lazily.
He sighs.
"Aaah, I love the stars."
Your eyes widen.
Something sparks in your chest.
You sit up, turn quickly to him, and gesture.
A circle in the air. Then point to your ear.
Repeat that.
“Huh?” Luffy blinks “The stars?”
You shake your head, then motion again, slower, more direct.
Say the sentence again.
He squints, confused. Then shrugs "I love—"
You shoot your hand out and press a finger to his lips.
He freezes.
You lean in just slightly and echo softly, for once fully in control.
"...I love..."
He blinks up at you “…the stars?”
You shake your head.
He blinks again “Meat?”
You shake again.
“Cake?”
No.
“The sea?”
No.
He groans, flopping backward like a kid “Ughhh, this is hard!”
You giggle silently, then touch his arm gently. He turns his head toward you again.
"You’re really cute when you—"
You stop him again, finger to lips, slower this time.
"...You..."
He tilts his head, brain clearly spinning now.
“…You?”
You nod.
He hesitates, points at himself “Me?”
You nod again.
He frowns, trying to rewind the moment in his head “…I love… you?”
Your eyes shine.
You nod.
Your lips part.
You whisper, finally, with every piece of courage you have left "...I love you..."
His mouth opens slightly. But no sound comes out.
His eyes go wide. Shocked. Silent.
You watch him. Waiting.
And then…
You panic.
Did he not mean it? Did you just...
But before fear can fully wrap around you, his arms do.
He pulls you in, tight and sudden. His chin rests on your shoulder. He’s warm. Real. His chest is pounding just like yours.
You freeze.
Then slowly… melt into the hug.
“…You really do?” he asks quietly, still stunned.
You nod into him.
“…Wow...” he says.
You feel him smiling now “I didn’t know what it was. But I think I feel the same thing.”
You pull back just enough to look at him. His hat’s tipped forward again.
He lifts it and looks at you with his usual grin but this time, it’s soft.
“I like you a lot, Y/N... I love you too.”
Your breath catches.
You can’t say much.
But you don’t need to.
Your just touch his face gently, your fingers telling him everything your voice can’t.
And he smiles wider than the sea.
He hugs you again now but the hug lasts longer.
Longer than you thought Luffy would know how to hug.
He’s not saying much. You don’t need him to.
His arms around you already said it all.
“I love you too.” he repeats, a little softer now.
Like he’s still trying to believe it himself.
You pull back slowly, just enough to see his face.
His smile is small now. Real. No yelling. No food in his mouth. Just him. Just you.
“Hey…” he murmurs, touching your hand “I don’t really know what to do next.”
You blink.
He scratches his cheek, suddenly bashful “I mean, I feel it. But… do we do something? Like, a handshake? Or…”
He pauses.
“Is this when people kiss?”
You hold your breath.
He looks dead serious.
“Do I have to do something with my mouth?”
You let out a soft, choked laugh.
He’s ridiculous.
You love him.
You really, really love him.
So you nod.
Then you touch his face. Gently. Carefully.
Your fingers brush his jaw. His cheek. His hat.
He goes still. His eyes stay locked on yours now, like he’s waiting for instructions.
“…You wanna show me?” he asks, voice quiet.
You nod again.
Your hand moves from his cheek to the back of his neck, and you lean in slowly.
He doesn’t move.
But he watches your lips.
And then, finally…
You kiss him.
Soft. Careful. Just a few seconds.
You don’t press too hard. You don’t try to make it more than what it is.
Just a quiet I love you against his mouth.
When you pull back, his eyes are wide.
Then…
A huge grin.
“...That was weird.” he says.
Your heart drops a little.
“But really nice.”
Your heart jumps back into place.
He tilts his head “So… we can do that again whenever we want, right?”
You nod. Blushing hard.
He pokes your forehead lightly “You’re all red.”
"...red..."
He chuckles “You’re really cute when you do that.”
You press your hand over your mouth, trying to hide the biggest smile you’ve ever had.
He takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours.
The stars are still above you. The sea still sings below.
But your whole world is sitting right in front of you now, smiling like he just discovered a new kind of treasure.
The next morning is normal.
Sort of.
Nami’s yelling at Luffy for stealing tangerines. Zoro’s asleep in a hallway. Sanji’s making enough food for three armies. Chopper is bouncing around, asking if your face is still red.
You’re trying to act natural.
Not easy, after kissing your captain under the stars like a dramatic romance novel.
You walk into the dining room. Luffy’s already halfway through breakfast.
“Hey,” he says, chewing “Did you guys know Y/N told me they love me?”
Silence.
Utter silence.
Usopp chokes on his juice.
Sanji drops a pan.
Nami freezes mid-coffee sip.
Robin slowly lowers her book.
“…What?” they all say, almost in unison.
Luffy nods proudly “Yeah! Last night. It was cool.”
“Waitwaitwaitwait—” Usopp waves his hands “You’re saying Y/N said I love you?”
You blink, holding back laughter.
You can feel all eyes on you.
“…They can’t say that.” Nami says, raising a brow “Not first. That’s literally their curse. This means YOU said it first.”
Luffy grins “Yeah, but they did. Kinda.”
He sets his cup down and explain all the scene of you trying to let him say "I love..." and then "...you".
Zoro’s eye opens from across the room “…That’s actually smart.”
“Aaah! So romantic!!” Chopper squeals.
Nami smacks the table “THAT’S ADORABLE.”
“Gyaaaaaaah!!” Usopp holds his head like it’s about to explode “That’s, like, pirate legend level cute!!”
Robin chuckles softly “It’s very you two.”
Sanji is on the floor, sobbing into a towel “My heart—! I raised them so well—!”
Luffy’s just smiling like it’s no big deal “I said it back, obviously.”
Everyone turns to you.
You just stare back, completely red "...obviously..."
You want to vanish into the sea.
But then Luffy reaches over and grabs your hand again, totally casual.
And just like that, the noise fades. The teasing becomes background.
You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back smiling at you with his best and biggest smile.
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